Bare feet pad along the dirt of the jungle, carefully stepping over rock, vine, branch, and other forest litter. A simple golden band knocks against a slender, kobby ankle. A lovely, lovely day it is! A lovely day indeed. The ʻapapane sing and the frogs scuttle up trees. The hibiscus wave at her and the palm fronds rustle a hello. Most things greet her when she passes. And she always waves back. She brushes frail fingers over the sunset petals of plumeria.
Her toes collide with something. A rather sturdy something. The trinkets and charms dangling from her neck rat-tat against one another as she stoops down.
She picks the coconut off of the floor and dusts it off, purring lovingly. A stray coconut. It has been some time since there has been a stray coconut. It is small and dainty thing but it will do just well. She brushes it against her cheek and coos lovingly before tucking it under her arm.
These things are best done in the silent half-light of a cave's entrance, well away from prying eyes and curious ears.
And oh how long it has been since she has had such an opportunity. She strokes the coconut's fur. A precious fruit it is, such a precious fruit.
She scuttles into her cave. Her candles have burned well and low, their wax dripping down over the rocks and out of the crevices she has nestled them in. She sets the coconut down next to a clay bowl of dried herbs and a cluster of peacock feathers.
Dried herbs are sprinkled generously about the cave, enriching it with what she thinks are the most delightful scents. Hairy tailed bats weave between each stalactite, occasionally finding perch on a bundle of dried herbs tied to the craggy structure. Mostly they are drawn to the pikake and uki uki. Their wings stir up trinkets on string. Bone fragments--mostly fishbone, parrot talon, and brown tree snake spine--click clack against pearl and colorful hand painted wooden beads. The bats flit and flutter haphazardly about until they find perch in one of the smaller nooks of the cave. The unlit candles nestled in those nooks are cradled in swaths of damp cave moss.
She snaps her gnarled fingers and the teeniest of flames bursts to life on the wicks. She shuffles through the clutter on her makeshift stone table until she finds two pouches, one of ōhelo berry and another of nut. She dumps them into a pestle alongside a sprinkle of protea petal, coconut fiber, and a single koi bone. Her collection of bangles and beads clack against one another as she diligently mashes them into a rather clumpy pulp and empties it into the small and empty shell of a green sea turtle. She wanders over to one of many candles and allows the wax to dribble into the mix. She stirs again and pours the concussion into the hole of the coconut and begins a chatter wistful and mysterious as a breeze over the open ocean.
A gust of wind rattles the the ceiling strands and reduces the small flames to mere fingers of smoke that curl towards the ceiling. It whistles through the inside of the cave, rushes out of it and through the palm fronts.
.oOo.
It carries itself over the beach and rattles through a bungalow, setting various handmade dreamcatchers and trinkets into sways and spins. Shells and beads click together, adding to the mighty sound of waves crashing against sand. Another more powerful gust sends the thatched bamboo and palm fronds of the roof swooshing. Makani can taste the sea salt in the air and the scent of fish and seaweed wafting through the spacious dwelling. He crosses the threshold onto the balcony and, from the spaces between lush palms and jungle ferns, takes in the oceanside view. Brushstrokes of gold and orange mark the beginnings of a glorious sunset. He watches a gaggle of giggling girls take to the water and he wishes that he could be among them. He wonders just what exactly he is doing in his bungalow. Surely he won't let Kapono and his crowd keep him from the steamy sands and polished surfboards that he loves. The boy is busy with his festival preparations anyhow.
He stretches his arms and looks around for his swim trunks. He is due for a trip to the smoothie shack anyhow. He tugs on pineapple print shirt, straightens his fish hook necklace, and makes his way down the beach. A breeze flutters his hair, he shields his eyes against the departing sun. Beneath his feet the sand is cooling for the evening. A band of surfers rub towels over their heads as they dust sand off of their boards and chatter about the endeavors of the day and their goals for the next.
He ought to get in their circle. He's better suited for it than the life his father has him set for. His fingers curl around the talisman in his pocket, a polished and worn coconut shell fragment. His thumb brushes over the etching.
He sighs and pushes open the doors to the smoothie shack. As soon as he does he is greeted by the cheerful strings of a ukulele and the rhythm of steel drums. It is a quiet night, he supposes that it would be while most of the town away at the harvest. He can't say that he minds, a quiet night with a cool beverage doesn't sound so bad after picking his way through jungle fern for the better part of the day. "Mano!" He waves.
"What can I get for you, Makani?"
"Anything but coconut."
"Pineapple sound fine?"
He gives Mano a thumbs up and stuffs his hands into his pockets. He looks across the room and smiles. "Hey, Naia." He props himself up against the counter. "How are the Coconut Water Festival decorations coming along?"
"We still have a long way to go."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah, Makani, so I don't have much time for chit chat." She replies. "I just came by to get the girls something to drink. They're getting pretty hot out there."
"Getting hot?" He wriggles his brows. "They've been hot."
"There are a lot of smoothies in this shack, Makani, and you aren't one of them."
"Two strawberry-bananas, a peach-mango, and a passionfruit surprise?"
Naia waves the man over and slips him a few bills. She takes the smoothies into her arms and brushes by Makani with the slightest sway of her hips.
"Alright, I'll catch ya later?"
"I hope not."
"Harsh." Mano remarks.
YOU ARE READING
Coconut Water
Fantasy"Child, do you want to know where we came from? Child, it was new moon but the stars were so bright that it hardly mattered at all. They were all over the place, in the sky and in the water. Spangling the trees and twinkling over anthurium petals...
