Wintergreen mostly, with a little chalky sulfur. That’s what he tasted like. Kools. That blue short pack. Never the regular tobacco taste. Maybe that’s why I could handle it as the non-smoker. His teeth were still an off-white - still pretty in that brimming big smile regardless of the few packs a week. Almost a foot above me. I’ll never forget how thick the width between of his shoulders were, even 18 years later. The linebacker body spoke for itself, could not miss the guy in a crowd. The Polynesian, Caucasian and Latina mix grew a mane thick with chocolate brown waves pulled into a low bun. Definitely not what anyone expected for me.

Pretty, sweet, simply-dressed, innocent good-girl is what they described me as all through my youth and riding in that lifted Toyota boy-toy with the local alpha was not what my parents thought I’d take a risk for when they sent me to Kailua in 2004. I actually had no interest whatsoever in dating nor friendships those first few months. I didn’t care who anyone was. I missed home. I missed my younger siblings, sophistication. I missed art shows and fine dining, the Haiku 2-acre-yard, the horses next door, and people who read Homer and Socrates and appreciated it. I missed the boyfriend back home whom I never got to hug goodbye- I still kept the promise ring on my finger, snuck phone calls when I could. I didn’t recognize this half Samoan, tattooed, confident guy from my cousin’s graduation where the whole school stood up and screamed for him walking towards his diploma. I didn’t remember him stripping off his gown on stage to reveal a malo to the crowd, either - he had to jump my memory me months later after his ego was a little shot that I was so unimpressed by his local childhood fame.

“I can’t believe how honest you are,” he told me in the first conversation we had on the road a few blocks from Kalaheo High. “Most people never just say it point blank, especially a good-looking female,” he charmed, Tupac playing from the car-stereo CD-player. I was so cold to his efforts. “Sorry if it offends you,” I said still keeping my distance from his open-door offer for a ride home. “I never heard of you nor have seen you before and no, I’m probably not going to party tonight.”

Students driving old stick shifts, low-rider pick ups and two-door asian-made second-hand vehicles screeched past us showing off, whistling at me, hooting him on - the classic young boy hollar. My 18-year-old cousin was “late” to get me and the only guy “allowed” to take his 16-year-old cousin home was his former classmate, then helping me into the passenger seat, Noa.

I realize its risky saying it all like this. But some relationships are so honest and real that there’s nothing to hide or be ashamed about. This was one of those. Two and half years beginning the roller coster of my life, he stayed, my friend, my confidante and the stable in what my therapist would deem a very unusually challenging life. Young yes, but some souls are born old, and old souls just know each other somehow.

He was persistent. Patient. Made a deal with my aunt to do her dishes, take the trash out, help clean and drive me to school if it meant he got to stay late into the night at my cousins house, my legally appointed guardianship home. He sang oldies while he challenged my cousin to sparring matches, won poker pretty regularly, fixed the cars after body surfing Mocks, read the magazines left around, whistled when he cleaned.

I think it was a whole three weeks of him sleeping on the couch before I even let him have a chance alone with me. This is pre-smart phones mind you - when the entertainment was limited and house phones were the normal way to schedule a visit. There was no way for him to have contacted me otherwise, not with the extreme strict rules of no-male connections allowed for me, whatsoever. Yet, somehow he charmed his way through the cracks of the family plan for my nearly-arranged marriage. After seeing him consistently paying dues days-on-end without ever making a immature comment or glance to peep-Tom at me, I finally broke and planted myself in pajamas, cross legged, onto the living floor after everyone was asleep. “Ok, so you obviously want to know me,” my face didn’t flinch.

He smiled in relief, sat up from his sprawled out, half asleep position on the couch and said, “Yes, ma’am. Are you ready? I’ll wait.”

*Please note that this read is meant to be entertaining, not necessarily factual