Thick, fluffy clouds roll across a blue sky, and the palm trees along the avenue point upward, eager to remind everyone that they don’t belong downtown. They’re free, wild.

Even in the middle of the city, Oahu's beauty is on full display.

“Twenty-seven. Twenty-eight…” Frank huffs from behind me.

I turn from the window of our sixth floor apartment and look at him. His muscles strain as he bench-presses another set.

“Quit staring at me,” he grunts.

“You wish,” I bark with a laugh as I cross the living room and grab my keys from the hook.

Frank sits up from the bench, wiping sweat from his forehead with his shirt. His dark hair is sticking up everywhere.

“Where you headed?”

“Just for a walk.”

We moved into our apartment a couple weeks ago, but I’m finding it hard to adjust. Living in a high-rise just isn’t me. Right now, though, it’s affordable.

One day soon, after I get my motorcycle repair shop up and going, I’m going to buy a house outside the city. It’ll be surrounded by trees, with a long, winding driveway going up a hill. The kind of place people will pass by without a second thought.

I’ll sit up there, all alone—just me, my bikes, nature, and the occasional girl.

The perfect life.

“We’re out of protein powder.” Frank lays back down and starts pumping iron again.

“Didn’t you just get some?”

“That shit is good.”

“Yeah, okay. If I walk by a grocery store, I’ll pick some up.”

With a wave that he probably doesn’t see, I’m out the door, opting to take the stairs rather than the elevator. At the bottom floor, I jog back up a floor and then down again, just for good measure.

I’ve joined the gym on the corner, but only used it a few times. Like everything else in life right now, it feels weird.

One month out of the military, and I’m still not acclimated to civilian life. Shit, I don’t know if I’ll ever be.

The afternoon is perfect and balmy, and I swing my keys around my finger as I walk down the street. Everyone who passes either talks on the phone or wears a scowl. That’s downtown living for you, I guess.

At a corner, my phone buzzes in my pocket.

“Hey, Mom.”

“Hey, honey. You’re coming to dinner tonight, right?”

Shit. I forgot all about that.

“Yeah. Of course. Six, right?”

“Come earlier if you can. Now is fine.”

A smile stretches my mouth. No one is happier to have me back home than my mother.

“I can walk over there now.”

“That’s a long walk.” Her voice is worried.

“It’s only about an hour or two. I need to stretch my legs, anyway.”

Out of nowhere, a swarm of pedestrians collects on the corner, waiting for the light to change. I step to the side, and as I do, a bright purple flier on the post catches my eye.

Flower Power Gallery’s Spring Show, Featuring Resident Artist Violet Powers.

My stomach drops all the way to Asia, and I barely register when my mom starts talking again.

“I’m making chicken Parmesan. You still like that, right? Dad does, but I can whip up something else for you… Sean?”

I work my tongue around the cotton balls filling my mouth.

“Uh, yeah… That…that sounds good. I’ll see you in a little bit. Bye.”

I hang up before she can answer, and reach out to finger the edge of the flier, feeling as if touching it somehow brings me closer to Violet.

Eleven years. That’s how long it’s been.

We wrote each other some after I left for the service and talked on the phone a few times as well. But though I came home to visit on numerous occasions, we never met up. The first time I had leave, Violet was in California visiting cousins. The second time, I’d only had a weekend, and there was my grandpa’s funeral to go to.

After that, too much time had gone by. A couple years, maybe. The emails and letters had gotten further and further apart. When everyone started getting on social media, Violet was one of the few who stayed off.

Without meaning to, a giant chasm grew between us. From then on, whenever I was in Honolulu, I thought of her. Once or twice, I pulled her number up on my phone and thought of her, always wanting to call…but never finding the right moment to do so.

I knew she had a gallery. Though Violet and I had grown apart over the years, our mothers had only become closer. So, I heard the basics about her life through the grapevine. It sounded like she’d done really well for herself.

I always knew she would.

My chest squeezes tight as I remember the last time I saw her. Prom night. She’d never looked more gorgeous. Had she gotten even better looking over the years?

Time to find out for myself.

Taking a picture of the flier with my phone, I start walking again. Violet’s event is tomorrow night. Though the idea of seeing her after all this time has me feeling queasy, I know I have to do it. I’ll hate myself for the rest of my life if I don’t.

The walk to my parents’ one-story house is over in record time. They’re right on the edge of the city, in a neighborhood where the houses are packed together like sardines. Still, there’s a backyard with a tall fence and good climbing trees, and a front yard that, with the flowers and trees covering it, is my dad’s pride and joy. All in all, the home was a great one to grow up in.

My mom is on me the second I step through the kitchen door.

“There you are! I’ve been calling.”

“What for?”

I must have been so engrossed in thoughts about Violet that I didn’t even feel my phone buzzing.

