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	Untraditional
	As I sat on the long flight, trying to rest, I half-dreamed and half-thought how I, Robert Higgins, and my wife, Melanie, got to this point in our lives. I met Mel in college but much in my younger life had come to pass or meeting my wife of nine years wouldn't have happened. You see, my adopted name is Higgins but I was born Robert Dufort - of the very wealthy, East Coast Duforts. Dad wasn't only rich, he was a philanderer. His wife, Elizabeth, was also wealthy, yet she was barren. Through an arrangement with the two families, Elizabeth granted my biological father, Montgomery Dufort, access to lower-status women to bear his offspring. The women were paid handsomely for their silence. Even after researching the sordid tale as an adult, I still had no idea how many biological half-brothers and sisters I had. In my case, my mother, Alicia, got tired of the arrangement and decided to go for more money when I was ten. We'd been relocated to the Detroit suburbs after I was born. She got it into her head that she might have some success blackmailing the Duforts but soon found out what kind of power money affords. The result was that she was found to be an unfit mother in a payoff scheme with county child protection services and I ended up in the system. By the time I landed on my feet, my mother was long gone, either on the run or really gone. Fortunately, my third-grade teacher, Mr. Higgins, and his wife petitioned the court for my adoption. He was well-liked in the community and both he and his wife were deeply entrenched in the local church and politics. They weren't rich by any stretch of the imagination but once I went to live with them, my life improved greatly. I was moved to a Catholic school at the end of third grade but didn't start to make friends until the start of the next school year. Jon Urena and Steve Carter were among my best friends from fourth to sixth grade. I wasn't cut out for the rough and tumble of Catholic school. Besides mass three times per week, I found the kids excelled at everything. Some of those things made the kids in my old school look batshit crazy. For example, after our cafeteria lunch each day, we divided up the fourth through sixth-grade kids into two teams and played tackle keep-away on the playground asphalt. My adoptive parents became furious when they had to keep buying more uniform pants and told me I needed to find something else to do during our recess. The kids were rough. It seemed to me that the group of kids at large saw their entrance into Heaven as a done deal. You may imagine that with my childhood woes and the influence of school, I became quite a tough bully or a violent person. Quite the opposite occurred because fighting never appealed to me. Sure, I had to learn how to fight, for no other reason than self-preservation. I was an 'A' student all through elementary school. When it came time to go to middle school, I attended my first public school. Grades seven through ten were inevitably boring. I was way ahead of the curriculum in seventh grade and it seemed they just kept covering the same material. Finally, after a lot of skipping school, I went into independent studies. I did have two male teachers in high school who did their best to mentor me, one in business accounting and the other had two specialized classes: computer programming and astronomy. Our school was the only one in the county that had a planetarium. Science didn't appeal as much as business and that's what I finally decided on. I was accepted into Michigan State University and I met Mel there in our sophomore year. She was an incredibly deep thinker and her sense of humor was also endearing. I often found myself daydreaming just watching her talk to some group of students, or at a party. I got far less noticed at first. That lasted until our second semester when we attended the same literature class. When we were randomly teamed up on a project based on political rhetoric in famous speeches, things changed for us. I wouldn't say our courtship was remarkable in any way. Melanie was a beautiful woman of Pacific Island descent with straight long black silky hair, caramel skin, and green piercing eyes. I never bought into the idea that polar opposites attract, however, I must admit that a few of those things did help us become closer. In contrast, I considered myself to be, well, plain. Average height, average weight, brown hair, and brown eyes, with a bit of a large schnoz. I couldn't figure out what an exotic beauty like Mel saw in a guy like me but I certainly wasn't going to dwell on it. Before we became engaged, we mapped out our first ten years of marriage. Kids would wait until we established ourselves and made enough to put a decent downpayment on a house. I never saw a penny from my bio-dad, because of my mother's actions. Mel was born on one of the Vanuatu Islands in Melanesia. Her island was unnamed and south of Emae Island and her given name was Mele. Accordingly, she was granted exchange student status even though she had moved to the States at the age of twelve. Mel's major was in comparative cultural studies into which she put her all. We decided that I get a leg up in my field and I got a job right out of college with a worldwide conglomerate in Boston. That allowed Mel to continue in school and work a slightly more than part-time job. Many of her classes would be counted towards her master's. We married in the fall right after graduation. The ceremony was very traditional, well, to my side of the family anyway. I got to meet Melanie's mother and father and her younger sister, Aleki. Mel's mother, Moana Kealoha, was a