Hurricane Days (37 page)

Chapter Sixty-Seven

One Year Later

Robin dug the tripod in deeper, looking out on a remote stretch of beach in Kauai.

She stared into the lens and wasn’t entirely happy with the shot. She wore a T-shirt and shorts, her hair held back with a baseball cap, keeping it out of her eyes. She checked the lens again. There was a light breeze blowing from the west, tousling that long and flowing, sand-streaked hair…

“It’s fixed!” Carol called, screwing in a broken light.

“Put that out!” Robin yelled as smoke from Carol’s cigarette floated into the shot. She ignored the subsequent cussing from her “crew” and examined the shot again. “I should be doing documentaries like I planned,” she muttered to herself.

“Oh, so now you’re slumming it?” Adrienne teased, coming out of the water toward her. She wrapped her hair to one side, the ringlets on the ends now wet from the spray of ocean waves.

“No.” Robin raised her eyes from the camera lens and smiled up at her. “Your music video is much more important than capturing the voices of minorities in America.”

Adrienne reached for her, circling her arms around her waist. They smiled at each other, beaming at the unspoken amazement they both shared that this day had ever come.

“So do it.”

“I’m doing you first,” Robin said. “I mean your video, you know.”

“Are you blushing?” Adrienne laughed.

“It’s sunburn.”

“Right.” Adrienne gave her a brilliantly sarcastic smile before being distracted by a clumsy bandmate who couldn’t seem to pull herself out of the shallow water.

“Is this bamboo-ey enough?” Kendrick asked, carrying a regular stick.

“No,” Robin replied. “We have a pile over there.” She pointed to a stack of real bamboo.

Kendrick had volunteered to spend her summer working with her mother, now that Robin and Tom shared custody. There wasn’t much point to them staying married after Robin lost the Republican nomination. By then, she had already disconnected herself from their marriage and her career. Amidst the chaos of all that, she had served out the rest of her term as governor as best she could.

Kendrick handled the news well and actually didn’t seem surprised about it. While Robin worried that she was setting a bad example by divorcing, Kenneth assured her that the message she was sending was a positive one—that you should live authentically, staying true to yourself no matter how high the stakes.

Today her daughter was going to learn all of the not-so-glamorous details of filmmaking, as she monitored the consistency of the shots—trying to make sure things that weren’t wet from the ocean in a previous scene didn’t suddenly appear wet. It was maddening, but Robin kept telling her that at least she was in Hawaii. That probably wasn’t as big a selling point to Kendrick as getting to hang out with her favorite band—and her mother.

The greatest sadness for Robin was her father not returning her calls. Though she wasn’t completely surprised, she hoped he’d come around someday, before it was too late. She didn’t feel isolated from family, though, because after the “stunt she pulled in Tampa,” as her brother liked to call it, the two of them were now closer than ever.

When sunset had passed and a crescent moon replaced the raspberry streaks across the sky, Robin told everyone to call it a day. Adrienne and Kendrick helped to pack up equipment. Even though this part of the beach was very secluded, there was a resort not too far away, so occasionally tourists would stroll down the shore. On this particular night, a family taking a sunset walk wandered over. It was a straight couple with two young kids. The husband recognized Robin immediately in spite of her casual attire.

“Governor Sanders?” he called.

She unscrewed the tripod and looked up. “I don’t have that title anymore.”

“Wow,” he marveled. “I can’t believe it’s really you!”

His wife urged him to keep walking. “She’s busy, George. Don’t bother her.”

“Does it feel weird to still be saying ‘President Ellis?’” The man asked. Obviously, he hadn’t been one of her supporters.

“Not at all,” Robin replied. “Out of all the candidates, I believe he was the best one for the job.”

The man was surprised. He guided his group back toward the direction of their hotel. Then with one backward glance: “You think you’ll ever run again?”

Robin smiled, looking at Adrienne in the moonlight. “No, I’ve found another calling.”

* * *

After we settled in to the hotel, and Kendrick was ensconced in her nightly PlayStation ritual, Adrienne and I went for a walk along the mostly secluded beach.

As I took her hand in mine, I noticed her silvery profile in the moonlight, reminding me of the first time I’d caught a glimpse of her profile—in the smoky Camaro that first night in Florida.

“I guess we’ve come full circle,” I sighed, noting the granules of sand finding their way inside my bathing suit, in places where they didn’t belong.

“I would’ve never guessed you’d get back into film,” Adrienne said. She led me through an area populated by jellyfish, taking my hand and guiding me safely through. I appreciated that, her knowing that I still hadn’t made peace with wildlife.

“Me neither,” I said. “Making a film was more challenging than anything I’ve ever done.” I kicked at the sand. “It used to be too hard to imagine, the idea of putting myself,
the real me
, out there for the whole world to see.”

“What’s changed?” she asked.

We stopped walking, and I brushed some of her hair away from her face. “I’m not scared anymore.”

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