Chapter Text
Sunday, March 21, 2022. Makawao, Hawaii.
The day had started as normal in the Tupua household. The family of eight began their morning routine––or rather, Moana’s morning routine, and it always began at exactly 4 A.M. While her––figurative and literal larger-than-life husband of twenty years––was snoring away right beside her, still wearing his work clothes for the third time that week, and Moana couldn’t blame him. Her hand immediately reached to turn off the alarm on her phone before it sounded, as she pulled her left hand in front of her eyes, her sight focused on the wedding band on her ring finger.
Twenty years of marriage was supposed to feel special… after all, in another five years, she would’ve been married for a quarter of a century…and it meant nothing. Not since––Moana took a deep, sharp breath. She wasn’t about to let those thoughts linger in her mind any longer, so she got up and carefully made her way out of their standard-size master bedroom and down the small hallway to their three-bedroom house.
Her bare feet guided her toward their daughters’ shared bedroom as her hand gently reached for the round doorknob. Her fingers carefully curled around its spherical surface as she slowly turned it to the right before softly pushing the door open to peek her head in to check on their four daughters. First, the sixteen-year-old twins Hinatea and Manaia were still asleep in their separate beds while her younger daughters slept on the bunk bed.
Thirteen-year-old Tala slept on the top bunk, while the surprise baby of the family, three-year-old Melelani, slept on the bottom in the second-hand wooden baby-blue toddler bed.
That’s when she felt the warmth in her heart, and a loving smile slowly made its way to her lips the second her eyes caught sight of the empty, dusty corner with faded imprints of where a fifth, now non-existent, bed used to be. She felt her world go still all over again, and this was the moment her brain finally remembered what day it was today.
She closed her eyes and expected her heart to explode with emotions, but nothing came. Instead, a deep, bottomless pit took over. That’s when she decided to prepare and cook breakfast, but not before checking the boys’ room. So, she left her daughters’ room as quietly as possible.
But despite her best efforts, she heard Manaia’s groggy voice call out, “Mom?”
Moana slowly turned around and plastered a warm smile, “I was just checking on you, so go back to sleep. I’ll be back to wake you up in an hour.” She watched as her third daughter––and the first of her children to resemble her maternal side the most… in fact, looking at Manaia was like looking at a younger version of her and her mother Sina mixed into one, and that brought her a sense of comfort that came out from nowhere, especially now as she watched her daughter slowly falling back to sleep, but the way she fell back asleep that triggered something inside her. At least for a brief moment.
Moana’s fingers tightened their grip against the doorknob as she slowly closed the door behind her before she took a deep, shaky breath, found her bearings, and held onto that metaphorical rope inside her to steady herself as she made her way to the adjacent bedroom from her daughters’ room, and peeked her head in.
Once again, a sense of motherly warmth filled her heart at the sight of her eight-year-old son, Makoa, with his thick, curly, shoulder-length hair sprawled against his pillow, dressed in his favorite canoe-themed pajamas, still fast asleep. Her gaze shifted to the second bed where her nineteen-year-old son also lay sleeping.
Her eyes instinctively flicked over to the spot where a third bed would have been, and just as in her daughters’ room, only faded imprints remained. This time, the same something clawed its way from her heart, and she finally recognized this feeling. She quickly and tightly closed her eyes, not wanting her tears to flow—not here at least—so she immediately made her way out of her sons’ shared bedroom and closed the door behind her.
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She made her way down toward the small room underneath the stairs and rummaged through the two packed boxes with a set of names written on each one. James Te Ara Tupua and Lelani Malia Tupua. She pulled out the secondhand leather jacket from Te Ara’s box and a pink buttoned shirt from Lelani’s.
Moana held the two clothing pieces close to her and smelled as hard as she could, as her life depended on it. Her babies’ scents were still there even after being kept in the small crawl space for a year. Exactly one year.
