by Ilima Todd
I grab Hemi’s hand. “We made it for you, Hemi.”
“Really?” he says.
We both nod, and Hemi jumps into the water with us, sending another wave of water over the edge of the tub. We all splash each other until Miri hears and comes to scold us from just inside the bathroom door. Then we splash her too.
Soon we have a room full of bodies intent on getting everyone else wetter than they are themselves. When Ara tosses a bucket of water in through the bathroom window, we take our water war outside and splash and play until we are all soaked through. Even Tama joins in the fun, first as a shield, then as the prize. The laughs are contagious, and the smiles the family gives me as we collapse from exhaustion are the best prize of all.
Unless it comes from a steamship trade or altered from other fabrics already on hand, the clothing we wear is made of wool. And the dress Pua slips over me is no exception. It’s an off-white knit wool, undyed, with a cowl-neck collar—that’s what Pua calls it. It drapes low on my neck while the rest of the dress is fitted, coming to just above my knees. Looking at myself in the mirror, I realize it’s the most beautiful piece of clothing I’ve ever worn, and undeniably feminine.
“I don’t know, Nine,” Pua says behind me, sitting on the edge of my bed. “It’s not right to upstage the bride at her own wedding.”
I turn, knowing she’s teasing. “Are you sure I can wear this?”
“Of course.” She sits me on a chair in front of the mirror. My dresser rests below it, a collection of shells I’ve accumulated lining up along the surface. I count them, even though I know there are twenty-two exactly.
Pua tugs at my fire-red hair that is now finger-length after months on the island. “We need to do something with this hair, though.”
She brushes through it and adds an egg white gel to mold it this way and that, scattering tiny white blossoms throughout. With a little dark ash on my eyelids and a tinted balm on my lips, she declares me perfectly suitable for an island wedding.
I thank her and watch as she braids, twists, and pins her own hair into a complicated updo, which, combined with her beauty, will definitely upstage the bride. She slips on a sleeveless gray wool dress with a V-neck and flowing skirt. While she finishes with her own makeup, there’s a knock at the door. Kai walks in wearing a white collared shirt and fitted black pants. His hair is newly trimmed and his face freshly shaven. His jaw drops when I stand and step toward him.
“You look amazing,” he says, looking me up and down. “I mean . . . seriously. . . . I can’t even—”
Pua slaps him on the shoulder. “I’m in the room too, you idiot.”
Kai rolls his eyes at his sister. “Yes, you look good too, Pua. I’m sure all the boys will drool over you all evening, as always.”
Pua smiles brightly, satisfied with the compliment. She winks at me and leaves the two of us alone in my bedroom.
“But you, Nine.” Kai slides his arms around my waist and pulls me close. “I’m not sure I want to share you with anyone else today.”
“Too bad,” I say. “I heard several good-looking boys are coming and I’m not missing out.” I waggle my eyebrows so he knows I’m kidding. I’m actually anxious to see what this whole wedding thing is all about, and Pua made me wear a swimsuit under my dress for a surprise later tonight. I’ve no idea what it is.
Kai half laughs and half groans before stepping back and biting his lip. “I made something for you.” He slides a hand in his shirt pocket and pulls out a white strand of tiny shells. They are strung together to form a necklace.
“You made this?” I ask as he fastens it behind my neck.
He nods shyly.
It is delicate and surprisingly light against my skin. “It’s beautiful.”
“You make it beautiful,” he says, sliding his fingers along the necklace. With a sigh, he leads me out of the room.
* * *
Liko and Ronan, the bride and groom, stand before a holy man in an open grass area at Liko’s homestead. The area is decorated with flowers, flowers, and more flowers. Even the guests wear fragrant blooms in their hair or around their necks. The air smells like a blossoming fruit orchard at the start of spring. The holy man talks to the couple about marriage and family, devotion and sacrifice. He mentions the word “God” several times as he speaks.
I press my lips to Kai’s ear and ask in a whisper, “Why does he tell of the first Maker?”
