by Sonia Patel
“Ok,” I say, pushing my glasses up by the bridge.
Ok? What the heck, Rani?
What just happened? For a second, I wonder if Mark was even listening to my strong underage anti-alcohol stance. It shouldn’t matter that I tried to minimize it by being humorous. I still said no.
They don’t take a woman’s words seriously.
But there’s no way I want to put Mark in the same category as my dad or Gautam uncle. Fast as I can, I choose a more likable explanation. I got enchanted to say ok by Mark’s gorgeous eyes.
That’s my story and I’m sticking to it.
The waitress brings back the drinks. As soon as she leaves, Mark pushes the glass of Kahlúa towards me.
“That seems like a lot.” I raise my eyebrows.
“Try a sip.”
I take a big sip. “Ooh.” It’s cold and sweet. “Yum. Like drinking coffee candy.” I take another gulp.
“I knew you’d like it.” He holds up his shot glass. We clink glasses and I polish off my first drink. He shoots his tequila. “How about one more?”
“Ok!” Who am I?
Mark orders another round as I try to figure out what parallel universe we’re in. When the waitress brings our round, I can’t help but question why she doesn’t notice that underage me is actually drinking the Kahlúa. Maybe as long as the customers tip well they can do whatever they want. We throw back our drinks quickly. My head starts to feel a little dizzy.
Mark narrows his eyes and smiles. “Ok, it’s my turn to spring this on you. How come you don’t have a boyfriend? Like Pono or Omar?”
“I’ve never had a boyfriend. Boys never like me like that.” I sigh. “You know, I can relate to Stan. I used to like Pono. But he has a girlfriend. So I’ve admired him from afar.”
I keep going, trying to keep my face unreadable. “Pono’s got a really good family. He’s super smart. He plays ukulele like a master. He surfs like a pro. And he works hard. Did you know he works at Kaluakoi as a busboy?”
I’m talking faster now.
“Plus, he raps! Total renaissance man. But, he’ll never like me, like me. So I gave up. You gotta know when to quit, right?” I peek at Mark. His expression makes me think he’s at least kind of entertained. Suddenly I want to profess my undying love to Mark. Tell him that I shifted my crush from Pono to him. But I decide that’s probably not the best idea because what if he totally rejects me? I keep my buzzed trap shut and focus on not saying what I really, really want to say.
But now I love you, Mark!
I laugh nervously. “Sorry, I’m rambling.”
He doesn’t seem bothered. He gets this tough, hold you down expression. Like he’s Mark Wahlberg in the Calvin Klein underwear commercial. “All I have to say is, his loss, Rani. If only I…” He stops. His spellbinding eyes glimmer.
If only he…what?
I’m light-headed and I don’t want to keep making A with more chattering. So I try to flip the script and put him on the spot. “Wait a minute, how about you? I still don’t get it. You don’t like guys. You don’t have a girlfriend. And you want to hang out with me?” I pause and shake my head. “Something doesn’t add up.” I put my elbows on the table and massage my temples.
“You ok?” Marks asks.
Before I can answer, someone taps my shoulder. I look up.
Oh no.
The beer-belly-balding-okole-grabbing-drunk-ass-creep from that night at the Cafe is standing next to me. He’s hovering like a predatory animal. Tonight it’s not just like he’s the hunter hoping to get a deer, but more like a tiger closing in on its prey. I notice he’s wearing one of those matching gaudy aloha shirts!
“Well, well, well. If it isn’t the crazy bitch,” he slurs reaching out and brushing my stubbly head with his gross, calloused hand. “Crazy blonde dyke I should say.” Before I know it, his hand reaches the nape of my neck then switches course and moves over my collarbone and down into my shirt.
Mark doesn’t hesitate. He shoves his chair back and yanks Mr. Drunk-Ass-Creep’s hand off me. Then he gets up in the drunk’s face. “What did you say?”
The guy doesn’t seem to understand. “Watch out for this one,” he tells Mark. “She’s a tease.” He snickers and points at me with his thumb. “Last time all I got was some ass over clothes. No skin.” He shifts his eyes to me and I quickly look away. “But I got me some skin today.”
That’s when Mark turns into Smaug.
