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Show actually dangerous. Standing on a jetty near the shore of Kailua Bay where they had been tossing bombs all afternoon, he heaved the bottle at the exact moment it exploded. Shards of glass entered his face, neck, and torso, tearing holes in his skin and diving toward his heart. Because he knew my dad would be furious, he walked his bleeding body to his friend's house, got into the bathtub, and tried to clean the mess. I imagine his friend called the ambulance, amid Bryan's protests, when the bathwater became so clouded by blood he could no longer see the porcelain. On my wedding day, glass was working its way out from Bryan's body, emerging every few days at his throat or cheek, poking from beneath his skin, causing him to bleed anew. That day, he hid from photographers, volunteered for any job that took him from the crowd, and watched from the side as his sister took the name of a man he had only met once before. Does she remember a moment, standing with her father outside the dark wooden doors to the church, the winds that had blown her whole life now lifting her veil and swirling it about her knees, that she knew what she was doing was wrong? Or is that hindsight that makes her think she always knew how it would end? When John called my father and asked his permission to marry me, my father put him on hold. He called my mother. Is there anything we can do, I imagine he asked her. No, we will just have to hope she says no. 214 |