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Nani and Lani look at each other and laugh.
“That’s too bad, because it’s a tie. The Anakoni team got one right and the Medina team did as well. You are equally unfamiliar with each other and bad guessers, one and all. The bunch of you!”
“What did we get right?”
Nani speaks first.
“Mak was the weed whacker. But it was Alek who enjoyed himself with an older woman. And Noa who gave Alek a laxative.”
“Yeah! I shit my pants at the movies, you a-hole.”
Noa laughs as if it was his greatest accomplishment, and he’s backed by the Anakoni’s who join in. Then it is Lani’s turn to report on the Medina choices.
“You three got Ino’s story right. He had the stitches. But it was Kala who loved her peanuts and Kimo who lit his farts.”
Kala stands and plants her fists hard on the table.
“Do I look like the kind of woman that sets her butt ablaze?!”
“Thought I saw a little fire in your eyes. My mistake,” Noa says smiling.
The conversations at this table have been rich with connection. It was a good move.
“Shall we go out on the porch? It’s a beautiful night for some music,” Lani says, taking Mom in his arms.
“Yes. I would love that. Come on everyone.”
We rise from the table. It doesn’t escape me that this is a special night. Not just for Mom, but for the rest of us too. Great family. Lani grabs the ukulele atop the entry table.
“Alana will you bring the champagne in the refrigerator, please. Ino, get the flutes on the tray in the pantry.”
He leads the way out, into the warm August night. Lani and Mom take their seats next to each other. Lily gets atop one of the wide chaises, with her father and little brother. The kid will be asleep in thirty seconds. Gigi sits next to them and takes her husband’s hand. Nice.
“Let’s get that one,” I say, motioning to Leilani to sit on the purple two person swing next to Kimo and the kids.
“What a fabulous clear night. Look at the stars!” Kala says.
Noa leans over and weighs in with an exaggerated sexy voice.
“It’s beautiful. Is that The Big Dipper I see?”
“Think it’s Uranus.”
They chuckle like naughty kids. I am happy to see my brother like this. Very unusual to see this side again. He’s witty, or sharp, but rarely playful.
The champagne and glasses are carried out and passed to each person.
“Everybody take something to toast with please,” Lani says, taking his own flute of champagne and setting it down on the side table.
“Let’s have a little song first. This one’s ours.”
We quiet, and he begins to strum the first chords of “Fly Me to the Moon.” Mom touches her heart as Lani’s deep voice takes on a cool softness. The man sounds great. This song lends itself well to the ukulele.
Watching them is touching. When he says she is all he longs for, worships, adores, it feels authentic. He asks to play among her stars. To fill his heart with song.
What a tender telling of the love. I have never seen my mother look like this. Lani’s family seems as touched by the scene as Leilani and me. There are tears in her eyes.
As the song reaches its final notes, Lani puts the ukulele down and stands facing her. He takes her hands.
