Magic Came and Went
The Rainbow Warriors, Hawaii's only college football program, fit the mold of your typical middle-of-the-pack FBS team to a tee.
Island high schoolers who never made it to the mainland. Transfers who'd been squeezed out of mainland rosters. And players clinging to a second chance — or a last one. That's what fills out the roster.
Most of the guys who choose Hawaii come from warm places like the American South, California, or Florida, with a scattering of players from other regions mixed in.
And then there's one more source.
A place called American Samoa.
A lot of kids come from there, too.
“Sam!”
On Hawaii's football team right now were guys who'd played alongside me back in high school.
Defensive back Nalu Emerson. Defensive lineman Samson Silatia. And offensive lineman Micah Soliai-Howlett.
I'd arranged to meet the three of them for lunch today, so I'd driven over to the university first to pick Samson up.
This was Grandpa's car, for the record.
“Well, if it isn't the superstar.”
“You're already starting with that? From the second we reunite?”
“Kekeke. Anyway — man, it's really been a while.”
“Yeah.”
After we embraced, I noticed the big plastic bag Samson had set down.
My eyes drifted toward it on their own.
“...Yeah, well. That's how it goes.”
“Sorry to hear it.”
“That's all I'll say about it. Mind loading this up for me?”
“Of course.”
Samson went back for the bag, hefted it onto his shoulder, and slid it into the SUV's trunk.
Thud.
That fairly weighty load was everything he'd kept stored in his locker.
Dismissed.
Back in early January, Hawaii had told Samson they wouldn't be extending his scholarship, citing poor grades and underwhelming performance. He'd spent a while trying to transfer, but no team would take him.
So in the end, Samson decided to quit football.
For now, he was planning to head home.
I intended to drop him off in Kane'ohe, where his family lived, after lunch.
The mood could have easily sunk, but I kept tossing out jokes, and luckily Samson caught every one of them.
Before long, we were right back to how we'd been in high school.
Right now the car was parked in the lot where Nalu and Micah worked their part-time jobs, and we were talking while we waited for them.
“Neither of us knows how much longer we'll even be here.”
“...Yeah.”
Guys who go to Hawaii usually spend two or three years there, then aim to transfer to a bigger program. The picture is: another two or three years at that school, then take a shot at the NFL Draft. In reality, the ones who actually pull it off number two or three at most in an entire decade.
Nalu, who'd been Kahuku's safety, had received offers during the 2018 recruiting cycle from Cal, Stanford, USC, UNLV, and Notre Dame, among others.
But every single one was a walk-on offer, so Nalu chose Hawaii, the one school that offered him a scholarship.
His belief was that if he worked hard here for a couple of years, he'd make the teams that only offered walk-on spots regret it.
Reality, however, was cold.
Between his redshirt year in 2019 and his true freshman season in 2020, Nalu appeared in exactly two games for three minutes and forty-seven seconds.
His scholarship went from fully covered to half-covered, and Micah's situation was exactly the same.
Which is why they were working part-time jobs now.
They had to earn their own tuition.
“We're really proud of you, Moi.”
“...”
“We got to play with you, after all.”
“Man, that's some depressing stuff, isn't it?”
“Haha. You said it—”
I understand this reality better than anyone, but that doesn't make it easy to watch it happen to my friends.
Micah especially. When he graduated, he was rated a 4-Star Prospect, with 247Sports even calling him potential NFL talent.
And yet he barely got any offers out of high school, and the ones he did get — Nevada and Arizona State — were a tier below what he'd hoped for.
In the end, the recruiters were right.
I was wrong.
I genuinely believed Micah would be great.
This is what makes football so hard.
Failure is always lurking nearby.
“You heard anything about the Huamatu guys?”
“Eh, roughly.”
Sioele, who'd used the family's pull to transfer to Hawaii, still had his scholarship covered, but he hadn't seen a single snap.
After his failure on the mainland, his head had completely come apart. A body that was once so nimble he'd played middle linebacker now carried so much weight I genuinely wondered if he'd have to convert to D-lineman.
As for Loto, I still talk to him regularly, so I know he's been working hard on his cooking prep here.
“He got thrown out of the house.”
“What? Loto did?”
“Yeah. That's what we heard.”
“Why?”
“Apparently they couldn't accept a profession like ‘cook.’”
“Insane. That actually happened?”
