The Victoria Falls Hotel Brochure: Fill & Download for Free

SPOILERS.SPOILERS.No really, this divulges the entire plot of the book..SPOILERS.SPOILERS.SPOILERS.Note: I listened to the audio book recording and it feels like an old-fashioned radio serial, with Ann Dowd reprising her role as Aunt Lydia, Bryce Dallas Howard as Agnes, Mae Whitman as Daisy, Derek Jacobi as Professor Pieixoto and Tantoo Cardinal as Professor Crescent Moon. Margaret Atwood herself reads a short intro and the titles of the parts..SPOILERS.SPOILERS.SPOILERS.SPOILERS.SPOILERS.SPOILERS.SPOILERS.SPOILERS.SPOILERS.The short version: Aunt Lydia was plotting to bring Gilead down the whole time, and uses June’s daughters to smuggle secret, damaging information across the border to Canada. Hannah never makes it out of Gilead as a child - she grows up in Gilead as Agnes Jemima, a proper Commander’s daughter and later becomes a Supplicant - an Aunt-in-Training under Aunt Lydia’s guidance. Nicole grows up in hiding in Canada unaware of her identity, but when Gilead agents murder her adoptive parents, she finds out who she really is and joins May Day to become the courier they need to get the damaging information out of Gilead. Aunt Lydia succeeds in bringing the two sisters together, and disguised as “Pearl Girl” missionaries, they team up to get Aunt Lydia’s information across the border to Canada, deliver it to May Day, and bring Gilead down. They are reunited with June at the end, and later, it is implied, their fathers. It is also implied that there is a return of some sort, to the United States, once the USA is reestablished..The much longer version:.........“The Testaments” picks up roughly 15 years after “The Handmaid’s Tale” and follows the interwoven stories of Aunt Lydia, Daisy - a Canadian teenager, and Agnes Jemima - a young woman raised in Gilead. All three tales are told in first person perspective, but overlap so that we see each character’s perspective as well as their views on the others.Daisy and Agnes’ stories are told through the lens of recorded testimony.Aunt Lydia is writing a secret memoir that she conceals inside a disused book in the library at Ardua Hall - the residence of the Aunts. (There are hints that Ardua Hall is on the Harvard campus. Possibly a dorm or class building. The headquarters of the Eyes is just across the way in what was the main library.)All three women move fluidly between recollecting relevant parts of their past, and recounting events of the present day, including how their paths cross over time.Aunt Lydia’s tale begins as a reflection on herself, her life as an Aunt, and then dives back into the past to explain how she came to occupy such a position of power within the Aunts, and how she holds sway over Commander Judd who manages the Aunts. We hear that she was a Family Court judge in her pre-Gilead life, with a brief stint as a teacher, that she married once, but divorced, and also had an abortion when she was very young. She came from a poor family, and pulled herself up by her bootstraps to earn her degrees and build her career. She was serving as a judge when she was arrested during the Gilead take-over, and subjected to atrocious conditions along with other older career women in the city’s stadium. Commander Judd pulled her out, selecting her as a possible collaborator in the new regime, subjected her to isolation and torture, then pulled her back out to the relative luxury of a hotel and offered her the opportunity to be the architect of the “women’s sphere” in Gilead. She accepts, and joins a group of 3 other women, who become the 4 Founder Aunts. They come up with the laws and processes governing women that we see play out in “The Handmaid’s Tale”, with Commander Judd approving and taking credit for everything. She describes the dirty tactics that she, her fellow Founders, and most Commanders employ to leverage power and influence and keep control in Gilead. She describes the ins and outs of life at Ardua Hall, and her position in it. Along the way, we learn that she has been stashing damaging information about all the higher-ups in Gilead and the inner workings of Gilead for years. About midway through her tale, we find out that she did this deliberately, as she intends to take Gilead down in revenge for the way she was treated during the rise of the regime, and for its inherent corruption. She plans to do this by spiriting Baby Nicole, now a Canadian teenager into Gilead, and back out again, so that Nicole can deliver the information to Canadian and International authorities, and precipitate Gilead’s fall, even if her own life should be forfeit in the effort. Gilead would never kill Baby Nicole, so Lydia is banking on Nicole’s special status to protect her as a courier.Daisy’s story begins in Canada, where she is a 16 year old attending private school in Toronto, and helps her parents at their consignment store. She describes her parents as loving, but very cautious with her, and that her mother never really smelled like her mother. She calls both parents by their first names, and is also familiar with their tough friend Ada who often collects donations for SanctuCare - an organization that helps refugees from Gilead - from the store. In an act of teen rebellion, Daisy swaps IDs with a friend so she can attend an anti-Gilead protest downtown. The protest turns into a riot, and she is found by Ada, who guides her out of the chaos, only to tell her that her parents were killed by a car explosion outside their store, and that they need to run. Daisy’s story now turns into a journey of discovery, as she finds out that her parents were not her biological parents, and that she is in fact, Baby Nicole, who was smuggled to Canada 15 years before. Ada is part of May Day, and May Day wants Daisy/Nicole to sneak across the border to make contact with an unknown source who has been feeding May Day very accurate information all these years, and bring back a secret stash of documents that will bring Gilead down. Daisy/Nicole is then trained by Ada and other members of May Day in “prayer and self-defense” and goes undercover as a street kid named Jade, so she can get picked up by the Pearl Girls - Gilead missionaries in Canada who wheedle abused teens and women to convert and take them across the border to become Wives, Handmaids, or Aunts. Daisy/Nicole/Jade is successful in this mission, and is brought to Ardua Hall as a convert, where she meets Aunt Lydia, and is placed in the care of Aunt Victoria and Aunt Immortel to help her transition to her life in Gilead.Agnes tells us the story of her life from her earliest memories, to the present, starting with being raised by her mother Tabitha, a Commander’s Wife. Tabitha loved her very much, and told her a fairy tale about rescuing her from witches with a magic ring when she was small, to become her mother. Along the way, Agnes does ultimately discover that Tabitha was not her mother, and that she was taken from her mother as a child, and her mother became a Handmaid. Unfortunately, Tabitha passes away just as Agnes reaches adolescence, and is therefore not around to protect her from various trials and