The Uneventful Life of Harvey Mackler

c h a p t e r | t w e n t y - f o u r

"Hmm," Mom sounds, eyes narrowing ever so slightly. We watch as Hayden tosses a backpack at Hollis, forcing him to drop his video game and help out. This prompts Mom to revert her attention back to Hunter and me. "You kids should have more faith in your brother," she says dismissively, giving Hunter a light pat on the back. "I'm sure a part of him genuinely wanted to visit your cousins."

Mom ignores our flat looks of disbelief, urging us to instead hurry up on getting our things inside so we can go in to relax.

Arguing with Mom is a lost cause, and it's likely she's already well aware of the situation with Hollis, so I don't bother pressing further.

Taking the duffel bag from Hunter, I stroll across the driveway to the front door, where Noelani lingers, having managed to once again evade her parents, with her arms crossed in front of her and her back leaned against a pillar by the entrance.

I bite back a grimace as we make eye contact.

"Long time no see, cousin," Noelani says, flicking her thick, dark hair behind her shoulders.

"Ditto," is all I have energy to reply. It's too early in the day to deal with Noelani's brand of annoying.

Internalising a groan, I drag my eyes up to take in the house. Mom is right. It is a nice house. A lot nicer than their old one — and probably twice its size too (which I personally find a little pointless considering there's only four of them). It has a modern, pseudo-mansion beach house vibe to it, minus the existence of an actual beach in the vicinity.

Shaking my head, I reproach myself for trying to find flaws in my cousins' perfectly good house. I readjust the duffel back slung over my shoulder before pushing forward, past Noelani and into the house.

The next two days are bound to be interesting.

><{{{(•>

"Hayden and Harvey made this poi?" Aunt Kamila asks my mom, surprised as she samples a bit of the purple-grey paste. "They did well. It's starting to ferment nicely." Aunt Kamila dips two fingers into the container again to have another taste of the poi. "I think this would go well with the pork laulau. What do you think, Noe?"

"With the laulau?" Noelani cuts across the kitchen to taste a bit of the poi at her mother's request. She nods in agreement. "I guess, yeah. It'll be good. But Mom, remember you said you wanted us to still make some shoyu chicken."

"The shoyu chicken!" Aunt Kamila says. "I'd almost forgotten — thank you for reminding me, Noe. And the salads too, we should prep those tonight."

Uncle Manuel marrying the three-quarters Hawaiian Aunt Kamila meant Noelani and Kaui are a bit more comfortable than we are in claiming their Hawaiian heritage. It usually doesn't bother me much, except in these sort of situations where Aunt Kamila is spouting words that I only hear about three times a year. 

"Thank you for doing all this, Kamila," Mom says. "I didn't expect you to plan a whole luau for Hollis's birthday."

"It's no problem at all," Aunt Kamila insists. "Don't mention it."

"But won't this be too much? Especially with all the other plans for tomorrow?" Mom adds, eyeing the slowly accumulating spread of pre-prepped Hawaiian side dishes on the kitchen counters.