by Ilima Todd
I’m used to his angry outbursts, but with him in my face, in front of me like this, there’s nowhere I can go.
“I can’t get away from you,” he continues. “You’re in my thoughts. My dreams. I see you in everything.”
Kai puts his hands on the door behind me at either side of my head. He looks at me so fiercely, I can’t look away. His breath comes short and quick, and I realize it mirrors my own short breathing. The air between us doesn’t shift, doesn’t bend. It disappears altogether, and now there’s nothing left to keep us apart.
“I could never ignore you,” he says. “Even if I wanted to.” He slips a hand to the side of my face. “And you’re right. You’re not a child.”
He squeezes his eyes shut for a moment and gulps. When he looks at me again, I feel like I will melt into the ground right at this spot if he wasn’t holding me in place.
His voice is a low whisper when he says, “You are definitely not a child.” Lowering his head, he pauses just before my lips, giving me a chance to pull back.
I don’t.
And he kisses me.
When our lips part, he presses his nose against mine, keeping his hand at the back of my head. He inhales so deeply, I feel like he has stolen my breath. He steps back and reaches for my hand, curling his fingers over mine. A wide smile spreads across his face.
“I’ve never done that before,” I say.
“Kiss someone?” he asks.
I nod.
“Well, I’d never know. You did it perfectly.”
I touch my lips and think of how it felt to have his pressed against mine. Would they feel that way if I had new lips? Remade lips? I look up at Kai. “You have?”
He raises his eyebrows. “Kissed someone?”
I nod.
“Um . . . yes,” he says.
I frown.
“No?” He shuffles his feet and adjusts his hand on mine. “I mean . . . yes, but—not like that.”
I bite my lip, wondering if I’ve done something wrong, despite his assurance.
“Definitely not like that.” He grins and steps closer again. His hand brushes my chin, and after a sigh, he says, “We need to get back.”
I nod, not wanting to worry the family any more than I already have. As I ride on the handlebars on the way home, I slide my hands over his on the bars.
When we get to the house, I pull him to the side of the front steps—not ready to let him go. He wraps his arms around me, bringing me in for an embrace. I rest my head against his shoulder, inhaling the cinnamon scent of him that makes my stomach flip. The thought of me and Kai together like this seems so ridiculous yet so perfect at the same time, it makes me laugh out loud. He leans back and smiles, his eyes laughing along with me. I reach up and press my lips to his, smiling as I kiss him, unable to contain my happiness.
“Mom!” Pua’s voice makes us jump. We both look up to see her standing on the front porch, bending over the railing, grinning at us. “I think Kai found Nine,” she yells into the house. Pua walks down the steps toward us. “Or were you just hiding her, Kai, to keep her for yourself?”
“Shut up.” Kai grabs Pua around the neck and pulls her into his chest.
“I knew it,” she squeals. “I knew you liked her.” She punches him in the ribs, and he lets her go. She looks at me and winks before running into the house ahead of us.
Kai gives me a shy smile. I smile back, feeling the blood rush to my face. He slides his hand into mine with a nervous exhale, then pulls me behind him up the stairs and into the house. Today, it feels really good to be a girl. I decide four more months on the island might not be such a bad thing after all.
I settle my head into the crook of Kai’s shoulder as we swing lazily in the hammock. He reaches over, pulls my arm across his chest and slides his fingers up and down the stitches of my upper arm. The cut is no longer red or bruised, but the bump of a scar is beginning to form.
He kisses the top of my head. “You are so beautiful.”
Only one other person has called me beautiful before. I wonder if the day will come when I’ll stop comparing him to Theron.
Kai’s fingers are rough and calloused, evidence of the life he’s led. One in which hard work and labor—providing for the welfare of his family—is considered a privilege and not a burden. What would it be like to have such strength, as a male? Would being strong physically make me strong inside too?
“Kai?”
“Hmm?”
“What does your name mean?”
“It means the ocean.”
I smile. Of course it does. I smooth over his shirt, mimicking the rise and fall of water. The gentle rocking of the hammock beneath us adds to the illusion.