very wise, determined, and strong woman. Though she had only been to the US for about two weeks, when they brought Mel to live with her aunt near Lansing, Michigan, she got involved with the wedding and interacted well with my parents and others. In stark contrast, Maleko Kealoha, Mel's dad, was somewhat frail for a man his age. Actually, I saw him as quite frail for a man in his mid-sixties. I had no idea what island life was like other than what Mel described from her childhood. It sounded more primitive but I always saw it as people who'd lived that way for centuries. And of course, they had some modern conveniences. I wondered secretly if her father was sick and perhaps too proud to share it. Aleki was a cute-as-a-button ten-year-old. She performed the duties of flower girl, having brought an assortment of beautiful tropical dried flowers from the island with only a little help from her mother. The wedding went off spectacularly. My parents paid for the wedding festivities and her parents surprised us with honeymoon tickets to Cancun. We spent six days glorious days there and neither of us was in any hurry on our last day to return and start our lives together. Our new lives began, nonetheless. I put in a lot of hours in those first few years, working to get promoted and to reach our pre-established goals to start a family. Mel worked a restaurant job and Door Dashed to make spending money while continuing her schooling in Boston. Right around our fourth anniversary, Mel was offered a job as curator for the Micronesia Artifacts Museum, where she thrived. Life was very good. Our sixth year together found our first little wrinkle. We received word that Mel's father has passed away. We agonized about how to get there together for their version of a funeral. My firm was bringing on our largest client to date and I was on the team designated to onboard them. I told Mel that family came first and I would make my bosses, VPs, and junior partners see that. She was adamant that she should go on her own. She didn't want to jeopardize everything I'd been working towards the past six years. Reluctantly, I conceded and I kissed my bride goodbye at the airport on the third of May. Her return flight was scheduled for one week later. Now the island had no cell phone services which was common on many of the Polynesian islands. There was a Western Union on Emae, which was about a two-hour ferry ride from Mel's home. I received a message on the day before her return that she'd decided to stay an additional two weeks (that became seventeen days) to help her mother. I was upset but determined it was stupid on my part. They had no phone service. We couldn't talk and of course, she had every right to attend to her family in their time of need. She finally returned but something about Mel was off. It brought back some of the worries and fears I had when I found out she was extending her trip. Finally, in frustration, I confronted her about it. Mel swore it was just thoughts of her father, seeing the entire family again, and all the changes that had taken place in her village. She didn't seem to want to go into specifics. My gut drove me to continue to push as my fears about what may have gone on for nearly a month away ate at me. She refused and things between us were icy. It took another three weeks for things to return to normal and I forced myself to push the entire ordeal aside. Now, here we were flying into Tongo, then hopping a prop job over to Emae, where we'd board the two-hour ferry. I felt some of those old feelings returning and they resonated louder during the week leading to our departure. Mel was excited but also seemed a bit guarded. Maybe some of her emotions from four years ago were still in the recesses of my mind. We were so attuned to one another that I expected that was it. We could occasionally read the others' thoughts. Mel called that our mana, the elemental powers of nature embodied in an object or person. They really believed in 'the force' like Star Wars. Mel and I slept as much as we could on the long trip. We spent thirty-two hours just getting to Tonga and another four sitting in airports awaiting connections. The last leg was the ferry ride on some typically rough seas. I was unable to sleep on the boat. Mel warned me to try to sleep and eat. There would be a ton of people celebrating our arrival and there would likely be a big party that night. I told her it would be best to explain to them that we needed at least a day to recover. We came bearing gifts as was the custom. My wife had brought two cases of strawberry wine since her people had never tasted a strawberry, and due to strawberries not traveling well. I was going to bring two cases of beer until Mel told me there might be over two hundred people attending our welcome festival. I got a deal on 'more than' ten cases of Coors Light so I bought twelve. I know, very cultural. It was all loaded onto the ferry, which was a twenty-foot fishing boat, and off to Mel's home island we were. She wasn't kidding. There were in fact, 150-200 people waiting on the beach around the dock, clapping and waving as we approached. I recognized her mother standing on the dock with what I assumed to be a grownup Aleki. There was a man with them, about my age I guessed, who looked somewhat familiar. There were hugs and kisses all around. The first thing I noticed was how people dressed or the lack thereof. Mel had told me what to expect, of course, but you can never put a proper picture in your head until you see it firsthand. I felt like I was in an old Tarzan movie. I noticed the man with the family hung back a few steps, allowing for all the welcoming to happen. Finally, he