Rami's mother and sister are waiting for us in the private pick-up area when we exit the airport after grabbing our luggage. After the almost six-hour plane ride, the humidity hits me as if I've walked straight into a wall, and I'm already wiping at tiny droplets of sweat forming at the back of my neck.

        "Hi, Mama," I greet her when she comes forward to embrace me after saying hello to her son. "I missed you."

        "You look so good, Stevie." Rami's mother pulls away and pinches my cheeks. "Face is glowing. Cheeks are full. You're happy."

        I laugh and pull back so I can greet Rami's sister. "Happy to be back."

        Rana practically throws herself at me the second she has enough lead-up and open-air.

        "Where's the boyfriend?"

        "There's no boyfriend."

        Rana sighs. "Fine. Partner."

        "That's not what I meant."

        "Stevie, I started watching Formula One because of him. Where is he?"

        I shoot an accusatory glare at Rami.

        "I didn't say anything. Ask Jun."

        The man in question doesn't bat an eyelash.

        "I've traded intel for the past few months so she'd send me more of my favorite ube and furikake chips."

        "You're such a spoon."

        "Spoon?" Jun laughs. "That's all you've got?"

       "Consider yourself lucky I'm not calling you a spork. Alternatively, I've also recently learned knorks are a thing—"

        "Now that would be uncalled for."

        "Think I'll trade your discomfort for free snacks."

        Rana taps me on the shoulder. "Seriously, Stevie, where's boy wonder? I heard he's even cuter in person."

        "His flight lands in a few hours so he said he'd rent a car," I answer at the same time Jun replies, "Yes, he is. Smokin'."

        "Can't wait to meet him. And nice."

        "I'm leaving."

        Rami'smom uses the opportunity to usher all of us into two separate cars. Marty played it smart by flying in earlier this morning since dealing with all of us while traveling causes them, in his own words, immense and immeasurable pain.

       "Half of you have the honor of driving with Rana who's finally gotten her driver's license at the ripe age of twenty."

        "Mama."

        I hold out my hand. "Take the long route? I need to see my island again. I'll tell you all about boy wonder."

        Rana shakes without hesitation. "It's a deal."

...

After driving through Kaimuki and sneaking a stop at Coffee Talks for a drink, we arrive at Marty's house.

        "Please don't tell me you made lau lau."

        Aunty Kehlani doesn't look up, a small smile tugging at her lips. "I made lau lau."

        "I am going to cry."

        Jun comments on Marty opening up all of the backdoors so the house opens up into the backyard more as the equivalent of Marty putting his Crocs into sport mode.

        "God, that smells good. Is there—"

        "Poi and lomi salmon is in the fridge. Help yourself."

       Jun hears this and it's a rush to the finish line so we can snag prime pickings of the Hawaiian specialties. My hand wraps around the refrigerator handle before being ripped away and I tug on Jun's shirt to keep him from getting inside as best as I can. Through all of the tussle, we manage to fall on the floor where I use my small advantage to maneuver around him, sitting on his back like a proud champion. While still on the ground, I open the fridge and pull the two containers out.

        Aunty Kehlani stands above us with a blank stare. With reluctance, she hands me two pairs of chopsticks and paper plates.

         "Tonight is going to be a long night."

         "Try a long week, Aunty."

...

When Brendon arrives at the house a few hours later, he's quickly whisked away by Rana who volunteers to show him around.

        There's no better way to be immersed in our world. Local favorites by Hawaiian artists and others blast through the speakers—if Brendon thinks he's getting through the night without hearing Red Red Wine by UB40 at least ten times, he's sadly mistaken—while more people cycle through the doors. On top of Marty's and Rami's families, Jun's and Seira's parents come, as well as Lauren's sisters.

        It doesn't need to be said but Brendon fits in like he's been here all along. Wind blowing in his hair, a constant glimmer in his eyes, the relaxation that's required of anyone who has the honor of experiencing our islands.

        We might not have our families here, but there's no shortage of love to go around.

        For hours, we all laugh and play games. Aunty Kehlani takes a stab at teaching Brendon how to use chopsticks again but it doesn't go well. (A for effort, babe.) In and out-of-tune singing. Even some dancing when Israel Kamakawiwo'ole's Take Me Home Country Roads plays. Seira gets Brendon on his feet, swinging his arms around and forcing him to rock his hips side-to-side. Jun joins in by showing Brendon how to dance while Rami and I sit on the side enjoying the view.

        By the time I notice Lauren isn't amongst the crowd, the sun is set and the three bozos are swaying back and forth with their arms around each other.