“Whereas you, Nine,” he says, pausing for a moment. “You are more like makani—the wind.”
“Because I’m full of hot air?”
Kai laughs. “No.”
“Because I blew you over?” I say it like he would: ovah.
“Kind of,” he says. “You are makani, but maybe more like ani—a peaceful wind that catches you by surprise. It rolls over the surface of the ocean and creeps up on you.”
I redden at the thought of me, like a wind, rolling over Kai. I know he can’t see my face, but I move in tighter to hide my blush anyway.
“From the moment you told me you couldn’t swim, yet you spent the entire night in the ocean . . . I knew you were different. You were more than I gave you credit for.” Kai sighs. “A wind that creeps and winds and fills your entire being,” he says.
That day I told him I couldn’t swim was the first time I noticed the shift in the air between us. And now I know why. It was the moment he began to see me as more than just a Batcher from Freedom. I was a wind trying to find somewhere to settle. A new place to belong. And though Kai fought against that shift for a while, I think he really has, finally, given in.
I look up at him and smile. His eyes smile back at me, and it reminds me of the way Arapeta looks at Miriama, like I’m the most important thing in the world. I’m about to reach up and kiss him when I hear a voice from the beach trail.
“Well, that’s something I never thought I’d see.”
“Ara,” I say.
“Dad!”
Kai and I try to hop off the hammock but end up falling onto the ground on top of each other.
I stand before Kai does and find Ara grinning at us and walking closer.
Kai stands, brushes off his clothes, and gives his father a hug. “We’ve missed you,” he says.
Ara extends his arm out to me, and I hug him too. “And it looks like I’ve missed a lot,” he says.
I smile shyly, but Kai stands tall and holds my hand in his.
Ara beams. “Maybe I should’ve put you in charge of Nine sooner—saved us weeks of torment from your blabbering complaints.”
Kai smiles and squeezes my hand. He pulls me close to his side, and I sigh in contentment, finally feeling like I know where I belong in this foreign place.
“Go and help your uncles unload, Kai,” Ara says, his eyes shifting between Kai and me.
Kai nods and winks at me before jogging to the beach trail.
Ara turns to me and grins. “Everything go okay these past couple of weeks?”
I nod. “Kai taught me how to swim. And you just missed a steamship visit.”
“And yet here you are.”
“Here I am.” For a few more months anyway. “The boat was heading the opposite way. But Miriama traded for some chocolate.”
Ara smiles widely. “Let’s go see that bride of mine. Come on.”
In the house, I take the baby from Miri’s arms. I blush as Ara kisses his wife so passionately I feel like I’m intruding and walk back out with a smile on my face.
I take Tama to the beach, and we watch the men unload three deer off the canoe. Kai grins at me every once in a while. I bounce the baby on my hip and move his hand in a wave at his big brother.
When all the gear has been unloaded and taken
to the house, Kai brings his grandfather, Rongo, over to us.
“How are you, Nine?” Rongo asks, bringing my face to his, nose to nose in greeting.
“I’m good.”
Kai takes Tama from me and shows Rongo my arm.
“And you did this?” Rongo asks, with one eyebrow raised. I wonder if he means the damage or the stitching.
Kai nods, tight-lipped.
“It is good,” Rongo says. “And it’s healing nicely.”
Kai sighs in relief.
Rongo pats a hand on Kai’s shoulder. “You should consider being a Healer.”
I gasp and pull my arm away, taking a few seconds to compose myself and then finally look up. Kai and Rongo watch me, waiting for me to say something.
“Sorry,” I say. “I think Kai would be an excellent Healer.” I smile and take Tama back, adjusting him in my arms, trying to avoid their gaze—and trying not to think about Theron and how he wanted to be a Healer.
“I think I’ll stick to the ocean,” Kai says. “A fisherman is more my thing, although it’s good to learn a little of everything.”
