Page 20 of The Wrong Sister

I pick Catherine up early to avoid the heat and crowds. She’s wearing a loose tank dress that hits below her knees. That seems like a weird choice for a hike, but I don’t claim to know much about women’s fashion. Maybe it’s a comfort thing?

“Can you hike in those shoes?” I ask her as we’re getting in my car.

“I’m not sure. Can’t say I’ve tried.”

“As long as you’re comfortable.” I shrug. She doesn’t say anything else or move to go back to her apartment, so I guess we’re good.

“Where are we headed?”

“Out past Kaneohe. I thought we’d do Pu‘u Ma‘eli‘eli. Do you remember that one?”

“Does that have the pillbox with the view of Kaneohe Bay?”

“Yeah! I thought we’d enjoy the views.”

“I remember doing that one when we were kids, but I don’t think I’ve been back since.” She pauses, looking pensive. “It should be nice to be in nature, I guess.”

A playlist is shuffling and a Brandon Flowers song, “Between You and Me,” comes on. Catherine is softly singing along when the lyrics hit me right in the gut. Something about letting go and old things that have grown cold. I wish I could change the song and avoid thinking about those words and the feelings they’re dragging up. I’m afraid the sudden change will make Catherine question it and I don’t want to have to explain myself. I don’t even want to explain tomewhy it’s bothering me. Why can’t I keep my thoughts on what’s in front of me?

I park in the nearby shopping center and we walk up the road, along the guardrail, towards the trailhead.

“Did you have a timeframe in mind?” Catherine asks. I notice she’s not carrying anything with her. Did she not even bring water?

“I think it’s less than two and a half miles, total.” Catherine is chewing on her bottom lip, looking concerned. “The worst of it is the initial incline. I can walk in front, if you like, help when you need it.”

It looks like it has been raining over here recently. It’s easy to forget that the windward side is the wetter side when you live in town. It’s hotter and dryer on the leeward side of the island. This may be a little more problematic than I anticipated, with wet conditions.

The first hill is steep and even this early in the morning it is already riddled with deep, muddy footprints and skids. This worries me a little, but I don’t want to make Catherine concerned. I keep it to myself, figuring I can guide us through, pulling her behind me if necessary. Picking a path away from the center, where the mud seems the deepest, I’m about a third of the way up when I hear a squeal and a loud squelching noise. Catherine has lost one of her shoes in the mud and is balanced precariously on one foot, trying to pull it out. I’m calling out to her, worried about where this is headed, when my own feet start to slide out from under me. I reach out, on reflex, grabbing onto tree branches next to me, trying to keep myself upright.

My quick downward slide pulls Catherine’s focus and she loses her footing, falling onto her side in the mud. As if that isn’t bad enough, her momentum causes her to start sliding down the hill, head first, leaving a big body-sized track down. She’s screaming and people at the bottom of the trail are gaping up at us in horror. Meanwhile, my grip on the thin branch is tenuous and the leaves are starting to strip away underneath my sliding hand. It slips from my grasping fingers, hitting me in the face on the way up, and my feet come out from under me. I hit the mud on my back, hard, and slide a few feet down before stopping my momentum by digging my shoes into the muddy tracks. I drag myself up, mud coating my back and arms, my face stinging from the branch, to find Catherine in a heap at the bottom of the hill, crying. Goddammit. I’m not sure either of us would call this “fun.”

I dig her sandal out of the mud, then slip and slide my way down to her, barely remaining standing, helping her up but making a big mess of it. I manage to make her muddier and she starts to cry harder. I never know what to do with crying. It makes me feel helpless and uncomfortable.

“Are you hurt?” I try to check her over but there’s too much mud and she doesn’t seem to want me to touch her.

“I don’t know. Mostly embarrassed. I’m pau and just want to go. Can we go?”

“Of course.”Do not think about the inside of my car and all of this mud.“We’re about equal distance from our parents’ houses or town. Which would you prefer?”

“Can we go home, to Ka‘a‘awa? Your parents have that nice outdoor shower. We could get most of the mud off instead of taking it home with us.”

“That works.”

We walk back to the shopping center in silence. It doesn’t feel as comfortable as it has in the past. I’m picking up on some anger, but I’m not sure what exactly Catherine has to be mad at me about. It’s not like I made her fall. We’re walking towards my car when I see Times Supermarket. I have an idea.

“Would you mind waiting by the car, Catherine? I’m going to run into Times to grab some garbage bags. Do you want me to get you anything? Maybe a drink or a snack?”

“Um, water, please.”

I use the curb to try and scrape as much mud as possible off of the bottom of my shoes before heading into the store. I can’t even imagine how ridiculous I look. I grab a box of garbage bags and pull a bottle of water from the cooler by the register. The cashier eyes me curiously but doesn’t comment on my appearance. I could shake his hand for it, if it didn’t mean touching him and sharing my mud, of course. Once outside I jog over to the car, not wanting to leave Catherine waiting for me any longer than necessary. I give her the water and pull out garbage bags, covering my car seats. Putting another bag on the floor, I open the door wider to give Catherine space to climb in before I get in on my side, crinkling on the plastic. At least I can control the cleanliness of the inside of my car, no matter how messy everything else seems to be. Catherine is quiet, giving her water bottle more attention than is necessary. Should I ask her what is bothering her or let it be? This whole disastrous date has left me feeling unsure of myself.

The drive out to Ka‘a‘awa is so familiar I feel like I could do it in my sleep. The Ko‘olaus are sharp and green to our left and the ocean is turquoise and endless to our right. I park in my old driveway and Catherine launches herself out of her door, practically running to the outdoor shower. She’s standing under the spray, fully dressed, mud sloughing off her in wet clumps when my mom comes around from the side of the Brookner house.

“Griffin? What are you doing here? Is that Catherine covered in mud?”

“Hey, Mom. Yeah, um, Catherine and I had a bit of a muddy start to a hike. We decided to call it a day and hose off before heading home. I hope that’s ok.”

“Of course, honey, you know you’re always welcome!”

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