1
MIA
The thing about traveling by yourself is you literally have to do everything by yourself. I mutter a curse under my breath as my suitcase, still on the baggage carousel, drags me a few feet forward.
“Do you need help, ma’am?” offers a man who had been in the path of my stumbling feet.
With a sheepish smile, I nod. “Please.” I watch as he effortlessly pulls my suitcase off and pops the handle before setting it next to me.
“Thank you so much. I appreciate it,” I call to the man, who is already walking away.
I don’t like having to rely on other people. I take pride in being a strong, independent woman. I just can’t help that I am also a woman who overpacks. Refusing to be discouraged, I heft both suitcases and my carry-on bag onto the cart. After playing a quick game of suitcase Tetris to make sure nothing will fall off, I start pushing the cart to the exit. Walking out of the airport and into the sunshine, I finally take a deep breath. The humid air feels like absolute heaven on my Minnesota winter skin.
As much as I despise traveling, the flight to Honolulu was a great way to start my vacation. I read an entire book and even enjoyed a nice long nap. They also had an impressive selection of classic movies to choose from, so I watched An Affair to Remember, one of my all-time favorites. When Nickie and Terry kiss on the stairs of the cruise ship, it’s as if time stands still. I get swept up in the emotion every single time I watch it. Despite my current situation, I am still a hopeless romantic at heart.
Vacation might not be the best way to describe this trip, though. After my breakup a few weeks ago, this was more of a last-minute-yet-necessary change of scenery. A chance to invest in some “me time” and figure out what the heck I’m going to do with my life now that Sean is no longer a factor. A mental health reset, of sorts. Yes, that sounds more appropriate.
I needed to get away, and given that it was a whopping 2 degrees back in Minnesota, I wisely chose to come somewhere warm. I’m feeling pretty good about that decision at the moment, given it’s 85 degrees here in Hawaii. I make my way to the end of the curb, where the Uber I ordered was waiting for me.
“Ma’am,” the Uber driver says in greeting.
Ignoring the fact that I’ve been called ma’am twice in the last ten minutes, I offer him a smile. “Hi! How are you?”
“Good, good,” he replies politely, nodding his head. I hand off the luggage cart and climb into the back seat, peeling off my hoodie and pulling my long, blonde hair to the side so it hangs over one shoulder. Once my seat belt is fastened, I turn my phone off of airplane mode and notice I have three missed calls: two from my mom and one from my best friend, Paige. I send them both a quick text saying I landed and would call them later. Then I turn my phone off and slip it in my bag. I want to soak in my surroundings as we drive. I love exploring new places, and Hawaii has been on my bucket list for years.
Sean and I had wanted to plan a trip to Hawaii for years. Or rather, I wanted. I begged and begged him to go, but we could never make it work with our schedules. I’m wondering now how much effort he really put into it. He always promised it would happen “next year.” Now that we’ve broken up and I needed to get away, Hawaii seemed like the perfect place.
I give the driver the address to my Airbnb and sit back to enjoy the view while we drive. As we ride through town, I take in the towering palm trees and beautiful, bright flowers everywhere. Bushes with the most stunning shades of green line the sidewalks. I inhale a few deep breaths to try to rid myself of any lingering jitters. I’m not crazy like my friends and family said. It’s totally normal to fly nine hours by yourself to escape an ex and spend an extended amount of time on a reset, right?
Yup, totally normal.
We pass by a strip of shops and restaurants, and I make a mental note to come back and check out Julie’s Coffee and Juice Bar. It’s settled in between a travel agency and a cute little bookstore that I’m sure to wander into at some point. I can’t wait to come back and explore what this area has to offer. I notice a sign that reads “Farmers Market daily 8 a.m-11 a.m.” I will definitely come back for that. All I have for food are a handful of things I bought at the airport, so I plan to come into town as soon as I can.
After about twenty minutes of mentally cataloging all the places I want to come back and visit, the Uber pulls into a neighborhood that has rows of homes on each side. They are all multi-level houses, a mix of white and tan exteriors. Fleeting glimpses between houses tells me we’re right next to the ocean. He stops at a house on the right and pulls into the driveway.
“I need to go all the way down the driveway, past the house, please.” I had chosen the “Ohana Cottage,” a guest house on the same property where the owner of the Airbnb lived. A gravel driveway separates the main house from the cottage, which I will have all to myself.
Climbing out of the car, I slam the door shut and swing my carry-on bag over my shoulder. The driver has already unloaded my suitcases and gives a quick wave as he backs out of the driveway. My feet, still in the sensible sneakers I wore on the plane, crunch on the gravel as I take a couple of steps forward, then pause to take it all in.
The guest house is small and quaint. When I booked, there weren't a ton of pictures of the outside of the cottage, and now I’m wondering if my subconscious had a hand in choosing this place because it looks exactly like something I would dream up. It is a creamy, pinkish color with white beams and trim accenting the windows. There is a white staircase to the right of the house that leads up to the main door. Lush greenery surrounds the entire house, and one big tree to the left of the house extends above and across most of the roof.
