Women should know more joy.

Opening my eyes, I turn and look out toward the ocean curving to the right of the truck, glimpses of blue between elegant palm trees bent out above the coastline.

My friends at home don’t seem to have joy. My friends at home seem to be on neutral—getting through—but maybe joy is too much to ask for.

So we don’t.

So we settle.

Settling for whatever it is we can squeeze out of marriage and motherhood. Squeezing because we’re all so goddamn tired.

Tugging a long gold-and-red strand back from my eyes, I find myself objecting to everything I know about the life I’ve lived for the past fourteen-plus years.

“You okay?”

Kai’s question breaks the lazy stillness, and I look at him, my hand still wound around my hair. The sun plays across his face, his eyes so blue and light against the tanned cheekbones and black lashes, his lashes tipped blond from the sea and sun. So gorgeous. So young. So different from me.

“Yeah,” I say, because right now everything is okay.

A half hour later, Kai pulls off the highway onto the shoulder facing the road.

Even though the waves on the north shore get big in winter, it’s not a big wave day and Shark’s Cove is protected by the dramatic jagged outcroppings of rock and reef. Kai carries our snorkels, masks, and fins to the beach, and I follow, picking my way through the rock and crumbly bright red soil.

In the water, it’s as though we’ve entered a whole new world. Everything is still and lovely, bright with darting yellow and blue tangs, orange clown fish, striped and spotted puffer fish. Kai touches my arm, points to a giant sea turtle swimming leisurely toward us. I barely move, enthralled by the great turtle, which seems to have wise eyes and a kind smile.

We explore the cove for an hour, swimming with schools of tiny silver fish, before returning to the beach. Kai drags all the equipment back to the truck while I rinse off.

Back in the truck, we stop for lunch at one of the numerous shrimp shacks dotting the roadside. We order plates of garlic and sweet coconut shrimp with fresh Kahuku corn on the cob and eat the shrimp and corn sitting on the tailgate of his truck. It’s sunny but not too hot, and I feel very decadent as I lick the garlic sauce from my fingers. “This is so good.”

“I’m glad you like it.”

“I like everything you’ve shown me.” And everything I do with you.