Page 62 of Big Island Neighbors
Rory sprinted to the front door, bare feet slapping on tile and wood as she ran through the house.
Lani yawned and picked up her tepid cup of coffee. She had woken up at one in the morning, her mind wired with senseless anxiety. Sometime around three, she had given up on sleep and gone downstairs to draw. The result was a whole stack of coloring sheets for Rory and her cousins… and a foggy, tired brain.
She downed the last of the coffee and walked out front to meet ‘Olena.
“Thanks for watching them,” her cousin greeted her. “I have a million things to do today, my dad’s out on a job, and my mom couldn’t–”
“‘Olena,” she interrupted. “It’s okay. You’re allowed a day off every now and then. You might even consider doing something for yourself. In addition to all of those errands.”
‘Olena looked at her blankly.
“Have you forgotten what that looks like?”
Her mouth turned up in a wry smile. “A little bit, yeah.”
“What do you do when Nathan takes the kids for the weekend?”
“Work,” she said flatly. “Mope.”
“That’s real healthy.”
“Lucky for me he’s not around much.” ‘Olena’s ex-husband worked on cruise ships - had helped Lani land her first shipboard job, in fact. His refusal to leave the career that kept him off island most of the year had been the final blow to their marriage.
“Do something for yourself today. Even if it’s just sitting down at a nice cafe between errands.”
“I’ll think about it.” She went to kiss her girls goodbye. “You be good for auntie.”
“Okay.” Luana ran off towards the orchard with Rory.
“No,” Kiana moaned, clinging to her mom’s leg. “Don’t leave me.”
“Please don’t do this.” ‘Olena reached down to detach her younger daughter’s hands, but Kiana just redoubled her efforts.
“I want to go with you!”
“You really don’t. I have to take our trash to the transfer station…”
“I love the transfer station!”
“…wait in line at the post office, take the car to the shop, buy groceries…”
“I love groceries,” Kiana insisted, fully hamming it up now.
“Hey Kiki,” Lani said.
“What?” She looked at her over one shoulder, eyes narrowed.
“No,” ‘Olena said. “Try that again.”
Kiana sighed. In her most beleaguered six-year-old voice she said, “Yes, auntie?”
“I made some new coloring pages.”
Her grip on her mom’s leg loosened visibly.
“If you come inside with me, you can have first pick.”
That did it. She released ‘Olena with a hurried, “Bye, Mom!” and ran up the steps and into the house.
