Best Gay Romance 2011, page 7
“Nenehiwa has given me six children, li’l brah—and at least two of them are mine,” Jonas said softly, reading my mind once again. “She is free to love whom she may, as am I, Kawina. You are here so she might meet and approve of you. I want to give you more than my ule. I also want to give you my heart. I’ve watched you at the fishpond and see what a hard worker you are, how bright you are, how loyal you are to your friends.”
I blushed at the flattery, looked down at the lei that he had put around my neck. His hand caressed my face, and I looked back into his eyes.
“And just as precious to me is your sense of what is right. You respect the ali’i but aren’t overawed by them. You knelt as you should before mo’i, but were not afraid to give him your aloha when he asked you. I know I can trust you. I know you will not lie to me if I ask you if you love me.”
“Love?” I asked, bewildered at this sudden revelation. “I thought you might like me, brah, and hoped you’d sport with me, but I didn’t think you wanted more than that. This is too much too fast. Yes, I love you, Jonas, but what place would I have in your life? I would give you my all, but I know I can never be more than your plaything.”
“That’s not true, Kawina. You can and will be much more if you let me make you mine.”
He kissed me again and my ule jumped. I would have reached for his if we hadn’t been surrounded by so many other guests. I wanted to wrap my arms around him, to feel him inside me, to see his face in delicious anguish as he planted his seed in me. My mind raced; my heart jumped; and suddenly I felt something inside me protest this rush to something more serous than a tumble on the grass. I pulled away from him and looked him in the eye.
“Lift the kapu, Jonas. Lift the kapu and give me time to think. I don’t know if I want you or just your ule. I know I want you, but let me decide.”
“But how long, Kawina? A week, a month, a year?
“Let’s measure time as the ancients did. Give me a lunar month to decide, but lift the kapu so I can make the choice for myself.”
He accepted the wisdom of this with a nod.
“If you only knew how much I love you, Kawina.”
When I went back to the fishpond I discovered that I’d been made foreman, a promotion I hoped I deserved. I worked just as hard, felt my muscles ache just as much at the end of the shift. I continued eating my meals with Jonas when he was there, but our affection never passed beyond more than an aloha and the touching of our noses. When Jonas was supervising elsewhere, I ate with my friends as before. They teased me about Jonas when they invited me to join them on the grass and I declined, feeling no impulse toward any man but Jonas Kekoa Pali’uli Mea’ike.
Some evenings he brought a picnic dinner that we ate on the beach, talking and laughing. He always commented on the moon’s beauty but said no more about the passing of the lunar month or the kapu I had placed between us. I am not shy or afraid of a challenge, but I am docile by nature. My pleasure comes in service, and I knew I could be comfortable being in Jonas’s shadow. Perhaps he sensed that about me from the beginning. Perhaps he saw how eagerly I serviced my moe ’aikane. I never asked; I only knew that I loved him more as the weeks passed, that my trust in him was implicit.
On the last day of the lunar month, Jonas was not at the fishpond, now completed and being successfully farmed with me at the lead. This was not unusual since he supervised several sites and would need to spend more time at those being constructed than at completed ponds. When noon came, and I went into the shelter to eat and rest with the men I supervised, I looked around hoping for his arrival. When the next shift took over, I went back to the house on the former military base that I shared with some other mahu, knowing that they would tease me and ask me about Jonas. I hadn’t told them about the kapu, but they saw how we looked at each other, saw how I smiled whenever I saw him. They saw but didn’t understand how desperately I wanted Jonas or how important this test of my own fidelity was to me.
I lay down for a nap, thinking that I would help weed the neighborhood taro and potato patches later in the afternoon. I must have been more tired than I realized, because I fell sound asleep for some hours, waking with a start to see Jonas standing at my bedroom door in nothing but his red malo. The moon had risen and he was bathed in her blue light.
“Aloha, Jonas,” I said stretching before rising from my bed, still naked, my ule at attention.
“Aloha loa nui, Kawina. Did you think I forgot what day it is?”
