Untraditional

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.