Page 43 of Faker
“It’s not. That’s a terrible thing to have to go through as a little kid.”
“I survived.”
“Just like you are surviving now.” He reaches for me, his hand landing on my arm. With his index finger, he rubs the undersideof my wrist. My eyes focus on the tiny patch of skin-to-skin contact.
“We’ll see if I make it out of surgery,” I say, closing my eyes.
“Don’t say that. It’s a simple operation. You heard what Dr. Tran said.” His finger glides all the way down to my fingertips. He touches them one by one, and I nearly stop breathing. It’s weirdly intimate telling him about my childhood while he touches me.
“You’ll survive.” He gifts me a half smile. “And when you come out of surgery, maybe I’ll tell you a bit about my life here in the Great Plains, pretty much the opposite of the beach.” His eyes fall to his shoes. “As a kid you must have hated it at first, leaving a tropical paradise for boring flatlands.”
“I did hate it, but not because of the scenery. When we moved, I was in junior high and had to transfer schools in the middle of the school year. Kids were mean. I was one of a handful of minority students in the entire school. In the entire town, actually. They called me names.”
“What kind of names? Like racial slurs?” He sounds concerned. It’s sweet.
“No, not that. Things like Pocahontas because some kids thought I looked Native American. Then when they realized I was from Hawaii, they called me Lilo, like fromLilo and Stitch.”
“Fucking jerkoffs.” He pushes a chunk of hair away from my face, tucking it behind my ear.
“I know. Not even the right race.” I twist my fist into the bedsheet as more memories surface.
Once I can trust my voice to sound normal, I speak. “You’d burn the second you step off the plane if you ever go to Hawaii.”
He makes an amused scoffing noise. “You’re probably right. I’m a haole after all. It sounds incredible, though. I’d like to go some day.”
“You know the word ‘haole’? I’m impressed.” I let myself laugh.
“One of my college roommates was Hawaiian. It was his favorite nickname for me when he spotted me doing ‘white boy things,’ as he put it.”
“What are ‘white boy things’?”
“Watching or playing lacrosse. Eating Jell-O. Drinking Red Bull and vodka. Driving an Acura.”
He chuckles, and I laugh even harder.
My eyes settle back on him. “You are very fair, though. If you ever go, shellac yourself in sunscreen, put on a hat and sunglasses, and you’ll be fine.”
“You sound like my sister. Sunscreen is serious business for her, and she never lets me hear the end of it when I forget to put it on.”
“Smart woman. Protecting fair skin from the sun is no joke.”
That tidbit of personal info is like catnip. I want to hear more from him, to learn as much as I can.
He speaks before I can even open my mouth. “What brought you all the way here? I’ve always wondered.”
I shake my head. “No. More about you first.”
He gives me a handful of blinks before his face splits into a smile. “Why?”
“Because I’m giving you a hell of a look into my life right now. Sick in the hospital, dispensing personal info like candy. I’ve got nothing from you, other than you have a sister and you used to live with a guy from Hawaii.”
When he pauses, he takes the time to purse his lips. Then there’s a soft smile. “Ask me anything.”
“Do you have any other siblings?”
He shakes his head. “Just me and my twin sister.”
I nearly choke. “You’re a twin?”
