2019

I had heard the phrase we were all equal before a wave too many times to count.

Growing up on an island meant I heard it more than any person needed to in one lifetime. If there was an ocean metaphor to be used for any life lesson, islanders didn't shy away from using them, even if it was wholly unoriginal and overdone. It took a while to appreciate the meaning behind it, but I was reminded of it each time I found myself floating along an endless loop of waves, not quite sure if I was waiting for something or not. I always told myself it was another wave to catch, but then that next one would come and I would continue to sit there. Stuck in that continuous loop.

On one hand, I understood what they were trying to say. In the face of uncertainty, we were all capable of failing, which could be applied more directly to surfing. A wave was a wave, and it didn't care who you were. If it wanted to, it would pull you under.

But even as someone who spent enough time in the water as a child to be called a fish, I understood it wasn't always true, the idea of equality before a wave. While a wave was a simple act of nature that had no rhyme or reason, everyone that stood in front of one was a real person with experiences that greatly differed. No two people were ever the same. That meant varying levels of understanding and privileges. My sister Leimomi and I could both bob in the ocean as a wave came toward us, but I had years of experience with swimming to know what to do if I was ever in trouble.

Some people were thrown into the ocean as children. Others were given swimming lessons in the safety of a private pool. We were as equal as the rhythm of the waves themselves, which was not at all, as much as we wished that was the truth.

The wave did not discriminate. It didn't mean we were all equal. There was a big difference.

With all this in mind, I was comfortable in the water but also aware of its uncertain nature. I wasn't necessarily afraid of turning my back to it as I knew nothing about it was linear. I needed to look left, right, up, and down, and even then, there was a strong benefit to trusting your gut instinct.

My relationship with the water was that of a lover, and love always had the chance to turn sour.

"Hi," I murmured in the quiet of a morning swim. Salt air clung to my skin. I breathed it in, closing my eyes as I submerged myself further into the ocean. The sky above was cloudless and its icy reflection below was crystal clear. I always thought we were spoiled in that sense. Unbelievably blue waves that looked like a gemstone beneath the sun. A bird's eye view of Hawai'i could make the whole world shimmer. "How are you?"

Silence echoed back. It always did.

"We're going to see Alex and Anthony today," I continued. To no one. No one that was here anymore. "It's been so long. I'm kind of worried about what they're going to think of me now. I mean, I saw Anthony a couple of weeks ago. But, you know, we were both drunk. And it was late. I don't have anywhere to hide now."

I once wondered what it would feel like to be submerged. Not just for a few minutes but for the rest of my life, as if I were some creature from the sea like I always wished I was when I was a kid. For a long time, I would take the deepest breaths and sink as far as I could, imagining myself as an anchor who longed to touch the ocean floor. For a long time, I pushed myself to the limit. It wasn't until Leimomi caught me one time and nearly cried because she was worried I drowned. I had to beg her not to tell anybody about it for fear that they would make a big deal about it, and she only agreed not to as long as I promised not to do it again. That promise had been upheld for years.

"Do you think there are people who are genuinely just... happy?" I asked. "I can't imagine it. I can't imagine not wanting to constantly sink."

It had been a long time since I asked a question and got an answer back from my dad. The only reason it stopped bothering me as much was that I had accepted this as the new normal. It took years—years that I thought would hold answers to questions I didn't know the answers to—but I eventually got there, in a way. It was organic and constantly evolved, but I liked to think I would stop being afraid of it one day. Or maybe the way I felt was akin to being numb.

After taking a deep breath, I slid off my board and went under. My grip remained steadfast on the end of the leash, afraid that if I let go, I might never find my way back to the surface. For six minutes and thirty-seven seconds—give or take, I probably wasn't counting accurately—I floated underwater. (Aside from spending my life in the water, I attributed this to playing an instrument.)

My eyes stayed closed. The only way I knew up from down was because of the strap around my wrist and the sun peeking through each crest and fall of the waves above me. My body shifted with them, but I remained still. Near the middle mark, the only movement I felt anymore was my heart beating.