tribulations, including sexual molestation, and a marriage at age 13, to Commander Judd, who is, as it turns out, a pedophile, and murders his wives in various ways that seem like accidents or illnesses when they “age out” of his preferences. Agnes is a “good Gilead girl” but cannot stomach the planned marriage, and instead, flees to her former school on the advice of Aunt Lydia, and ultimately becomes a Supplicant, an Aunt-in-Training, alongside a former school friend, Becca, who followed the same path after a suicide attempt, also to avoid marriage. Agnes pursues a quiet life of training to be an Aunt (she learns to read, studies the Bible, Gilead law, works hard in the kitchens, gardens), with her friend Becca, for nearly a decade. She adopts the name Aunt Victoria, Becca becomes Aunt Immortel. The culminating test to become an Aunt, is to go out on missionary work as a Pearl Girl to other countries, including Canada, and bring back potential converts to Gilead. Agnes and Becca are preparing for this task, when the convert Jade is entrusted to their care. They struggle with her teen attitude and resistance to their guidance, but care for her very much.These three stories come together when Aunt Lydia reveals to Agnes and Daisy that they are half-sisters, they share the same Handmaid mother. To use the TV names - Agnes is Hannah - June and Luke’s daughter, and Daisy is Nicole - June and Nick’s daughter. The book never uses the name “Hannah”, though. Lydia also reveals that June and Nick have both long since fled to Canada and are deeply embedded in May Day. Gilead has tried to kill June at least twice. She has no other information about Nick, because he is so deep under. Aunt Lydia is the May Day source, and she needs Nicole to smuggle her cache of damaging information back to Canada. She will take Becca/Aunt Immortel’s place as a Pearl Girl, and will travel with Agnes/Aunt Victoria to Canada, where there is a slim chance they may reunite with their mother.As part of her street kid cover, Nicole got a very specific, scarified tattoo and Aunt Lydia hides a microdot containing all of her information in the scar tissue. The three young women then return to their dorm to prepare to leave for Canada, but things come to a head when other Aunts become suspicious of “Jade”, and the Eyes raid the Aunts’ print shop, after discovering that microdots were being sent to Canada on the Pearl Girls’ missionary brochures. The plan to escape has to be reworked and moved up in timeline. This results in Becca sacrificing her life so that Nicole can take her place in disguise as a Pearl Girl to accompany Agnes across the border.Nicole and Agnes are nearly discovered by another Aunt, when leaving early the next morning, but Nicole uses her self-defense skills to knock the Aunt out. While the Aunt is in the hospital recovering, Aunt Lydia manipulates another Aunt into murdering her in a way that looks like an asthma attack.Once safely away from Ardua Hall, Nicole and Agnes have a harrowing journey from Boston to New Hampshire by car and truck, and then onto a motor boat out to a smuggling ship. Nicole becomes very ill from the tattoo getting infected while aboard. Agnes cares for her as best she can. They make it most of the way to Canada, when the ship has engine trouble, and the are offloaded onto an inflatable motor boat to try to make it to shore before the ship drifts too far from Canada. The sisters manage to make it to shore in Canada, and are picked up by May Day. Nicole is given antibiotics and recovers from the infection. The micro dot is recovered, and presumably, leads to the downfall of Gilead.The main story closes with Agnes and Nicole reuniting with June.The narrative shifts focus to an epilogue told from the perspective of the 13th Symposium on Gilead Studies just as “The Handmaid’s Tale” closed with another Symposium. The same scholar expounds in his Symposium speech on Offred’s tapes, Nicole and Agnes’ recovered testimonies, and the Ardua Hall Holograph. He speculates that Aunt Lydia was the author, but there is no proof, because of the chaos that ensued during the fall of Gilead and the destruction of many records. He also remarks on a statue erected on Boston Common, speculating that Agnes, Nicole, June, and their families put it up. It is heavily implied that this is a statue of Becca, who gave her life to enable Nicole and Agnes’ escape. He also speculates that a set of initials carved into the place where Nicole and Agnes were taken to recover when they reached Canada belonged to them, and the May Day operatives that supported them, as well as Aunt Lydia.The book concludes leaving us with the impression that June, Nick, Luke, Agnes, and Nicole went on to have happy lives in Canada, and perhaps returned to the United States once it was the United States again. It is also implied that Agnes and Nicole had children and grandchildren and their family line lived on. We are also left with the impression that Aunt Lydia either took her own life before she was arrested for her part in the plot, or died as a result of her actions at the hands of Gilead. As with “The Handmaid’s Tale” Gilead is portrayed as a blip in human history, with democracy ultimately prevailing. It is never specified how the various environmental crises are resolved.

I woke up at about four-thirty. I was still groggy when I recalled I had a dinner reservation at six. It was time to shake this off. Olivia Garvin was dead, remember? And there was no reason to mourn. I looked down at my ring again. I picked it out myself. It was the most beautiful ring I had ever seen – a two-carat emerald-cut stone set on an unassuming yellow gold band with a couple of smaller diamonds on either side. My matching wedding band used to slide around the bottom, so I had my jeweler attach them permanently. My ring was the only piece of jewelry I wore, besides a pair of occasional earrings on special events. I struggled to slide it off. It had been more than fourteen years since I had taken it off. After a little soap and cold water, I managed to remove it. I looked at my finger and saw a tanless ring on the indentation of where my ring used to live. I rubbed it a bit in a feign effort to make the indentation disappear. My finger felt naked, like something was missing. I placed the ring in my purse, then went to sit on the bed. The missing-something feeling really bothered me – not because of its symbolism, but because I felt like I had physically lost something. I thought about that irony for a moment. Oddly, that strange process made me feel better. I thought about cancelling dinner. Maybe I wasn’t ready to dine with another man. Maybe I should spend a little more time finding myself before I drag someone else into my baggage. I looked for Kalani’s card, and remembered that Michelle had it and probably took it with her. I thought about calling Michelle for the number, but she was probably still in the air somewhere. I figured I could go downstairs at six and just tell Kalani I wasn’t up to it. I could fake being sick, although most doctors have a hard time doing that, and I don’t like liars. But I was hungry. I hadn’t