Page 8 of Big Island Summer
“Okay.” Fern let out a huff of breath. She wasn’t eager to drag this out any longer than necessary, but she couldn’t get the nightmarish image of the pregnant girl tumbling down the stairs out of her mind. There was nothing half as heavy as the espresso machine, though, so the boxes themselves shouldn’t be a problem. “How about this? I’ll carry everything down to the bottom of the stairs, and you load it into the car.”
“Right-o, captain!” Tiffany saluted her with a playful smile.
Fern stared at her for a fraction of a second in complete disbelief, and then she laughed. Tiff’s smile broadened, and her blue eyes sparkled.
Fern couldn’t hate the girl. She just couldn’t. And somehow, weirdly, that made it all easier.
“Come on. Let’s get your man moved out.”
Fern trotted up her staircase feeling better than she had in days.
Yes, the breakup had been a shock. Yes, she had spent the better part of a week moping and crying and processing the trauma of it all. But now, she couldn’t shake the feeling that Tiffany had done her a favor. She almost felt sorry for the girl.
Her heart was light as she ferried all of Chad’s things down the stairs.
The sky cleared and the day warmed up, and her dreads hung hot and damp against the back of her neck. She had never loved having long hair, and they’d become a source of real irritation ever since she’d moved to tropical Hawaii.
Chad had always pushed her to keep her hair long. He’d worried that she would look too masculine with it short – that with her height and lean muscles, she wouldn’t be able to pull it off. It just wasn’t feminine, he said.
“Is that everything?” Tiffany asked as Fern slotted the last box into the back of the car.
“That’s it.”
“Thank you.” The girl chewed at the edge of one ragged fingernail as she stared up at Fern with worried eyes. “Also… I’m sorry. I didn’t know that Chad had a girlfriend. Ineverwould have–”
“It’s okay,” Fern said, cutting her off. “Really.”
The blonde surprised her by stepping in and wrapping her arms around her waist.
Fern was nearly six feet tall, and Tiffany was so much shorter that her cheek rested against Fern’s sternum. That combined with the age gap awoke something maternal in her, and she gave the girl a heartfelt hug.
“Thanks again. For everything.”
“Take care of yourself, Tiff.”
“You too.”
Fern watched the Lexus drive away and turn onto the road, and then she walked back upstairs. She stood in the kitchen for a long moment, still feeling unmoored. The space was empty and echoing, bare of all of the things she had added to make it feel like home.
She wasn’t sad about Chad, exactly, but being single again after so many years together was still an adjustment. She was used to him being home pretty much all the time, and an empty house would take some getting used to.
Just when her feet threatened to root down into the linoleum flooring she had always intended to replace, she shook off the stupor and found her kitchen scissors.
One by one, she cut off her dreads.
With each hunk of hair that fell to the floor, she felt a bit lighter.
When they all lay in a pile, she went into the bathroom and evened out her new haircut. It was cropped nearly down to her scalp.
An ocean breeze that drifted past her neck and shoulders was a delicious relief, especially without the weight of all that hair piled on top of her head.
She felt free. Renewed. More like herself than she had in a long time.
Newly liberated, she walked out onto the balcony to enjoy the second-story ocean view while she still could.
4
Emma