“Are you good at dancing?” Rongo asks, and I know by the way he grins the question is meant for me. “Because we’re having a bonfire later on, before it gets too dark. Food and music required.”
Dancing? The only dancing I’ve done is in Freedom, and in the time I’ve been here, I haven’t heard any kind of music except for Miri’s humming to the baby. I have a hard time thinking they’d listen to any of the music I’ve heard in Freedom Central.
I shrug at Rongo. Kai puts his arm around my waist and pulls me to his side. “I’m a good teacher,” he says.
Rongo smiles and nods, taking his baby grandson from me and heading back to the house.
“Are you a good dancer, then?” I ask.
Kai takes my right hand with his left and holds it out to our sides. He pulls me close with his other hand at the small of my back. “I am an excellent dancer.” He spins me around, kicking sand into the air. He stumbles on the incline of the sand bank, sending us both to the ground.
“Well if that’s what you call dancing,” I say, “then no, I’m not a good dancer.”
Kai laughs and grabs a handful of sand, letting it fall through his fingers. “I have a feeling you’ll pick it up fast—you’re good at everything you try.”
“I have the best teacher,” I say, trying to catch some of the falling sand.
“Hmm. Let me teach you something else, then.” He wipes his hand clean on his shirt and leans in so he’s only an inch from my face.
“What’s that?” I ask, wanting to close the distance and press my mouth to his.
“How to make a fire.”
I move in to give him a quick kiss then pull back and tug on his shirt, thinking how he once told me he’d wait until he was committed to someone—married—before making love. What if that someone was me? What if he chose me to be his family? Is that something I could choose too? I’m not in Freedom anymore . . . that’s for sure.
* * *
Kai shows me how to gather branches of different thicknesses, separating them into piles by size. Starting with the smallest, we build a tripod of wood at a spot near the house where a hole is filled with sand. Kai rubs a stick back and forth along a thicker and longer one on the ground that is split down the middle. A tuft of coconut husk sits at the base, and soon it begins to smoke. He picks up the husk and lets me blow on it until an orange flame engulfs it. He places the husk at the base of the tripod of wood and continues to blow until the small sticks come aflame.
We add larger pieces of wood around it, and soon a solid fire burns before us. It’s something I hadn’t seen much of in Freedom, but here on the island I see a fire at least once a week. I’ve never helped anyone make one before, though. It makes me feel stronger and proud, somehow. Capable.
I help Kai bring chairs and logs around the fire to serve as benches. The smell of meat cooking on a spitfire makes my mouth water. Late in the afternoon, the extended family arrives. Ara’s brothers and their own families bring plates and bowls of food to share in celebration of their return. We enjoy a feast of strange fruits and vegetables that, after almost two months on the island, don’t seem so strange anymore. We eat fish Kai and I caught that morning in the nets. Mixed with greens and coconut milk slowly cooked in the fire, it is absolutely delicious.
After eating as much as my stomach will hold, I join the adults around the fire while the children run through the fields and trees and sand. They hide and chase each other until their sides hurt so bad, they collapse to the ground in fits of laughter.
I sit next to Pua and listen to a group of musicians. A man plays a low wooden hollow log in lieu of drums, and a few others play small instruments of different shapes and sizes. I’m surprised when I see Kai pick up something Pua tells me is a guitar. Even though his fingers fly up and down the neck or strum at the strings, Kai rarely takes his eyes off me, always smiling.
“Come on, Nine.” A tiny hand pulls me to my feet, and Hemi leads me to an open space. We hold hands while we kick and spin and jump in ways that are unfamiliar to me but undeniably fun. I try to follow others around me, including Pua, who dances even though she can’t hear the music, but I soon realize there aren’t any rules for what to do. We just move as we feel the music directs us.
Kai taps Hemi’s shoulder, and Hemi squeezes my hand, then puts it into Kai’s, letting his brother have a turn. I look back at the musicians and see someone else has taken over Kai’s instrument.
He pulls me close and whispers to me. “I want you to relax,” he says. “And let me do all the work. Just follow as I lead . . . and have fun.”