eaten yet today. And it would be nice to talk to someone. I guess I convinced myself to go. I needed a shower badly. I turned the water on, and was surprised how good the pressure was in the hotel. I took my bikini off and stepped in the hot water. I just stood there for a moment, pretending to wash away all the negative thoughts from the past several days. I watched below as whatever was left of Olivia Garvin floated down the drain. I finished my shower. I wiped the condensation from the mirror and looked at my hair. I hadn’t worn it down too much. It was always either short and tightly pulled back, or longer and pulled back into a pony tail. But tonight, I was going to wear it down. As I brushed it, I was surprised at how long my hair had become. I couldn’t remember the last time I had a haircut. I realized that maybe I had spent too much time tending to Dr. Garvin’s duties and not enough time on Olivia. I wondered if that were part of the underlying problem that led to the demise of Richard and I. Maybe I should have gussied myself up a little more, like my mom used to say. That didn’t matter now. If he had a problem with the way I looked, he should have told me. The new Olivia won’t make those mistakes. From now on, it’s Olivia first, and the world second. I had already given 41 years to the world. It’s time for the world to give something back to me. I thought about my limitless future, and the fun I could have doing what I wanted to do for a change. I wasn’t quite sure what I wanted to do yet, but I’d figure it out. I thought about the endless possibilities of where to live and where I’d work. Maybe I’d start my own practice. I was finally free. I was never a prissy girl, so I wasn’t entirely sure how to do my hair. Michelle would usually help me with things like that. She was a cosmetics expert. As a matter of fact, she had her breasts enlarged. Took fatty tissue from her rear-end and transplanted that to her breasts so there wouldn’t be any issues later. They looked fantastic. I finally opted for the straight down look. I laughed when I thought I resembled Gwyneth Paltrow. I began to feel better and more energized. I thought about going for a run before dinner, but that didn’t make sense. The bright yellow dress in the closet appeared to be calling me. It was a very sexy dress, cut low in the front, definitely accentuating my bust line. I would never normally wear something like this. But this was the new me, so what the heck. Michelle picked out a matching necklace. I put it on. That was weird. I did look kind of cute, I suppose. My brown sandals would finish it off. Luckily, I had pretty good skin. The inadvertent tan I received on my zombie walk earlier gave my face a nice natural blush. I put on a little lipstick and got dressed. I stood in front of the mirror and wondered if this new Olivia was worthy. I thought about it, and wanted to take a selfie. I had never taken a selfie. I always hated the way teenage girls always pursed their lips in that awkward non-flattering position in every selfie you see. I tried the pursing, but I resembled someone who just suffered a stroke; or worse, a duck. As I looked for my phone to take the picture, I realized I had left whatever was left of my phone and other things by the pool. I vaguely remember dropping it. I hoped it was all still there. I got on the elevator and rushed down to the pool deck. Most of the chairs were empty, and my belongings were gone. I went to the front desk to inquire if someone had hopefully collected them and turned them in. There was a long line of people waiting to check in. I looked at my watch and it was just before 6. I had hoped I could squeeze through and see if my things were there. I looked for someone who might be able to help. Everyone appeared to be busy. Someone approached me from behind. “Olivia?” said the confident male voice. I turned to face him. “Wow, you look stunning! You look like some movie star, I can’t place who. But wow! So, are you and Michelle ready for dinner?” I looked at Kalani and smiled. He had a Hawaiian shirt on. I hated Richard’s Hawaiian shirts, but Kalani’s wasn’t bad. It was much more subtle than any of Richard’s. It was a silky, short sleeved shirt, sort of an off white color, with silhouetted flowers. He had long khaki dress pants on. And sandals. No socks, thank goodness. Richard used to wear socks with his sandals. “Michelle had to leave,” I mustered. “Family emergency. So it’ll just be us, if that’s still alright.” “No worries, no worries. That’s perfect. Is she OK?” “Michelle is fine. It’s her father. Broken hip. She has to tend to him.” I wondered why my sentences seemed so short and non-conversational. I think I was actually nervous. “Hey, can we hang out here for a moment? I left some stuff at the pool earlier, and I need to see if it’s still here.” “No problem, Liv. Can I call you Liv? Like Liv Tyler?” I nodded and smiled. Michelle was the only person other than my mother that had ever called me Liv. I never really liked it. But when he said it, I really liked it. “Liv is great.” Then I said it. “Can I call you Kal?” Boy was that stupid. I felt like an idiot. “Um, no,” he said, laughing. “Listen, follow me.” We walked across the lobby to a door that led to an office. Kalani knocked on the door quietly, then opened it. He told me to hang on a second and walked inside. I waited and looked around and the entire lobby seemed to be staring at me. I looked down to see if I had smeared something on my dress. It was incredibly bright. Nothing smeared. I looked away and stared at the door. Kalani walked out of the office with a bag of stuff. He pulled my phone out. “Uh oh, this isn’t good.” He handed me my broken phone. “The screen is smashed. Sometimes these things still work, even with a smashed screen. But yours doesn’t look that lucky.” That was kind of how my life was going since my 42nd birthday, so I wasn’t surprised. “Is this everything?” I looked through the bag and found my purse, my cover up, Michelle’s Kindle, and my towel. I was amazed to find nothing was missing. Even my cash was still there. “Wow, that’s everything. Thank you so much. I can’t believe it was all still there.” “Good people here. Hawaiian people are basically very happy people. Well, most of them, anyway.” A very dark skinned older island man, slightly balding, in his late 50s, wearing a suit, walked out of the office and closed the door. He shook hands with Kalani, then hugged him. They obviously knew each other. “Who is this young lady? Is this the future Mrs. Kalani?” I blushed. “This is my friend Liv. Liv, this is Mr. Caldwell.” “It’s very nice to meet you, Ms. Liv. If you need anything at all during your stay, don’t hesitate to ask for me.” He handed me his card. “You’ve got quite a surf instructor here. He’s got a wall full of trophies and awards. But he’ll never admit that.” He slapped Kalani on the shoulder. I think he blushed, but it was hard to tell. “You two enjoy your night.” “You ready Liv?” Alright, now I was in love with the name Liv. Maybe it was just the way he said it. Maybe it was just him. I guess I just killed the name “Olivia” too. That’s a double