Y
ou are really improving, Grasshopper!” Felix grinned at me as I stood panting, leaning against the sea wall in front of the Halekalani, one of the opulent, giant hotels along the sugar sand of Waikiki Beach. The concrete structure towered over our heads, providing shade in the middle of an early summer day. Its surface was cold and wet, and it felt good to lean against the smooth concrete after our long hike.
Felix stood immovable as a wave washed in around us, his feet planted in the sand like a statue rooted on steel rods. I braced myself as the little swell struck, allowing for the backwash. Despite my exhaustion it felt good to be in the sea again, even if was only my toes. The taste of salt in the air was pleasant, too. The sun and the sounds and the taste of the ocean combined to make me feel alive again.
“I walked. You ran,” I grumbled. “And don't call me Grasshopper.”
Felix had, indeed, run the whole way, from Diamond Head all the way to the Ala Wai boat harbor and back, sprinting ahead until nearly out of sight, then doubling back, ranging far afield and returning like a faithful dog.
We had covered a lot of ground, and Felix had covered it twice. It hurt me a little to see how effortlessly he stood there, letting the ocean burst against him.
“I'm pooped,” I said.
“You're doing fine.”
I nodded, hands on my hips, bracing for another wave.
Then I looked out to sea.
“A week ago you couldn't do this much.”
“Yeah, right.” I started moving toward the end of the sea wall, aiming at the wide sandy beach beyond.
“Not so fast. You've got to take it easy.”
I walked a little faster. It wasn't a jog, and it wasn't quick, but it was the best I could manage.
“Hey, Caine! You're going to hurt yourself!”
I kept shuffling, waiting until I reached the corner of the sea wall and climbing up onto the stairs before I pointed out to sea, reaching the fourth step as a rogue six-footer crashed against the concrete, shooting white foaming spray high into the sky.
The surge covered me to my thighs, but I clung to the iron railing of the stairs and let the sea rush past, mindful of my incisions and the hysterical fit the doctors and the nurses would throw if I got them wet.
Water boiled in front of the concrete wall, a white raging maelstrom, and then washed back out to sea.
Felix had vanished.
I started to worry until I saw his form splayed like a starfish on the sloping sand, his eyes closed, his mouth open. I thought for a moment that he had been hurt until I heard his laughter rippling across the water. He laughed a belly laugh, a roar, a helpless release, a total abandonment to mirth.
He rolled over, swallowed water, choked, coughed, and rolled over again, so beset by his helplessness he couldn't get up.
Another wave washed over him and he disappeared beneath the froth.
Now I really worried.
He burst from the sea, a young Neptune with a happy, sloppy smile pasted across his face.
“You saw the wave!” He shouted.
I nodded, backing up the steps.
“You didn't tell me!” And he dissolved in laughter as another wave struck the sea wall.
I waited until he reappeared. “You seemed so sure of yourself!”
He pulled himself along the sea wall, suffering a continued battering, still laughing, but moving along in spite of the unexpected surge, the sea suddenly powerful.
He rounded the corner to the stairs and joined me on the sand where I had taken refuge. The sun baked my shoulders while I rested. It felt good sitting there, smelling the sea, hearing the sounds of the surf, feeling the tropical sun gently base me with its golden warmth.
It was good to be alive.
“You're improving,” I said when he plopped down on the sand beside me. “Grasshopper.”
He laughed silently, shaking his head.
“You always have to keep an eye on the ocean. She'll always do what you don't expect.”
“She?”
“Like boats and old hurricanes. Figure of speech. From the old sailors.”
He shook his head. “Were you trying to teach me a lesson?”
I nodded.
“Did
teach you a lesson. Don't get cocky around her.”
Felix smiled, white even teeth in his bright brown face. “No,” he said, “not cocky.”
I stood up. It wasn't too difficult after all that exercise, or it wouldn't have been too difficult if I had had a crane and a bucket. Our long walk had winded me, and I didn't have much left.
“Time for my nap,” I said.
“You really are getting better.”
“It's a long road back.”
“But you're on it.”
“Stop with the platitudes, buster. I've done this enough to
know how tough it is. I'll make it. Your help makes it easier. But I still have to do it myself.”
He slapped me on the back. “Sure you do, old man.”
“Oh, shut up,” I said, knowing I was being patronized, and knowing that I deserved it.
“It's only a little farther,” he said.
“I know how far it is.” I limped across the sand toward the Royal Hawaiian. We'd been gone for three hours, had covered nearly ten miles of ground, and I'd walked the entire way. I was tired, but otherwise felt loose and agile, the walk the stimulus I needed to get my blood going again. Too many days in too many hospital beds had clogged my fluids, plugged my head, and made me logy. It didn't feel natural not to be active. My body wasn't used to it.
What alarmed me was how easily I had adapted to the almost motionless state I'd been forced to accept.
Accept, hell.
I started to jog, an approximation of a jog, more of a shuffle, tossing one foot in front of another, making about twelve inches per stride. But I lifted my whole body off the ground, and it felt like a run. It felt good.
“Hey!” Felix shouted. “You're not supposed to do that!”
I could hear his feet pounding the sand behind me.
I ignored him.
“Hey! You're not supposed to run,” he shouted, coming abreast of me.