“I was afraid you were called away.”
“And I was afraid of what you’d tell me today, so I had to see you alone.”
“Is that why the house is empty, another kapu?”
He smiled.
“Can you blame me?”
He looked me in the eyes, honestly afraid I’d turn him away.
“Jonas, tell me where I am to sleep tonight.”
He swept me in his arms and kissed me. We were evenly matched for height and breadth, neither of us small men, but he was still stronger than me. I undid his malo to see his ule reaching high like a rooster stretching its neck to crow. I knelt before what I so longed to possess. When I swallowed his seed, I would have his mana, and it would be a part of me forever.
I quickly became a part of his household, Uncle Kawina to the children, muli poki’i to Nenehiwa, and Mr. Kawina to the staff. I went to the fishpond most days. Sometimes I went with Jonas to the different worksites, acting as his assistant. Sometimes I worked in the family garden or minded the children, who accepted me with casual enthusiasm. Every night we made love, and every night his mana became a greater part of me, a secret I kept to myself lest I tempt his ’amakua to strike me down.
One morning, after again making love, he asked me to bathe, something we normally did at the end of the workday. I was puzzled but obeyed, keeping my shower short as we were all asked to do. After breakfast I was led to a new lanai that had been made the day before. There, next to a pile of mats and kapa sheets, was a renowned tattoo artist, one well versed in the ancient designs unique to each ali’i family.
I knew what was expected of me and lay down on the mats while Jonas and the artist went over the exact placement of the designs that would forever mark me as his consort. The artist shaved and cleaned my skin and began. I winced but said nothing. The pain increased but then subsided as I was given small bits of awa to chew. This dulled all sensation and I felt at ease through most of the day, neither hungry nor thirsty, as the artist continued his work over my right pectoral, shoulder and upper arm. Periodically Jonas came to see how we were progressing, to give me sips of water and stroke my hair as his eyes looked into mine, overflowing with love and pride.
When it was over, I was ritually washed with seawater before heading to the bathroom, where Jonas gently cleansed and wrapped the wounded flesh in ti leaves and kapa, whispering words of encouragement. I ate a small meal and went to bed though it was still light and slept through the next morning.
I awoke hungry and thirsty and wondering where Jonas was. I rose stiffly and was trying to dress myself when Nenehiwa came in wearing nothing but a pa’u, her breasts exposed.
“Muli poki’i, you are awake at last, but in time for lunch.”
I made no attempt to hide my nakedness from her, she having already seen all of me when I bathed in the outdoor shower, or swam with her children. Gently she helped me into a loose-fitting shirt and gym shorts I had occasionally seen Jonas wear at the beach.
“Welcome to the family, muli poki’i. Now you are one of us. Now you share our mana.”
I thanked her and accepted her assistance as we walked slowly to a large lunch that I devoured as if I hadn’t eaten in days.
A kahuna came daily to redress the tattooed skin, muttering incantations as he worked. When Jonas returned home he held me gently in his arms, hesitating to make love for fear I was too tender to respond. But I wanted him as much as before, wanted more of the mana that we shared. In a few days I was back at work in the garden or swimming with the children, my upper body always covered in a loose shirt. Jonas told me that there would be more tattoo work on my lower body, but that would come later.
Months passed, the moon showed her light on our love, and I could not imagine myself happier than I was being a part of my new ohana. My own family came to visit, staying for several days so my mother could fuss over me, my father say how proud he was of me, and my brothers and I could roughhouse as we always had before, this time joined by Jonas and the children.
One evening, after our usual afternoon nap and lovemaking, Jonas and I bathed together as we often did. We dried each other and Jonas handed me a new malo, a beautiful kapa malo worked with intricate designs. Dumbfounded, I looked at him to be sure that it was me he intended to wear it. He smiled and nodded, a small laugh escaping from the handsome bearded mouth I loved to kiss. Then he took a small kapa cape, worked in the same designs as the malo, and tied it around my shoulders.