murder – my persona and now my first name. I smiled like a deranged killer. “Yes I am. Where are we going?” I asked. “That, my friend, is a secret. But we have to run or we’ll miss it.” Kalani escorted me to his white van. He opened the passenger door for me. That was a surprise. I didn’t think men did that anymore, mostly because most women didn’t want men to open doors for them. I didn’t really care either way about the gesture, but it was nice to be thought of in a polite manner. He gently closed the door. It was an older van, probably circa 1990s. Its dark blue seats probably hid any dirt that was about to cling to my bright yellow dress. The van had a distinct odor of fish. It wasn’t offensive; it was more nautical, like a fresh catch. There were several papers and brochures scattered across the top of the dashboard. A large plastic toolbox sat in the space between the two bucket seats. Kalani climbed in. “Sorry, I didn’t have a chance to clean it up. Had a lesson book late today. Barely had time to get changed. Buckle up – we’re gonna have to hurry. You might want to put a helmet on, too.” He laughed. I half-wondered if he was serious as I fastened my seatbelt. Kalani pulled out of the driveway slowly. He peered around carefully, as if to ensure me he was purposefully being cautious and looking for loose bags. I took the opportunity to see the real Waikiki. Kalani took the back streets, because traffic was terrible this time of day. He skirted through roadways like a seasoned taxi jockey. We came up on a street running parallel to a canal. “You see that canal? The water is filthy. They drained wetlands back in the day into these canals. Full of garbage. People up on the hills use the run off for cleaning, and, well, other not so nice things. People actually have boat races in there. That’s why the boats are so wide – people are scared of falling in!” I asked him where he lived. He told me he shared an apartment with someone up on the North Shore, not too far from the shrimp stand where we ran into him yesterday. “Hey, that was some save yesterday. I forgot to tell you, the woman is going to be alright. Everyone at the shrimp stand is calling you ‘life saver.’” “I’m glad you mentioned she wasn’t feeling well. You actually are the life saver. I was just doing my job. Besides, it gave me an excuse to leave my catfish.” “Yeah, but you could have sat back and ignored it. Instead you and your buddy stepped up. That was good shaka.” “Good what? What is ‘shata’?” Kalani laughed hysterically at my mispronunciation. “Shata? You don’t know what shata is? Really? Oh, we’re going to have to teach you all about shata. Remind me later, OK?” He laughed again. I didn’t get the joke. But his laugh was cute. We pulled into a hotel called Halekulani' in a crowded part of town. The valet greeted me as he opened my door. Kalani hugged the valet as he walked around the far side of the van and took his key. It seemed like Kalani was some sort of local celebrity. This would be interesting. He put his arm out. “Shall we?” I placed my arm inside of his and he escorted me up the marble steps. We walked through an open-air lobby with beautiful décor. Everyone who worked there was very well dressed and didn’t hesitate to greet us. Directly ahead of us was a long open air courtyard with perfectly manicured grass, surrounded by the hotel. We walked to the left, passing what looked like some pretty exclusive stores. I noticed there was a wedding ceremony happening towards the end of the courtyard. Behind them was a gorgeous reception room with glass doors leading to the ocean. The bride wore a gorgeous long white dress with an immaculate train. The groom was wearing a white tuxedo with tails. The flower girl was tossing pink and purple flowers in front of the bride. It was beautiful. Kalani smiled as we walked by. We turned left at the end of the walkway. To the left was a pool. To the right, there was a bustling entrance to an open-air restaurant on a patio. The name of the place was House Without a Key. I thought about the name for a while as Kalani went to check on our reservation. It sounded entirely inviting. I had never heard of such a name. Kalani came back quickly, and we were escorted to our table. Kalani pulled my chair out for me. I thanked him as I took my seat. We were seated directly in front of a small stage, where a gentleman was tuning a guitar. The sun was beginning its slow descent into the ocean as the sky began to appear iridescent, with the strange colors of twilight further enhancing the illumination of my already fluorescent yellow dress. “My God, you are gorgeous in this light. Can I take a picture of you?” said a random stranger, an older gentleman, with a camera sporting a very large lens. “I’m doing a photo shoot for a magazine, and I’d love to have you on the cover; both of you. Would you mind? Which Miss Hawaii were you? What year?” I found out later that this restaurant features a sunset party hosted by one of several former Miss Hawaiis each night. He thought I was a former Miss Hawaii. I didn’t have a clue what he was talking about. “Two thousand and eight, maybe nine?” said Kalani, as he turned to me and winked. The man and his wife were very excited. We posed for several pictures in front of the gate leading to a small walkway above the water. Kalani asked if the man would forward the photos to him, and he agreed. I walked around the perimeter for a moment while they exchanged information. The grounds were breathtaking. The ocean breeze and the roar of its waves permeated the background. A large and beautiful tree adorned the left side of the stage. The scenery could have been a painting. I felt like a celebrity. I smiled for several more photographs, secretly hoping someone at home would catch one and show it to Richard. After all, I was Miss Hawaii. I hoped this little white lie wouldn’t snowball into an embarrassing avalanche. We returned to our table. A waiter came by and asked for our drink order. “Two Mai Tais, sir,” said Kalani. “Ah, the house specialty. A wonderful selection. Right away, sir,” replied the waiter. He dropped off a bunch of cocktail napkins and basket of what looked to be baked potato chips. I was starving, so I dug right in. Kalani smiled. While munching, I browsed one of their menus. At this point, everything sounded delicious. Kalani interjected. “Can I make a recommendation, madam? This place has a gourmet barbeque in the back, over to the left. Mind-blowing ribs, if you’re into that kind of thing.” Ribs sounded terrific, but I remembered I had a bright yellow dress on. One wrong move and the entire island would know. “They do look good, but I don’t think ribs would be a great idea,” I said, looking down at my chest. “No worries. I can have the chef take the meat off the rib.” I was amazed at how in tune Kalani was. I hadn’t mentioned worrying about my dress, but somehow, he knew exactly what I was thinking. I smiled at his compassion. The waiter returned with two frilly Mai Tais, complete with flowers and fresh fruit accompaniments. Kalani took a sip. His hand shook a bit, like he was nervous, and he winced. “Too strong for