stepped forward and hugged my wife like an old dear friend. The hug wasn't overly long but there was a passion behind it. My curiosity peaked as did a slight jealousy. "Rob," he stepped to me. The inflection in that single word seemed... I didn't know. Then I studied his smiling face. This man knew me. "It's me, Rob," he said moving in for a hug. "Jon." Jon. Jon? "Jon!" I responded, unable to believe it. Instead of allowing the hug, I held his shoulders back in order to get a good look at his face. "Jon Urena?" "Yeah, it's me you old dog!" Jon said as he wrapped his arm around my neck and rocked back and forth. I half-expected a noogie. "What are you doing here?" was all I could muster in my shocked state. "I live here," he casually stated. "We'll talk about it later. Right now, I have some people over there dying to take our pictures. When I came to the island, I brought my expensive camera equipment and taught some of my neighbors how to use it. They've been going crazy to photograph something besides waves and flowers." With that, he kept his right arm over my shoulder and pulled Mel into him, his left arm around her waist. "Smile!" he told us looking at a young islander behind the tripod. Jon was blabbing and carrying on, mostly with Mel, as we made our way to the guesthouse. Mel's mother, sister, and Jon showed us around what looked like about eight hundred and fifty square feet - a glorified mobile home, more like. As they headed out the door, Jon leaned back in and said, "See you at the celebration tonight. Get some rest." He looked at me and said, "We have plenty of catching up to do." As the door shut, I turned to Mel. She could tell I was searching for an explanation. Instead, she made her first mistake, although I didn't know it at the time. "What?" she asked innocently. I tilted my head to one side and raised an eyebrow. "How do you know him, for starters?" I asked since she wasn't going to offer anything. "We grew up together," she stammered slightly, "on the island. He was born here, like me." That was a surprise and I'm sure it showed on my face. I'd always thought Jon was a Mexican. I mean, Michigan is predominantly black, white, and Chaldean. There were very few Hispanics there when I was a kid so, how was I supposed to know? "And when did he learn I was your husband?" I continued my interrogation. "I'm not sure," she sounded honest. "You'll have to ask him. I saw him briefly when I was here for Papa's funeral but we talked of other things. Our wedding pictures are all over Mama's house and our families are very close, so maybe since he moved back here." "And when was that?" I was getting steamed and wanted to hold it together. With both of us being so dragged out from the trip, any kind of disagreement could quickly escalate. "I think about two years ago," she answered right away. "Two or two-and-a-half. You'll have to ask him exactly." "What 'other things' did you discuss when you were here?" I sounded petty but couldn't help it. "Rob," she studied my expression. "Oh my god, you aren't jealous, are you? We just caught up on things that were happening in our lives, that's all. We took about an hour's walk around the village the day after Papa's funeral. Puko... Jon was a pallbearer. Our conversation was mostly about fond memories. It was a perfect talk at a perfect time and I needed it, badly." Needed what so badly? That was my next thought. It also hit me that what was to be a week turned into almost a month, and she was talking about one little walk around the island. I also realized we were both exhausted and I had no proof of anything running through my head, just then. I couldn't let it go at that though. "Jealous?" I asked incredulously. "Husbands aren't jealous. They're suspicious and based on what you just said, I'm justified. "Puko, that's his Polynesian name?" I asked, trying desperately to change the direction of the conversation. "Pukaua, actually," she told me. "Puko, for short. You're being ridiculous and its beneath you. I am your wife." "And damn it, I am your husband!" With nothing more to say, I turned with the luggage toward our bedroom. "You wanna help me unpack?" I asked her and she followed along. We were quiet for a bit going about the work of organizing our clothes and toiletries. Finally, I decided it was too quiet. "So," I probed, "Any other surprises you want to tell me about, before tonight's party?" She could feel my words dripping with sarcasm and seemed uneasy. "No, Rob." She sat heavily on the bed. "Please, relax. Maybe take a nap so you're rested for later. There's nothing untoward going on. I want us to have fun tonight. I have something special planned for us, so you should probably try to keep Jon and the other men from getting you dead drunk." There was a sincerity there, so I let my shoulders release and let out a big sigh. I did try to take a short nap. As I lay there, though, my mind was racing. My childhood fear of fighting dictated that I had two friends like Steve Carter and Jon Urena. After Mr. and Mrs. Higgins adopted me and put me in a Catholic school, I learned that a lot of kids there had to establish the pecking order. I was near the bottom, although Steve and Jon's influence eventually helped me climb the rungs. The first time I saw Carter fight was just two weeks into the school year. We were playing keep-away and Carter wasn't only tough, he was fast. This overweight eighth-grader grabbed the back of his shirt, thinking he'd just toss Steve to the ground, but Carter did an under-and-up football running back move and sent the large kid flying. When the ball was passed to someone else, the bigger kid came up and shoved Steve hard, sending him to the