“I wanted you to invite Frank over.”

“He’s probably busy flexing in the mirror.”

I snatch a carrot stick from the veggie spread on the counter.

“That’s not a nice thing to say. Is that how you boys treated each other in the army?”

“Worse.”

“Well, go have a seat. Dad’s in there already. We’re eating early tonight.”

“What’s the occasion?”

I grab the large baking dish full of chicken so she doesn’t have to.

“I have book club in an hour.”

Book club.

“Didn’t you tell me Caroline Powers is in that?”

With the salad, Mom leads the way into the dining room.

“Mm-hmm. Set that down on the pot holders, honey.”

I comply, giving Dad a nod.

“I saw that Violet has an art gallery now.”

“Oh, she does.” Mom glows and starts serving me. Not that she has to. I’m a big boy now, but it’s nice to have her extra attention.

Dad’s watching me from across the table, an odd look on his face.

“What?” I ask.

“You talk to Violet?”

“Not really.”

“Hm.” He purses his lips and nods. That’s my old man. Never a word wasted.

Just as I’m picking up my fork, there’s a knock on the front door.

“Expecting anyone?” I ask.

“Come in,” Mom calls.

The front door flies open and Frank sails in, his hair damp from a shower.

“What are you doing here?” I snap.

“Sean,” Mom hisses. “Don’t be rude. Since you didn’t answer my call, I had to text Frank myself.”

The fact that my parents have known Frank a total of two weeks and already have his number should be surprising, but it’s not. They love him, seeing him as some kind of surrogate kid. I get why. They’d wanted to have more after me, but for various reasons it just never happened.

And since Frank is a long way from his hometown of Oakland, I know he’s only too happy to fulfill the role they’re placing on him.

“Frank.” Dad stands up to shake his hand.

“I’ll get you a plate,” I say.

When I return to the table, Mom and Dad are laughing about something Frank just said.

“Here.” I drop the plate in front of him.

Mom’s already waiting, hand poised in the air with a heavy ladle of chicken.

“How’s the job search going, Frank?” Dad asks.

“I found one,” he mumbles around a mouthful of food. “A full-time position in a gun shop.”

They keep talking, going over Frank’s love of firearms and his future plans in the military. Unlike me, he hasn’t sworn it off for good, and might very well go back in. Everything he’s telling my parents I’ve already heard, so I let my mind wander as I cut my chicken into smaller and smaller pieces.

Does Violet look different? Is the long, wavy blond hair still there? The full, pink lips?

I swallow hard, my hands stilling. I’d wanted to kiss her so badly prom night, but I’d held back. The timing just hadn’t been right. We’d been friends for years, and I was about to leave the island.

A kiss would have only teased us both.

So, I moved on. Went out with other girls. Had plenty of flings. Never a relationship.

But I never stopped thinking about Violet.

“What are you doing this week?” Mom is asking Frank.

“I have a date tomorrow night.”

Both of my parents make approving noises while I do my best to hide a smirk. A date means something different to Frank than it does to my parents. They probably think he’s out there looking for a wife, someone to love and pop out some kids with. I know the truth. Frank seeks out solely fun. For him, once a woman becomes anything other than that, they aren’t worth the trouble.

As if reading my mind, Frank gives me a wink.

“You doing anything tomorrow?” he asks.

I think about Violet’s art show. For some reason, I don’t want to tell anyone about it.

“Not really.”

“Let’s hit up the Boardroom when I’m done,” he says, referring to the bar that became our new regular hangout about a week ago.

“What about your date?” Mom asks.

“I mean after I drop her at home.” Frank smiles sweetly. ‘After I drop her at home’ means ‘After I fuck her and make her leave.’

If my parents only knew what we really got up to.

“Ah.” Mom smiles, then glances at the clock. “Boys, I’m sorry to run, but I need to get to book club. Jerry, don’t forget to use that new detergent in the dish washer. The other one doesn’t work as well.”

Dad grunts a response, and she gives him a quick peck before leaving the house.

The second the front door closes, Dad looks at Frank.

“Don’t give the girl tomorrow any empty promises.”

Frank and I exchange a glance, but Dad’s not looking for a response. He’s already taking his plate to the kitchen.

“You’re not doing anything at all tomorrow?” Frank mumbles as he shovels more food down his gullet.

I hesitate. “No.”

“Man, you really need to get out there. Find some action. It’s been like a week.”

“Yeah, you’re right. Beer?”

He nods, and I jump up to retrieve them from the garage. It’s a good excuse for stealing a minute away from my buddy.

Usually, I tell Frank everything. He knows about every single girl I’ve screwed or pursued since we met eleven years ago. But something is different with Violet. I want to do the thing I never got a chance to: keep her all to myself.