Kai smiles and whispers back in my ear. “Because God is the one who sanctions marriage. He is sacred. And so is the promise they make today, to love each other always.”
Sacred. I like that word. It’s as though this wedding, this commitment they make, is more than just a promise to each other. It’s a promise to God, their families, and the entire world. It transcends this moment in time, this place, and expands beyond their reach to somewhere we cannot see.
“So marriage is sacred?” I ask.
He nods.
I pause. “And sex, too?”
“Yes.”
“Because making babies is sacred?”
Kai gives me a discerning look, glancing from my eyes to my nose, my mouth. I cannot tell what he is thinking.
“Yes,” he says against my ear. “But it’s not just that. It’s a way to show your spouse you love them. That you are devoted to them. It’s not just procreating that is sacred.” Kai gulps. “It’s the act of lovemaking, too.”
I think of the day I read from the Bible book, when Pua first told me about marriage. It was the first time I suspected sex was more than just recreational—more than just for reproduction. That it was something special. And I think today, I finally understand why.
“And God,” I say. “He is the one who commanded it to be so?”
Kai nods and wraps his arm around my shoulder to pull me close.
“This is now bone of my bones,” says the holy man. “And flesh of my flesh.” I lift my head at the familiar words I had read in the Bible book. “Therefore shall a man leave his father and his mother, and shall cleave unto his wife: and they shall be one flesh.”
With a match, the bride lights a candle in her hand and waits while the groom does the same. Using their own candles, they light a third one at the same time. And two lives become one.
Several people in the audience are in tears. We stand as Liko and Ronan walk down the aisle, and we all follow to a banquet set up with more food than I’ve ever seen in one place in my entire life.
I sit next to Pua and across from Kai, who tosses tiny pieces of bread at me every once in a while. I swear I must have ten pieces stuck in my hair among the white blossoms.
“Kai’s got it bad for you,” Pua whispers to me.
“Got what?”
She laughs and covers her mouth as she whispers into my ear. “He’s madly in love with you.”
I feel heat rise to my face. “Why do you say that?”
“He has a plate full of sautéed octopus he hasn’t even touched because he’s too busy watching you.”
We both laugh as another piece of bread flies into my hair. I stand and switch my plate with Kai’s. I happily finish off what’s left on his plate.
After food there’s music. I let Kai practice his adequate dancing skills on me until I’m so tired I collapse into him.
“Come with me.” He half pulls, half carries me toward a grove of trees, far from the music and dancing of the crowd. A guitar leans against the trunk of a tree.
We sit on the grass, me behind him with my head against his back and my arms wrapped around his waist. He spends a few seconds tuning the guitar and plays me a song without words. I peek over his shoulder and watch his fingers dance on the strings. One hand moves up and down the neck of the instrument so fast I can’t keep up. The other uses a combination of strumming and picking at the strings across the guitar opening in a pattern so complex my jaw drops in awe at how talented he is. When he finishes, I can’t help but clap.
Kai smiles and motions for me to sit in front o
f him. He places the guitar in my hands, and with his arms wrapped around me, he puts my right hand on the strings. His left hand cups the neck of the guitar lightly, so that as I strum, no sound comes out.
“Down-down-up-up-down,” Kai says. “Down-down-up-up-down. Good.” He moves my fingers across the strings until I strum the pattern on my own. “Keep going,” he says. His right hand moves from mine and hits the body of the guitar on its side, creating a rhythmic pattern to complement my strumming. His left hand makes purposeful shapes on the neck of the guitar, and suddenly my awkward strumming sounds like a song.
I keep strumming, nervous about messing up the melody Kai created. When I finally relax and feel it come naturally, he starts to sing. The words speak of love lost and found. Of kisses and touches and forever. He sings softly behind my ear, but in the dim light of a sunset, here in the copse of trees, the sound of his voice penetrates through my whole body. It is piercing and beautiful at the same time.
My fingers stop, and my hand lays frozen against the strings. Kai takes the guitar out of my lap and puts it on the ground. He turns me to face him and brushes a lock of hair behind my ear.
