Page 29 of A Little Luck

“When I finally made peace with it, I decided to make the most of every day I could see. I did my best to prepare. I made modifications to my house, my phone, my computer… pretty much everything I needed.”

“Are you able to see anything? Lights, shapes…”

“I’m in complete darkness now.” She smiles in my direction. “I get the best sleep of my life, and I’m not bothered by all this social media everyone talks about.”

“I can’t imagine you’d be the type to worry much about social media if you could see.”

“You never know what gets people. It’s what you can’t see that tells you what you need to know.”

I can’t argue with her. “I’m glad to know I was wrong.”

Her head tilts to the side. “About me and social media?”

That makes me laugh. “No, I was thinking what a tragedy it is that you live in this beautiful place, in paradise, and you can’t see it.”

“The tragedy is to have perfect vision and not be able to see what’s right in front of you.”

“I’m not sure what you mean.”

“What are you running from, Adam Stone?”

Her question hits me right in the gut, but I do my best to play it off. “What makes you think I’m running from something?”

“You’re young, rich, and handsome… and you’ve spent the last four weeks on the most remote Hawaiian island with an old blind lady and her nephew flying people all over the place. If Max were gay, I’d understand, but as it is…”

“Wait… Max isn’t gay?” That makes her laugh, but she’s not letting me off the hook.

“What’s your story? I told you mine.”

We take a seat on the soft grass, and I look out across the glowing green cliffs to the water crashing on the beach below.

“My first solo flight with the Navy changed how I saw things. Looking down on the tiny fields, the lines of rivers like veins in a body, I realized how connected we are. How inescapable our paths are.”

“Yet you’re still trying to escape your path.”

“How could you know that?”

“I’m an old woman who lives on an island. No one who looks like you comes here and dedicates his life to the poor unless he’s running from something or someone.”

“You can’t see me.”

“I’ve seen you.” I don’t even ask how that’s possible. “What’s her name?”

The pressure in my chest tightens, and I exhale the tension of evoking her presence. “Piper Jackson.”

She nods. “Musical, fluid, an old soul, like you.”

“We had a connection from the first time we met, like we’d always known each other.”

Her smile widens. “She’s your constant. Do you believe in past lives?”

“No.”

“You don’t have to believe it for it to be true. Two particles once associated are eternally connected, across the universe, across time. The two are inseparable; neither makes sense without the other. It’s quantum physics, entanglement.”

“I’ve heard of it.” As a surfer, I’ve met all kinds of people with all kinds of crazy beliefs. The one thing true in her words isconstant. “The first time I saw her, I knew I was in trouble.” I exhale a soft laugh. “She was so pretty. She was delicate like a honeysuckle flower… but my best friend asked her out first.”

“Such a dumb rule.” I watch her dig the small pipe from her pocket, and I’ve come to recognize it’s something she does when she’s impatient.

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