“This isn't running. This is jogging.” That's what I tried to say. What I actually said was, “This â¦
pant, pant, pant
⦠isn't â¦
pant, pant, pant
⦠running â¦
pant, pant, pant
⦔
“Hey, man, what are you doing?”
I stepped up the pace and he stopped talking and started running in earnest, easily pacing me and then, after a moment's hesitation, and with a sly grin on his face, he really tore it open, leaving me in the dust, actually kicking sand in my face as he sprinted toward the Royal Hawaiian's wrought iron gate.
I caught up with him as he stood panting, his hands on his knees, staring at the sand.
“Damn you, Caine,” he said.
“What?”
“You're going to kill me.”
“Why? A little run like that?”
“No, you're going to get a heart attack, or your kidney thing is going to pop out, and then you'll be dead, and then Chawlie will send those goons of his after me because I'm supposed to protect you.”
“Oh.”
“Don't do that. The doctors all said you weren't to exercise.”
I looked down the beach. “What were we doing?”
“That's different. You just walked.”
“I'm still breathing.”
“You okay?”
“I'm fine.” Actually, I felt wonderful. Nothing came loose, nothing fell out, and no great pains ravaged my body. I actually felt terrific. For the first time in weeks I could hear my heart beating.
“Then we're both lucky. Please, Mr. Caine. Please try to hold it in for a little while. I don't want Mrs. Chen's little boy to go home to California in a piney wood box.”
“Don't worry about it, Grasshopper,” I said, slapping him on the back. “You're going to be fine.”
“You want to get a grapefruit juice?”
“Or something,” I said. “We can rest down here before we head on up to the room.”
We trudged across the manicured lawns of the Royal Hawaiian, leaving a dripping trail behind. I was only wet from the thighs down, but Felix was soaked.
The Mai Tai Bar is one of my favorite watering holes in Honolulu. I've spent many afternoons and evenings there, sitting at the bar or taking possession of one of the white-painted iron tables, drinking and talking with friends, and watching the sun go
down. We were too early for the sunset, and too early for the nightly show of song and hula. The bar was sparsely populated, the tourists almost equally divided between young Japanese honeymoon couples and seasoned citizen Midwestern American. I wondered about the relative demographics, but only until the waitress came and asked for our order.
“Two grapefruit juices,” said Felix.
I frowned at him.
“Doctor's orders,” he said to me.
“Where did I read that a glass of wine was good for you?”
“I have no idea,” he said with an innocent expression. “Where would you hear such a thing?”
“What is it about you and alcohol?”
“My body is a temple. I take care of it. Stimulants are completely unnecessary. Even for you.”
“Even?”
“You've got to get in touch with your body.”
“Careful, pal.”
“You know what I mean.”
“I'll bet you don't eat meat, either.” I hadn't seen him eat anything but fruit and vegetables since I'd met him. Of course, he could be sneaking a Big Mac when nobody was looking, but I tended to doubt it.
“Of course not. Nor eggs nor fish.”
“Because it's good for you?”
“It's the worst thing you can do to your body.”
“See these things?” I lifted my lip and showed him my upper teeth. “Those sharp pointy ones? They're canines. We humans are meat eaters. Omnivores, actually, but meat is an important part of our diet. It isn't a sin to shovel down a cheeseburger once in awhile, especially in paradise. It tastes good, too.”
“All those calories? All that fat? Not to mention that before the cow was slaughtered it consumed huge quantities of Earth's precious resources. And it's bad for you. There's no upside to it at all.”
“You wear shoes.”
He grinned and pointed to a sodden pair of Eco-Sneaks. “Pure hemp.”
“You swat mosquitoes? You step on cockroaches?”
He nodded. “They're pests.”
“What's the difference? Pigs are cute, bugs aren't?”
“There's hierarchy. But I don't eat mosquitoes or cockroaches, either.”
“You're what, twenty-five, twenty-six?”
“Twenty-six.”
“I'm nearly twice your age. I've been doing this since before you were an impure thought. I've been stabbed, shot, blown up, survived a plane crash, a helicopter crash, had my boat sink from under me, I've been in more fights than I can remember, and I'm still standing. I'm the world champion at getting my health back after injuries.”
Felix assumed a look of smug superiority. “You misunderstand.”
“I understand that I don't need to be baby-sat by a kid who's still wet behind the ears.”
“Now
there's
an expression! Was that original?”
“You know what I mean,” I said, starting to get angry, but, interrupted by the waitress bringing our juices, I didn't have the pleasure of a full-blown tantrum. Felix signed the chit and she smiled and left us alone again. I decided to forget my temper. I didn't have the steam for it.
Felix took a sip from the tall glass, looked at it and set it down on the table. “We're just chemicals, you know.”
“What?”
“You don't want to put the wrong chemicals in your body. Meat, especially red meat, is full of chemicals these days. They stuff hormones and drugs and all kinds of nasty stuff into those poor creatures before they slaughter them.”
“Give me British beef and a Hong Kong chicken any day.”
“That is beneath you,” he said.
“So you're a vegetarian.”
“A vegan. I eat no animal products whatsoever. Scientists are finding out that we're just chemicals. Our bodies, our minds, it's all just a chemical reaction. If you have the wrong kind of chemical reactions, you have problems. But if you have the right kinds of chemicals you can cure the problem.”