“When you guys mentioned a marketplace, I pictured a couple aisles of produce and meat, maybe even one or two of household supplies, but nothing like this,” I admitted as we slipped into a bustling building filled with damn near everything imaginable.
“Yes, it’s really grown to become the heart of the village over the past few years,” Nyx explained. “The idea was to keep chains out while ensuring people didn’t have to run all over the island to find what they truly needed. The number of applications tripled after the expansion was completed. No offense, but I hope it wasn’t your ex-employer who handled that job with the scrutiny that will now be on all their projects. We don’t need this place toshut down while they call in building inspectors. This would be a bad time of year to be temporarily out of business.”
“We, as in the community, or we as in you, have a personal stake in seeing the market remain open?” I asked.
“My stall is in the far back over there,” Nyx explained, pointing, not that I could see anything past all the people milling about.
“Guess we really have a ton we need to learn about one another,” I replied. “When you said you were a mechanic, I assumed you meant at an auto shop.”
“While I enjoy tinkering with cars, being able to work on smaller items has always held more appeal for me.”
“How’d you get started with that?” I asked while we shopped.
At the beach, we’d come up with a game plan after decimating the last of the leftovers that had been stocked in the fridge after the fiesta. The fact that there had been so much in there when the only container we’d brought home was the lumpia I’d won, suggested that at least one family member had a key. I wondered if we’d have to worry about someone popping in on us at inopportune moments. My mom had been infamous for that after my siblings and I moved out. Our sibling chat group was constantly filled with stories about the latest mistimed visit. So much so that my brother Noa has written prose to immortalize them.
“As a kid,” he explained. “My dad threw an old radio in the trash. He called it a relic and said it was time to let it go, but I saw the look on his face and fished it out. I spent weeks fiddling with it and looking up tutorials online only to discover that the wiring process wasn’t much different from the lamp I’d made in shop class. The look on my old man’s face when I gave it back to him, fully functioning, was filled with the same kind of pride as when I scored a goal in soccer. After that, he couldn’t stop bragging,and that old radio was back sitting on the milk crate between him and Mr. Pepsi when they tended the grill.”
“My dad had a radio like that,” I said. “When it wasn’t tuned to classic rock, there was a football game on it. Sometimes basketball, but mostly football games. Especially the college games. He fancied himself to be an armchair scout and loved to debate with his friends about the NFL draft and who he felt the sports broadcasters were sleeping on when it came to performance and value to potential teams. He’d rattle off a bunch of stats; they all would. They were big numbers guys, but then they were all part of the Naval Corps of Engineers, where precision meant everything.”
“Did that add to your frustration when you were struggling with math since he was so good at it?” Nyx asked.
“More like added to my desperation to not show that I was struggling,” I admitted. “Enough that I made a few cheat sheets I wasn’t proud of, just so I could pass tests and not fail the class. Those Cs I barely eked out always earned looks of disapproval from him when report cards came in. He did offer to help, but I could never make myself admit to needing any. I always sort of let him think my grades were because I was spending too much time on the beach with my friends and promised to knuckle down and spend more time studying.”
“Sounds like you still haven’t broken that habit.”
“It’s part of my five-year plan,” I replied, winking at him.
If a little joking would get him to drop the serious tone he’d suddenly slipped into, I’d crack wise for the rest of the afternoon. Something tantalizingly savory caught my attention, and I followed my nose to a booth with a mini buffet and a tall stack of Styrofoam containers waiting to be filled.
“Dinner?” I suggested when he caught up to me.
“Good call.”
We spent several minutes trying to pick what we wanted before deciding to just get a bit of everything so there would still be plenty to choose from when Lani got home.
“So, what else do you fix besides radios?” I asked as we continued our way through the market.
I had my heart set on amassing a beautiful pile of fruit before we finished here, and so far, all I had was a watermelon and three pineapples. Fortunately, Nyx kept a collapsible wagon in the back of the Jeep, which meant we didn’t have to carry anything and had plenty of room for whatever we found. It was a handy thing to have when rolling past booths filled with everything from tea and coffee beans to little bobblehead dolls that fit on the dashboard.
“Anything and everything,” he replied. “If it’s got a motor in it or working parts, we fix it. Two of Aunty Ina’s sons are manning the stall today. We own the business together. Not only do people bring things in to have them fixed, but sometimes they donate their old models. We make sure they’re functioning properly, then sell them at thrift store prices, but with a one-year warranty. It keeps things out of landfills and helps those who can’t afford to buy them new.”
“That’s really cool,” I replied. “If the elders here are anything like the ones in California, they are still clinging to their old, metal vacuums while complaining about how hard it is to push them.”
“Yup, sounds about right.”
“Ohh, kiwis!” I said, slipping around and past a few people to retrieve my favorite fruit.
When we departed the stall, I had eight fat ones in a mesh sack and was happily whistling a tune.
“You really have a thing for kiwi, don’t you? He asked, catching my hand before I could skip too far away from him.
“What gave it away?” I asked, blowing out a breath to help rein in my enthusiasm.
“If you don’t mind, I think I’m just going to hang on to you,” he replied. “It’s easy to get lost in the crowd here, and I’m enjoying the chance to get to know my mate.”
“I don’t mind.”
There were stalls filled with fish and others with candy and delicious-looking treats. We stopped at one filled with tank tops and a 3 for $10 sale going on.