“You know how the Huamatu clan is.”
From what I know, the person currently leading the Huamatu family is the wife of my great-uncle.
Word is she's taken a family that was once loved by everyone for its warmth and kindness and run it straight into the ground.
She judges her own children and grandchildren solely by their profession and their income, and when Loto said he was giving up football and his studies to become a chef, she apparently told him to get out.
Unbelievable.
That damn old hag.
“Should I have called Loto too?”
“Nah, he's been slammed.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah, I did reach out, but he said it's hard to find time. Sounds like he landed a job at a decent restaurant. Hmm... should we go eat there?”
“Can we?”
“Why wouldn't we?”
Knock knock.
I'd just settled on Loto's restaurant as the destination when my friends finished their shift, came up, and tapped on the window.
I popped the door open right away, and they scrambled into the back seat.
“Well, if it isn't the man himself!”
“Yo, sign some autographs later. Five of 'em.”
“Excuse me? You ask for that the second you see my face?”
“There's a ton of your fans at our workplace. Figured I'd cash in on the connection.”
“Ugh, fine. You guys never listen to a word I say.”
“Where are we eating?”
“Seriously, not listening at all.”
“We're going to Loto's restaurant.”
“Hey! I'm standing right here, you know?”
Friends you've known since childhood are a strange breed.
The moment you're together, you're right back in the old days.
I shook my head, started the car, and headed for the restaurant in downtown Honolulu where Loto worked.
“By the way, Moi.”
“What?”
“Don't you need, like, a manager or something?”
“What? A manager?”
“Ohh! Yes! I'll do it!”
“Who said you could? I called dibs.”
“When?”
“Just now.”
“Screw you, Samson, you've never once done that. And why would I even need a manager? I already have an agency.”
“Ah — right. You do.”
“Poor guy.”
“You little punks.”
They stress me out, but I don't feel stressed.
They make me want to yell, but I'm not actually mad.
Once again, let me say it:
Friends from childhood are a truly strange breed.
June 4, 2021. Oahu, Hawaii. Kahuku.
Giovanni's Shrimp Truck.
Today Aunt Mel had a work event at the high school, so I drove her out to Kahuku myself.
Her schedule would take about two hours, so I decided to pass the time nearby.
How had I managed to forget about this place all this time?
I came all the way to Oahu and never came here.
“Moi!! My friend!!”
“Haha. Been doing well, sir?”
People who don't know any better assume the owner of this food truck is named Giovanni, but in reality it's Troy Nitsche.
Giovanni was his former business partner's nickname.
The funny part is that the man who carried that nickname was actually named John — a name with no connection to Giovanni whatsoever.
Years ago, the North Shore of Oahu gained rich marine resources through the success of the freshwater aquaculture industry, and shrimp farming underwent a revolutionary change in both productivity and quality as a result.
That's when John and Troy, under the direction of a famous Oahu matriarch named Connie Aragona, began selling shrimp out of an old bread truck.
That was the birth of Giovanni's Shrimp Truck.
Plenty of people have imitated them since.
But the original is still hard to beat.
“How do you want it? The usual?”
“No. It's been a while — I want to eat a lot.”
“Order whatever you like. It's free for you for life.”
“No, I couldn't.”
“Yes you could, and yes you will. You're a hero around here.”
Apparently the donations had something to do with it.
I could definitely feel their effect.
Everywhere I went on Oahu, people recognized me and came up to say “Thank you.” All I'd really done was protect the land where my grandparents would spend the rest of their lives.
For the people of Hawaii?
I'm not that good a person.
The truth is, even back when I wasn't behaving so healthily, I knew my behavior was taking a hit to the income and image I could otherwise be building. You know the type, right?
Someone who looks good on the outside.
Whether they're good all the way through, who can say.
I just play it smart.
Anyway.
“Then I'll gladly dig in.”
“Eat as much as you want.”
I packed up two kinds — the most basic version, made with nothing but olive oil, minced garlic, and lemon, and the shrimp marinated in lemon butter, cooked and dipped in the sauce — and headed out of Giovanni's.
People asked for autographs and photos, and I happily obliged.
“Moi!”
“?”
“We're all rooting for you! Come back soon!!”
“I will!!”
Waving back hard at the people waving from far off, I made my way toward the beach.
This road had been my favorite walking route back when I was at Kahuku High.
