One of Those Days
Any tourists on the island would have been disappointed with the weather that day. In fact, they would have been disappointed with the week, as the last several days matched this one exactly; overcast with a heavy downpour. The endless rain had even started to affect the people who called Hawaii home.
The McGarrett home normally boasted a cozy and laid back atmosphere, but that Friday morning the air felt almost stifling. The inhabitants of the house were quiet, each lost in their own minds, their own problems weighing heavily.
Steve McGarrett stood at the counter sharpening steak knives. His dark hair was still tousled from his shower post workout and his blue eyes matched the stormy ocean outside. They weren't having steak for breakfast or even for dinner that night, so there was no reason the knives had to be sharpened that morning, but during the meeting the day before it had suddenly occurred to Steve that the task was overdue. He didn't like overdue tasks. He was effective at his job because if he could help it, no task was left unresolved. Unfortunately as much as he hated to admit it, some things were outside his control. Case in point, his mother. He couldn't stop thinking about the fact that the day before, his team had arrested an individual who claimed to have been interrogated by a woman matching his mother's description. Considering Doris McGarrett wasn't even supposed to be on the island, he should be spending his day chasing down further information to confirm her whereabouts and certainly to ensure that she was not working. Governor Denning required his presence for yet another round of meetings that Steve would have skipped without a second thought, had there not been a few matters directly related to the operation of his team. The only bright spot on the horizon was that it was the last day and in spite of the dreary politics discussed, it appeared that the team could move forward with no issue. In the meantime he had to trust that if there was information on Doris to be found, his team would find it. And his steak knives would be sharp.
Nahele was trying to fix the coffee grinder. While doing the dishes the night before he'd had the bright idea to remove the rubber gasket to ensure no mold could hide behind the ring. Coffee was its own food group in their house, and he'd figured like everything else, equipment needed to be kept in order. The problem was, he now couldn't get the rubber ring back in place and the grinder refused to run without it being secure. Steve generally purchased whole beans and with no grinder, they were all missing their morning caffeine fix. Nahele jabbed in frustration at the rubber piece and his thoughts turned to his schedule for the day. He'd gotten in trouble at school a few weeks earlier for participating in a completely unsanctioned fight club and was still serving his community service sentence. The first few weeks had seen him picking up trash from roadsides, but to wrap up his punishment, he was going to be working at a boys camp. He'd already picked up on some things even from his view as a dishwasher and having been "promoted" to actually supervise the boys, he was now going to have to actually deal with what looked like bullying to him. Not amongst the actual campers but with some of the other counselors. Considering he had gotten into the situation with his fists, he could only imagine what the repercussions would be if he had to use them again so soon. He wished his best friend J was working with him. The two of them combined could probably provide enough intimidation that fists would not be required. That was not going to be a possibility for several days however. Neither was getting the rubber ring to slide into place. Nahele slammed the grinder onto the table.
"Nalele." Steve's tone was stern.
Nahele ducked his head. "Sorry." he muttered, shifting back and forth in his seat, uncomfortable under his adopted father's steely gaze.
"If you can't fix it, we can get another. It's not a big deal."
"And we'll just drink tea." J toasted him with his mug, managing a half-way decent British accent.
"It's not like there aren't other forms of caffeine." Myah muttered under her breath, not looking up from her phone as she made her verbal contribution. "We're just not allowed."
Steve ignored her comment and turned back to the knives. Nahele met J's gaze briefly. Myah was clearly referring to Steve's firm stance on energy drinks, or rather the lack thereof as far his kids consumption. In Nahele's opinion, it was hardly a rule to argue about, especially as he preferred coffee anyway. His sister was normally fun loving and for the most part easy to get along with, but she seemed to have an even darker storm cloud over her head than the rest of them combined.
J Aarons had picked up on Myah's dark mood as well, and while he missed his coffee as much as the next person did, he kept his complaints to himself. He was making a valiant attempt to commit the chapter in his social studies book to memory, but was struggling to focus. His own community service that day involved work around the school along with the rest of the football players who'd been involved in fight club. J had been toying with the idea of quitting the team. It wasn't that he minded the community service terribly. But that combined with practice multiple days a week and then games on weekends, made for very little time for the other things he enjoyed. J did enjoy football. But he also enjoyed music and rock climbing and camping and shooting and martial arts and was starting to really envy Nahele his freedom. His dad was supposed to be back on the island later that fall however and football was one of the few things, probably the only thing that they connected on. Occasionally. J told himself he no longer cared about affection or even attention from his father, but found that he struggled with the idea of accruing even further disappointment from the cold businessman.
"Son of a bitch!"
The words spoken were not unfamiliar to J's ears, or even to his mouth, but it was unexpected to hear from Myah, especially while in the family's kitchen and in front of Steve. J had always tried to be careful to watch his language in the McGarrett house, but the night before they'd all gotten a little speech from Steve about keeping the cursing to a minimum. Myah apparently hadn't taken the conversation to heart. His dark brown eyes met Nahele's even darker ones and he shook his head.
"Myah!" Steve snapped, turning away from the knives he'd been sharpening to level her with his stern gaze.
"What?!" Myah snapped back, clearly out of her mind, as far as Nahele was concerned. He knew that Myah adored their adoptive father and that the feelings were entirely mutual, but she was also one of the few people he knew that when she was stressed or upset, would dare to push back against Steve. He didn't really understand it. While he struggled not infrequently to figure out what the right thing to do was, Steve was an absolute rock that had never let him down. Myah seemed to have some inherent need to push back on occasion, just to make sure the boundary lines were still firm.
Regardless, even Myah was almost immediately cowed by the look Steve shot her way, and almost as soon as she'd snapped back in a way that was wholly unacceptable in the McGarrett household, she ducked her head. Steve's mind had clearly been elsewhere but now she had his full attention and not in a way to be envied.
"Let's go." He jerked his head towards the study. Myah looked miserable but made no further protest as she stood. Steve followed close on her heels.
Nahele waited until they'd both exited the kitchen, and then flicked his eyes at J, just to offer the sentiment that what he was about to do was wrong. Silently he slid Myah's phone towards him, noting that whatever had caused her outburst was still on the screen.J shot him a disapproving look and then in true teenage form, leaned forward so that he could also get a look. Nahele told himself that if it was a text, he wouldn't read it, but would just find out who it was from. It wasn't a text however. It was the site called classroom, which the teachers use to post grades. Myah's grade for English was pulled up and it was a glaring D. Nahele raised an eyebrow in surprise and then pushed her phone back in place.
Author's Note: Hey friends, hope everyone's doing well amidst any holidays that you might be celebrating. I've had a bit of writer's block with a few stories started but not enough of a plot in mind to actually make for easy writing. So any plot ideas are helpful. Regardless, I decided that to get through that slump I'd write about the kind of day that we can all relate to, where burden seem extra heavy and everything seems to just want to go wrong. Makes for a bit of humor and empathy usually. Hope you guys enjoy. All the love!