Part of her couldn’t believe that only a year had passed; to her it felt closer to ten. But, she had to keep moving… she had to pretend to participate in life all the while; she just wanted to step out of her body and just watch life go on without her. She just wanted to detach and watch all the milestones without whatever was left of her heart or soul in it.
James Te Ara and Lelani Malia… her two eldest twins. Her first surprise baby and bonus baby. That’s when she felt another pang in her heart.
They both would’ve been twenty-one today. The same age she’d been when they were born, but now they would eternally remain twenty-years-old in her mind, while she and their father would grow old, their younger siblings would grow up and eventually live their own lives, get married, and have children of their own.
She would have to watch as Te Ara’s and Lani’s now former significant others and friends eventually move on and have the chance to create families of their––
“Mama, are you okay?” Manaia’s voice came from behind her. Moana turned her head and saw Manaia standing there in the doorway with a concerned expression on her face.
No. She needed to be strong now. Moana immediately wiped the tears from her eyes and smiled at her daughter, “I’m okay. I just needed a minute to myself.” Moana reassured her as she immediately began folding the clothes before putting them away in their proper boxes and closing them up. Moana slowly got up and made her way toward the door with her arm out to lead her daughter away before closing the small door behind her.
“So, what should we make for breakfast today?” She asked with a cheery tone as she and Manaia went from the basic-style living room to the adjoining kitchen and dining room.
Their shadows cast over a section of their small living room as Manaia’s voice grew softer as she suggested, “How about pancakes?”
Several framed pictures hung on the right side of the wall; all of them were portraits of their mother’s side of the family, both living and deceased, taken at different decades. The oldest photo was a portrait of Moana’s ancestor, her elderly full-bloodied Samoan great-great-great-grandmother dressed in their island’s traditional garb while sitting on the i‘e toga––a fine mat, taken in the year 1900, on ‘Upolu back when the Germans occupied that part of the island.
The latest edition was a single framed graduation picture of a young man and woman with identical-looking features dressed in their high school academic regalia. James, or Te Ara as he wanted to be referred by his middle name, had his arm around his twin sister’s shoulder, and Lelani––or Lani as she preferred to be called––had her arm around his shoulder as they faced the camera with beaming smiles, ready to take on whatever life would’ve had in store for them.
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“How about something more traditional?” Moana replied while giving her daughter a knowing look and a warm, lopsided smile. Manaia raised an eyebrow but gave her mother a relenting smile. Moana then bumped her daughter’s hip with her own before giving her a one-armed hug and making a compromise, “Pancakes and panikeke. Deal?”
“Aren’t they practically the same thing, though?” Manaia pointed out.
Moana bumped her daughter’s hip with her own again, “No, they’re not. Try to remember you’re Samoan, and panikeke is the food of our islands.”
Manaia smiled as she mentally rolled her eyes, “Okay, Mama. Deal.”
Moana put her other arm around her daughter’s shoulder and held onto her just a little longer––a huge part of her needed just to keep one of her children close to her, at least for a few minutes, and when those few minutes passed, she pulled her arms away her daughter and told her, “Go get the things from the fridge. And remember we’re making panikeke too,” Before Moana went over to the cabinet and pulled out the mixing bowls, measuring cups, and cooking oil.
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March 21, 2022, Tupua Household. 6:00 A.M.
A sudden loud snore startled Maui awake, and he was completely unaware that it was his snore that had woken him up, so he reached toward his wife’s side of the bed, but it was cold and empty. Alarm bells went off in his head, and he sat up in an instant, “Moana?” He called out as he turned to face their closed bedroom door.
He got up; the wooden floorboards creaked loudly under the soles of his feet as he made his way toward the door. He reached for the knob, turned it, and stepped into their small hallway—the very hallway that was too narrow for his broad shoulders. Forcing him to walk sideways just to navigate the second floor, and he hated it.
He regretted buying this undervalued fifty-year-old house two decades ago. He despised working three jobs to make up for being let go of the single high-paying job he had before this pandemic.
He loathed that he could only buy or receive second-hand furniture and clothes to furnish their home and dress their kids, which was when his shoulder accidentally knocked something off the wall. He heard the sound of several stacks of paper falling and hitting the floor beneath his feet.