        "Did you see where—"

        He just his chin out toward the beach. "She's out there."

        I'm a firm believer in loving all things belonging to the ocean, a byproduct of being Pasifika. As is the nature of being a person of the ocean, I feel most at ease when I'm in a city near the water. Having been born and raised in Hawaii always feels like a blessing and a curse; I've been spoiled with the most beautiful beaches I've ever seen, and subsequently, compare all others to ours. White powdery sand, crystal blue waves, just the right amount of warmth any time of year.

        Kicking off my slippers, I grab an extra drink from the cooler before making my way down to the beach in front of Marty's house. Along the coast, I see a string of warm lights
and catch glimpses of shadows as they flock to their corner of paradise.

        I find her on the sand just out of reach of where the waves crest highest. Her legs are pulled up to her chest, and she rests her chin on top of her knees with her arms wrapped around her legs.

        "Thanks," Lauren says, accepting the bottle. Olive branches are overrated. "Has Aunty broken out the karaoke machine yet?"

         "Surprising not. But she's on her fourth glass of wine so I'm sure it's coming soon."

        Lauren spares a glance at Marty's house. Our friends and family are backlit by the glow from within and the warmth of the fire pit. From this distance, the saltiness of the ocean air mixes perfectly with the smell of Hawaiian food and liquor pouring, and the breeze coasting along the shoreline carries it onward.

        "She deserves it. I love Marty but being married to him must be exhausting."

         "No kidding. I get tired just making sure we have enough eggs for him every weekend."

        She laughs and flicks sand onto my legs. "Listen, the man likes his protein and he needs a lot of it."

        Wisps of Lauren's curls float in the breeze. She takes a look at me with a soft smile before glancing out at the water, a blanket of darkness with flashes of light like diamonds in the water.

         "The conversation the other day," she says after a few beats. "During the interview. It got me thinking."

        "Shoot."

        "I'm grateful to call this place home." Her hand sweeps out into the sand drawing a line around her. "But I feel guilty sometimes. Like I should be doing more to help. Or learn how to say goodbye because I know I shouldn't be here. Most of us shouldn't. Not when so many kanaka are suffering."

        The breeze slows around us as if heeding our conversation. "Remember the time we walked to my house after school and I'd forgotten my house keys in my room? My neighbor had to let us stay with them until my mom came home."

        "Yeah," Lauren laughs. "It was the first time I learned how to make lau lau."

        I take a sip of my drink. "Aunty Maile. I missed her when she passed."

        "I did too."

        "I think what most people don't realize when kanaka talk about reclaiming our lands and repairing the harm done to our people is that it's never been about never allowing anyone to come here ever again. You see how we are. You've experienced our culture. We are a welcoming people, and even if someone has wronged us, we still take care of them. We'll give someone the food off our table and the clothes off our backs before we let a neighbor go hungry and cold. Because to be Hawaiian is to show love and compassion to all—the aina, the people, everything. When Aunty Maile welcomed us into her home, she did it without hesitation. If my mom had been on one of her unannounced trips, she would've let us spend the entire week there. That's how we are. You never have to feel like you don't belong."

          Lauren looks like she's on the verge of crying but smiles at me before looking down at the sand slipping through her fingers. If only she'd realize moments in time are rarely any different—if it slips away, you reach down and grab another. I imagine she thinks she's been juggling wisps of smoke these past few weeks.

        "I'm sorry I've been ignoring you."

        "It's fine. I should've pulled you aside and talked to you privately instead of inserting myself somewhere I didn't belong."

        "You know I love you, right?" The tears fall and she presses a hand against her face, trying to wipe them away but a fresh set comes with each sad wave that passes through her. "I just... I know we're the same age and all but I've always looked at you like an older sister and I value your opinion so much. Seeing you disappointed in me hurt, and I lashed out because I was scared. I know this doesn't excuse how I've acted but I didn't realize how much being with someone like Maver fucked with my sense of worth. No matter what I did, it was never enough. And that made me not think about the consequences of what I did because I didn't think it mattered."

        Testing the waters, I inch closer. When she scoots in my direction, I meet her in the middle and wrap my arm around her.

        "Trust me," I laugh. "I'm the last person you should be scared of. I get it. I do."

          "Why is it so damn scary? I feel like I'm going to screw up and turn one of the best things into all of my other failed relationships, and it's terrifying," Lauren says. "Jun—God, Jun is just... He's the best thing that's ever happened to me and admitting it's real is so scary because I think it's going to fail and it'll be all my fault and—"

        "Lauren, stop. I know how you feel. Hell, it's why I've been holding back myself. But this fear of failing...it's not fair. Your brain is being mean to you when the truth is, feeding into that fear is as harmful as making a mistake. You've grown a lot together and even more apart. I can't think of a better time for you to freefall into him than right now. I think you're ready and so is he."

