North Star

04 | coping mechanisms

2019

For as long as I could remember, I loved the idea of running away.

Not actually running away. Just the thought of it. Let's face it, I wasn't cut out for life outside of my island, and everybody around me knew that, hence why I avoided the trip to Seattle during my senior year of high school. What I did love, regardless of my headstrong stance to remain in the middle of the Pacific Ocean, was the sensation of soaring through life until I arrived at the place I thought I always wanted to be. The closest I got to it was either when I ran (literally) or on those rare occasions I surfed.

Today's choice of escapism was the former.

I wasn't sure the exact moment the hobby turned into a coping mechanism—common sense would suggest the sudden change after my father's death wasn't a coincidence—but I figured there were worse ways of dealing with stress, even the variety I was convinced only existed as a figment of my imagination. Whenever something new disrupted the status quo of my life, the running picked up. And then, eventually, I'd start asking Kanani to hit the waves more often.

Hitting that runner's high was experiencing life on a different level. I held it in similar regards to getting a perfect swell of a wave. Or even playing that note on my oboe that's so perfectly in tune it sounds like something out of a dream.

I decided then and there that I simply didn't want to live a life where these moments didn't exist. Coming down from them was cathartic, even if it meant returning to my regular life. There were many days when a lot of things just didn't seem worth it. These moments of solitude always held their own.

The only downside was that I looked like a towel wrung out to dry once I finished my run. It wasn't an attractive look even on the best of people, but I had the foresight to return home to shower before making the trek over to Kaipo's house. It was his day off. I used to have his schedule memorized for different reasons.

If he felt used after the shift in our friendship, he never admitted it to me. Maybe I could have been more proactive on my end by checking in on him myself, but I was never quite in the right headspace to do the smart thing when I came around like this—coping mechanisms and all that—and part of me always trusted the idea that Kaipo would rather speak up than stay stuck in a place he ever felt trapped in. If I had the ability to recognize why I felt the need to sleep with someone who I had never and would never have romantic feelings for, and vice versa, I probably wouldn't be doing it in the first place.

Kaipo wasn't surprised to see me standing there on his porch when he opened the door about two minutes after I pounded my fist against it. It happened so often that my mind liked to imagine the door would eventually curve to the shape of my knuckles.

"I just woke up five minutes ago," he complained.

One glance up and down and I could tell that much. "Fancy a fun wake-up call?"

Despite still waking up from the haziness, he laughed and let me in. Kaipo always let me in, even when I wasn't sure I was good enough of a friend for him.

...

As I tugged my shirt back over my head after we finished, Kaipo rolled onto his back with one arm behind his head and the sheet craftily pulled right up to his hips. There were times when I'd look at him and wonder how the boyish youth had transformed into this more defined sculpture. Time had seemingly passed by in a blur even though, day to day, it moved at a snail's pace.

"Does Kanani know about us?"

"That we're friends?" I asked, messing around. "Of course, she knows. You've known our family since we were babies."