"This is the most offensive thing I've ever seen," Fiona announced loudly.
Michael stared at her. "Fi, you lived in a war zone. You've seen people murdered. This is the most offensive thing you've seen," Michael said flatly.
"It's a systematic, institutionalized, capitalistic marginalization of women."
"It's pink Legos."
"It's pink Legos in an aisle full of toys some misogynistic blowhard in a marketing firm decided must be pink in order for girls to like them," Fiona retorted. "Even the goddamn aisle is labeled 'Girl Toys.' Wake up, Michael. This is how it starts."
"Fiona. I – "
"Don't interrupt me. We are not going to support this. We will not support it. We're getting her regular Legos." She marched over to the next aisle. Michael just walked over to it. He wasn't riled up enough to march.
"I'm sure Sophia will be very happy with non-pink Legos," Michael said soothingly, taking a rectangular, plastic tub off the shelf. "Wait, this says not for children under three. She's turning three." Michael looked a little fight-or-flighty. "What do we do?"
"Well, that's ridiculous. I played with my brothers' Legos when I was two. See, Michael, this is just another example of somebody th – "
"Excuse me," Michael said to a female employee walking nearby. "Do you know why children under three can't have Legos?"
"Oh, they're a choking hazard. The pieces are real little and the babies like to put 'em in their mouths."
Michael and Fiona felt very dumb. Fiona actually hung her head a little.
"What would you recommend instead for a kid turning three?" Michael asked.
"Y'all know about Duplos? They're big Legos. Kids can't swallow 'em. They're right there in those green boxes."
They looked to the left of the blue Legos tubs and saw the green Duplos tubs. "Problem solved. Thank you very much," Michael said warmly, smiling at the teenager. A teenager who obviously knew more about child safety than them.
"Or if you want we've got pink ones. Is it for a little girl?"
Michael immediately threw his arm over Fiona's back and around her opposite arm, momentarily immobilizing her. "Y'know, the regular ones will be just fine," Michael said quickly. And loudly. He was trying to drown out the growl coming from Fiona's throat. "Thank you."
"Sure. I'm Carla if you need anything else."
Michael waited until Carla was out of sight before he let go of Fiona.
"See, Michael? You see? This girl just assumed a little girl would want pink. She's brainwashed," Fiona grumbled.
"Fi, she's a 17-year-old kid just trying to finish her shift. Can we just get the non-sexist Duplos and go, please? I told Sam we'd be home by 2:30."
"Fine," she muttered, and they walked to the check-out stations.
"I wonder how Sam did," Fiona said after a few moments. "This was his first time on his own with Charlie."
"Oh, I'm sure he got his exercise," Michael replied. "Kinda nice to finally have someone else see what we've been dealing with. I don't think Sam and Jesse really believe me."
Ten minutes later, Michael and Fiona walked in their front door. Sam was on the couch, watching something on a laptop.
"Shhhh," he whispered, putting a finger to his mouth. "He's asleep."
Michael and Fi looked at each other, then looked back to Sam. "He's asleep?" Michael asked.
"Yeah."
"What do you mean, he's asleep?" Fiona demanded in a not-very-quiet whisper. "He never sleeps during the day."
"Yeah, fell asleep about 15 minutes after you two left. He's been out for, what, I guess about two hours now," Sam said, looking at his watch.
"He's asleep," Michael repeated slowly.
"Guys, what's the problem here? Yes, he's asleep. So what?" Sam asked, confused.
"It's not fair, that's what!" Fiona hissed. "For the five days he's been here at his nap time, he's refused to sleep. We have tried everything. And now you show up and he just falls asleep? Just like that?" Fi was livid. Quiet, but livid.
"Look, jeez, I'm sorry. He said he was tired, so I said, 'Why don't you go lie down?' and he did and that was that."
"Did you give him something?" Michael asked quietly. "You can tell us. I mean, we'd understand," he added empathetically.
"Mikey, come on, you think I drugged a two year old to take a nap? What is so hard about this? The kid was tired. He went to sleep. Soon he will wake up. End of story."
Fiona hmmmphed and stomped out of the living room.
Michael sighed and sat down on the couch near Sam. "What're you watching?"
"Oh, the tape of that Neal kid grabbin' Fi. Jesse had told me about it, but man, this is something ya gotta see for yourself."
Michael and Sam watched together. Michael shook his head. "Ten days later and it still makes no sense whatsoever. We had spent the entire day on that exercise. He'd watched everyone else in the class do it. Nobody else tied her up. I never suggested he tie her up. I just – I dunno. Let's hope he stays at his desk for the rest of his career. Or at least the rest of my career."
