The air is cool with the sweet snap of heat just on the edges of the breeze, and the humidity and moisture that Kona has missed living up north. He didn’t realize how much he’d missed home; the bipolar weather, the rich, decadent scents that hang on the breeze and the easy laughter of the folks around them all make him feel like returning to the place where it all began is the right decision. California had been great. Colorado had been freezing, but New Orleans wraps him up in its heavy arms and reminds him that he hadn’t wanted to leave in the first place.
“Oh look, Keiki kane, they’ve got the hydrangeas in.” He means to follow his mother, make good on those promises of buying her whatever she wants, but more attention comes his way and two boys stop him, thrusting a chewed up pencil and slip of bare paper into his hands and his mother nods, walks ahead to pick out a bundle of flowers.
“What’s your name, buddy?” Kona asks the smallest boy, smiling at the missing teeth on the top row of his mouth and the snotty nose that needs a wipe.
“Matty,” the boy says, running his sleeve across his face.
“You like football, Matty?”
“I like you, Mr. Hale. Is it true you’re gonna play for us? You coming back home?”
He pauses while several women drift nearer, holds an arm over Matty’s shoulder while phones and cameras snap pictures, then he returns the gnarled pencil and paper back to the boy. “You never know, man. I just might.”
Kona signs several more autographs and moves away from the crowd, tossing a wave to Matty and his friend and he smiles at the widening of the crowd, at the occasional nods he gets here and there.
Ten tables ahead, Kona’s mother is speaking animatedly to a vendor, likely haggling over price and Kona rolls his eyes, wanders toward a kiosk of Mardi Gras masks, thinking idly that his manager’s twelve year-old would like one, when a glimpse back at his mother catches the sight of long hair waving down a slender back.
The woman is petite with a tiny waist and luscious, wide hips that has Kona biting his bottom lip. Simone, his girlfriend of two years, had left him, moved back to California the month before and Kona has been busy with the options his managers keep feeding his way. He hasn’t had time to put much effort in dates or women. But the woman not fifty feet from him reminds Kona just how long that month has been.
There is something there; something in the way the woman shakes her head, the way she moves her hands when she speaks to her friend standing at her side, that reminds Kona of the past; of the things he left behind all those years ago. He doesn’t know why those gestures, that silhouette gives him pause or what about the woman has his hands shaking, but he steps closer, needing a clearer look, needing to answer the question he hasn’t asked himself. Her profile is strong, it always had been and when she turns, looks over her shoulder, Kona stops wondering, stops guessing about things that are familiar and forgets how to breathe.
It has to be the light in the Market. The low yellow bulbs above him, the graying skies or his wild imagination. That can’t be Keira. He had just read about her mother’s death which sent him straight back to memory lane, recollecting each moment of their past and holding those minutes close to his chest.
Something catches her notice, that has her smiling broadly, that has her moving her chin as she waits for a greeting and Kona hangs back, steps behind the kiosk and watches Keira and Leann laughing at whoever approaches.
It is her. She is just feet from him after nearly two decades. Instinctively, he touches his chest, just over his heart. It’s where his tattoo is… the one he got for her. They’d been inked together and even though they’d left things badly and years and distance had separated them, he’d never been able to remove the tattoo. She’s always been his beloved.
Sixteen years later and she looks the same. She is still elegant, radiant; her legs strong, toned, her waist has expanded but Kona is certain he could fit his fingers around it easily. God, she is still so beautiful; large, blue doe eyes, smooth, lineless skin. Time had taken away the soft curves from her hips, the slight bulges that seemed delicious to him as a twenty-year-old are enhanced, heighten with her growth.
All those years searching. All the time and effort wasted on tracking her down and she stands feet from him; a ghost coming back to capture his clear thought.
He’d looked for her. A year after he returned to CPU when his anger had vanished; when his grief stung him less, but no one would tell him where Keira had gone. Leann wouldn’t even look at him then; her mother had slammed the door in his face and after a while, Kona reminded himself that he had done that damage to himself. After a while, he stopped searching every crowd, stopped hoping fate would have them meeting again.