I miss you, I mouthed. Let the ocean swallow me whole.

...

I couldn't remember the last time I had been to Kaimuki.

As we passed by Leonard's Bakery on our way to Cal's house, I debated asking Kanani if we could pull over and grab a box, but my voice got stuck in my throat. Never one to shy away from demanding what she wanted out of life, Leimomi hopped up in her seat in the back and asked herself, so after ten minutes, we were back on the road with two boxes of hot, fresh malasadas. Leimomi once wrote a paper for her history class on Portuguese immigration to Hawai'i back during the plantation days and made it a point—the main point, she corrected often—that introducing malasadas to Hawai'i was their greatest gift. (I had to agree.)

Although we were lucky enough to still get decently cool days in March, it was even chillier than anticipated, though the skies above were wide open. I didn't have to worry about getting rained out at the party, but I would have done well to have thrown a cardigan over my thin dress.

"Maybe you can borrow something from that guy," Kanani suggested, reading my mind as I silently crossed my arms. "You said you two were coworkers, right?"

"Yeah, but we're not that close."

My seat was jerked slightly forward before I heard a loud slap.

"Stop it!" Micah scolded. She leaned forward with her hands on either side of my seat. "Sorry, Hoku. That was Lei. She's being a twat."

"It's fine," I said. "But smack her again for me, please."

"Hey—ouch! Who even says twat?"

"I don't know." Micah shrugged. "All the annoying tourists that ask me why they don't get a kama'aina discount?"

Kanani scoffed.

Leimomi's girlfriend spent enough time at the house to earn an invitation to Zach's birthday party after Anthony stopped by one day—I was with Kaipo when he came over—to make sure we were all still good to go. Considerably more respectful, but still loud nonetheless, she was almost guaranteed to make a much better impression on the other partygoers. Her round baby face juxtaposed with a low voice that everyone thought made her sound more mature than her age—society had a bad habit of trying to make girls seem more mature than they were, despite their undeniable youth—made her popular at school. I was sure that translated to birthday parties.

Thankfully, it wasn't a big party. Alex's boyfriend had requested a small get-together, according to Kanani's gossiping, and Alex wasn't one to turn down an intimate house party. I was just glad that whatever had happened between all of them, Alex and Emmie had patched up their rifts. Although I couldn't say I had that kind of friend in my life, more so because I was just shit at maintaining friendships and not because I was some pick-me girl that claimed other women were too dramatic to be friends, female friendships were important. Being around other women, period. Alex and Emmie were proof of that, and I understood that in the little time I had spent with the two of them together.

We pulled up to a house with music already drifting out of it. A scattering of slippers and shoes was collected outside of the front door. All that aside, we could tell it was the house because there were a couple of leis draped on the mailbox.

"You must be Anthony's friends," a stranger said when answering the front door. He had a golden hue to his skin from what I assumed was a nice, long day in the sun. We had a lot of those lately.

I gestured to the lei around his neck. Purple. Alex's favorite color of lei. They complimented his pale peach-colored button-up shirt. "And you must be the birthday boy."

He smiled, flashing a mouthful of pearly whites, and held the door open for us. "Zach. Alex and Anthony are arm wrestling in the kitchen."

"Of course they are."

After handing out one-armed hugs and thanking us for the birthday wishes, Zach disappeared into the backyard where it seemed Cal was setting up fold-out tables and chairs, along with an unfamiliar face I assumed to be Anthony's boyfriend Kaioh. A movie played in the living room, but the only person who seemed to have been watching it was a young woman, probably my age, that had fallen asleep. Her long black hair cascaded over the side of the couch.

"Eh, you faka. Come grab the stuff from the car," I heard Kanani say off in the distance. It took a second to find the familiar view of her glaring at her best friend.

