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- Story Listed as: Fiction For Adults
- Theme: Family & Friends
- Subject: Friends / Friendship
- Published: 01/27/2017
Aloha.
Born 1951, M, from Wilmington NC, United StatesIt was his first day in Paradise. He had heard about Hawaii, the Aloha Spirit that it was a place of unsurpassed natural beauty. He was told that the people were just as naturally beautiful. “Poi Dogs” is what his Filipino friend in California had told him. He asked what that meant. It meant a person who has at least four major ethnicities in their background. His friend told him that one of the reasons there was so little prejudice in Hawaii, is that most folks had extended families that included many different nationalities. You might be part Hawaiian, Samoan, Japanese, Chinese, Filipino, Tongan, Korean, and Ha’ole too. Of course, if you marry a Ha”ole well then, you children become Hapa Ha’ole. Or just Hapa. Half.
Shane was bewildered by all these many combinations. He himself did not know his heritage. He was well over six foot tall, had red hair and fair skin, so he guessed that he had either Dutch or Irish genes in him. He was raised by Foster parents. They were insane, and almost drove him insane- with their constant beatings, torture, and abuse. His childhood was so horrific that the records were sealed.
He was found naked and bleeding in an Oregon backwoods little town. He was thirteen, and already over six feet tall when he took his torn and bloody body, broke free of his chains, and walked into town. He saw two Police Officers sitting in a cafe window. He walked up and knocked on the window and asked if they could help him. Thousands of stitches later, and tons of antibiotics, helped heal the wounds on his body. The two Police Officers became his Legal Guardians, with their help, and five years of unrelenting therapy, Shane had healed, or at least dealt with most of the psychic wounds too.
He called those two Officers : “My Angels.” They taught him kindness, trust, and to how to care. Feeling and emotions that he rarely ran up against in his young life. He never did call them Mom, or Dad, but by their given names: Martha, and Felix. His one friend, Arvin, had lived in Hawaii for ten years before moving next door to Martha and Felix’s house in Oregon. Because of Arvin, Shane had decided to move to Hawaii, go to the University of Hawaii, and (maybe) try out for the Basketball team. Shane had never gone to High School. He was a genius. One of the gifts (and I swear to you, that is what he called them) - one of the gifts that those psychopathic Foster parents gave him, was the gift of perfection. If he didn’t get it right, no matter what it was, he was beaten, burned, or shocked.
If his finger missed a key on the Piano, an electric wire was slapped onto the back of his palm. If he could not do the Math or calculations in his head, then his Foster Father (who was sadistic but a brilliant mathematician and engineer) would beat him with a whip like rod that shrieked as it sped through the air splitting skin and sound with equal aplomb. If he had an accent in any of the three languages they taught him (Chinese, German, and Russian) they might put a cigarette out on his skin. By the time he was eight years old he made few mistakes. It was a harsh way to learn perfection. But Shane did learn. It didn’t stop the beatings, or torture, but it did slow down the unnecessary extra bits and pieces of horror.
When Shane met Hawaiians through Arvin and the close knit Filipino/Hawaiians that were Arvin’s relatives- he was thrilled to see how family oriented they were. He had met Arvin’s Samoan Friend, Sielu, and his wife Karen. It just seemed to Shane that Hawaii was all about Family. That being different wasn’t a big deal there. Because Shane was a genius, and was gently guided by Martha and Felix and encouraged to let that genius blossom. Shane had used his remarkable math and memory to turn a small loan of $2,500 from Martha and Felix into a privately held Hedge Fund. One that had more than four billion in assets. In Oregon, Shane lived with Sam and Felix in the small house on Baker Street. Even though he had made them both rich, the only way you could tell, was that Felix always had a new Ford truck every year, and Martha flew to see her sister and Mother almost monthly.
When Shane moved to Hawaii, he bought a brand spanking new 3 Bedroom condo down near Ward Center. He figured that when Arvin or Felix and Martha came to visit, they could have their own rooms and bathroom, and he would have the other one. He liked that it was near the mall, the beach, and close to the Bus lines. Shane wasn’t a big car buff, and preferred to walk most places. Now that UBER was ubiquitous he couldn’t see the sense in having a car, or truck, so he didn’t. Today was his first day in Hawaii. He had decided to move there in June so he could spend the summer getting to know that place, and the people, before he started school in the Fall. He would walk on to the Basketball Team and try out after School started. Until then, he just wanted to soak up the sun, the food, the people and the scenery.
