"Woodstock," Joe groaned. "Maybe you'd like to spend some of the winter out here?" They were too experienced to let the future spoil the moment. They smooched. Joe took a shower. He dressed, and they talked for a few minutes before he hugged her.
"Goodbye, beautiful," he said.
"Goodbye, Launcelot, Lochinvar . . . " He started toward the door and turned back a step toward her.
"Strider," he said.
"Strider," she drawled, smiling. They let go of each other with the total release that binds across any space or time.
Joe walked along Kalakaua Avenue. It was still early; most of the tourists were in bed or eating breakfast. Daisy. How unexpected! How great! He wasn't going to live in her studio. She had her life, and he had his, now. But he would see her again, he was pretty sure of that. What was between them was real and had remained this long; it wasn't going to go away. He sang "Scarlet Ribbons" several times and was good and hungry by the time he reached the shopping center.
Portuguese sausage. Coffee. Ah. The waitress, fiftyish, smiled at him as though she understood perfectly where he had just been. Life was so fine, in fact, that after breakfast he put off going home and wandered over to Fisherman's Wharf. He sat with his feet dangling over the water and watched a man fish. His line went out between two high-bowed sampans, the San Carlos and the Woniya. He had short grizzled hair and a round head with compact Asian features. He was sitting on his heels, motionless. He could have been 55 or 75. A small cardboard box on the ground next to him was neatly packed—a can of soda, a knife, a bag that probably held his lunch. The sound of traffic on Ala Moana was muted. The sun was full but not yet hot. The straight dark fishing line met the end of its reflection wavering on the green harbor water. He fished in silence for nearly an hour.
Joe finally stood up and stretched.
"Three days now, not biting," the man said.
"You get 'em, huh," Joe said and watched him turn back toward his line. He would never give up. The image of his bony head, his quiet eyes on the water, stayed with Joe.