you?” I chided. “Yeah, wow, I don’t really drink.” I thought this could be a problem. I hardly knew this man. I don’t typically get stupid when I have a few, but I would be at a physical disadvantage if he were sober and I wasn’t. Old Olivia would have never allowed herself to fall into a compromising or disadvantageous situation. But Liv didn’t seem to have any hesitation. He flagged the waiter down and asked for a virgin. The waiter smiled condescendingly, took his non-virgin, and walked away. I took another sip. It was delicious. Kalani was looking off into what was setting up to be a lovely sunset. Living on the island, I’m sure he’s watched thousands of perfect sunsets. But he looked calm and at peace. I have to admit, I was slightly jealous I had to compete with something so stunningly beautiful. “So, who is Kalani? Tell me about yourself. What does Kalani mean?” Kalani laughed. “Well, it’s a funny story.” I took another sip and sat back in my chair, like a child who was settling in for a terrific bedtime story. “My mother was really hoping for a girl. She wanted to have some help around the house like her mother had. The way she carried me in her belly, the cravings she had, a few old spooky Hawaiian traditions all pointed to a girl. Kalani is typically a girl’s name. She hadn’t really thought of anything for a boy. It supposedly means ‘the heavens,’” he said as he pointed upwards. “Poor mom. She’s still disappointed. Never had another kid.” His virgin arrived. He thanked the waiter, then took a sip. “Apparently, my parents wanted a boy. I know for sure they didn’t want me. I was adopted,” I said, not quite sure why I was being so uncharacteristically cynical. “They were a wonderful older couple who couldn’t have children of their own. They picked my name. I’m not really sure what it means,” I replied. Kalani looked very serious. “No, no, I’m sorry, Liv. But that story doesn’t beat mine. I am the most wounded child at this table.” We laughed. It was so pleasant to laugh with someone who had what appeared to be a noble wit. I became a bit sad when I recalled Richard had always laughed at people. I remember he would laugh at me whenever I would trip, or make any kind of mistake. “Did you ever look for your biological parents?” “Thought about it quite a few times after my parents passed. But no, I haven’t. I suppose I didn’t want to make things uncomfortable for them. I’m sure they could find me on Google, Facebook, or some other website if they really wanted to. But I haven’t heard from anyone in 42 years.” I thought that was a subtle way to drop the age bomb on him. I watched him carefully to determine if that mattered. But there was no raised eyebrow or wrinkled face. That was a relief. I was hoping he would tell me how old he was. But he didn’t bite. “Hey, I’m sorry. Didn’t know. Hope I didn’t upset you. I don’t know how anyone could possibly give up a child that God gave to you. That’s crazy. Even my mom kept me. I didn’t turn out so bad. At least I don’t think so.” Kalani smiled. “So, where are you from?” “I was born just outside of Philadelphia. A place called Bucks County. Lots of farms and trees and rolling hills. It was really pretty, especially when the trees turned color in October and November. Now, there are housing developments and strip malls and office parks all over it. Right before I started high school, my parents moved us to Florida. They were a little older and didn’t like cold weather. We live in a city called Melbourne, not too far from Cocoa Beach.” “I’ve been to Cocoa Beach! Surf contest a bunch of years ago. Lost to some guy named Slater. He’s pretty amazing. We had a lot of fun back in the day. Some crazy parties. Those guys were nuts. You ever go to a surf competition over there?” “I actually did! My friends and I would go during high school. But we’re talking twenty some years ago. When were you there?” I tried to figure out his age once again. Slater is in his 40s now. Based on the lines on his face, he had to be somewhere around 35. “Wow, had to be close to 15, maybe even 20 years ago. We might have been there around the same time. You know, you might have watched me surf. I hope you were rooting for me. But Slater was the local, so everyone was pumped for him.” No dice on the age. He changed the subject. “So, Life Saver, you’re a doctor. What kind of doctor are you?” I hate talking about myself. I always have. Especially in interviews with those silly self-touting local medical magazines you’ll find in doctors’ offices that no one ever reads. The interviewer always made me feel the need to justify why I am who and where I am. Luckily, I had rehearsed my story several times. I took a deep breath and laid it on him. “I’ve been very fortunate in my life. My adoptive parents were pretty well off. They told me I could be whatever I wanted. When my mother found out she had cancer, I wanted to somehow save her so badly, but I was helpless. I needed to know more. Her passing hit me pretty hard. Then, a few years later, my father died too -- cancer again. Here I was, in college studying pre-med with honors, but I couldn’t begin to understand how to save the people I loved. I was planning on becoming a surgeon. But I had to find out what this disease was, how it worked, and how to stop it. I switched gears and became an oncologist. I intended to work in a laboratory to find a cure. I did that for a few years, but strangely enough, these labs didn’t seem to be interested in curing the disease, only in prolonging it. Apparently, there’s no money in curing a disease. I was told I had a terrific bedside manner, and I should treat people. So I became an oncologist, a cancer doctor.” At the end of my rehearsed story, Kalani smiled and turned his head, staring off into the impending sunset. I was worried that maybe I had struck a chord. Maybe his mother or father or someone close to him had cancer. He seemed to be in a trance. “Kalani, are you OK?” He snapped out of it. “Yeah, yeah, I’m good.” He took another sip, then turned back towards me. “I’m good. So you save people’s lives all the time. That’s awesome, Liv. You are pretty amazing. What you did with that Canadian woman, Carol, was awesome. People are talking about you. They think you might be an angel or something. I’m beginning to agree with them. Hey, are you real? Pinch me and show me I’m not dreaming…” I smiled as I thought oh no. Not a cheesy line. And one of the oldest lines in the book. I shuddered to think what was coming next. But maybe, just maybe, he actually meant it. After more than 15 years of being ignored, I was rather starved for any attention I could get. The band had started to play. Then I remembered they thought I was Miss Hawaii, and had a slight panic attack thinking they might invite me on stage. I can’t sing or dance! I took another sip. This could be very embarrassing. The guitar player kept looking at me and smiling, as if he had plans for me. I turned to Kalani. “Hey, with this Miss Hawaii thing, they’re not going to embarrass me or anything, are they?” Kalani laughed. “No, no, no. Miss Hawaii is about to come out. She performs right before every sunset.” He