She watched his backside as he turned the corner into the hallway of their two bedroom apartment. That his form still turned her head after so many years together was not lost on her. In December, they'd celebrate their seventh anniversary together. Four years in college and three as a married couple, she'd fallen in love with him the moment they'd met.
Her first week in Honolulu, the rusted out Dodge Colt she'd purchased from a used car dealer—aka the Hoopty-mobile—overheated on the Kalanianiole Highway. Strong, handsome and tallish for a local boy, Mika materialized from his surfer van like a bronzed god climbing down from his place on high.
“What wen' happen?” he asked in Pidgin.
“Pardon?”
“Ah, you're new around here.” A grin parted his lips and lit up his espresso-colored eyes. “I asked what happened to your car?”
“Oh. Hell if I know. I think it's the radiator.”
With great machismo, Mika popped the hood, took a look around her car's innards and declared it was indeed the radiator. It had run dry. He offered her a ride to the nearest service station and when she demurred, he made the trip himself. Upon return, he performed some esoteric car ritual, mixing this, filling that. As if by magic, the car sprang to life as soon as he turned the ignition key.
“Thank you so much. You're my hero,” she teased, though half-serious.
“No problem. Where you headed?”
“No where in particular. I was just driving around. I'm going to school at UH and it's my first time in the islands.”
“Your first time? Then you need one kamai'ina for show you around.”
“A Kama—what? What's that?”
Mika winked at her. “That's me.”
They spent the rest of the day traveling along the H1 and H2 highways. It took only four hours to circumnavigate the entire island. They stopped to eat at Mika's favorite spots. He showed her the best beaches, the ones the tourists didn't know about. By sunset, they shared a six-pack of ice cold Primo at Kaaawa, watching the last rays of sunlight bathe the sky in outrageous gold and fuchsia tones. It was then that Mika stole their first kiss. Little did he know, he'd also stolen her heart.
For the longest time, no other man existed for Clarissa. She'd barely noticed Mika's cousin, though the two were joined at the hip. The same age, the boys had grown up together, more like brothers than distant relatives. Sione had been Mika's best man at the wedding. But unlike Mika, Sione always had some drama going on, usually in the romance department. One too many girlfriends or a girlfriend with one too many husbands. The man was a mess. He drank too much, smoked too much pakalolo, and held little regard for other people's expectations of him. Sione enjoyed his bachelorhood and didn't intend to give it up any time soon, no matter how many pretty travel agents or retail clerks his mother set him up with.
Clarissa's trouble with Sione didn't begin until a year ago. About the time Mika turned up the pressure about starting a family, Sione's brand of freedom became intoxicating. His morals looser, his ideas about commitment less stringent. So what if he played around a lot? Sione wasn't the type of guy you married, but the dalliance would be one hell of a ride while it lasted. She'd heard as much from Michelle, who'd dated him for several months. Her accounts of the man's prowess in bed combined with his knee-jerk flirtations had set something in motion for Clarissa, something she knew she could never act on. Mika didn't deserve to be hurt like that, even though her husband made her nuts sometimes.
The smell of French toast pulled her from her memories. She plaited her hair into a long braid and squeezed into a camisole and ultra-tiny jersey shorts before she made her way to the kitchen.
“Oh, my God, that smells divine,” she said.
“Order up in five minutes.”
She set the table and poured the coffee. If her nose did not deceive her, Mika had made a syrup from pureed tropical fruits. A scoop of vanilla ice cream would round out the dish—his famous Pacific Rim French toast a la mode. Thoughts of Sione ebbed further from the forefront of her mind. Mika had it all over his rebel-without-a-pause cousin. Clarissa admonished herself to remember this fact.