I whisper back, “Well, from a girl’s perspective, I think she loves the hell out of him, too.”
Luke picks me up in his arms and carries me down the hallway to our bedroom.
Five months later—Kauai, Hawaii
I’ve never been happier, or so sure of my future, in my entire life. Granted, my future isn’t as laid out as it was before; it isn’t dictated by a ladder or the money on that ladder, and I may not know what I’m doing tomorrow, but somehow the not knowing is what makes it so exciting. It took a drastic change, and to be blindsided by love, to make me see how much better, how much more peaceful and fulfilling life can be when it’s not drowned in stress and expectations and fear. It took giving up what I thought made me the person I am—my job, my stability, my meticulous life—to see that the person I am is so much more than I ever imagined I could be. I’m doing things now that I never would’ve given a second thought to.
Luke and I do everything together: surfing, hiking, camping for days on end. I’ve never had so much fun in my life, or felt so free. I’m enjoying my job at a salon on Oahu, doing nails and washing hair and sweeping the floors, while also drawing a small income on the side from my photography. I’m doing what I love and spending more time with those I love, and I wouldn’t give up this life for anything.
Luke still works at the surf school as well as co-owning the surf shop, and his paintings have begun to draw the attention of more than just tourists and local business owners looking for a nice piece to put in their offices. He paints on commission now—the last piece he sold was to a businessman in New York who saw his work at an Art Walk while on vacation. That guy told another guy, who told a woman, who told another guy over in Italy, who told another woman in Spain. He’s doing what he loves, too, and slowly making a decent living doing it.
Paige and I are still best friends, but we don’t see each other much anymore. She moved to L.A. recently and is pursuing a modeling career, even got signed on with a top modeling agency. And she’s been dating a guy who, in her words, “surpasses her list of requirements.” I’m really happy for her and I wish her nothing but the best in life. But we’re such different people living in entirely different worlds now. Despite all that, and the geographic distance between us, it’s hard to think about us ever drifting apart. We keep in touch. And she’ll be coming here to visit soon.
But I have other friends who are like my family, and I feel at home here with them. Kendra is like a sister to me now, and even though I’m not into BASE, we get along awesomely. I doubt she’ll ever be fully over losing Landon, but she’s doing better every day, coping in her own private way—being in love with Seth, and finally admitting it, has a lot to do with her healing. And Seth, well, Seth is still Seth and he’ll never change. I love him to death like a brother, and he looks after me when Luke isn’t around. But he doesn’t live with us anymore. Shortly after I moved in, Seth took it upon himself to move out. He wanted to give us our privacy, but also I think maybe it would’ve happened eventually, him and Kendra moving in together and all. They are a weird and crazy couple; they fight and they make up and then do it all over again—I think they like it. But they’re perfect for each other. That’s pretty obvious to all of us.
Mom and Dad are going to Cozumel, Mexico, next summer. And they sold the boat.
And as far as me, I’m happy to say that my passion for photography may finally be taking off as a career, too. Aside from my website, I also started selling some of my work on a few stock photography sites. Then I began sharing on Flickr, and to my shock, I had my Flickr Moment and was featured on The Weekly Flickr and had an awesome video about my work made.
That has helped change things a lot.
And today is a big day for me—I can hardly sit still.
I hear Luke walking up the front steps, coming back from checking the mail. He’s taking his time on purpose because he knows it’s killing me. When he opens the screen door, I just freeze, staring at him from the living room.
“Did it come?” I ask eagerly.
He shrugs, acting all nonchalant, a stack of mail in one hand hidden behind what looks exactly like a magazine. I know that’s it. And he knows that I know, but I promised him I’d wait.
He walks casually past me and into the kitchen.
“Come on. Is that it?” I ask him from behind, my voice whinier than usual.
“Maybe,” he says and slips around the corner.
I know he’s grinning.
“How long do I have to stand here?” I call out from the living room.
“Just a minute,” he says.
I hear him shuffling paper around, the pages of the magazine maybe. Then I hear the sound of Scotch tape being pulled from its plastic contraption.
Soon he’s coming around the corner with the National Geographic magazine in his hand.
I press my hands together in front of me against my chest and squeal a little, bouncing up and down on the pads of my feet.
He smiles as he walks toward me and places the magazine in my hand.
I can’t get the pages flipped fast enough. First I check the table of contents and navigate my way to the section on the winners of the Old World– New World Photography Contest. Turning the pages quickly, I do that bouncing thing again when I see my winning shot of an old man of Polynesian descent sitting on a rock on the beach displayed near the top of the page. I didn’t win first place, but I’m just happy to be in the magazine at all.
I point to it. “Look. My name is underneath it”—I’ve been talking about this for weeks, about seeing my name in the magazine—“Sienna Murphy. Fourth Place.” And then I read the title of my photo: “Remembering the Old Ways.”