I almost feel sorry for the drunk because I know what’s about to happen.
And it does.
Mark cold-cocks the drunk. He ends up sprawled on the ground. He lays still for a couple of seconds. Then he comes to and moans, holding his nose and cheek. Blood is dripping between his fingers. I think it’s coming from his nose. I wonder if it’s broken. Mark cracks his knuckles. He glances at me, then marches over to the frat-man table. He says something in a hushed tone to a couple of the guys. Two of them hustle over and help their drunk friend up.
I feel like I’m watching the last scene from Revenge of the Nerds. Queen’s We Are the Champions automatically starts playing in my mind’s boombox.
Ha! Revenge of this nerd.
Mark pulls up his chair and sits back down.
“Is your fist ok?” I draw his right hand toward me and inspect it.
“It’s ok, don’t worry.” He takes a deep breath and exhales. “Where were we?” he asks, locking eyes with me and smiling. He seems calm and composed. As if nothing happened.
But I’m going crazy in my mind. I can’t believe what he just did. My hero! My knight in shining armor defended my honor. Again! I manage to erase the ridiculously mushy look off my face and say, “Thanks, Mark. No one’s ever…”
He interrupts me. “No one disrespects my friend.”
Now I’m about to explode with giddiness. I don’t know what to do with myself. Mark takes care of that.
He smiles mysteriously. Reaching across the table he grasps my hand. He strokes it with his thumb and says, “Hold up. Let me rephrase. No one disrespects my girlfriend.”
Girlfriend? I’m his girlfriend??!!??
There is nothing I can possibly say to describe how insanely good that makes me feel.
I’m really home. Home sweet home.
EVOLUTION
I’m still high on Mark when I get home. I’m envisioning him as the snake charmer and me as the cobra. Must be so because he charmed me. With his eyes. With his words.
My lips curve up until they can’t go up anymore and my face muscles hurt. His words make me feel like I’m worth something.
I’m addicted to Mark.
You’ve been replaced, Dad.
Then I see Mom. She’s in her usual late night place in front of the TV. Her eyes are glazed over in a narcosis of Bollywood and butter pecan. My lips start their descent. I take my usual spot in the doorway of the den with my usual longing for connection. I fake cough trying to get her attention. She doesn’t flinch. So I say, “Hi, Mom.”
She mumbles, “Mmm.”
I decide not to go through my usual questions. So I don’t have to get her usual lack of response. I want to stay high on Mark. Anyway I’m kinda over trying with Mom. I decide right then and there to give up on her. If I can give up my crush on Pono, I can give up on wanting a relationship with Mom. I head back to my room. Marching like a woman on a covert mission. Operation Mark.
That’s when I hear Mom’s voice. I freeze faster than a wart sprayed with liquid nitrogen.
“Rani, come here,” she calls out.
For a second, I can’t get my body to respond. Mom calls my name again. “Come here.”
I walk back, taking my time. What could she want? “Yeah?”
She doesn’t look at me. “Where were you?”
“Um…out.”
“Where?” she asks.
Don’t lie! “Hotel Moloka’i.”
“With who?” she asks.
Don’t lie! Well, try not to lie! Oh heck, just lie al
ready! “Pono and Omar.”
“It’s 12:30. Next time I want you home by 10:30,” she decrees.
I stand there like a fish out of water. I can’t figure out what I should feel.
1. Scared. Because I’m busted.
2. Angry. Because now that I’m feeling better, she’s going to cramp my style.
3. Overjoyed. Because she’s noticed me.
“Ok.” I tip my head and scan her expression. Though she hasn’t moved from her seated position and isn’t looking at me, I can tell she’s smilling, just a little.
PLAYING WITH FIRE
Pono’s standing with his back propped against the wall. The contrast of his virile body in a Bob Marley tank top and board shorts next to the painted caricature of our school mascot—a portly farmer in overalls wielding a pitchfork—almost makes me burst into laughter. Pono’s got his arms crossed high on his chest with both thumbs up. But it’s the brooding look in his eye that keeps me from guffawing. I’m not sure what to expect.
“Hi, Pono!” I call out, trying to be peppy.