        She looks into my eyes, searching for the truth. "Giving in isn't supposed to be that easy, is it?"

        "It never is. But you've spent the better part of your life orbiting each other. The hard part will be over once you decide for it to be." I squeeze her shoulders. "He really is the best. And that's why you've always deserved him."

        "I love you so much."

        "I love you more."

        "You're my sister, you know that."

        "Yes. Now go get your man."

        "Are you sure I'm not—"

        "Lauren."

         Before she can sike herself out, Lauren presses a kiss to my cheek before jumping to her feet. It doesn't mean much considering they're in the middle of a party, but I decide against returning to the house. Give them some privacy.

        Luckily for me, Marty is waiting to sneak in, and he drops down beside me in the sand, displacing a lot more of it than Lauren. I brush off the granules from my lap and flick them onto him.

        "Hate to say it, but Aunty's got you beat on the local kine grindz now."

        "She bought half of it."

        "You think I can't tell Foodland lomi salmon from yours? I'm not judging her. She still wins."

        "Don't let her know. She'll never let me live it down."

        "I've actually just texted her."

        Marty laughs and takes a swig of his beer. "You're a little shit."

        "Think little shit was the second choice after Stevie."

        "Clearly that was a heart-to-heart you just had but can I tell you something?" Marty asks. "I've never told you this because...well, I don't know, but that night your dad...I spoke to him at the hospital. Right before he—"

        He doesn't need to finish. Even after all these years, I don't think I can stand to hear it. Talking about it to strangers or people I barely know is one thing. I can detach myself from the feelings and recount the tragic events like I'm reading about a random crime story I heard on a podcast. Bad things happen to other people until they happen to you.

        "They kept telling me I needed to rest and he had gotten out of surgery. But I felt it. I felt his mana fading, and I knew I had to see him. So I snuck into his room and got my last chance."

        I don't know what's coming, but the only possible outcome is my own set of tears. I feel them slip down my cheeks before he recounts his story; my chest rises and falls in the same unsteady rhythm of the waves in front of us.

        What I don't expect is to see Marty crumble as hard and as quickly. He takes one look at me and sees the face of my father's bloodline, the one he's grown up alongside his entire life, and he feels it as hard in his chest as I do. What I respect most about Marty is that he's as tough as they come, but he's also as vulnerable. Family means more to him than anything else, and there isn't a shade of his heart he won't let us see.

        "I loved that man like he was my own flesh and blood," he cries; a hint of his deep voice shakes like the earth's tremors before an eruption. "I would've done anything for him. Would've given him all of my breaths just so he could have one more moment with you and your mom. He's the kind of man I'd always aspired to be, and the kind of father I molded myself into. The depth of my gratitude for him knows no bounds."

        I nod quietly. "He loved you just as much. You've always been family."

        Marty closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. "He looked at me that night and said Uso, I want you to take care of them for me. Please. If this is my last breath, let them know I loved them more than anything. Promise me they'll always have you and I've never taken my word back."

        "You've never been anything less." I lean my head against his shoulder.

        "You don't need to forgive your mother. But I know you and I know how big your heart is, and I want you to know I'll always keep my word. I'll always take care of you both for him."

        "Thank you, Uncle."

        "I know it's hard for you to come back here sometimes and to experience these milestones without him. But don't ever forget—" Marty presses a finger against my forehead. "He's here." And against my chest where my heart beats. "And he's here. You are living, breathing proof of his mana, and wherever he is, he's looking at you with so much pride. And though your mother is lost right now, she knows it in her heart, too."

        "I know." I sniffle.

        Marty kisses my forehead. "I look at you like I look at my own daughters. You'll always have an ohana with us. Don't forget that."

        "I won't." I hug him back. And in his warmth, in the power molded into him by his ancestors, I feel my father's embrace. Despite the moments stolen from us, our love can never be taken. Not the love of a father, of an uncle, of the resilient Hawaiian people. We thrive and persevere through the odds. "Thank you for telling me. He's lucky to have had you in his life."

        "The luck is all mine."

        Applause erupts behind us and I turn to see Lauren and Jun embracing, kissing, letting the love pour out of them—the spirit of aloha in its purest form.

        "You deserve that too, ku'u ipo."

        "I know," I whisper. "At the right time."