While Anthony was a year older than Kanani, his younger sister and I were the same age. Even though we weren't necessarily best friends since I, again, was not good at maintaining friendships well, and we didn't live near each other enough to grow closer, Alexandra Rivera was still one of my favorite people to see. A familiar face that felt like the first touch of sunlight on a warm summer's morning, regardless of how many years had passed since we last saw each other. In the times when we hung out while our older siblings were off getting into trouble with each other, we bonded over the ways in which we struggled to grapple with our understanding of the world and, more importantly, our place within it. I liked having someone who understood the complexities of measuring self-worth. I also liked how, even at a young age, Alex was unapologetically vulnerable. When someone like her—someone I viewed as beautiful and intelligent and authentic, all qualities I had grown up admiring in the women I was closest to—opened up about her struggles, it made it easier to want to do the same.

I hadn't quite stuck to that mentality as I grew older, but I still respected that about her. Maybe if our families had spent more time together, I could learn from her again.

"Hoku!" Alex said once she noticed me, and quickly dropped her brother's hand—she was about to win, but that was likely because he was going to let her. He was good at letting her be happy—before bouncing over to me. She was a few inches shorter and leaned up on her toes to wrap her arms tightly around my neck. The smell of gardenias flooded my senses, and I inhaled the familiar scent of a home away from home. After years apart, my heart grew three sizes from that hug. "I missed you."

"Missed you, too," I replied, tightening my grip around her.

"Oh my god, is that Leimomi?" she gasped. Alex released me and stood back, wide-eyed, as she stared at my sister. "No way, you're supposed to be a baby!"

Leimomi rolled her eyes with a laugh. "Yeah, yeah, yeah."

The two of them shared an embrace before Leimomi introduced her to Micah. I didn't want to jinx myself today, but it was the first time in a long time that I didn't feel this invisible weight on my shoulders. I saw the people I loved, smelled the ono food we were blessed with, and thought it wasn't too bad, this life thing. Sometimes it could be good, even if I needed to be reminded of it.

"Since we all know how amazing of a cook I am," Alex said loudly, ignoring the exaggerated cough Anthony interrupted with, "please enjoy the food I obviously cooked myself."

"I didn't know you worked at Foodland." Leimomi tapped on one of the containers of fresh poke, as well as one filled with poi right next to it. Both still had time-stamped stickers.

"If you don't create professional labels for your homemade poke, are you even a real chef?"

"Real chef, my ass," Anthony croaked as he dragged a heavy cooler behind him filled with ice and Kanani's favorite beer. (Leimomi was driving us home tonight while I played designated supervising passenger.) "Her boyfriend cooked half this food himself and he's the birthday boy."

"Fine by me, making all the men do the work," I replied as I hopped onto one of the barstools, notably grabbing edamame while I watched him struggle to maneuver the cooler around the corner so he could bring it outside on the back patio.

Alex clapped her hands and pointed at me. "That's what I said."

"Great minds think alike."

The sound of Anthony accidentally slamming his knee into the wall was followed by a sort of... strangled whine. Very catlike. I popped another edamame into my mouth.

"Thanks for the help, everyone."

I held up a finger, waiting until I finished chewing. "I made butter mochi so I think that absolves me of any other responsibilities today."

Immediately, all was forgiven in Anthony's eyes. Maybe I had ulterior motives when deciding what my contributions to today's festivities would be. Beyond just being incredibly easy to make, it was also a crowd favorite, especially in the Rivera household.

About a split second of stilled heartbeats passed between the siblings and their shared staredown before they both pushed themselves back to the kitchen counter where I had just placed the covered dish a few minutes ago—Micah caught Leimomi in her arms as she was gently shoved away and the cooler Tetris had been ditched as Anthony gracefully hopped over it.

I snagged a water bottle from the fridge before leaving them to duke it out.

Using the side door that led out from the kitchen, I snuck into the backyard where Zach, Cal, and Kaioh had just finished setting everything up and were now resting, a cold beer placed in front of each of them. My friendly coworker stretched his leg to kick an empty chair out for me, which I slid easily onto.