I helped him dress in his red malo and a red kapa cape much longer than mine. Wordlessly, I followed him to the waiting car that took us to the Iolani Palace, a place I had only seen before as a school-aged visitor. Now there was a reception being given by the mo’i and his wife, who greeted us at the door. We exchanged aloha, and lei were slipped over our necks by their own royal hands as we bowed. I marveled that I, a poor haoli with little education, was there at all.
I accepted the wine that Jonas handed to me and looked around, awed at the simple splendor of the palace. I noted that not only were the ali’i and other prominent citizens at the reception, but the official envoys sent from Australia, the United Kingdom, the Netherlands, Japan, Canada and the new nation of Cascadia. Nenehiwa was there in another beautiful muumuu, her hair dressed with flowers, being escorted by a handsome hapa. She greeted us from across the room with a smile and a nod.
I followed Jonas around the room, my hand in his, trying not to be overwhelmed but not wanting to be blasé, either. I smiled, proud to be here with Jonas, proud to be accepted as his consort.
Four kahuna entered the room chanting mele, escorted by four koa carrying kahili. They were lead by the kuhina nui, a dignified, older woman dressed in white kapa, her back as straight as a cliff, her face as luminescent as the moon. We all stood attentively, listening to the ancient chants that only a few in the room truly understood. When they had done, the kuhina nui addressed the party.
“Our blessed mo’i, with the agreement of the ali’i represented by the House of Nobles, has graciously chosen to honor the following women and men with the status and title of ali’i in thanks for the work they have done, and will continue to do, for our nation, so that they may always be honored by our people….”
As each name was called, the honored person came forward and was decorated with a lei of precious red and yellow feathers, the kind from which the ali’i once made their capes and helmets. Among the eight names she called, mine was the last. I was too startled to respond. Jonas pushed me forward and I bowed before the kuhina nui.
“Young Kawina, I acknowledge you as the favored consort of Jonas Kekoa Pali’uli Mea’ike. You are not his husband for that would infer that equality existed between you, now being honored, and one of ancient lineage. You are a consort, but may have all the expectations of a spouse in regards to your happiness and welfare. Jonas may not take another spouse or consort except with the consent of the High Chieftess Nenehiwa and you, Kawina.
“Some will say that a man like Jonas Kekoa Pali’uli Mea’ike should not have such a consort, but they forget our history. The ancient king Liloa loved his ’aikane, and a man no less than Kamehameha the Great had his moe ’aikane with whom he shared his mana. This is right.”
I accepted the precious feather lei with a trembling heart.
“You will now be known as Mea’aloha Mea’ike, the Beloved of Jonas Kekoa Pali’uli Mea’ike.”
With tears in my eyes, amid the applause, I returned to Jonas and his embrace. He held me close, kissing away my tears.
“This is right, Mea’aloha. You will always be my favorite ’aikane, my one great love.”
And so I was.
Hawaiian and Pidgin Glossary
I’m told that as a child I spoke pidgin, the unofficial language of Hawai’i. I don’t recall speaking it so much as being constantly corrected when we moved to the mainland. I have tried to capture the rhythm of pidgin but will not pretend that the pidgin recorded here is wholly accurate. Words and phrases below are Hawaiian, pidgin or both. I am not a scholar in either language and beg the indulgence and goodwill of those more knowledgeable, and ask them to remember that whatever the errors, they are made with aloha nui.
’Aikane: Usually translated as “bosom friend.” Moe ’aikane might be translated as fuckbuddy.
Ali’i: Chief or chieftess; the ali’i are the ancient nobility, once thought to have divine ancestry.
Aloha: Love, affection, with love. Used for “hello,” “good-bye” and “amen.”
’Amakua: Family god, often an animal deity, from whom an ali’i family claimed descent.
Awa: A medicinal plant with narcotic qualities.
Brah: Bro’, short for braddah; a polite form of address between male peers.
Buggah: A fellow, any male, usually used in the third person.
Cuz: Cousin; a polite form of address toward another islander.
