I couldn't find the place. I drove around the town in a daze, pulling into random parking lots, staring at the Mormon temple at the University, trying to remember where Matt had gotten off the main road and how many turns he had made. I would like to think that if I'd been in the proper frame of mind, I would eventually have managed to find my way to the beach from the edge of an island. But I was not in the proper frame of mind. After way too much aimless wandering, I put some very expensive gas in the tank and resolved to head home. My parents were going out soon. I would fall apart then. Impatient cars whizzed past me all along the Kamehameha Highway. They didn't understand the burden I was plagued with—how carefully I was obliged to creep on a highway clogged with restless shadows. This morning I moved even slower than usual, looking at every shadow with the vague, unspoken hope that it would suddenly sport blond curls and smile my way. None of them did. The shadows just floated about their business, taunting me with their self-absorption, their complete and utter apathy toward me and anything else that was alive.
