Straight No Chaser

Cymbals

"Is this the hurricane?" Shannon stage-whispers, straining to make herself audible over the rattling thunderclaps.

"No, it's the opera," Aaron whispers back. "La Boheme. Like it?"

All she meant was is this the worst of it, can we safely assume we're not going to die, but she doesn't elaborate; just tightens her hold on Kailani, and keeps waiting.

*

Four wordless hours later, he regrets his sarcasm, and strokes her hand. Kai is still peacefully asleep, which strikes him as odd; loud noises usually bug her, keep her irritable and awake. Instead, he's the anxious one, sporadically groping in the dark for the logs, checking and rechecking the security of their nook. One log, the smallest, is coming undone on one end, sloping down toward the one beneath, allowing him a heart-stopping view of the black-and-gray outisde, which is also blessing him every so often with a hard spattering of mist, like nails. They've switched sides by now, so that the toddler is shielded on both sides from the rain.

It's only right. He's the oldest, after all, and to him this hurricane spells mortality, hence the outright terror. He doesn't want it wetting Kailani, her fearless skin, her naive curls. He hopes she's dreaming about sticks and coconuts, not wind and riptides, as he surely would be.

"You're welcome," says Shannon, unprompted. "Not that I had any choice."

He remembers. "Well."

"Anyway," she whispers.

Tears, suddenly. This makes four times he's cried in these past few weeks, and the thought is shaming. "I was thinking about my dad," he says suddenly, unsure whether he wants her inside this thought, resolving to charge through it before he changes his mind. "About how he'll never--about how badly I'd like him to meet Kailani."

"I'd like that too," she whispers. "There are a lot of people who'd love her almost as much as we do."

He swats at his eyes with his free hand, the one that isn't attached to the arm curled around his women, then uses it to check the logs again. "I have to ask," he says, testing the questionable log with his index finger, cringing at the way it wobbles. "What if you hadn't gotten there in time? What if it happens again? What would you do if something happened to me?"

She sighs. "Given our current circumstances, that's not really a question I'm inclined to answer. In any great detail."

"Kailani wouldn't remember."

"Of course she would."

"She wouldn't. And the other one would never have known. And they'd both be--they wouldn't look, look like--"

"They'd know!" she snaps.

Kailani stirs.

*

Shannon is letting Kai put her whole face in the coconut to drink its milk, something she never does. Her whole damp body quivers with delight at the novelty. "Splish-splash," she murmurs contentedly, coming up for air, pointing at the growing puddle by the entrance.

"Not now," grumbles Shannon, instantly sorry at her tone. It's a buzzkill. Kailani drops her coconut.

Looks at Aaron. "Is raining, Daddy?"

He props himself up on one elbow and tugs at her slicked-down curls. "Tut-tut," he says around an audible lump.

"It looks like rain!" she chirps triumphantly. She makes her ham face.

She looks just like him, thinks Shannon, turning away. That cheesy smile. How dare he.

*

It's hard to tell who's howling louder, their daughter or the wind.

Aaron relieved himself hours ago, capitalizing on the slats between the logs. He imagines the girls are uncomfortable--not that Kai's particularly potty-trained, but she knows at least to tell them afterward, and she hasn't, yet. She's screeching with the full power and fury of her tiny lungs, hair in complete disarray, beating against Shannon's chest with tiny fists, stamping hard in her lap.

"Give her here," he offers, reaching for her. "Kai, don't kick at Mommy's tummy like that."

Shannon pulls her away, out of reach, and swings her into a horizontal position. Cradles her like the newborn she hasn't been in two years, ignoring her writhes and wails. "When she goes strolling slowly by," she sings softly, running delicate fingers along the little girl's hairline, "all heads will turn and hearts will sigh..."

Aaron's palms are still upturned, mouth open in preparation of protest, but he stops himself.

"...For Kailani," murmurs Shannon, and drops a kiss on the screamer's hot red forehead. Takes a deep breath, begins again: "The tradewind pauses its gentle breeze, and whispers a name that's sure to please...it's Kailani." Another kiss.

Aaron is entranced. His hands fall to his sides.

"Kailani is an island girl from across the ocean blue, she can curl her arms in dance of the hula motion too...when she strolls across the sand with her gentle sway, Kailani will almost surely steal your heart away."

The rain, he realizes, sounds like cymbals. Like the bristles of a fine-tipped paintbrush, dancing lightly across the surface of a cymbal plate worn down by use. It lends percussion to Shannon's song, just audible over the occasional thunder. Kailani's fussing loses its urgency; she touches Shannon's bottom lip with one pudgy finger, searching, of course, for the origin of the sounds. She is noticeably soothed. He notices. "Pretty," he remarks coolly, leaning back against the wall of the cave.

Shannon blushes.

"You know," he continues, I always figured there were some things she'd never understand. Not--not as long as we lived on this island."

Shannon doesn't explicitly take the bait, but cocks an eyebrow.

He exhales softly, wishing he hadn't voiced this line of thought. He only meant to tell her about the cymbals. "Things like office politics," he elaborates. "Group dynamic workshops. The uncomfortable silence in carpet-walled elevators. Chain of command."

The corner of Shannon's mouth twitches. "Chain of command she'll understand. Mommy trumps Kai trumps coconuts trumps Daddy. Simple."

He ignores her. "Shrink-wrap," he continues. "Greatest hits albums. Assembly lines."

"We can teach her assembly line. Like what we did before she was born, with the furniture and the toys and stuff. Mommy draws beautiful sketches, Daddy cuts the wood too small."

"Chia pets. Asians. Boys." He pauses. "Well, unless--" He watches her face. Nothing. He clears his throat and continues. "So many things, I figured."

"But?"

"But if it ever rains like this again, we can teach her cymbals."

She gets the idea immediately. "We can teach her timpani."

He feels a smile bubbling up, but swallows it just in time. "Symphony, even."

She smiles shyly. He adds the victory to his mental tally.

*

She is finally falling asleep, still with Kailani clasped to her chest. "I can't promise a boy," she hears herself saying.

His voice sounds nearby. "Just promise me a baby," he says. Kai's weight leaves her chest and she feels herself relaxing all over.

*

Sea and sky, he thinks. Sea plus sky equals storm. The sea, falling from the sky. No wonder she didn't mind this so much.

He is studying her face, and noticing, suddenly, that she does look very much like him.

The thought distracts and thrills him enough that he almost doesn't notice when the rain stops.