turned towards the restaurant area. “Look, see the woman in the pink dress, standing in front of the bar? That’s Miss Hawaii, from the 70s I think.” She was lovely. Long dark hair with a pink flower on the side, and a perfect figure. I was relieved. “She’s coming on, probably right after this song. She’ll sing and hula for a few songs, then they take a break right when the sun is setting.” I have to admit, the entire scene was surreal. I felt like I was in a motion picture. I was seated at a prominent table with this very handsome man, who doesn’t drink, with Miss Hawaii about to entertain us, and a breath-taking sunset about to commence. This is exactly what I thought Hawaii to be. “So, Liv, I have to ask. I saw your ring the other day, when you saved that woman. And… hmmm… it’s not here tonight. How long have you been married?” Boom. Grounded back in reality. But he couldn’t have known all the craziness I had been through the past few days. Fortunately, the Mai Tai was beginning to kick in. I was prepared for that question. “I was, I mean, technically, I still am.” I took another sip. Then I looked Kalani in the eyes. “But we’re not together anymore. And we never will be again. It’s a long, complicated, crazy story.” I wasn’t sure how much I should tell him, or how much he wanted to know. “No worries, no worries. It was a yellow ring, yellow gold. I have a friend, Victoria, a young girl who is an up-and-coming jewelry artist. She makes some pretty amazing stuff. She says people haven’t worn yellow wedding rings since the 90s. So, I’m guessing you were married quite a while.” He took another sip. I didn’t take my eyes off of him. “Most people come here to celebrate freedom. Some come to heal. Which are you here to do?” I was taken aback by the question. I suppose celebrating a divorce would be a good reason for a vacation. Michelle had done it a few times. “Definitely to heal. I’ve never been here before, I mean, in Hawaii, or relationship-wise. It’s all really quite recent. Very recent.” I worried I was scaring him off, even as a friend. I didn’t want him to think I’m in some kind of potentially psycho situation. But it was only fair to clue him in. “It’s still unfolding. I know it sounds strange, but I’m still finding out what happened. I suppose I’m trying to heal at the same time. My relationship was kind of like an aggressive, well, I guess you could call it a cancer.” I took a sip and paused. “And there are no drugs, or cutting, or burning that’s going to fix it. This patient is definitely terminal.” Kalani continued to look me in the eyes. He never turned away. His big brown eyes locked on mine with the warmest, most healing stare I think I’ve ever had. “I’m so sorry. We don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to. You know, we can’t always predict how things will turn out. But I do believe things happen for a reason. I think, somehow, your bags ended up in front of my van on purpose.” He suddenly shook his head and snapped. “Oh, before I forget, remind me later, I’ve got a surprise in the van for you.” I smiled. Miss Hawaii was introduced, and she took the stage. After doing some rough math in my head, I was amazed how stunning this woman looked for her age. I hoped I would age as well. I wished I knew what my biological mother looked like today, if she was still alive. Miss Hawaii welcomed everyone and smiled warmly. She told us that rather than speaking or writing, the hula was traditionally how native Hawaiians told stories through the ages. Each move had a symbolic meaning. I was surprised to find that men traditionally did the hula, and only in more recent history, women were finally allowed to join them. Her moves were perfectly fluid, as her genuine and contagious smile never left her face. Her eyes seemed to twinkle as her pink dress glowed in the twilight. The sun was dropping and becoming larger. Everyone seemed happy here. She finished her second hula, and announced they were going to take a break to enjoy the sunset. Hundreds of people pulled out their cameras and gathered around the fences surrounding the perimeter of the outside seating area. “Let me take your picture, Liv.” I remembered I had smashed my phone. Kalani pulled out his. “If it’s OK, give me your cell number and I can text it to you.” I smiled and nodded, knowing as I was writing that I had not only dumped my husband and murdered the old Olivia, but in the fracas, I had killed my phone too. I figured I’d run out and grab a new one tomorrow. Kalani took me by the hand and walked me on to the stage. I was worried we shouldn’t be there. “Stand in front of the microphone.” He took a picture. “Look off towards the sunset.” He snapped a few more. Other people began to take pictures of me too. For the first time in my life, I actually felt beautiful. Miss Hawaii approached the stage. I thought I was in trouble. She smiled and offered to take Kalani’s phone and take a picture of he and I together. Kalani climbed on stage. He looked at me, and I put my arm around his waist and pulled him closer. He smelled delicious. We smiled and posed for a few photos. Kalani helped me down from the stage. We remained standing as we watched the most heavenly sunset I had ever witnessed. “This is a Kalani sunset,” I muttered with what I thought was a clever play on words. Kalani chuckled. “Wait for the green flash,” Kalani warned me. “What’s a green flash?” I asked. “Right after the sun drops beneath the horizon, they’ll be a flash of green light. The legend goes, those who see it gain the power to read the souls of other people,” Kalani explained. Kalani had probably seen the green flash hundreds of times. Maybe the legend was true. He, like Michelle, seemed to have the power to see into my soul. I watched closely as the sun dropped. I waited. And waited. The sky turned a gorgeous combination of orange and purple. But I didn’t see a green flash. I looked at Kalani for a moment. “When does the green flash happen?” He looked at me. “It doesn’t happen every night. Thought for sure it would happen tonight, but it didn’t. We’ll have to try again tomorrow,” he said reassuringly. I was pleased he wanted to see me again. We returned to our seats. “Don’t look so sad. It’s just an old sailor’s myth. Some kind of atmospheric light bending or something. It’s really no big deal.” I wanted to know more about this man. My Mai Tai was kicking in and I was becoming more confident. So I asked him. “I’d like to know a little more about you. Have you ever played 20 Questions?” Kalani smiled. “Sure. But that means I get 20 too.” Kalani sat back, opened his arms, and stared right into my eyes. “Fire away.” I giggled. “OK. Question number one. What did you want to be when you grow up?” Kalani laughed. “You’re not going to believe this. I remember watching some awful comedy show on TV with my dad. I must have been four or five. And these guys were playing banjo and guitar. And I would sing and dance all over the place. I wanted to be a country music star. There was something real about that music. There still is. No drum machines, no synthesizers. You have to have at least a little talent to be a country