The video finished, and Sam closed the laptop's screen. "What do you guys have planned for today?"
"A kid in Charlie's class has a birthday party at four. We're taking him to that. After that, I don't know. Nothing definite."
"Well, that's perfect then. A buddy of mine called and said he's got a 4:15 tee time. You wanna just meet us there?"
"No, Sam, I can't. We have to stay at the party with him."
"You stay at the party?" Sam asked incredulously.
"Yeah, I know. Weird."
"I don't think my folks ever stayed at any birthday party I went to," Sam said. "What about you?"
"I did my best never to tell my parents where I was," Michael answered. "Absolutely nothing good could come out of them knowing where I was."
"Yeah, I can see that."
"Hi therrrrrrrre! Come on innnnnnn! I'm Sophia's mom, Layla!" Which she pronounced Lay-luhhhh.
Wearing a coconut bra and full make-up, Layluhhhh took Fiona's hand and led her inside. Michael followed with Charlie and a black and white checkered gift bag full of Duplos and non-pink tissue paper. He slowed down considerably once they crossed the threshold because Charlie attached himself to Michael's leg.
Now, Michael's seen a lot. Opulence. Poverty. Rescue. Murder. Bravery. Cowardice.
But Michael had never seen anything quite like this.
Dozens of multicolored strings of silk hibiscus flowers hung on the walls of the entryway. Raffia fringe doubling as a grass skirt encircled every table and table-esque object in sight. Bright, plastic leis hung from the necks of all the people, as well as a few stone busts on pedestals and a couple of large floor urns. Two inflated tiki heads guarded the entryway into the large living room. A piñata shaped like a pineapple sat near the door, waiting to be strung up and killed. And off in the corner of the living room, another coconut-clad woman, this one a hula dancer, swayed and smiled to the music piping through the house.
Michael put Sophia's present down with about 20 other gift bags along the wall, then extracted his leg from Charlie's clutches and picked him up, holding him close as he carried him down the steps into the living room. Layla, still holding Fi's hand, turned around and flapped her hand onto Michael's chest. "Would y'all like something to drink? We've got pineapple margaritas and piña coladas. We got virgin and not so virgin," she said too loudly, winking dramatically.
"Uh, sure," Fi said. She followed Layla into the kitchen, leaving the boys to negotiate the living room themselves.
"What do we think about all this, Charlie?" Michael said softly into Charlie's right ear. "Do we like it?" Charlie was silent as he took it all in. "I tell you what, Charlie, I think you may be the only kid here. These are all adults. What'd you do to earn an invitation, hmmm?"
As if on cue, a gaggle of short children came bursting in through the back door. Shrieking ensued. Through the open door, Michael could see the pool and the rest of the back yard. It looked like a Waikiki tourist shop threw up. Tiki torches everywhere. Waiters dressed like Don Ho carrying platters of tropical fruit and umbrella drinks. More leis, more hibiscus, and more raffia-grass skirts.
Charlie tried to throw himself out of Michael's arms, but Michael was an old pro now and held tight. "Connuh!" he exclaimed. "I see Connuh! An I see Mawuhlin!"
"Connor and Marilyn?" Michael asked. "They your friends from school?"
"Yah fum school."
Michael put Charlie down and watched as he ran off to join his people.
Then Michael felt very obviously alone and out of place. He surveyed (surveilled, really) the room instinctively. There were about 35 adults, split roughly 60/40 women and men. All but two men wore Hawaiian shirts. Almost all the women wore something tropical or floral or otherwise meant to call Hawaii to mind. And they all wore full make-up. Six men and nine women were noticeably drunk. Two of the men probably wouldn't be conscious in an hour. Michael heard talk of hot yoga and school readiness enrichment programs and cigar bars and karate classes and Aspen and private swimming lessons at home because you just don't know what's in that water at the swim school and Jackson Hole and admission requirements for what some said was the most academically rigorous private school in Miami for kindergarteners but others said was a clique for rich lawyers' kids too ill-behaved to get in anywhere else.
Fiona walked over to him with two ridiculously oversized piña colada glasses filled with pale yellow slush, one with an orange umbrella and one with a green. "Your favorite. A virgin piña colada," she said, handing him the green umbrella drink, smiling broadly. Her smile disappeared as he squinted his eyes at her. "They didn't have iced tea," she shrugged.
"Did they have water?"
"It would've involved asking Layla, and I decided I don't care about you enough to do that."
