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There was something really soothing about building sand castles, Nani thought as she sifted the fine grains between her fingers before reaching for the bucket of water at her side. She remembered doing it all of her life. One of the perks of living within spitting distance of the beach, she supposed. Her first steps might not have been in the sand but her second or third ones probably were. Her tenth steps probably involved her carrying a surfboard. Her parents and she frequently spent entire lazy days at the beach, playing in the sand and water. Her dad built the tallest castles but her mom always made the most intricate designs with the most exquisite attention to detail. She remembered entire cities built of sand with towers and moats and bits of shell decoration with tiny twig flag poles. Once Lilo came along, the beach felt like a new world all over again and playing in the sand took on a new level of interest as she showed her little sister how it could be made to do what you want. The two of them frequently buried their very cooperative dad up to his neck and he laughed until he choked on accidentally inhaled sand while their mom took pictures.
She smiled to herself. Without conscious thought, Nani mixed water into the sand in small increments before moving it back down onto the beach itself. Once she had the sludge to the correct consistency, she began sculpting with her hands. Smoothing with her palm, cutting corners with the side of her hand, using a finger to get into an intricate turn. Everything obeyed her touch.
If only all things were so easy, she thought as a sudden cloud drifted through her happy memories. She frowned slightly, ducked her head as if she were trying to better focus on the sand beneath her hands, and wished her mind would clear again. The worries came so frequently now. Money, stability, Lilo… Lilo. Her heart squeezed at the thought of her sister’s name. Lilo’s round, animated face appeared, clear as one of her precious disposable camera snapshots. The mobile mouth, by turns smiling and laughing or scowling and frowning. Big brown eyes that could never hide a single emotion.
She had always been kind of a strange kid - literal as an open book, missing the filters with the fibs that people told each other, full of questions and her own theories. As a toddler, Lilo had refused to talk for ages until, one day, she opened her mouth and full sentences came pouring out. Her little body took some practice before she got the hang of things. Their mom used to play records and teach them both hula steps. Lilo fell in love with the dance and begged to join a studio as soon as she realized proper classes existed and she was old enough to go. Nani loved the days when she got to walk Lilo to class, her little hand in hers, small legs double timing to keep up.
Once she had grown more, blossomed more, Lilo enjoyed the beach as much as the rest of the family. She never cried if she fell and got a mouthful of sand. She tried running out to catch the waves long before she was ready to and she cheered just as hard as anyone when Nani was in a surfing competition.
Then there were the nights where they all snuggled in a messy, laughing pile, the hammock swinging dangerously until they screamed with delight at the possibility of toppling out to the deck. Their dad would have the record player set up, Elvis and Don Ho and Moe Keale and Genoa Keawe. He did not dare put on any of their mom’s dancing records or Lilo would be out and bouncing. As the music played softly, the stories would begin.
Nani sighed and pushed her fingers, straight as sticks, down into the sand. The grit got under her nails and scratched and hurt but it was nothing that she had not felt a hundred times. Sand was easy. Water was easy. Having to be a mother to your sister was hard - harder than anything else in the entire world. What made it worse was how she knew that Lilo understood this on some level but, really, she was just a kid and no one could expect a kid to understand everything, to behave perfectly every single day. Lilo mourned the loss of their parents just as much as she, Nani, did. Worse, in some ways, because she did not have the words or the life experience. Nani, at least, had made it through the loss of all of their grandparents and so had learned something of funerals and grieving and the pain that came with missing someone.
She could not teach any of it to Lilo, though. Lilo had to find her own painful, awkward way.
So Lilo had found Pudge the Fish who ate peanut butter sandwiches and Nani tried her best to make sure there was always peanut butter on hand. Lilo threw herself into dancing. Lilo listened to the same Elvis records over and over until Nani had to go outside so she would not scream. Lilo picked up odd books from the library or other places that Nani never learned about and read them fiercely and believed them.
And Nani had to just be there and listen and watch and try to work through her own grief while a heavy blanket of adult duties descended upon her. She quit surfing except when Lilo asked or David coaxed. She found a better job. She made deals with the dance teacher to keep an eye on Lilo, to provide a bit of after class care. She taught herself to cook, more or less. She talked her boss into allowing Lilo to sit at an out of the way table if a shift ran late.
She tried and tried and tried and all she wanted to do was scream because she had a horrible, sinking sensation of certainty… That she was failing and Lilo was adrift and, even though she desperately wanted to help her sister, as much as she loved Lilo, she could not be a parent. She could not replace their parents.
She could not control their future or shape Lilo into someone who felt differently or thought differently or acted like everyone else. Lilo was not sand. She was the ocean.