star. Didn’t work out for me. I do have a hat, though.” I laughed. “I’m so sorry, I don’t mean to laugh at you. I can see you dancing around in a hat that’s bigger than you. A little too much imagination, I suppose. OK, your turn.” Kalani rubbed his hands together and looked off to his left, as if he was racking his brain for a humdinger. “Alright, Liv, where was your first kiss?” Damn. I hated that question. I had been asked that before, and I hated it then too. But a deal is a deal. “Well, it’s kind of embarrassing.” “That’s the point of this game, isn’t it? You started it!” “I suppose, I suppose. Alright, I was fifteen, and at a friend’s birthday party. It was the first party I had ever been to where boys were there too. It got kind of late, and they had a small workshop in the back yard. My friend got the bright idea of playing 7 Minutes of Heaven, you know, where you lock yourself and a boy in the closet for seven minutes. Well, this workshop didn’t have a closet. But it had a horribly nasty bathroom with a toilet that didn’t work. One of the kids did his business, and the toilet didn’t flush, so you can imagine how bad it smelled. They blocked us in the room. We banged on the door, but they wouldn’t budge. Jimmy Olson, yes, that was his real name, decided he was going to kiss me. I remember seeing a piece of food in his braces. He came closer to me, and I asked him if we could just pretend we kissed. He kept coming. Between the smell of the toilet and the food in his braces, it was just too much, and I…” “OK, that’s enough.” Kalani laughed hysterically. “I can see where that was going. Next question. PLEASE.” I was thankful I didn’t get the next sentence out. I actually slapped him, and he cried. I felt bad, and kissed him on the cheek. I eventually pushed the door open after I screamed that Jimmy was bleeding. I figured I’d finish that story later. I reached deep into the chasm of my mind for a killer question, but there was nothing there. So I blurted out, “Are you dating anyone?” He immediately answered, “Nope.” I fired back. “Why not?” “That’s technically another question, and it’s my turn now, if I’m not mistaken, isn’t it?” I folded my arms and found my most sarcastic voice. “Oh, OK. I see how you want to play this now. One word answers.” Kalani laughed. It was so incredibly adorable. I was falling for his laugh. I wished I could package it up and take it home. “Did you decide on dinner yet?” “Well, that was a waste of a question…” Kalani made the time-out gesture with his hands. “Pause the game. Time out. I’m starving. Are you going to try the barbeque ribs? They are pretty mind-blowing. If you want something else, I’ll let you try mine.” I nodded. Kalani called the waiter over and ordered two ribs. We were both silent for a moment, both looking towards the still purple sky. Kalani grabbed one of the cocktail napkins from the table. “I’ll be right back, excuse me for a moment.” He walked towards the bar. I hoped everything was alright. Maybe I freaked him out with my marriage news. He took something from the bartender and came back. “Liv, I want you to do something for me.” He handed me the napkin and a pen. I was confused. Maybe he wanted my phone number to send me the pictures from his phone. “Now that the sun has set, think of that sunset as your old life. Forget all the pain and the nonsense and put it all behind you.” I closed my eyes, and imagined a new life filled with positive experiences. I imagined a beautiful dawn and a genuinely warm smile. I opened my eyes, and Kalani pushed the napkin and pen towards me. “This might sound kind of weird, but I want you to write something for me. The old you died tonight. From this point forward, you’re a new person. Tomorrow morning, you will wake up smiling. You’ll take a breath of fresh air and realize your new life starts now. No worries, no past, just an endless future with new experiences and boundless optimism. But that can’t happen until you bury the old you. And it won’t seem real until you have proof the old you is gone. So I want you to write your obituary right here, right now.” I was taken aback. It seemed really morbid, even a little scary. Even with the countless deaths I had experienced, no one had ever asked me to write an obituary -- not even for my parents. And writing my own really bothered me. But then I thought about it. He was right. I had considered old Olivia dead already, so why not make it formal? The more I thought about it, the more I thought it was a great idea. I sat and pondered it for a while. I didn’t know where to begin. Suddenly, I began to write. I scribed a few sentences, then handed it to Kalani. He gently pushed my hand away. “Whoa, I don’t want to read it. That’s for you. Put it somewhere you can find it, and look at it whenever you see yourself starting to think of your old life. From this point forward, you’ve been reborn. Welcome to your new world, Liv.” Suddenly, I felt a renewed sense of energy. I realized this all was simply a mental exercise, but I did feel mentally and physically rejuvenated. I had studied some psychology and was well aware mind over matter, and that placebos can and do produce measurable results in some people. I never thought, knowing all that I knew, that it might actually work on me. But it seemed to be working. And the fact that it’s written down means I can refer to it again as a reminder when necessary. “Kalani, that’s a brilliant idea. Did you come up with that yourself?” He laughed. “No, someone passed it on to me. I wrote mine about 10 years ago.” I was floored. Kalani wrote his own obituary too. I wondered what his skeletons were. Drinking? Not with the face he made when he took a sip of a fruity Mai Tai. A marriage gone bad? Could be. Womanizing? Couldn’t be. He seems too kind. But I had been fooled before. Dinner came, and it smelled wonderful. Kalani had asked the water to pull the meat from my ribs. I carefully ate each bite, making sure I had no accidents. The night sky began to shimmer with thousands of stars as a half-moon lit up the sky over Diamond Head. It was a beautiful ending to a trying day. I finished my second Mai Tai and had a really good buzz. Kalani grabbed the check and paid the waiter. Many of the tables had cleared out by now, but there was still a bustling business going on underneath the covered area. People continued to stare and smile at us as we walked through the restaurant back to the courtyard area. The wedding reception was in full swing, as well-dressed people were jumping and shaking to some awful and intelligible song called “The Douggie.” I imagined a Hawaiian wedding to be much different than something I’d see at home, and then remembered my overall disappointment in Waikiki so far. We paused for a moment, smiled, and shook our heads as we continued on our way. Kalani was excited to show me his surprise, which I assumed was replacement luggage. I didn’t care about that. I didn’t want this pleasant night to end, so I asked him to show me the strip at night. Kalani obliged, after warning me that things get a little sketchy after dark. I told him I didn’t have a problem with that if he didn’t. We