Page 119 of Reel Love

I get it. She’s trying to protect me. We hadn’t planned for me to be publicly known as her boyfriend yet. And certainly not dressed as a coral chewing, sand spewing fish with a bulbous forehead and protruding dental formation.

“Thisis the yoga instructor?” Her mother sizes me up. “The one I heard over the phone?”

Ah. Yes. That is what Alana told her mom when I showed up with tacos. If only she could have met me then.

“Yes. Yep. This is him.” Alana nods a little too emphatically.

“Hi,” I say to Alana’s mother. “I’m Stevens the … uh … yoga instructor.”

I then make the mistake of trying to bend my knees and extend two finned hands into warrior one pose. There’s the distinct sound of ripping fabric right up my backside. It appears I’ve split a tail fin.

“Well,” I say, looking from the horrified face of Alana’s mother to the pitying faces of Alana and Rex. “I think that’s my cue to practice catch and release.”

Practice catch and release?Ugh.

I back away from them and continue to walk backward until I’m at the double doors leading from the ballroom into the bar/foyer area. Then I turn and head out of the event venue as fast as a man in a fish suit can go.

I wake in my bed after chartering a private boat home and doing the golf cart drive of shame to my house, garment bag in tow. I want to burn that costume. The first thing I did when I got in the house was to check the invitation I had hung on my fridge.

I was right. The gala had been a costume party. At least it started out that way. The invitation I had posted in my home was one sent out four months ago. I checked my email after double checking my fridge, and sure enough, I found two emails in my spam folder stating that due to the high-profile celebrities they had arranged to invite, the event had been changed from costumes to formal wear two months ago, and confirmed as such a month later.

I went to bed trying to shake off the memories of the evening, but I had dreams that I was officiating an underwater wedding between Alana and Rex. I was a fish. The o-fish-iant. I chuckle. It’s come to this: private, unspoken dad jokes.

My head swims with thoughts of Alana and how perfect she looked standing next to Rex while I struck a pose and ripped a seam in my fish costume. If Atlantis were habitable, I’d consider relocating. I’m not jealous. But I am shaken, and not only a little. After about an hour alone with my thoughts, I’ve had enough. I head out the door and over to Kai’s home. He’s still living on this side of the island until he and Mila get married.

I knock on his door and he pulls it open with a cup of coffee in his hand and a casual smile on his face.

THIRTY-TWO

Stevens

You're not perfect, sport.

And let me save you the suspense.

This girl you've met, she isn't perfect either.

But the question is whether or not

you're perfect for each other.

~ Good Will Hunting

“Stevens, hey. What brings you here so early in the morning?”

“I’m up in my head about Alana. I need a sounding board.”

“Come on in. Coffee?”

“Better not. I’m amped up as it is.”

“Surf?”

“Maybe, yeah. After we talk.”

“Have a seat.” Kai waves at his couches.

I sit on the edge of one, resting my elbows on my knees and cupping my head in my hands.

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