On the house, roommates, and a hike up the Judd and Nuuanu Trails

He lived in a fairly gnarly neighborhood. (He was growing fond of using words like “gnarly” and “bro/brah” and “howzit” though they sounded a bit odd coming from his mouth. His mouth created a sound not unlike a 13-year old, giggling schoolgirl.) Kahala, a suburb of Honolulu, was rather high-end. He had grown somewhat embarrassed at telling people where he lived. At a party he found himself increasingly reticent noticed people cocking their head.

“Oh, really?” asked a Hawai’ian woman. “What do you do?” The question implied that she assumed he must be lawyer, or doctor, or ran a successful porn business. None of which were remotely true.

“Well, currently I am unemployed.”

She squinted, not sure how this was possible given his proximity to Doris Duke’s mansion.

In truth, the home in which he lived was a modest beach house enclosed by trees. The homes around his were, of note, obnoxious. It was a lucky Craigslist find. Three other men and a dog inhabited the home. Though he was not sure whether the dog was actually paying rent.

The roommates, The Three P’s (Pete, the gay-P; Parker, the straight-P; and Pali, the probably-straight-but-could-go-either-way-P) were all very cool

“Don’t you live in a nudist house?” Someone had asked him.

“No.” Though he wasn’t sure how convinced he was. “It’s more like a locker room.”

“…At which gym?”

In truth, the naked issue wasn’t really an issue at all. The ad had said “occasional naked living” but he had already lived fairly nakedly with his partner. But this would be with strangers. Was that an issue? He had certainly kept this tidbit a secret from most everyone out of, what, embarrassment? Fear they would suspect it sexual? Did he suspect it was something sexual? He was certainly ready to move the next day had it appeared a questionable scenario. No, as it turned out it was really just about being free to walk from the shower to his bedroom and for his roommates to be free to do the same. There were, as it so happened, few doors to any of the rooms, so really it was simply a matter of convenience.

Besides, the house was a bit like a cave anyway. There were very few lights. Most everyone slept during the days anyway, which he found to be odd considering they were residing in a daylight kind of place.

“Hey, wanna go for a hike?” Parker was a sweet, Californian, elementary school teacher with an equally sweet Boarder Collie, Dog. Our hero had loved dogs all his life and was excited by the prospect of living with a dog. Dog, however, wanted nothing to do with anything or anyone that wasn’t Parker.

“Dog's a bit territorial about Parker,” Pete had told him.

“A bit?”

Parker waited at the door that lead to the lanai with Dog nudging a look in from behind Parker's legs. Dog seemed to be saying, “Um, if we’re going let’s go, dude.”

They took over in Parker's truck to the Judd trail, at the base of which was the spot where Jacob’s cabin was built for Lost (see photo). Parker was an accomplished shortboarder and our hero had hoped that this hike would kindle a new friendship and, subsequently, free lessons.

The hike was intermittently silent and chatty.

“I had long-term girlfriend on the mainland, but it just doesn’t work out here.” Parker said this without so much as a sentimental flinch. Yet, it hit our hero like a knife thrown by a drunk and angry carnie.

For the past month he had thought about little else except for the partner he had left behind. He hoped one day, and perhaps one day soon, they would find their way back to each other. He would make this work. Parker would be wrong. Wouldn’t he?

The hike was long and winding and sometimes they would take impromptu trails, and trails that weren’t really trails, and there were slips and trips and stumbles and falls (all performed masterfully by our hero and all observed with a judgmental eye by Dog). He prided himself on being in damn fine shape (he took jump rope classes, for god’s sake. Jump rope, people). But this hike, a winding, perilous climb with nothing to stop one’s fall down the treacherous side should one slip, was demanding a sweat and hefty tax of breathe. It was at times frightening and exhilarating. He could imagine easily getting lost or hurt and there might not be anyone around to help should an ankle get twisted or a nail get broken.

“I wonder, if I slipped down the side of this mountain and died, how long it would take for someone to find me.” He thought out loud.

“But it would be a beautiful fall,” replied the infectious Parker.

At one point, they had gone down an overgrown side trail in hopes of getting a better view of Honolulu. The excursion offered no other reward than a bruising smack on the head by an unyielding tree.

But, he thought, it was kind of like life. The road is uncertain. And sometimes you don’t know which way to go, and sometimes you go down the wrong road, but sometimes you have to go down the wrong road in order to know which one is the right road. And sometimes you find your way back to the car. And sometimes, and inevitably one day at one time, you will fall and never leave the trail at all.

But it would be a beautiful fall.

Picture 1: (Joe, this one is for you) The site of Jacob's cabin from Lost! Also shown: roommates, Parker and Dog.

Picture 2: Just some viney tree thing.

Picture 3: A view of Honolulu from the Nuuanu trail.