Enjoy first class, bitches
On the eleven-hour flight, we had more than enough time to solidify our story about how we met, got engaged, and ultimately eloped. And her long nap during the last part of the flight gave me ample opportunity to admire her. Her fair lashes fluttering, mouth ajar. Her beautiful chest rising and falling in a meditative rhythm.
With the six-hour time difference, it’s eight p.m. in Honolulu when we land, but I’m wiped. Jet lag is the absolute worst; our sleep is going to be all sorts of fucked up tonight.
Valerie, my mom’s oldest friend, picked us up from the airport and gives us a quick tour of the apartment above her garage, where we’ll be staying for the next couple of weeks.
At the top of the landing, we abandon our suitcases so Val can show us around. On the covered lanai off the main living space, the ocean is visible, even in the dark. Behind the living room is a small kitchen with a table and four chairs off to the side. Beyond that is a bedroom and en suite bathroom with a shower and separate soaking tub.
“I’m sure you two are exhausted,” Val says. “I’ll leave you to it. I’m not working tomorrow, so when you’re up and around, let me know, and I’ll take you over to the car rental place.”
“Thanks, Val.”
“I’m just so glad to have you back. And happy to meet your wife.” She winks.
After she lets herself out, I bring our luggage to the bedroom.
“One bed, huh?” Millie states when I find her standing in the middle of the space.
“Yup.”
She angles to one side and peers through the doorway. “You’re not gonna offer to sleep on the sofa?”
“Nope.” I make a point to pop thepthis time. “This isn’t one of those romance books Joey loves so much. I’m not going back and forth with you on this. We’re adults, and I’m far too old—and big—to sleep on the sofa. But if you’d feel more comfortable out there, be my guest.”
“Fine.” She leaves the room and returns a few seconds later, her arms loaded with throw pillows.
“What are you doing?”
With a grunt, she heaves them onto the bed. “They’re for the pillow wall.”
“What the fuck is a pillow wall?”
“A barrier. So don’t try anything funny.”
Amusement washes over me. “Honey, if I tried anything with you, you’d be too busy moaning to think it was funny.”
Lowering her head, she clears her throat and busies herself with her suitcase. “We should probably force ourselves to stay up a bit, yeah? It’ll help us adjust to the time zone.”
“You’re right.” Following suit, I unpack my toiletries and stash them in the bathroom.
“Are you hungry?” I ask once we’ve unpacked and have wandered out to the kitchen.
“Not really.” But she opens the fridge anyway and pulls out a container. “Look. Poke bowls.”
I open the plastic lid and am instantly hit with the tangy aroma of ginger and green onions. The poke bowls in Manhattan are nothing like the kind here in Hawaii. “Val must have gone shopping. That was nice of her.”
Millie opens drawers and cabinets, revealing a fully stocked kitchen. Val picked up fresh fruit and vegetables, as well as milk, juice, and bread. As I peruse the snacks, I spot a variety of nuts—cashews included—so I toss those out immediately. We donotneed a visit to the hospital.
After we’ve yawned at least a dozen times each, I suggest we call it a night.
“Check out the cuck chair,” Millie says as we shuffle around the bedroom.
I nearly choke at the words coming out of her mouth. “Come again?”
She points to the upholstered chair in the corner of the room. “You know, the chair in por?—”
“I know what a cuck chair is.”