A little further down lay Kahuku Beach.
I sat down roughly on the sand and took out the food.
“Mmm. This is the stuff.”
The food was delicious, sure.
But honestly, it was this whole composition I loved.
Truth be told, Kahuku Beach is far from pretty. It's not the kind of place tourists would seek out.
The vegetation behind the sand strip gets a bit of maintenance but is aesthetically hopeless, and the waves are so rough and turbulent that they don't so much roll in as slam into the shore at random and shatter.
And that's exactly why I liked it here.
It felt like the old me.
Meaning —
The me from my past life.
A desolation you could never guess from the word “beach” alone — I think that's what made me fall for this place.
“That hit the spot.”
After cleanly polishing off thirty shrimp and four generous scoops of rice, I tucked the containers back into the bag.
Then I watched the ocean a while longer, brushed off my backside, and stood up.
Time to head back, I figured.
If I looped a bit farther out from the way I came, I could run into some of the church folk, too.
Whenever the sound of the waves broke for a moment, I could hear people laughing and chattering on the golf course a little ways off from the beach.
Crack!
I paused and turned my head to the right —
and a golf ball soared high into the air.
Vacationers?
Well, if so, good for them, having fun.
I picked up the pace and walked a while longer — and then I saw someone up ahead.
Standing in the shallow water.
Her feet dipped in up to the ankles.
It's not strange for people to be on a beach, so at first I paid it no mind, but somehow my eyes kept drifting back.
A woman.
Black hair, maybe?
Hm?
Asian?
As I drew gradually closer, her figure came into sharper focus.
A snow-white dress rippling in the wind.
The arms it bared were strikingly slender.
Before I knew it, my footsteps had stopped, and I was gazing at a woman whose name I didn't even know.
She was so absorbed in staring out at the far-off sea that she didn't even notice someone watching her from a decently close distance.
I looked for a moment at the place her gaze rested on.
Then I made up my mind and kicked off my flip-flops.
“What are you looking at so hard?”
“?!”
“If I startled you, I'm sorry.”
“Oh, no. You're fine.”
“You were staring so intently at that spot over there, I got curious what was out there. From where I was sitting, I couldn't see anything. So I thought I'd try looking from beside you — would you mind giving me permission for a moment?”
Up close, I could see her features clearly now.
Large eyes beneath a suitably dark brow.
Eyes so deep it felt like they might pull you in.
And her skin — impossibly fair.
“Pfft.”
“?”
The instant the woman burst out laughing,
the sound of the waves I hadn't been hearing came crashing back into my ears.
Having laughed a little more, she looked straight at me and said:
“Is that a spot that requires permission?”
“Well, technically, yeah. Oh, for the record—”
“?”
“I'm fully vaccinated. Both doses.”
“Pfft. You're a funny one.”
It felt like a good moment, all things considered, to introduce ourselves.
So I quickly stuck out my hand.
“I'm Dwayne Moi Stone.”
“Grace. Grace Allison.”
“Nice to meet you, Grace.”
“You too.”
Wow.
Her hand is really soft, too.
Wait — I didn't sweat on my hand, did I?
Because that would make for the worst first impression ever.
“You asked what I was looking at, didn't you?”
“Yes? Oh — yes.”
“Honestly? I don't really know.”
“You don't know?”
“No. It's my first time here today. My friends are playing golf back there. We're students. Stanford. We came for vacation, but I was a little tired, so I came out on my own.”
Hmm. A Stanford college student playing golf in Hawaii.
High odds she's a rich girl.
“But the moment I saw the ocean here, I couldn't take my eyes off it.”
“Why's that?”
“Hmm. I don't really know.”
“Mm — would you mind if I told you what I think?”
“Go right ahead.”
I told Grace why I loved this place.
Leaving out any nonsense about past lives or whatever — just that the unique roughness of this place, its wild, unpolished beauty that kept its distance from prettiness, somehow felt like a reflection of me.
At that, Grace turned her head.
And looked straight at me.
And I mean,
seriously intensely.
Wow. Uh.
Is my face getting hotter right now?
“You do know you're cute, right? That's why you're saying this?”
“You do know you're pretty, right?”
“Pff—! I did not expect that answer.”
Grace laughed cheerfully, said her insides felt refreshed, and mentioned that her feet were getting a bit cold so she should come out of the water.
The moment she turned around—
“!”