De kine: The kind: this or that, whatever, the right stuff, what it is, et cetera.
Haoli: Any foreigner but usually referring to those of northern European ancestry. It is not a derogatory word in itself; it depends on how it’s used.
Hapa: Half; people of mixed ancestry.
Hawai’i nei: This Hawai’i as opposed to other islands or island groups with the same or similar name.
Ho’alohaloha: An expression of affection.
Kahili: Tall feathered fans used to designate the home or presence of an ali’i.
Kahuna: Wise one; applied to men or women.
Kama’aina: Local, native born.
Kamapua’a: Literally “Pig Man.” Kamapua’a is a demigod who inhabits O’ahu. He takes the form of a handsome, hairy muscular man—or a great, black boar.
Kane: Man
Kapa: Tapa cloth made from beaten bark, used for clothes and bedding.
Kapu: Taboo, forbidden. Sacred.
Kawina: A Hawaiian transliteration of “Kevin,” one of many neo-Hawaiian names (like Kawika for David) popular today.
Kekoa: Brave one.
Koa: Warrior
Kue: Untranslatable. Roughly: “Hey, look out!” or “Hey, you!” when yelled; or “Who’s there?” or “Are you there?” when said softly.
Kuhina nui: Prime minister; historically an appointed position, usually a woman, expected to balance the moi’s will with reason.
Kupa: Citizen, native.
Lanai: An open, shaded structure; traditionally a temporary one erected for special occasions or guests of honor.
Lei: A necklace or wreath, made from flowers, seeds, shells or feathers.
Luau: A feast, often in honor of a person or event.
Mahalo: Thank you.
Mahu: Queer: gay, lesbian, transgendered, intersexed. Like haoli, not a derogatory word but sometimes used derisively.
Malo: Traditional loincloth worn by Hawaiian men.
Mana: Power, life force, divine essence.
Mea’aloha: Beloved
Mea’ike: A person of authority.
Mele: Traditional chants, often celebrating genealogies and historical events.
Mo’i: Monarch
Muli poki’i: Youngest sibling.
Muumuu: Originally a shapeless dress introduced by the missionaries in response to the Hawaiians’ casual nudity; it has evolved into a variety of long dresses worn by many Hawaiian women today, some of them elegant and richly made.
Nenehiwa: Precious
Nui: Great, very much, a lot.
Ohana: Family, extended family.
Pali’uli: A mythical paradise.
Pa’u: Traditional skirt of leaves or kapa.
Slippahs: Flip-flops
Stay: Any form or variation of the verb “to be.”
Ti: A medicinal plant brought to Hawai’i by the ancient Polynesians.
Ule: Penis
Wahine: Woman
FOOL’S MATE
Shanna Germain
For almost a week, I didn’t know; partly because I didn’t really look at him, partly because even if I had looked, I wouldn’t have seen. I came out of my dad’s cabin on the morning of each of those days, and the man was already sitting at the picnic table in the shared yard space between the cabins, chessboard open and half-played in front of him. He was Kilway, my father’s work friend, or friendly neighbor, or hated enemy, depending on the state of my father when he mentioned him.
Big shouldered, sporting a crew cut tinged with gray, Kilway raised his hand off the ebony queen and waved as I came down the porch stairs. When I waved back, he nodded and lowered his hand to the queen’s crown. Each movement deliberate, on purpose.
That summer, my father called me Puppy or, when he was in a good mood, Pup, because I couldn’t hold still, couldn’t seem to get from one place to the next without losing my feet. He told me my equilibrium was out of balance, ’cause I’d moved from one side of the country to the other, ’cause I’d switched from living with a mom to living with a dad. Also, because I was supposed to have gone to college, but that got switched up on me too, on account of the divorce and nobody having any money.
On the phone, my mom said that it was just teenage pains and that I would grow out of it, but by that point, she only told the truth when she wasn’t drinking, and she said “painsh,” so I didn’t dare believe her. It was Kilway, with his careful muscles and his bones slow through the air, that gave me some kind of hope for the future.