He gets right to it. No exchange of pleasantries. No comments—mocking or otherwise—about my blonde head. His voice is tight. “I was at Hotel Moloka’i on Saturday night for my auntie’s birthday dinner.”
Uh-oh.
“I saw you and Mark. He was holding your hand.” He kicks a rock with his slipper and follows its trajaectory with his eyes. “Just wondering what’s up with that,” he mumbles.
My palms and pits are suddenly sweaty. I stall. A couple of seconds adjusting the books in my hand. A few more hoisting my backpack to a more comfortable position on my shoulder. “We were hanging out,” I say, avoiding his eyes.
“He was drinking. Remember I told you he’s supposed to be sober?”
“Yeah, I was wondering about that. But he only had a couple of drinks. He seemed fine.”
He shakes his head. “It’s weird that he’d be drinking at all if he’s sober.” Trouble brews on Pono’s face. “Rani, there’s something else.” He narrows his eyes. “I’ve seen him with Reynold in the Kaluakoi parking lot, exchanging something.”
And?
“You know about Reynold, right?”
“No.”
“He’s the biggest batu dealer on Moloka’i.” He stares down at his balled up hands. “Omar said his dad used to work with Reynold. That maybe Reynold framed his dad.”
My thoughts gallop as I try to put two and two together.
Mark’s not an alcoholic or druggie. If he was how could he function? I’ve seen junkies around town. They look dirty, wasted, and they talk to themselves. Mark’s not like that. He works hard at the Ranch. So hard that he’s losing weight. And how can a junkie organize 4eva Flowin’ jams?
“Huh? Th-there must be a misunderstanding.”
“Mark might be using batu. He’s definitely drinking. He’s way older than you. Why does he need to hang out with you outside 4eva Flowin’?” Pono asks.
But I’ve already resolved that there’s no way Mark is using batu or any other drugs. And I’m excusing alcohol. It doesn’t count.
Pono’s angry. “You and Mark were a little too…” He stops, like he’s searching for the right words. “…a little too close.”
I can’t stand the thought of not hanging out with Mark. I take a deep breath and say, “Pono, you’re so sweet. I get why you’re worried.”
His lips are tight.
“Look, everything’s ok. That was the first time we hung out away from the store.” Half smiling, I gently elbow him in his side.
He relaxes. “Listen, Rani.” He steps a little closer, his milk chocolate eyes tempting me back to Pono crushville. His strong hands softly grip my shoulders. “Be careful. We’re family now and I got your back.”
We’re family?
I like the sound of that. My smile grows and I get this familiar tingling in my body. Surreptitiously, I graze my arm with my fingers. Chicken skin.
But then I think about Mark and how he said it first. That drives me out of Pono crushville. My body stiffens. Then guilt looms. I should tell Pono about the butterflies I feel when I’m near Mark. About the flirting. That Mark bought me a drink. That it got me buzzed for the first time and I liked it. That Mark said I’m his girlfriend. That I know I’m playing with fire.
But I keep all that to myself. Instead, I smile and say, “Thanks, Pono. I really appreciate that.”
HOLD UP, LEMME TAKE MY HOOPS OFF
The reverberating ring of the vintage silver-finish, wall-mounted school bell demands a vote in my mind—yes or no: power through and finish the yearbook senior class layout or chill near the banyan. Banyan chill time wins by a majority. In a hurry, I file away the photos and grab my books. I stroll down the open hallway dreaming up a sunny, expansive field. I’m lying in the tall grass holding a perfect white and yellow plumeria. Picking off one petal at a time.
He loves me, he loves me not.
With it’s five soft petals, Mark’s always going to love me. That’s when my beloved rides up shirtless on a white stallion…
By chance, I catch my reflection in the large window near the gym. My goofy face makes me look like Dopey. Lovesick Dopey. Who turns into Clumsy Dopey and runs into Emily Angara. Literally.
“Watch it!”
Our books fall into a mixed-up, jumbled heap. I kneel down real quick, separating the books, stacking Emily’s in a neat pile. I look up and notice we’re both wearing big gold hoop earrings. She looks pissed.
She smacks her gum. “Watch it, you butch slut.”
Butch. Ok. Whatever. But, slut?