pavement. Steve was up in a flash and the fists started flying fast and furious. Steve pummeled the kid, four years his senior until some of the other eighth-graders pulled him off. The big guy was a bloody mess. Urena fought just as hard. Nobody in fourth or fifth grade ever challenged them, and very few of the sixth graders either. Where Steve was sleek, muscular, and lightning-fast, Urena was built like, well, an eighth grader. More specifically, like a left tackle. Where Steve could punch you ten times in the face before you counted to three, Jon would hit you twice - pa-pow - and you were down for the count. During sixth grade, we were walking home from school one December afternoon. I helped him with his homework, especially math, as a means to keep him as my protector. As we turned the corner onto my street, Brad Shaw and Dennis Somebody-or-other were coming our way looking like they'd found easy marks. Both were freshmen in high school. They walked right up to us, menacingly. Brad looked me up and down, and then Jon. "Okay, Ronnie," he said. I wasn't sure if he knew my real name or what. "Give me all your money." As scared as I was, I knew that I had a dollar and a quarter burning a hole in my pocket. That would surely send them on their way. "Now, give me those gloves," he sneered as I handed him my money. I didn't want to have to explain losing the gloves to my parents. That pair was almost brand new. Still... "Alright, now give me that fancy watch," he and Dennis were laughing then. The watch in question was the only material thing I had left of a wealthy asshole father who never cared about me. For some reason, that I couldn't explain then, I wasn't willing to part with it. I looked at Jon. He stood there flabbergasted, like he'd never seen such a thing. I was later to find out that it had little to do with the watch. He'd been shocked since I handed over the money. Finally, he looked me in the eye and discovered what I was silently asking of him. He immediately stepped between me and Brad. That said a lot in and of itself since Brad was within a foot of me. "You got your money," he said sharply looking Brad in the eye. "Now move along." Brad laughed and so did Dennis. "Oh look," he chuckled. "One of them has a spine." He turned to Dennis and said, "This is gonna be a hoot. I'm gonna..." That was the last thing he said as his error became apparent, turning his back on Jon. I swear Jon almost knocked him out with his trademark one-two punch. Brad staggered back, but he didn't go down like so many before him. He played middle linebacker on the freshman squad and he had three inches and about forty pounds on Jon. You little motherfucker!" Brad said wiping his bloody lip. "You're dead!" Dennis took up a position right behind me, one hand on my shoulder as we watched the furious action. Both Brad and Jon went at each other in a flurry at first, each trying to score a knockout blow. As they finally stepped back from each other to regroup, I saw that Jon had taken the worst of it. His nose, mouth, and ear were bleeding. He still hadn't gone down. Brad was the one wearing a surprised look on his face. He'd given it his best against a 'little kid' and hadn't definitively put him down. Jon was bouncing lightly on each foot back and forth like a boxer with his fists up in front of his face. Brad became infuriated, probably having figured out the ramifications if he didn't correct the situation. He bull-rushed Jon and put him flat on his back, with Brad on top. Brad started pounding Jon's face. Something snapped in me. I pulled away from Dennis, picked up a frozen branch from the lawn we were in, and swung as hard as I could across Brad's back. Dennis was there a second later and I went sailing to the ground. The strike had had its desired effect. "You fucking hit me with a branch, you pussy?" Brad stood up and tried to look tough, but his breathing was labored, and I knew I'd hurt something. "You ain't so tough now, munchkin," he said looking down at Jon. Then they turned away. Ten minutes later my mother was tending to Jon's busted face. I still had my watch but not much of my pride. After that day, whenever Jon and Steve came to my house, or I to theirs they had me put on boxing gloves and one would be my coach while the other my sparring partner. At the end of the school year, Mom and Dad decided that private school was a bad influence on me, and I started seventh grade in public school. I still hung around with Steve for about half a year. He lived only two streets over but I didn't see Jon again until we entered high school. We had a brief reunion those first few months, but now it was Jon's turn to play football, fullback and occasionally, middle linebacker on defense. He set the freshman school record for all-purpose yards. But where Jon really excelled was in the water polo. He played D-hole and set, and I felt sorry watching his opponent try and fail to contain him. It was like watching a seal pup wrestling a great white. Jon made the all-state first team and lettered in football. By the end of our sophomore year, I don't think I said even one word to Jon and only saw him on the field or in the pool. Now, he was here on an island 5300 miles from our old lives and he had some kind of childhood bond with my wife. I should have been thinking something like, it sure is a small world, but instead, I found it all very unsettling. The party was unbelievable. Jon kept me at his side all night introducing me to all the male villagers and plenty of the women. Mel had warned me that while most of the islanders knew English as a second language, they rarely spoke it and would be eager to engage me. We finally got about