Maui looked down and saw it was a calendar, with past days already crossed off: 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20. The date 21 remained uncrossed, and that was when he realized what today was. He felt a knife twisting in his heart again as he stared at the single uncrossed date. Soon, everything around him felt quieter—until he felt a small hand tugging at the hem of his work jacket. He quickly looked down and felt all his sadness wash away at the sight of his youngest daughter. “There’s my baby girl!”
“Daddy!” Melelani squealed in delight as Maui easily lifted his three-year-old with one hand and raised her to his eye level, the same time, a switch flipped inside his daughter’s head as she suddenly crossed her arms and gave him an angry pout that mirrored her mother’s perfectly, “Why didn’t you wish me goodnight?”
“Why?” He went before he bounced her lightly in the palm of his hand, waiting till she finally giggled, “Because Daddy had a night shift.”
She wrinkled her nose in confusion, “What’s a night shift?”
Maui grinned as he explained, “A night shift is when someone has to work all night at their job.”
Melelani gasped as her father’s smile widened a little, making his dimples appear, “All night? You must be really sleepy.”
“Nah!” Maui went after his daughter pressed her little hands on his cheeks, “Don’t worry about it, baby girl. I’m wide awake now.” He watched as something else caught her attention. He lifted his arm up, so she could climb down and sit on his right shoulder.
“What’re you holding?” Melelani asked as she pointed to the calendar in his other hand. Maui paused as he looked down to where her eyes were facing.
The calendar. A smile came to his lips as he turned to his youngest child, “Melelani, you wanna do Daddy a favor?”
She immediately perked up as her eyes lit up in excitement, “Yeah!”
Maui asked as he pointed to the only uncrossed date on the calendar, “Wanna draw hearts over this one?”
Melelani paused in thought before she nodded, “Can it be red?”
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Moana looked up at the kitchen ceiling the second she heard Maui’s footsteps thumping above them, followed by the distant sound of Melelani’s voice from the second floor. It wouldn’t be long till the rest of her hungry children made their way down here. “Manaia, go set the table, and I’ll finish up in here.”
She watched as her daughter nodded and then went over to get the table ready. It wasn’t long till she heard the sounds of her husband’s feet growing louder as he got closer to the first floor, and amidst the sounds of his footsteps were the sounds of their youngest daughter talking as he undoubtedly climbed down the last step.
“Pancakes!” Melelani squealed as she started to rush toward the kitchen. Fortunately, Manaia caught her in time, carried her up, and put the young toddler in her booster seat. “Pancakes!” Melelani squealed again as the serving plate was set on the table, “Can I have one, please?” Melelani asked a little too eagerly.
Manaia shushed her and reminded her youngest sister to use her indoor voice while Maui simultaneously carefully made his way toward the kitchen. He kept his steps soft and slow as if he were approaching a ticking time bomb, and knowing what today was, he was sure that Moana was an emotional ticking time bomb on the inside. He stopped the second he saw her shoulders tense up.
“I can hear you, Maui,” Moana said with her back to him as she kept an eye on the last batch of panikeke cooking in the hot oil. He heard the sharp edge in her tone, but he kept approaching till he stood right behind her, ready to comfort her. “Don’t.” Moana said in a warning tone, and he immediately got the message and backed off.
He watched from behind as she lifted her hand toward her face, presumably to pinch the bridge of her nose, “Moana, I miss them too––”
She cut him off, “Maui, I don’t want to talk about it.” Before picking up the plate with the first batches of panikeke and bringing the plate over to the dining table, “Manaia go wake your brothers and sisters, please.”
Hearing the tone in her mother’s voice, Manaia knew it was a code word for: Your father and I need to talk alone.
Manaia quickly lifted Melelani out of her booster seat and carried her back upstairs, leaving their parents alone.