“I keep thinking,” he says, “about the day we found you on the beach.” He exhales slowly. “I can’t even begin to understand what that experience was like for you. Lost, alone. I’m sure it was the worst day of your life.”
I open my lips to speak, but Kai’s fingers silence me.
“Nine, it was my best day,” he says, moving in close. “I didn’t know it at the time, but you washing up on this island was the most meaningful thing to happen to me.” His fingers fall from my mouth. “Does that make me a monster?”
“I’m glad you found me.” I breathe in his musky sweet scent. “Any story that ends like this—with me, here, in your arms—is one I don’t regret.” For the first time, I realize it’s true. I don’t regret the journey that brought me to Mahawai. To Kai. But would I do it again? I think of losing Theron. I don’t think I could. I hate that the loss of one is tied to gaining the other.
Kai’s hands cup my face and bring me in for a soft, ethereal kiss.
“Come on, Nine, Kai.” Pua taps both our heads at the same time. “We’re going to jump off Turtle Rock.” She runs by with a handful of teens our age.
Kai holds my hand tight, and we follow behind them toward the beach. As we move from grass to sand, I catch a glimpse of the bride and groom leaving in the distance, a crowd of people cheering them off.
When we reach the edge of the beach, we hike along a sandy trail through black rocks until we come to a large rock cliff jutting out into the water. It’s curved, like a turtle shell, explaining how it got its name. A stretch of sand spreads out before it. I stand at the edge of the water, feeling the gentle waves flow in and out across my feet. I stay in the same spot for as long as I can, trying to resist the current’s push and pull. Beneath my feet, the sand washes away around the edges and leaves a bumpy yet solid support directly under each foot. It’s a strange but comforting feeling.
“Feel like jumping?” Kai asks, pulling his white shirt over his head.
I look at the top of the rock and see a line forming as one by one the jumpers fall over the edge. It must be forty feet in the air from where they leap. I see Pua run and fly off with the loudest scream so far. When she comes out of the water, she heads straight to me.
“Nine, you have to try this!” She drips water all over Kai and me. “You’re falling,” she says, “and then you think to yourself: I’m still falling. There’s that much air time. It’s incredible.” She laughs and runs back to the base of the rock to start her hike up again.
Kai pulls off his pants and is left standing in his swimsuit, like the rest of the jumpers. “Nine?” He holds a hand out to me and waits.
I look up at the rock and down to the water. It’s a really far drop. Higher than from where Theron and I jumped from the shuttle, I think.
“Take a chance, Nine.”
I know a challenge when I hear one. And I didn’t wear a swimsuit for nothing. I slip my dress off before I can change my mind and race past Kai toward the rock. He speeds up to me, and we climb together. At the top, the wind is cool, and it looks much farther to the water than it did when I was on the sand. I swallow; it’s a far drop. Pua jumps off again with a bloodcurdling scream. I look wide-eyed at Kai. I’m not sure I can do this.
As if reading my thoughts, he says, “You’ve got this.” He rubs the skin bumps on my arms. “Wait for a wave to come in. The water will be deepest then. But don’t worry, you’ll be fine either way.”
I nod and watch three others jump before me. Their heads pop up from the surface below every time. I convince myself this means it’s perfectly safe—even without Kai’s hand holding mine. I can do this.
I take a few steps back and see Kai’s face drop for a split second. Without hesitating, I run forward, push off into the air, and fall fall fall. The wind whistles at my ears, and my stomach feels like it will fly right out of my throat. But my lips—my lips are turned up into a smile because it is the most thrilling thing I have ever felt. It’s as though I’m flying. Free. I hit the water, and it stings my skin. Water rushes up my nose, and I swallow a giant gulp of seawater. But when I surface, I’m laughing. I swim away from the base and look up to see Kai jump off, doing a front flip before he lands in the water with a splash.
I swim towards the beach until the water is chest-deep and then wait for him. When he reaches me, he pulls me close and presses his nose against mine. He breathes in deeply, closing his eyes for a brief second.
“Well?” he finally asks.
“It was amazing.”