walked bit and found Kalakaua Avenue once again. The very populated wealthy Japanese entourage already carrying scads of bags continued to purchase everything they saw in the most exclusive stores, like piranhas devouring fresh flesh. I wondered where there fortunes originated. Caucasians of lesser means happily window shopped. Everyone seemed to be content right where they were. Kalani walked on my right. That bothered me for some reason. Richard was always on my left. I carefully exchanged positions as we walked. I then remembered my obituary, and decided I was no longer going to worry about things like that. But it was difficult. Kalani saw a charming ukulele shop and pulled me inside. “Kalani!” the heavy man behind the counter yelled. He came out front and hugged Kalani. “What’s up my brother? How you doin’ man? And who is this lovely angel you have brought to visit?” Kalani introduced me as his friend. Eddie hugged me too. “Listen up, everyone. We have a celebrity in our midst. And if you show him some love, maybe he’ll play you a song.” People began to clap. Eddie gave Kalani a gorgeous ukulele. Kalani shook his head. Then he began to play. The place went silent. I had heard the song before, I think on a television commercial. Then someone began to sing. “Oooh, oooh, oooh, oooh…” And others joined in. In a few moments, everyone in the store had joined in like a professional chorus on a Las Vegas stage. “Somewhere, over the rainbow, way up high…” Aha, that was the song. Eddie grabbed another uke and played accompaniment. It was beautiful. They finished the song. A hundred or so people who had quietly gathered outside the shop’s open door had erupted in applause. I got chills. Eddie hugged Kalani. They spoke for a few moments as I browsed some of their unique hand-made pieces. I had taken piano lessons as a child and always had an interest in guitar, but maybe this was more my speed. “I can teach you,” said Kalani as he walked up to me. I smiled. “It’s not that hard. A few hours and it will become part of your soul.” We waved at Eddie and left the store, as my mind stored yet another of those priceless moments I will never forget. We continued down the avenue. The street was filled with performers including mimes, dancers, magicians, and musicians, all with their tip jars prominently displayed. Several men were handing out discount cards inviting people to a local gun range where you could rent machine guns. We walked by two very well dressed women in high heels standing on a corner, just as two young men asked them “how much.” I slowed down to listen. She replied, “Well, how old are you?” I had never heard an exchange between a vendor and client in the world’s oldest profession first hand. A little further down the street, a bunch of people were making a big fuss over someone. There was a woman wearing what appeared to be an old-time feathery flamingo dancer dress accompanied by a taller man sporting eye make-up. We got a little closer and his hat read a name I can’t recall handwritten in large white letters. I wondered why someone would be so vain to write his name so prominently on the outside of his hat. I wondered if he was an impersonator looking for tips. I wasn’t a fan, but his name sounded familiar. He looked like one of those guys from an 80s or 90s hair band. The flamingo woman was left to the side when the group approached him for pictures. She looked sad. As we walked by, the man with eye make-up pushed through the group and grabbed me by the arm. I was startled. I thought I was about to be embarrassed as part of some street show. I looked at Kalani for affirmation, but he looked concerned. “Hey, baby, why don’t you come to my hotel room and party?” I told him I was sorry, but I didn’t think that was a good idea. He pulled me a little closer. Kalani grabbed his arm. “Hey, man, you need to let her go.” The man stared at Kalani, then pushed me away. I nearly fell over. He shoved Kalani. Kalani immediately responded with a solid punch in the face. The man fell backwards and his hat fell off. Some kid grabbed it and ran off. The crowd encircled us as Kalani stood over him. “You need to keep your hands to yourself,” Kalani told the man, as he held his nose. Some people were clapping. We pushed through the crowd and continued our walk. I asked if we could go back to get his car. I had witnessed more bizarre activity in the last 20 minutes than I had seen in a few decades. My day had been a bit overwhelming, and I was ready for this one to be over. We returned to the hotel and Kalani got the van out of valet. We were both kind of silent as we drove back to my hotel. “Oh, don’t let me forget your surprise before you go!” Kalani smiled. We pulled up to the hotel door. Kalani jumped out and opened my door. That was sweet. We walked around the back and he opened the back door of the van. It wasn’t the new Louis Vuitton, like Michelle was hoping for, but there it was – the brightest, loudest, craziest Vera Bradley designed luggage I had ever seen. An entire set. “Wow, that sure is bright,” I said, almost speechless. “Thank you, you didn’t have to do that. Our stuff was old. It needed to be replaced anyway.” Kalani pulled it all out and called the bellman. “I messed it up, so I have to replace it. Let me know if there was anything damaged, you know, like hair stuff, and I’ll replace that too. I don’t know much about hair stuff though, so you’ll have to help me with that. I’m so sorry about your bags.” He looked genuinely concerned. “I’m not. Everything happens for a reason.” I walked up to Kalani and gave him a warm hug. I kissed him on the cheek. Kalani quickly asked, “Are you busy tomorrow?” I replied that I didn’t have any plans. “I don’t have anything scheduled tomorrow. Let’s hang out. Let me show you around the island. We can start with a hike up Diamond Head and see where it goes from there. Meet you here at 8?” That sounded wonderful. I obliged. I thanked him for dinner, and for saving me from that horrible hair band monster. “Hey,” I asked, “You never told me about Shata.” Kalani laughed hysterically. “Are you really sure you want to know about Shata?” Now I was a little worried, but the curiosity got the best of me. “OK, I’ll bite. What is Shata?” Kalani shook his head. “You asked for it. Shatta fuck up!” At first, I was mildly offended. But his laughter was contagious. I nearly peed my pants. I so needed that. I thought about inviting him up, but it was probably too soon for both of us. I hugged him again, and watched him drive off. I returned to my room and sat on the bed, smiling about that crazy night. as I stared at the crazy bright luggage. I wasn’t really a big Vera fan, but Michelle was. She would appreciate this luggage. I understood it was pretty pricey stuff, and I felt bad Kalani had spent all that. I took my shoes off, and hung my yellow dress in the closet. What a night. What a day. I once again laid my head on the cool pillow and quickly drifted off, hoping to dream of a new and happy life. It had already begun.Excerpt from Olivia Black's Falling Forward - Kindle edition by Olivia Black. Literature & Fiction Kindle eBooks @ Amazon.com.