“Okay,” I say nervously, not prepared for what he has in store for me.
Kai holds my hands with his and proceeds to push and pull, spin and twirl me. I feel at one moment I will fall away from him the way he pushes me so hard, but his hands are there, holding on tight, ready to pull me back into him so fast my head spins. Then I’m gone again in another direction—and it’s so thrilling I can’t help but shout and laugh at the same time.
It’s the most fun I’ve had in a long time, this dancing. And so different from the nightspots in Freedom, where everything is flashing lights and loud music and buzz drinks. Here it is motion and rhythm and happy—the kind of happy that seeps into me, and I know it will never find a way out. It’ll stay with me forever, resurfacing whenever I hear another song, or feel his hand in mine.
The music ends, and I fall into Kai’s arms, laughing and breathing hard.
“Did you like that?” he asks, out of breath.
“Very much,” I say, leaning into him for strength. “You’re an adequate dancer.”
“Just adequate?” he asks, wrapping his arms behind my back.
“I’ll let you practice on me anytime,” I tease, “so you can get better.” I slide my hands around his neck.
A much slower song begins to play, and Kai begins to sway to the lazy beat, pulling me close. He buries his face in my neck and inhales deeply.
“Kai,” I say, glancing to his parents on the other side of the clearing. I’m still unsure how they feel about this change in our relationship.
He angles his head to where I look. “I’ve already talked to them,” he says, bringing his face in front of mine. Both of his hands frame my face as we continue to sway back and forth.
“You’ve talked to your parents about us?”
He smiles. “They’re my family. I can talk to them about . . . anything. They teach me. Answer my questions. Give me advice.”
I remember Miri telling me I could go to her with any of my questions. How would it be to have someone like that your entire life? Someone to turn to—who loves you unconditionally in return?
I lift my head and raise an eyebrow, waiting for Kai to answer my unasked question.
He laughs. “And they’re happy for me. For us.”
“Really?” A smile grows across my face.
“Really.” His lips find a place against my mouth, and I feel like I’m home.
* * *
Kai tosses his head back and laughs out loud, his body shaking against the cushions on the couch. “Blue?”
“Yes,” I say, sitting next to him and rolling my eyes. “Dark blue. Like the ocean.” I’ve been telling him and Miri about life in Freedom, and Kai seems to find humor in things people choose for their Remake. Like the Healer and her deep blue teeth. “I saw one man who had his teeth sharpened into points, like some wild animal.”
Kai makes a face and turns to his mother on the other side of him.
She pinches her lips together to suppress a smile and shakes her head. “I think I’ve had enough Freedom for today,” she says, standing up from the couch. “I’m going to bed.”
The rest of the family is already asleep, the house mostly quiet except for Kai’s periodic laughter. I yawn, about ready to turn in myself.
“Don’t stay up too late,” Miri says, retreating to her room.
“We won’t. Good night, Mom.” Kai squeezes my hand and turns back to me. “What about skin color? Do people change that, too?”
“Yes,” I say, shrugging. “But they choose colors like pink or green, not natural shades of brown like people on the island.” I glance at my hand in his, his darker fingers intertwined with my fair and freckled ones.
He shakes his head. “That’s so weird.”
“Not as strange as this woman I saw once. Her skin had patches of bumpy, leathery skin. It was dark green, like she was part-lizard or something. And she had these spikes jutting out from her brow and in a line down the back of her head.”
“Like a dinosaur?” Kai’s mouth falls open in disbelief.
“What’s a dinosaur?”
His eyes widen and he forces a small smile. “It’s like a giant lizard, I guess. But they’re extinct.”
I wonder if anyone’s ever seen these dinosaurs in person. Like the dolphin Rongo saw as a boy in the ocean—they’re extinct now too. I think of the Virus and how close humans came to extinction. Living as Batches keeps us safe, since overpopulation won’t bring the disease back. But what does that mean for those who live as families outside of Freedom? If the Virus were to return and wipe us out one day, would there be any creature left to remember us?