a half hour to ourselves and he told me of his childhood on the island, how he went to school with Mel, and some of the games he and the other children played. I prodded him about how well he knew Mel but I couldn't go too far in that direction without looking like an insecure idiot. Both his family and Mel's were prominent and respected members of the island community. "When did you know that Mel and I were married?" I figured I'd just get it out there. "Honestly?" he replied right away. "At about forty-thousand feet over the Pacific Ocean. I mean I knew your last name was Higgins. That's a fairly common name. Mel told me you two lived in Boston and we grew up outside of Detroit, so I didn't give it much thought until I considered the wedding photos in Moana's living room. There was something familiar to me. Later, in a letter to Moana, I asked but she didn't remember where you grew up. Finally, I asked Mele in one of my letters to her. That confirmed my suspicions." "How often do you write to my wife?" He picked up on the uneasiness in my tone. "You should be asking her that question, Rob." He said apologetically. "I'm asking you." "Not often," he looked all around the general area. "Hey, your beer is empty. I'll get us another." He popped up in a shot. I wanted to push it but I was feeling a bit overwhelmed and my senses were on high alert. I was a guest here, regardless of what was going on. Making a scene may have been the worst thing to do just then. I'd be patient. They had a four-man band playing local instruments but there was very little dancing, even though everyone appeared to have a great time. The few times I looked for Mel, she was huddled up, sitting with her mom and sister, probably catching up. Sometimes other women, likely some from a shared childhood would be sitting with them. Near the end of the night, I looked over at the makeshift bar and found eleven cases of empty Coors Light with bottles strewn everywhere. Mel made love to me on the beach under the waning crescent moonlight after the party broke up. I was a little self-conscious but Mel quickly put me at ease. She gave of herself savagely and repeatedly using her body to drain me over and over. Her 'next gear' also put me at unease, although I had to admit that it could just be the magical environment - her home. After the fourth time, a record for me, I rolled off her onto the still-warm sand gasping for breath. "Damn, Mel," I said between deep inhales, "are you trying to kill me?" She rolled her body into me, playing with the hair on my chest. "Oh, hell no!" she responded. "I just want to show you how much you mean to me." She smiled reflectively and was thinking of something. "I just feel so alive here," she faded off. "You and I should be doing this every day at home but our lives always seem to get in the way." I had to agree. I helped her up and we walked the fifty meters to our little house to sleep. The rest of the week was a wild ride. Mel took me to the market and we shopped for some fresh fruits and vegetables. The farmer's market, if you will, came by boat on Mondays and most of the villagers turned out. There was a booth with fresh fish and shellfish and since we both loved seafood, we bought enough for Moana and Aleki to join us a few nights for dinner. Near the end of the day, we stood at a flower booth, a pop-up tent, and as we waited for the young lady to prune and wrap the flowers, Mel poked me in the ribs and nodded to a place behind one of the booths backed up to the one we were at. "I'd forgotten about that," she giggled like a schoolgirl. There not twenty paces from me was a couple of good-looking younger people going at it, shielded from the crowd on three sides but not overtly trying to hide what they were doing. The girl, wearing a tapa, or leaf skirt, had one leg draped across her suitor's hip as he pounded into her with a passion that made me hard. The girl's tiny breasts bounced in her too-small bikini top as the man gave it his all. Her tiny arms and hands were erotically wrapped around his large shoulders. How she remained standing on one leg was crazy. We had a wonderful dinner with Mel's family. Aleki spoke perfect English and seemed proud of that. Moana asked me appropriate questions about my profession and, after the meal, as we drank a coconut concoction with local spirits, Moana told us all an island fable which was tradition and made her quite pleased. Mel continued with her impassioned love-making that evening and for the next three nights. I was very satisfied and very tired. I only saw Jon, or Puko, as I called him then, once when Mel and I walked down by the fishing boat piers, and once at a local shop that wasn't quite a 'downtown' area, more like a little square block of mercantile. Each time I saw him, he was hungrily looking at Mel, quickly looking away when he saw me watching. My fears and trepidations only got worse! Thursday's dinner took a turn. Moana brought up the weekend's festival during the evening meal - the Ke Ala polohiwa a Kanaloa. "What does that mean?" I asked, turning to my wife. Aleki was quick on the draw, seemingly eager to tell me something I didn't know. "We celebrate the winter solstice," she began, "like all Polynesian people. It's a four-month celebration honoring the god Lono, and the virility of all island males - the Makahiki. "K-E A-L-A-N-U-I P-O-L-O-H-I-W-A a Kane, literally in English, 'the black-shining road of Kane' follows the sun's path to the Tropic of Cancer on the appropriate day." She'd spelled it out with a long pronunciation of each word. I wanted to be respectful so I nodded and confirmed, "So a day to celebrate the first day of spring or equinox?" "Yes, well