I look up. “What’re you talking about?”
“No make like you don’t know.”
“No. Really. I don’t.” That seems to infuriate her more.
“Pono broke up with me because of you!”
He broke up with her? “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I’m amazed.
She looks like a raging bull ready to charge. “No ack! I see you flirting with him.”
“Emily,” I appeal, “I’m not. We’re just friends.” I hold out her books hoping she’ll take them and hele aku.
“Shut up, you two-faced skank.” She knocks her own books out of my hands.
I can’t think of any good comebacks. And I can’t stop my eyes from filling with tears. I pick up my books ready to walk away in shame. I keep my head down hoping she won’t notice the watery evidence of hurt and embarrassment in my eyes.
But of course, she notices.
“Yeah, go on and cry. You think you so innocent, but you really jus’ one slut.”
I wipe my eyes under my glasses with my free hand. Her anger flares up again. She pushes me. My books drop, scattering. I’m stunned. She pushes me again. She takes off her hoops and crams them in the pocket of her tight jeans. By now I realize she’s ready to scrap.
I’ve never been in a fight before. I beg. “Come on, Emily. I’m sorry Pono broke up with you. But I didn’t do anything.” I back away from her. “Let’s not…”
Charging forward she shoves me hard. I stumble back. My back slams into the concrete wall. She rushes forward and rips my glasses off my face and flings them to the ground. I shield my face. She slaps and scratches at my chest and arms. I slide down the wall, trying to protect my face. Next thing I know I’m on the ground. And she’s on top of me, choking me with her small hands. I catch a glimpse of the growing semicircle of students around us as my breath and vision diminish.
“Geev ‘em, Emily!” I see a fist in the air. More yelling. “Give her dirty lick’ns!”
The crowd’s encouragement fuels Emily’s beat-the-crap-out-of-Rani-fire. I’m about to be incinerated when out of the corner of my eye I see the crowd part. Like the Red Sea in The Ten Commandments. Pono emerges all Charlton Heston. He pulls Emily off me. I gasp for air, clutching my tender throat.
“What’re you doing, Em?” He holds onto her hands so she won’t hit me again.
“Giving her what she des
erves!” she screams. She struggles to escape. “Get off me, Pono!”
He lets go of her. She catches her breath and smoothes her hair back into place. “You broke up with me for that?” she shouts, pointing at me.
“Emily, that’s not—”
“Forget it. I’m glad it’s ova!” she yells, gathering her books. She turns and flips me off. “SLUT!” she hollers at the top of her lungs, then sprints away.
The crowd dissipates, disappointed. I sit up and cough.
“Rani.” Pono puts out his hand to help me.
In one swift motion, he pulls me up. His head is angled down and for a second, our lips are like a millimeter or two apart. I take a step back feeling flushed. Random words stumble out of my mouth “Um, wow. Yeah. Woah. Like…” Finally I manage to say, “Thanks, Pono.” I stroke my neck and flinch. “Ouch.”
“That’s gotta hurt.”
“Yeah, but I’ll be ok.” I dab at the blood on my arms.
“Your glasses,” Pono says as he crouches down and picks them up. Holding them straight out in front of him, he examines them. “They’re a little bent.”
“That’s ok, I can fix them later.” I take them from him. I slide them on and they sit uneven on my face. “Well, this completes my nerd look. Thanks, Emily.”
Pono snickers. He reaches for my glasses and says, “Here, let me.”
“Don’t worry about it,” I say, not before his fingers brush my cheek. I swear it’s as if he pressed a button on my face that caused instantaneous blushing. Flustered, I take another step back. It’s strange because my body’s still getting fired up around Pono even though my mind let go of the crush. I grasp the hinges of my glasses and pull the lopsided frames up the bridge of my nose. “At least she didn’t crush them in her rage, right?” I laugh. Then I lean over and whisper, “I think Emily has claws.”
Pono chuckles and whispers back, “And she breathes fire.” He sits down on a concrete stair and motions for me to sit next to him. “By the way,” he says pointing to my head, “I like the blonde. It’s a good look.” He runs his hand over the back of my head.
“Thanks,” I say, keeping a straight face, but I’m really glad Pono noticed. And that he likes it.