I sigh. It is absolute perfection.
After successfully hauling all of my luggage up the staircase (all by myself, thank you very much), I punch the code in the lockbox and pull out the key. Pushing the front door open, a sense of comfort immediately comes over me, almost like I belong here. Slipping my shoes off, I leave my bags in the entryway and move to explore my new temporary home.
I walk straight into the living room, where a couch, loveseat, and coffee table are arranged in front of a small flat-screen TV. There is a set of surfboard pictures hanging on the wall above the TV. I move past the couch and turn right down a hallway, eyeing two doors. The first one is a small bathroom with a single sink and not much countertop space, but it has a shower and a bathtub, which is a win in my book. The last door leads to the bedroom, which is pretty standard—a queen-sized bed is settled under the window in the middle of the room, flanked by nightstands on either side of the bed. There’s an upholstered chair in the corner, and a dresser across from the bed, with more surfboard art hung on the wall above it.
I venture back down the hallway to the dining table and kitchen on the right. A booklet on the counter catches my eye. “Airbnb Contract” reads the front page. Inside is a sheet that has all the necessary information I might need. The Wi-Fi password is listed at the top, right above the contact information, and the name John Byrd is shown to be the property owner.
I skim over the house rules, all of which I already read when I booked the cottage. No pets, no parties, no smoking inside, clean house upon departure, etc. The last page is a copy of our contract, with my departure date listed at the bottom. I officially have thirty days to accomplish whatever it is this trip is supposed to accomplish. Thirty days of investing in my mental health. Thirty days of gaining clarity on my relationship with Sean, and thirty days of convincing myself why I am better off without him—mostly so I can convince everyone back at home.
I figure there’s no better time than now to get unpacked and settled. I grab my suitcases and wheel them back to the bedroom. Unzipping the first suitcase, I pull out some clothes to change into and transfer the piles into the drawers of the dresser, along with my three swimsuits. I hang the few dresses I have in the closet and stuff the empty suitcases under the bed, then slip into shorts and a tank top.
That done, I grab my sandals and sling my laptop bag on my shoulder and carry it out to the kitchen, where I am pleased to find that the extension cord Paige said was “excessive” was absolutely necessary. Sitting down, I open the laptop and then immediately close it.
Nope.
Work will be waiting for me tomorrow. Today, I am going to the beach to catch my first sunset in Hawaii. I have been dreaming of watching the sun set on the beach ever since I booked this trip. Growing up, I always requested that the first evening of every family vacation would be spent finding a place to watch the sunset. There’s just something so fascinating to me that no matter where you are in the world, you’re gazing at the same moon and sun. I find comfort in the fact that we’re all connected in that way.
Grabbing the keys off of the counter, I slip them into my pocket and skip down the stairs. I already know there’s a path that leads to the beach nearby, so I make my way past the main house and quickly spot a sign that says, “Beach Access” between two houses on the left.
Walking down the path, I can’t help the smile that’s spreading across my face as I take in the beach and ocean in front of me. Sand stretches for about 150 feet before reaching the gorgeous teal water of the ocean, and I can spot a few sailboats in the distance. I am pleased to see it isn’t too busy, probably because we are a few miles away from the main public beach access that most tourists use. I find a spot a few feet away from shore and sit down in the sand. The sound of the waves crashing onto the shore is louder than I expected, but ultimately has a serene, calming effect. Inhaling a deep breath, I can practically taste the salt from the ocean on my tongue. Running my fingers through the white sand, I let my mind drift to Sean.
When we broke up a few weeks ago, I felt both sad and relieved, which was familiar territory, since we’ve been there many times before. This is the third time we’ve broken up, and we have always ended up drifting back together after a few weeks apart. Sean and I have known each other almost our entire lives. Our moms were best friends, so we grew up with each other, doing playdates and going on adventures together with our families. Even though we attended different high schools, we always stayed in touch, eventually forming the same group of friends. When we were both college students at UMN, we decided to give dating a try–to both our mothers’ elation. We fell into an easy relationship, and it surprised us how quickly we went from friends to something far deeper.
It’s been four years since we started dating, and I think we both know deep down that this is it. At least I do, anyway. While neither of our families would ever cross that boundary and put expectations on us, Sean and I always felt this pull to try and make it work. I think we were both scared of what life would look like without each other.
The thing about us, though, is that it’s just not quite right. There’s something missing. It’s not that we don’t have things in common, or even lack of chemistry, because we definitely have that. We have fun, and it’s easy when we’re together, but he’s not what I see when I think about my future, and I’m twenty-three now—I don’t want to waste any more time with someone who I know isn’t at least a possibility of forever.
And the biggest reason I chose somewhere far away for this trip is because it’s too hard to move on when we see each other all the time, and are in the same circle of friends, all of whom inadvertently remind us of the many memories we have together. I’m determined to let this time away be the best thing for both of us. Maybe we need to live on our own to figure out how to truly say goodbye.