"Fair enough." Michael was a light drinker at the best of times. Now that he had Charlie, he was a non-drinker. He hated feeling even a tiny bit mentally compromised when he was taking care of him. Fiona liked it because she could drink as much as she wanted when Michael was around. Charlie's never-ending monologue was a lot easier to take once some alcohol was helping her go to her happy place.
"Did your mom tell you this was a Hawaiian party?" Fi was wearing white, body-hugging jeans that ended mid-calf, a dark gray tank top, and three-inch, flesh-colored espadrilles. Michael was in jeans, an army-green t-shirt, and thong flip-flops.
"Would it've made a difference if she had?"
"Well, certainly not for you. But we could've just sent Sam. All he owns are Hawaiian shirts."
Michael took a sip of his drink and winced. "This is like drinking a bowl of sugar, Fi. Is this what they're giving the kids?"
"Yeah, probably."
"God, between the nap and the drink, do you think he'll sleep at all tonight?" Michael asked glumly.
"Already thought of that," Fi grinned. "Apparently Charlie has gotten Elsa nostalgic for when Evan was that age. When they were over the other night, she told me she'd love to have Charlie over for a sleepover at the hotel. They've got some family suite or something that's like a kid paradise. So I figure since Sam got him while he slept this afternoon, Sam can have him while he doesn't sleep tonight."
"Well, I've got no problem doing that to Sam, but we can't do that to Elsa. Come on."
"Nope, I already texted her and warned her and she said it was no problem. That place is designed for children who won't sleep. They just play until they pass out. She said they'll put on a movie for him if he's still up and he'll conk out in seconds. Said Evan used to do that all the time."
Michael looked skeptical. "You sure? Kinda seems too good to be true. Things don't work out so well for us when they seem too good to be true."
"I'm sure. She's sure. I couldn't care less if Sam's sure. Charlie will love it. And hey," Fiona added, "of the four of us, Elsa's the only one to have actually had a kid. He's an idiot but he's alive. We should pay her to take Charlie for a night."
Michael finally allowed himself to smile and nod. He was exhausted and desperate for a good night's sleep. They both were. But he was relieved his hormones still worked well enough that he was more looking forward to sleeping with Fi than sleeping next to Fi.
Just then Charlie cut a path through the adult-infested living room and barreled into Michael's legs. Something interesting had happened in the last week. Charlie now preferred Michael to Fiona, and Michael was pretty damn comfortable around Charlie, considering the intense discomfort he'd started with. For one thing, he now talked with the kid. Easily. Often. And Charlie ate it up. Fi didn't know if Charlie was subconsciously looking to fill the void Nate left, or if he was like everyone else and wanted to be around Michael because Michael is a bad ass. She loved it either way. She smiled as she looked down at the Charlie/Michael meld.
"Uncuh Micuh come wif me. Come pay wif me. Teefee go way."
Michael and Fiona both stifled laughs and bit their lips, trying to maintain a disapproving face. "Charlie, that's not a nice thing to say to Auntie Fi," Michael admonished. "Tell her you're sorry."
"Sorryteefee les go Uncuh Micuh les go Uncuh Micuh les go Uncuh Micuh!"
Charlie took Michael's hand, and Michael allowed himself to be pulled through the room. Once they were past the throng of people, Michael squeezed Charlie's hand and asked, "Where are we going, Charlie?"
"Tuhuda!"
"Tuhuda? Where's Tuhuda?" Michael asked.
"Owsigh!" Charlie replied. Outside. Michael had learned by this point to just go with what he had and assume he'd figure the rest out later.
They stepped out into the back yard and were immediately approached by a 20-something-year-old Don Ho. "Kauai-kabob?" Don asked.
Michael looked at the skewers of colorful, glistening, tropical fruits. They would've looked good anyway, but they looked especially delicious compared to the sugar cane he'd just licked. "Yeah, thanks." Don handed him a hibiscus-patterned paper plate with two kabobs – a long one and a short one. Kid kabobs, Michael thought. Unreal.
"Want some mango, Charlie?" Michael offered, pulling off a chunk and handing it down to him. Charlie took it and shoved the whole piece in his mouth. When he couldn't close his lips, he looked like he very much regretted that decision. "Bites, Charlie. Little bites." Michael cupped his hand under Charlie's chin, and the little boy spit out the fruit. "Okay, try again. Bites." Charlie picked up the now extra-slimy mango and bit a manageable piece off.
Watching Charlie chew, Michael marveled at the fact that he'd just willingly invited someone to spit licked fruit into his hand. What a difference a kid makes.