sort of," she said, looking at her sister a little strangely. "Obviously, that path only happens for one day per year, although we celebrate... a little longer." Suddenly the people at the table wore looks that ran the gambit from strained to eating a dill pickle for the first time. I looked back and forth at them as an uneasy silence fell over us. Feeling like I had to do something to relieve the awkwardness, I went on. "What is the meaning and intent of the celebration?" I kept my gaze peeled on Aleki but watched the others stealthily. "It has to do with Mana," Mel broke in, cutting off her sister in mid-breath. "Oh, right," I went for a bit of humor. "The force." It fell flatly as it should have. Mel gave me a look and continued. "Rob," she started, "I wanted to wait another day or so because I didn't want to burden you any longer than necessary but we're only a few days to the festival, so I better explain what it's all about." She waited for me to say something. I scowled, knowing something I wasn't going to like was coming. Our guests made a hasty exit and Mel led me to the sofa. "Every year, on the equinox, the Kane, a childhood couple, now grown, reunite their mana and are... how can I say this - given to one another." I exploded. "Given?" I screamed. "As in fuck each other?" "Keep your voice down, Rob," she scolded. "The walls are thin and there's no noise pollution here. No, not 'fuck.' We are... damn this is hard to explain. For lack of a better term, we are betrothed. Not in a married couple sense but our mana is joined forever. In a spiritual sense, two become one. That's what the festival is all about." She waited. I just looked at her. "Okay," I said as calmly as I could. "What are you not telling me? If you were just having a party to join two kindred souls, you both wouldn't have been so deceptive about it. I ask you and you tell me to ask Jon. I ask him, and he tells me to talk to you. I'm trying to figure out how in some supernatural fantasy, two become one without doing the nasty. What else is going on that you don't want me to know?" Mel looked down so I figured I'd get her even more off-balance. "And you planned our trip to coincide with the equinox," It was a statement rather than a question. She hadn't expected that. "Mel," I put my mean face on, "you'd better tell me everything right now. You've been drip-torturing me with bits of information. I'm not happy - not one bit. This is bullshit. He's here, your childhood - whatever. You're linking souls and god knows what else at some island ritual and you expect me to go along? You better come correct if you don't want me to blow a gasket and get us on a ferry heading home." My wife was searching for the words, it was evident. "Alright, I'm sorry," she was quieter. "I thought I had this speech all rehearsed but I guess I'll just say it and you can ask me questions after I finish." "Before you start," I chastised, "the fact that you had to rehearse and all the other bullshit is a bigger problem for me than some astronomical celebration." "Why, Rob?" she must have gone nuts, I thought. "It's not some conspiracy. Let me explain please." "That's where you're wrong, Mel," I admonished. "Because clearly, you already conspired, with your mom or sister, maybe even with Jon, or all three." She needed to know the score before she dug herself a deeper hole. "Okay," she said. "I can see how you'd feel like that but it wasn't my intent; not to trick you or hide things from you. I knew it would be a... strain. I've grown up in two places. I understand the implications of how the festival will play out. There will be speeches by the elders. We'll be surrounded by well-wishers from all over the island and we'll be expected to remain together for those hours and for everyone who means to strengthen our mana through their words and prayers. There will be chants. There will be dancing. "The dancing will seem..." she paused. "Inappropriate to you. All couples will engage in the same but if I were to ever dance in that manner at say... your company's Christmas party, I'd expect a fistfight. That's because the social norms and implications would demand that you defend yourself and my honor. Here, any 'dirty' dancing, the best way I can describe it, is normal. It's like a Waltz to an American. No one will expect you to defend anyone's virtue or any of that macho stuff because to these people, everything happening is expected and you aren't being made a fool of." I took it all in, startling as it was. "So, there it is. All the island will celebrate the solstice as if I, your lawfully wedded husband, isn't there; since he is there, he will be expected to look on as his lawfully-wedded wife carries on with her 'betrothed'. Trying to compose myself while the rage within me boiled. Without a word, I got up, went outside to the outhouse and then grabbed both of us a glass of strawberry wine. "Mel," I started, looking her in the eye. "Even with the 'dirty' dancing, it's a lot for you to hold back on me like this. Are you sure there isn't something else you want to tell me?" My wife shook her head but again, she looked away. I knew something wasn't right. "I love you, Rob," she recovered. "I'm your wife, not your enemy. I'm worried that you'll think less of me... afterward. I don't want that. I've put off saying anything for your sake... your happiness but I can see now that was wrong of me. I'm glad it's out in the open. I want to do this. Even as kids, Puko and I knew this day would come. I put it out of my mind as I moved to the States, then he was gone, too. This is our destiny but I don't want to hurt you. That would kill me." "But it's killing me! 