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Manaia balanced Melelani against her hip as she quickly slipped into the bedroom she shared with her sisters and saw Hinatea standing there, still dressed in her tank top and sweatpants, with her arms crossed to further emphasize her annoyance at being woken up. “Do I even want to know?” Hinatea questioned grumpily.
“Mom and Dad are having…” Manaia paused, remembering that Melelani was still against her hip, so she quickly put their youngest sister down, knelt to her level, and told her, “Mele, how about you pick your favorite dress for church?” Before sending her on her way. Once, their youngest sister headed off to the drawers. Manaia moved closer to her sister, placed her hand to the side of her mouth, and whispered, “A discussion.”
Hinatea was not amused and said while maintaining her stance, “Y’know, I don’t think an occupied bedroom isn’t the right place for you to be whispering this sort of thing.”
Manaia let out an exasperated sigh before she turned to look over her shoulder, making sure that Melelani wasn’t listening before she continued, “It seemed serious,”
Hinatea rolled her eyes as she turned around and took steps before she leaned against, “How’s any of that our business?” Her eyes caught a glimpse of a picture frame perched up on the writing desk, and her attention deviated to that rather than whatever stupid worries her twin was babbling on about at that moment.
Inside the frame was a printed group selfie Lelani had taken of the five of them in their beachwear on Ho’okipa Beach Park. She, Tala, and Manaia stood in the middle row while Lelani stood front and center, with a then two-year-old Melelani nestled against her hip. The four of them had bright, happy smiles on their faces.
Hinatea rolled her eyes, “Ugh…” She reached for the top of the frame, twirled the picture around, and pressed it down so it stayed out of her sight.
“Why did you do that?” Manaia asked, and the question secretly took Hinatea by surprise.
Hinatea played coy, “Do what?”
“Put the photo down,” Manaia stated with a hint of impatience as she went over, put it up again, and was confused as to why the front of the frame was facing the back. She twirled the picture around, and Hinatea pushed it down, laying it flat on the table. Manaia gave her sister a confused look and put the picture back up again.
Hinatea pushed it down again.
Manaia put it back up, this time giving her sister an icy stare, daring her to push it down again.
Hinatea smirked before she practically slammed the picture frame flat on the desk with such force that… CRACK!
A record scratch sounded in Hinatea’s mind as she stood there with a stupefied look on her face while her brain went into computer processing mode. All the while, her twin sister stood there looking angry and hurt as she went to pick up the picture frame. She prayed that somehow it wasn’t broken, but the second she picked up the frame, she knew no amount of prayers was going to fix the three large cracks that stretched their ugly claws to the edges.
“What is wrong with you?” Manaia snapped, still holding the damaged frame with both hands. She pulled out the photo and put the damaged frame back on the table.
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Moana sat down in her usual seat and pressed her hand to her forehead as she heard Maui’s footsteps approaching the table as he sat down on the chair beside her. The few minutes of silence between them was unbearably heavy. Maui shifted his gaze toward Moana and the table for a few seconds before he finally decided to look at her. His heart skipped a beat, seeing how much she’d aged this past year. The lines that etched the corners of her eyes and cheeks were more defined; the tiny streaks of grey hair that once remained invisible became visible against her long, still mostly dark, curly-wavy hair, but that wasn’t what alarmed him.
Finally, she broke the silence when she finally admitted to him as she kept her eyes tightly shut while slowly shaking her head, “I don’t know if I can do this anymore, Maui.” She took a deep, shakily, and semi-sob-filled breath before she faced her husband with tears filling her eyes, “Every time I look at you, I just…” She took a deep breath and closed her eyes again as the tears, “I’m still angry.” She took another sharp breath, “I wish I hadn’t let you talk me into letting Te Ara drive Lani to the airport that night…”
“Hey, nobody could’ve seen that––”
Moana cut him off with a sense of finality in her voice, “That’s not going to bring them back. Nothing you can say, nothing you can do will bring them back…”
Maui had an idea of where she would steer this conversation, so after another minute of uncomfortable silence, he beat her to it and asked the dreaded question, “So… you want a divorce?”