Page 77 of Below the Barrel

Koa’s mom holds him tight, sobbing as she presses her face against his chest. He hugs her back just as fiercely, his eyes closing as the biggest smile spreads across his face.

“Hey, Mama,” he says gently, his voice full of warmth and love.

As Koa’s mom clings to him, I stand back, feeling like an outsider to this emotional reunion. My heart swells seeing how much she loves him, but it also intensifies the nerves I’ve been trying to push down. I try to take a deep breath and calm myself,reminding myself that this moment is about Koa. He hasn’t been home in so long, and I know this means everything to him.

The rest of his family circles around, laughing and chatting as they greet him with hugs and pats on the back. Kelani grins and gives Koa a playful shove, and the girls are all beaming with excitement, peppering him with questions about the tour.

For a moment, I just watch them, unsure of where I fit into this scene. Koa finally pulls back from his mom, still holding her hand, and turns to look at me, his eyes searching for mine. He steps towards me, wrapping an arm around my waist, pulling me in close to his side.

“Everyone, this is Maliah,” he says, his voice full of pride. “My girlfriend.”

I try to smile through my nerves, feeling the weight of all their eyes on me. Koa’s mom, who had been crying just seconds ago, turns her attention to me. She wipes her tears and steps forward, giving me the same warm, loving look she gave Koa.

“Maliah,” she says softly, reaching out to take my hand in hers. “We’ve heard so much about you.”

I blink, taken aback. “You have?”

She nods, squeezing my hand. “Ever since Koa left home to join the team, you’re all he speaks about. We barely know how surfing is going because it’s always Maliah this and Maliah that.” She winks playfully. “I’m so happy to finally meet the girl who’s made my son so happy.”

Her words wash over me, soothing some of the tension in my chest. I glance at Koa over her shoulder and he’s beat red, pulling a genuine smile out of me as I feel the weight of my worries lift. “It’s so nice to meet you, too.”

Koa’s mom pulls me into a hug, surprising me with how tight it is. She smells like coconut and something sweet, and I can feel the genuine affection in the way she holds me. When she pulls back, she’s smiling warmly.

“You’re family now,” she says, and I can tell she means it.

One by one, the rest of Koa’s family greets me. Kelani gives me a lopsided grin and a hug that’s more of a bear trap, while the girls, Koa’s cousins, bombard me with questions about surfing and what it’s like traveling around the world. It’s overwhelming, but their excitement is contagious.

We’re eventually ushered inside the house, where the warmth of family life is everywhere. The smell of food hits me instantly, and I can hear laughter coming from the kitchen. The house feels like it’s alive, full of memories, love, and history.

Koa grabs my hand again, guiding me through the front door. “You good?” he asks, his voice low, meant just for me.

I nod, squeezing his hand. “Yeah. They’re really great.”

“They are,” he agrees, looking around with fondness I’ve rarely seen. “And they’re going to love you. I promise.”

The living room is warm and filled with the scent of pine, cinnamon, and the sound of laughter as we all sit around the bare Christmas tree. Koa’s mom wouldn’t let anyone start decorating it until Koa and I arrived.

“Alright, now that we’re all here, we can finally get started,” Koa’s mom says with a beaming smile. She passes out bowls of popcorn, and we all begin to string it together, weaving it through the branches of the tree. Koa and I work in sync, our hands brushing occasionally as we drape the strings around the branches, and every touch sends a small thrill through me.

As we decorate, Koa’s mom hands us small, sentimental ornaments—pieces of Koa’s life wrapped in memories. A tiny surfboard with his name etched in the wood, a glass ball painted with Hawaiian flowers, and an ornament with a picture of Koa as a baby inside. Each piece feels like a window into his past, and I feel honoured to be part of this moment, placing his family’s history on display.

We take our time, laughing and telling stories, and when the last of the popcorn garlands are hung and the ornaments perfectly placed, Koa stands back, looking at the tree with a content smile.

“All that’s left is the star,” he says quietly, his voice filled with a touch of nostalgia. His eyes linger on the empty space at the top of the tree. “That was always my dad’s job.”

I feel a lump form in my throat as I glance at him. There’s a weight in his voice, and I realize in this moment how important this tradition is. “What happened to him?” I ask softly, expecting to hear the kind of story that breaks my heart.

But before Koa can answer, I hear a voice behind me, warm and full of life. “Nothing crazy, just can’t reach the top anymore.”

I turn around to see a man that looks so much like Koa—but older, with deep lines of experience etched into his tanned face. He’s sitting in a wheelchair, and the resemblance between them is undeniable.

“Dad,” Koa says with a chuckle, walking over to him. He bends down and hugs his father tightly, the warmth between them palpable.

Koa’s mom emerges from the kitchen, wiping her hands on a towel before gently rubbing her husband’s shoulders. She smiles at him with so much love, it makes my chest ache a little.

“I was just about to call you,” she says softly.

He reaches up and takes one of her hands, kissing the back of it before turning his attention to me with a friendly grin. “And you must be Maliah.”

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