'Our destiny? Not mine, so it must be yours and Jon's. If it's as you say, then we have a problem. You're right, I won't like watching my childhood friend pawing my wife all night like she belongs to him, and I certainly won't be focusing on your dancing. I can't even picture what you're describing, but I'm pretty sure I won't like it. You might want to check in on me often. I am very concerned about us because, for all of your words, you haven't reassured me in the slightest." I said that last sentence with a squeak in my voice like a little girl. Mel had to be able to feel my apprehension. I had a lot to consider and needed some air. I told Mel to go to sleep and leave me be. She tried to argue and get me in bed, but I left her there. Walking on the beach calmed my nerves. The warm, arid temperatures made me sweat even though it was no longer hot. I had to get myself under control. My wife had laid it all out for me but then why did I feel like there was more? I tried to think about it logically. This festival - joining of friends for life - sure sounded like a wedding, but what did I know? I could ask around. I could confront Moana or Aleki and push hard for explanations. Maybe they had a library or some books at home that I could use to verify. I didn't want to sound like an idiot. Verify. When I heard that word in my mind, it made me sad. I had to verify what my wife told me, a sobering thought that filled me with dread. I walked in the moonlight for quite a while. Tomorrow would be the full moon on top of the Vernal Equinox. That had to be rare. I went back to the house and Mel was asleep. In the morning, I'd start with Moana. She seemed like a straight shooter. If I didn't get answers there, I'd ask Aleki to take a walk with me. I could do as Mel was asking as long as I could verify she was being honest. Mel didn't question me in the morning when I declared I'd be spending some time with her Mother; she didn't challenge me or become edgy. She looked relieved. We also had no cell phones so she couldn't call her mom on my way over there. Over there was only a two-minute walk. Moana was straightforward. She pulled no punches and explained the festival as I would have expected someone of her stature and as a longtime island resident. If there was one thing that slightly bothered me was that her answers were short and to the point; they seemed genuine. She explained how the tradition began and how it had changed over the years with outside French, Portuguese, and English influences. Moana referred to books by one of the many islands' early researchers, Fornander, and then Pukui, from the 1950's. We discussed what 'normal' feelings were for the villagers during this time of celebration. To characterize it as acceptance would be to understate it. I left her home three hours later with a much better feeling. So good in fact, that I decided not to rock the boat by seeing Aleki. Part of that was I still thought of her as that cute nine-year-old girl even though she was now a beautiful and intelligent young woman. It was Thursday morning and the event started with a dinner for the entire village early Saturday evening. I wasn't going to fight with Mel. If there were things she'd left out then I would deal with them on Sunday morning. I'd thought enough about it that I knew what crossed lines I'd overlook and which could make our time on the island very unpleasant. The little flower stand was right between our rental and Moana's place so I stopped and bought Mel a stunning bouquet. Somehow, our next two days were near perfect. Mel was a wild woman in bed Friday night. I won't lie and say it wasn't fun and exhausting but I'll also say that it sent up red flags that have me very nervous about Saturday's dawning. The day was so hectic I didn't have time to stew or even wonder. Moana and Aleki arrived at about ten in the morning to start preparing Mel for her big night. Three of the men were the equivalent of the island chefs, knocked on the door, and implored me to help them with certain aspects of the feast. First, I was shown the dressing of the hog that would serve the village. The damned thing was massive. Twelve men placed it into the imu - the underground oven with perfectly placed stones and bricks to retain the heat from the fire that had burned the entire night before. I'd had Kalua pig at a mock luau for a charity in Boston but was looking forward to partaking from these experts. The rest of the morning and early afternoon, it seemed I was relegated to prep duty. First, I helped some of the teenage girls and boys peel sweet potatoes, then after a break and a small glass of 'special' punch, I was directed to help mash kalo for the Poi. I'd downed that punch pretty quickly and I was warned off it during the steaming hot midday sun. Water was my friend, they said. Finally, around two in the afternoon, I was put with another group to scrape and strip the limu (seaweed) but I wasn't very good at it. One of the chefs sent someone over to tell me to go home and get ready. I knew when I'd overstayed my welcome. Mel was stunning, so much so, that I barely recognized her when I entered. The other women, including Jon's aunt, were applying the finishing touches. My wife wore a stunning sleeveless floral pattern sundress. I noticed the absence of a bra, which was standard for all the women on the island, and the dress would have been borderline provocative back in the States. But Mel, like all the women in her clan, was not blessed with a large bust so the dress hung perfectly on her like a mannequin. Most of her beautiful black hair hung tastefully down to her shoulders but the top was placed in a bun with a garnet of Plumeria. Her custom