Teacher's Pet

The food had been one of the biggest changes that I'd had to deal with when I moved here. We didn't tend to get a lot of poke in Rochester, Texas. Four years in, and I could eat my weight in lomi-lomi salmon any day of the week.

After stopping by my place and driving back to hers in the city to drop her car off, we decided we'd go to a little restaurant her friend owned. We walked there from her house since it was only about ten minutes away.

Unless you knew about the place, you wouldn't be able to find it. It didn't have a big lit-up sign outside or a line around the block. The only tourists you saw in there were the ones who had been smart enough to get a local to tell them where to get real Hawai'ian food.

Anybody going there for the first time would probably think eating there would be some sort of health hazard. Calling it a dive bar was generous. The five tables in the fairly small square room had chairs all the way around, so if you were eating there, you were eating with strangers. A lot of people just stood eating by the bar. All the plates were mismatched, and the glasses were plastic. It was like eating in your thrifty grandmother's house — if she happened to make the most delicious food you'd ever had in your life.

Makani's friend, Mamo, was older than us, but they'd known each other since Makani was a teenager. We ate there pretty often. His chicken long rice was what I would request as my last meal before I passed.

Sitting there with Makani and a bunch of people who'd become my friends by the time we left was one of the reasons I loved Lanai. I'd lived in a small town before coming here, too. I loved being able to point out my neighbors and know them all by name. I loved how even though tourism was the major economic activity here, there was a homey, family vibe to the local spots around the island.

We ended up sitting at a table with some guys who ran boat trips through the marine reserve for tourists. We ordered our food and laughed with them, drinking cocktails. One of them was a man about forty years old who always hit on Makani, but she always turned him down. He was married. We knew his wife, but as far as we knew, he only did it for a bit of fun.

The people at our table changed a few times during our meal. At one point, this man, probably the only tourist in there, walked up to us and offered to buy me a drink.

He had a European accent and was pretty sunburned, around maybe his mid-thirties, speaking pidgin badly. I only let him buy me one if he got one for Makani, too. He brought us the drinks and talked with us for a while before leaving when it was clear neither of us was going to end up leaving with him. Makani watched him weave through the crowd and walk out the door.

"I think we just ruined his night," she said.

"He was only in here for one thing. He probably asked someone to tell him where a good place to pick up local girls was."

"He had his eye on you since he came in," she said. I scowled.

"Not my type."

"I don't think your type even exists, Abby," she said, taking a sip of her drink.

"I've liked guys before," I said defensively.

"I know you have. You just don't talk to them, date them, or let them take you out."

I shrugged. Not all a lie. In fact, mostly true. Okay. All true. It wasn't that I didn't have a type or that I thought Lanai was too small. I had heard the rumors about me and Makani. A lot of people, especially people who didn't know her very well, thought we were together. I didn't do anything to necessarily dispute those rumors because it wasn't a big deal, but I could see why they had started in the first place. I just couldn't do it.

The thought of dating scared me a little. I hadn't seen enough stable, rewarding relationships to really want to be involved in one. Not even at home. Especially not at home.

Both of my parents were dead. My father, last I had checked, was actually still alive, but he might have died in the years since. Even if he hadn't, he was as good as dead to me. I didn't even have his name anymore. My mother was in a better place now; I knew she was dead. She had died in front of me.

It had been years since it had happened, and Makani knew. Of course, I had told her. What she didn't know was that it was the main reason why I never dated. Before, it had been even worse. I wouldn't even talk to guys right after it had happened. Now, I could flirt and had even had a hookup or two, but never dated. I never kept a guy around long enough to show me his true colors.

I thought about saying it, but why would I ruin such a good night with something like that? It had all happened a long time ago, and I was still healing from it. One day, it wouldn't affect me at all. I was hopeful. Until then, everyone on the island could be jealous of my gorgeous wife. I changed the subject, not wanting to bring the tone down.

"Are you tired tonight, or did you want to do something after this?" I asked her.

"There should be a party on the beach not far from your place."

"Party like hotel party?"

"No, all guys from the city. You want to go?" she asked. I said I did.

It was at a place not that far from my house, a house where I knew a bunch of guys who had moved here from Los Angeles lived. It was a pretty big place, but they shared it. Everyone was in the back on the beach when we got there.

There were plenty of familiar faces. A lot of people had been there longer than us, so they were already a little drunk. There was music playing and people grouped together having a good time.

People stumbled up to us asking us where we'd been and how we were. A number of them worked with us at the hotel or at other resorts on the island. Even if they didn't do it all year round, they tended to get jobs taking tourists on hikes and things like that to take advantage of the seasonal jobs they brought with them.

We got ourselves drinks and walked out onto the beach. I counted maybe twenty to thirty people at the party, not many at all, but everyone knew each other. Doing things like this meant we could still have fun on our own island while the tourists flooded the bars and lounges. I appreciated the industry, hell, I worked in it, but I understood wanting to be around your friends.

At work, you had to be polite and accommodate strangers. Here, you could speak pidgin and let your hair down.