Michael popped some papaya into his own mouth and looked around the yard. The back right area had been converted into a bowling lane for CocoBowl. Half a dozen coconuts sat waiting for a kid to roll – hurl, really, if the kid was like Charlie – down the grass to a triangle of one liter bottles filled with brightly colored water. Nobody was CocoBowling, but several kids were throwing some other coconuts at the wooden fence.
To the left, a tanned women with flowers in her hair and coconuts on her breasts stood in front of three girls and a boy. She was showing the kids the arm and hip movements of a hula dance in slow motion. At their young age, the kids mostly jerked and kicked, but their huge smiles revealed just how much fun they were having.
"Tuhuda!" Charlie shouted, pointing to the dance class. "Les go Tuhuda!"
"Tuhuda," Michael said under his breath. "Oh, to hula? You want to go learn to hula?" he asked.
"Yah come on Uncuh Micuh!" said Charlie, pulling Michael's hand.
"Uh, Charlie, Uncle Michael doesn't hula. You wanna go throw coconuts?"
"Tuhuda! Come onnnnnnnnn," Charlie repeated, now tugging Michael.
"You do it and I'll watch, okay?" Michael suggested.
"No, Michael, you should hula," a sultry voice said from behind him.
Michael whipped around. "You go hula, Fi."
"No not Teefee! Come on Uncuh Micuh!" Charlie ordered.
"Yep, Charlie, Uncle Michael is going to go dance with you. You got it. You want me to take a video on my phone so you can see it later?" Fiona asked him enthusiastically.
"I swear to god, Fiona, I'm going to make you pay for this," Michael said in the best (worst?) bad ass voice he could muster, which wasn't all that bad ass because he had to whisper.
Charlie and Michael walked – well, Charlie ran and Michael tried to escape into the ground – to the dance class. Charlie looked as if he were heading front and center, so Michael firmly led him to the edge of the group towards the back. He adjusted his sunglasses, as if covering his eyes would turn him invisible.
"Aloha," the hula dancer said warmly. "What's your name, buddy?"
Charlie blushed, looked down, and grabbed Michael's legs.
"Come on, tell her your name," Michael encouraged him, rubbing Charlie's back.
"Choddy," he said shyly.
"Aloha, Charlie. That means hello in Hawaiian," the dancer told him. "Who's that with you, Charlie?"
"Uncuh Micuh!"
"Well, aloha, Uncle Michael," she said with a grin. "I'm Kailani. Do any of you know what Kailani means?" she asked the group. Silence. "It means warrior queen," she explained. "That means I'm a really good fighter. Girls can be really good fighters! Did you know that?"
"I knew that," Fiona announced proudly. "In fact, girls, if you want to learn how to fight after you learn to hula, you just come see me, okay?" The three little girls just stared at Fiona.
Michael tried again to disappear into the earth.
"Okay!" said Kailani. "Let's learn to hula! All right, I've got some special hula skirts for anyone who'd like one." The girls shouted, "I want one! I want one!" all on top of each other and practically tackled Kailani.
"Now, boys and men wear these kinds of skirts, too, for really special parties. Would you like one?" she asked, offering one to the little boy in the front. He nodded, and Kailani helped him fasten it. Velcro grass skirts. Only in America.
"Charlie? Would you like one?"
"Yah!" he said, running up.
"Mi – "
"I'm good," Michael said quickly. "All good back here."
Charlie ran back to his uncle, fake straw swishing around his knees.
"Okay," Kailani announced. "Looks like we're all ready to hula! So, the first thing I want you to do is put your hands on your hips. Great. Now, spread your feet apart a little bit," she continued, demonstrating. She waited until the kids mirrored her position. "And now, bend your knees. Okay, good!
"Now, next we're going to take some steps sideways, like this." Kailani showed the group how to move one foot, then bring the other foot to the first foot, repeat, and then do the same thing in the other direction. She showed them how to move their hips like a wave. The kids tried, and their movements even sort of looked like hula dancing.
Michael was a natural. He could even do the hips.
Because here's the thing. If Michael's going to make a fool of himself, he's going to do it all the way. Then he looks like a talented fool, or at least a fool who can copy simple body movements. Otherwise he just looks like an ass.
Fiona was walking very slowly behind Kailani, staring at her horizontal phone, making sure to capture Charlie and Michael from all angles. For Ruth. For Maddie. For posterity. And maybe for blackmail.
Thank you for reading! I think I'm having more fun writing this story than you all are having reading it. Hope my friends in the USA have a safe and happy Labor Day weekend.