headdress, signifying her as tonight's honored guest, was interspersed with bright white Tiare flowers. To complete her outfit were specially colored Orchids in her leis. Mel was barefoot, as was customary for the islanders, but someone had spent a great deal of time painting her toes and overlaying little micro-flowers. "Wow!" I exuberated. "You look incredible, baby!" "Oh, thank you, honey!" Mel blushed as she twirled in a pirouette. Moana looked at the time and spoke quickly to Mel in the native tongue. Mel looked at me. "Mom says you have to get dressed," she shooed me into the bedroom. "We'll be late." My clothing, maybe by design, was understated. I wore the traditional samo, or men's wrap (I couldn't bring myself to call it a skirt). The color of the floral pattern was different shades of grey on a black background. Mel came in and helped me get it situated so I wouldn't have a wardrobe malfunction. "I'm so excited," she said, giving me a big kiss with plenty of tongues. "I love you, Mister. With all my heart and don't you ever forget it." That was the first time all day that some of my anxiety came back to the forefront. I told her I loved her, too, and we headed off. There had to be two hundred people on the beach with more arriving. Someone, or a bunch of them, had set up chairs and tables in my brief absence. The outdoor lighting had been hung earlier. I noticed a small stage to the right of the dining area and the loose sand had been scraped away in about a twenty-foot square area, I guessed, for dancing. Mel took me around to meet anyone who hadn't been at the dock to greet us. It was overwhelming, to say the least. Soft music played as everyone gathered and mingled. Saltwater fish and Taro were passed by some of the younger women. Jon arrived also dressed very ornately. He walked over to me, after what I felt was purposeful avoidance the past three days, and wrapped me in a big bear hug. "Hey man," he almost whispered in my ear. Then he stood back, smiling and with a hand on each of my upper arms. "Kapu Ali'I Mana," he said as one would say "Happy birthday" or "Merry Christmas". I felt like Judas had just kissed me. Just as quickly, he was off to mingle and be the brave peacock, star of the show. Mel was soon at his side and my ostracism for the night began. The bar was serving water and punch. Just great. We all settled in around seven, as the sun and heat started to wane. I sat with Mel's family at one of the front tables. The Elders had given their speeches, praising both Jon's and Mel's family and their contributions to the island community. The highlight for me was the meal. Anyone who never partakes of an authentic Luau is missing out. I went to the buffet three times. I found myself sitting in an Adirondack chair, not far from the dance floor about nine, with a full belly and an empty glass of punch. Mel startled me as she plopped down in my lap. "There's my wonderful husband," she said, looking radiant. "Are you bored over here? I noticed you pigged out on pig." She giggled at herself as she handed me a full glass of punch. "Trying to get me drunk to relieve my boredom?" I asked. Her smile almost disappeared, "No, actually, the dancing is about to get underway. I thought you might need this." "Don't want me making a scene?" I asked briskly. "No," she sighed. "I'm trying to be thoughtful. You look so tired it might be a good time to take a short nap." That comment pissed me off. "Sure, Mel," I was borderline sarcastic then. "I'd look like such a pitiful bastard snoring away with all the dirty dancing going on, right? Besides, I plan to dance with your sister." I was a little drunk and out of it, so with the glare she gave me, I knew I'd overstepped. Too bad! Her smile returned. "Well, you better keep your mitts off my kid sister, buddy. Anyway, she's spoken for in all the dances. Everyone is paired off as per the ceremony." Everyone's paired off except me, I thought, fighting myself again. The dancing started as a group thing. Not so much like line dancing - there was a lot more twirling. The women all looked sexy in their dresses. I yawned as things started to heat up and the people came together in pairs. Mel and Jon were in the middle of the group of couples so I couldn't see much of them. The women jumped up on their men, wrapping their legs around their partner's waist. The men turned round and round staying in place. I noticed the woman from the marketplace dancing right in front of me. She was not partnered with the man she'd fucked. Off to her left, Aleki danced with a man about her age. She was certainly a stunning portrait of her older sister. I started to drift off but I forced my eyes to remain open watching Aleki. The men began rotating their hips as the sensuality of the dance progressed. Aleki smiled and was clearly having a grand time. My eyes closed again. Damn, I was beat! I opened my eyes once more and the men had their partners on their shoulders, spinning. Around the right shoulder and over to the left, like rag dolls. I saw Mel being tossed about and Jon giving it his all. As they spun, Mel's sundress opened like an umbrella. She wasn't wearing any panties. That shocked me awake but only briefly, the effects of the drink overtook me. My eyes closed one last time and that was it. I woke up with the sunlight of a new day beaming into the window. I almost put the pillow over my head and went back to sleep. I did not feel well. Reaching over to my left in search of my wife, I discovered she wasn't in bed with me. As soon as I opened my eyes, my head started to throb. What the hell was in that punch? I thought.

	Posted on : Apr 14, 2025

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