“That was brave of you, Nine. I’ve never seen anyone jump off that fast their first time.”
“Brave like a boy?” I ask.
Kai’s brows furrow, and he pulls away, shaking his head. “No, brave like a girl.”
I give him a salty kiss. A splash from a fellow jumper forces us apart. I laugh and drag Kai out of the water and up the rock face for another go.
“What should I paint?” I ask.
“What do you wish you could have in your room? What would you want to look at every day?”
I dip the brush in brown paint and put it to the sky blue wall. I draw a simple stick figure of a person with brown eyes. Adding black to the brush, I squiggle curly hair on the top of his head.
Kai laughs. “Nice.” He stands to my left and paints another figure, more detailed and realistic than my stick version, with red hair sticking out all over the place. Using his left hand, he paints details of what I’m wearing, adding curves to my hips and chest.
“Hmm.” I glare at his grinning face and look at my rendition of him. I add two bumps on the straight-lined arms to mimic a more muscular build.
Kai steps closer and holds my left hand with his right while he continues to add to the picture. I lean against him, in awe of how naturally the lines and shapes come together to form something so beautiful. He adds details to his own portrait then connects his and my arms between us, so we’re holding hands in the picture as well.
I squeeze his hand and dip my brush in red paint. I add color to my lips on the wall, and in tiny impressions, paint silhouettes of lips across Kai’s face, as though I had kissed him a hundred times.
Kai laughs and looks at me with his light brown eyes. After a lifetime, he finally looks away and, with a shaking hand, alters the clothes I’m wearing in the picture. No—he alters the way I look in them, making my stomach stick out like a ball. I look like Miriama did when I first came to the island. I am pregnant.
I put my brush down and press my hand flat against my stomach. I look down and try to picture myself with such a tummy, harboring life within me. It’s scary to think of that experience—frightening to remember Miri giving birth. But then I think of Tama and how absolutely wonderful and perfect in every way he is. It’d be worth it, wouldn’t it?
I don’t dare look at Kai, but I keep my hand sq
ueezed tight against his. Picking up my brush, I add something to Kai’s arms in his picture. A bundle of cloth with a tiny face peeking out, tucked just against him.
Kai sighs next to me, and he brings our entwined hands to his lips, pressing my fingers with a kiss. With his paintbrush, he draws a large circle next to his face that starts and ends with a point at his lips, as though the picture Kai is speaking. He writes the words I love you in shaky letters in the top of the circle.
I take in a short breath but still can’t bring myself to look at him.
He adds more words below the first three. Please don’t go.
I take the brush from his hand and put it down on the paint tray. Slipping my hand out of his, I turn to face him, finally looking up at his light brown eyes. I slide my arms around his waist and move in close. I tell him the words I’ve wanted to say for a long time but haven’t had the courage to admit. I haven’t been brave enough to truly decide. “My place is here now, with you. With all of you.” I smile, thinking about Miri and Ara. Pua, Hemi, and Tama. They are . . . my family. And Kai. I look up at him and say, “I love you, Kai. And I want to be a family, with you.”
He brings a hand to my face and holds it. “I love you, Nine. I love you a thousand times a thousand. And I’m so sorry. For every hateful word, every terrible look I’ve ever given you.” He closes his eyes and gulps. “For every hurtful thought I’ve ever had about you. I’m sorry, Nine. Can you ever forgive me?”
I melt against him and know this is where I want to be. “Yes. I forgive you. Everyone knows you can’t help being an idiot, Kai.”
He laughs and lowers his face to mine, kissing me. His hands press at my waist, and I place mine over his, wanting to keep them there forever. Holding me in place. Keeping me exactly where I belong in this world. Connected to him and never letting go.
He pulls back and traces his finger in a line across my forehead from one side of my face to the other. Connecting the dots. Tracing the pattern of me.
It reminds me of the day in his room when he painted stars on my freckles. If I’m the stars then he’s the line that connects every piece, changing me into something beautiful. Something memorable. A constellation that tells the story of us. By myself I am fragments and parts, but with Kai I’m complete.