"Have they started fighting over—"

"Yeah," I answered before he could finish. "I brought a tray of butter mochi."

Zach took a sip before shaking his head. "That'll be gone before they make themselves an actual plate of food."

"I heard someone made kalbi?" I waited for confirmation, which he gave me in the form of a brisk nod. "Then that's a-okay with me. More for us." After turning to the side, I greeted Kaioh. "Is this a good time to get the mandatory who are you, what are your intentions with Anthony, and do you promise you won't break his heart talk out of the way?"

Not that he needed my approval one bit, but Kaioh played along, shimmying himself into position. I bit back a smile, already convinced that whoever this man was, he was likely the perfect match for our unofficial brother. That was something I was convinced Hawai'i locals had done to an art—being able to judge whether someone was a good person within the first five minutes of meeting them. Or maybe we just fooled ourselves into thinking our community was tight-knit enough to be that comfortable around each other. Either way, I trusted my instincts more than I had been taught to.

"Kaioh Hamasaki. Honestly just wanted him to teach me how to surf at first, but then I kind of fell in love with him. I will do my best to not break his heart. Or let him break mine."

I patted his shoulder. "Quick and painless. And good for you. Anthony was the one who taught me how to surf. Him and my dad. Is he still good at it?"

"Define good."

"Must have been good enough if you asked him to teach you."

Kaioh laughed and shrugged, and I caught a glimpse of a small koi fish tattoo peeking out from the short sleeve of his shirt. "He's probably a little rusty now since we haven't been out in a while but he's probably still better than all of us."

Cal interjected with a friendly slap of his hand against Zach's chest. "You're not letting this one get out of the hot seat, are you?"

Nobody was taking any of this seriously, as I had zero authority to judge anyone else's partner, let alone people who I hadn't spent much time with for years as much as I loved them, but fair was fair. Slipping on a stern mask of judgment, I lifted one eyebrow in Zach's direction and silently directed him to offer up his credentials.

He also played along with a ridiculous, lovesick puppy expression on his face the entire time. Zachariah Kim, but, again, just call me Zach. Woke up one day and realized Alex was there all along and I didn't want to know what it would ever be without her again. Took a while, but we got there. I'm never letting her go. I didn't know the ins and out of his story with Alex as well as other people at this party surely did, but I had been briefed enough to know it wasn't an easy road getting to where they were now. That only made his smile more endearing, especially when it was directed back toward the house at the sound of Emmie's arrival, Alex's best friend.

I watched the two of them through the kitchen window, along with another girl trailing behind her wearing a much more polished outfit—I didn't personally know anyone that could afford to drop a pretty penny on a Chanel purse but it was a gorgeous piece—than Emmie's casual sundress.

I knew who Emmie was since she had been Alex's friend since we were all in elementary school. They had always been attached at the hips, two pieces that fit together perfectly. The kind of harmonious balance that we recognized in nature and tried our best to maintain. I admired the way they held onto each other for as long as they had, similar to the comfortable familiarity I recognized in Kanani and Anthony's relationship, as it wasn't something that came easily to me. I guess the person I had closest to that was Kaipo, but we worked differently than they did.

"They're doing good, right?" I asked Zach, not quite turning away from any of them. Framed by the wide windows, it was like watching a photograph come to life. The thought came to me for a second that I was a bystander watching them like an outsider, but then I reminded myself I wasn't alone and this wasn't some competition on who could stand in the spotlight the longest.

It took him a second to respond, but I felt his eyes on me. Curious. "Yeah, a lot better. Akamu is good too. Healthier. I'm sure he'd love for all of you to come over sometime."

Uncle Akamu, Anthony and Alex's dad. He was a good man. A little rough around the edges sometimes, but weathered like a well-loved tool used to build a home. Not like the splintered wood that barely made it through a storm that I always felt like. I wondered if he had mended his broken heart, and whether or not that was something he could help my mom with.

"That's good." I nodded. Hopeful. "That's very good."