“Oof!”
She must have stepped wrong, because she wobbled.
My arms shot out on reflex.
And just like that, Grace ended up folded into my embrace.
We stared at each other's faces in mutual shock.
“...”
“...”
Shhaaaaa—
It felt uncanny.
As if the whole world held only the two of us.
It was only after the sound of the waves, clearer than it had been all day, washed over my ears two or three times that Grace finally said thank you.
I snapped back to my senses and
let go of the waist I'd been holding.
“Ahem. Looks like it's slippery. Careful where you step.”
“...I will.”
A little while later we were back on the sand, and I picked up Giovanni's bag where I'd left it beside my flip-flops.
“Well then—”
“Yes. It was nice meeting you today.”
Once we confirmed we were headed in different directions, I somehow reluctantly — my feet refusing to move — tore myself away.
But then.
“Hey—!”
“?”
“What do you do?!”
Normally, I would have answered without a doubt: I play football.
But right now, flustered as I was,
this is what came out of my mouth instead.
“I'm a college student! Just like you!”
“Where?!”
“Georgia!!”
“Nice school!! Have you ever thought about trying football?! The way you grabbed me back there! You could stand to be a little stronger?! Good Bye!”
The smile Grace left behind in that last moment
seeped deep into my chest.
What do I do.
Should I run over and grab her?
Ask for her number?
Just as I was ending that brief debate, turning around, and about to sprint after her, the phone in my pocket rang.
If it had been a text, I would have ignored it.
But it was a call, so I took it out.
Oh, come on—
At the most important moment.
“...”
Hannah.
The caller was none other than Hannah. I looked one more time in the direction Grace had disappeared, raked my hand roughly through my hair, and answered.
“Hello?”
— Hey~ Whatcha doing right now?
“Uh. Just, you know. A walk?”
Grace had vanished completely from sight by then, and I decided I'd just conclude that I'd briefly lost my mind.
For now.
— When I get to Hawaii, there's something I need to tell you.
“Something to tell me? What is it?”
— I can't say until then. Anyway, we absolutely need to make some time alone, just the two of us.
“I'll work on it.”
For the entire walk that call lasted,
I looked back over my shoulder again and again.
At that spot where Grace had stood, smiling.
June 10, 2021. Maui, Hawaii.
Wailea. The Wailea hotel restaurant.
Just as promised—
Hannah arrived in Hawaii with her friends on the 8th.
Beautiful girls beside a beautiful girl — every single one of her friends was a stunner.
What I hadn't known was that two guys were coming along too. Apparently they hadn't been part of the plan, but her friends had suddenly gotten boyfriends.
Not Hannah herself.
Her friends.
“This place is so romantic.”
“You did ask me to make some time for just the two of us.”
“I wasn't expecting anything this nice.”
“I'm a man full of these little surprises.”
“Haha. You're so cute.”
I had a pretty good idea what was coming.
She's going to ask me to date her, isn't she.
Probably when she'd called me before, she'd heard the news that her friends had started dating.
The puzzle fit, roughly.
She'd said she was going to a club with her friends around the 28th or 29th of May. That's when her friends had met guys, spent the night with them, and it seemed to develop into relationships after that.
Hannah had gone home that day.
She kept video-calling me the whole time.
And she'd said something else back then, too.
“Remember what I told you before?”
“About what?”
“That no other man catches my eye except you. So, about that...”
Yeah.
Those words.
I'd had a feeling this was coming ever since.
She'd meet me in Hawaii, and we'd get together.
“Hannah.”
“?”
When I cut her off and took her hand, two emotions appeared on Hannah's face.
Anxiety.
Expectation.
The moment I saw them, I couldn't help but smile, and I lifted the hand I was holding up to my face.
“I like you.”
“Then...”
“Yes.”
Relief flashing past, followed hard by joy.
And brimming with every drop of it,
Hannah leaned in.
We kissed like that,
and we became a couple.
“I'm so happy.”
“Me too. Still — let's eat first.”
“Okay. What's good here?”
“Well...”
After ordering, I excused myself from the table for a moment
and stepped into the bathroom.
Then I stared at the mirror.
“Whew—”
Grace.
Why are you the one I'm thinking of right now?
To pull myself together,
I washed my face with cold water.
Yeah, that's a little better.
What happened that day,
I'll just think of it as magic that came and went for a moment.