Shane was not a talker. Nor did he smile a lot. When he did smile, it was a genuine quick and honest one. Because of his background, he was leery of almost everyone. Shane preferred, in spite of his size, to be invisible. Funnily enough, most of the time he was. Just a big quiet kid, standing in the corner, or in the shadows, noticed, but skimmed over and forgotten. He liked it that way. He had wandered the Mall at Ala Moana almost all day. Just watching the people pass by, a few girls gave him a smile and a giggle, and he smiled shyly back at them. He was getting hungry, so he headed to the Food Court to try and find a local style fast food place. Arvin had assured him he would like the local food. The Food Court at Ala Moana was a plethora of choices, the smells, scents and spices that filled the air made his mouth water.
He was looking up at sign over a Korean Barbecue stall when he first heard the words:
“Hey Haole! Hey Haole boy!”
He didn’t know they meant him but he knew the sound of that kind of voice. It was the voice of viciousness, or a bully, or a bigot. He knew the sound, even if he didn’t know the word. It was mean spirited, petty, and cruel. Oh yeah, he recognized the pitch of that song. Shane turned to look.
Three local boys were looking right at him. Two were almost as big as Shane, maybe not as tall, but thicker. The other one was slim, short, and wiry. It was the slender kid with the man eyes that was yelling and pointing at Shane.
“Yea, you Haole boy. Go home. Take your spoiled rich ass and go home.”
Shane froze. He had done nothing to these boys. He didn’t know them at all. He hadn’t even been in Hawaii one day- already he was finding out that Arvin didn’t tell him everything. The bully boys mistook Shane’s frozen posture for fear. It was a mistake they wouldn’t make twice. The slender boy kept taunting Shane with slurs, insults and threats. as Shane slowly walked towards them the whole Food Court grew silent. It was filled with mostly High School kids and young mothers with children, since it was early afternoon, around three O’clock on a weekday. Lots of kids just killing time until their bus showed up. Lots of Military dependents were there too, but they were mostly young women with children, there were very few adults around, at least male adults.
Shane’s face had lost all emotion. His eyes had gone flat. He was thirteen again, and ready to have a reckoning with his Foster Parents. Just like that day he broke his chains, his body was calm his moves deliberate and his mind was devoid of any emotion. He was a deed. He was an action. He was a reckoning. The voice of that local boy, filled with its ugly venom and vitriol, had brought to the surface what he had felt that day when he was thirteen: Enough! It stops now.
Every eye was on him as he strode towards the bullies. Strong, even, non hesitant steps. Eyes blank, body relaxed but poised, like a lion sizing up its prey and distracting it by looking relaxed. Power seemed to flow from him, gather itself, flow back in, and make Shane into a force of nature, a freak of nature, an unexpected reckoning with fate. As he drew near, the slender man puffed out his chest with false bravado, the two bigger boys balled their fists, quickened their breathing, as their feet slid naturally into a fighting stance. Shane did not ball his fists, nor did he puff out his chest. There was absolutely no posturing, puffing, or punk like pretense in Shane…he was just a solid object moving directly towards an encounter.
When he was about fifteen feet away from the slender vicious bully boy, and his preening punks, Shane took off his shirt. Everyone gasped. Shane threw his shirt to the side without a backward glance. His body was a testament to a past that included living nightmares. Scars wandered like rivers of pain around his torso. Huge folds of cheloid tissue puddled in their ugly pink clay like molded ridges of sorrow. Some scars were as thick as a rope, others looked like the fine laser like cuts of a scalpel, for indeed, they were incisions made by a scalpel one wielded with knife like precision by a Maser of Pain. A demon in human form. Acid had left its mark too, along side burns that left tiny craters of corrugated angry looking flesh. Shane body, almost every inch of it, was a road map of terror over time.
Some of the girls, almost all of the children, and more than a few of the Mom’s in the Food court, had openly shiny eyes, or tears streaming down their faces. Children stood closer to their Moms, girlfriends hugged each other to share the burden of just looking at what Shane’s body revealed about the cruelty of some people, if they could even be called people. The three bullies unballed their fistsin spite of their open hostility, they were - after all- human. Some part of their misdirected anger at Ha’oles, recognized that his man had suffered enough, and would suffer no more. They no longer held the upper hand, nor did they want too. Now fear grew in them, kindled by the fact that this man had taken dirty lickings that they had only given - and survived. He wouldn’t stop if he started in on them. They knew that. Like the rest of the people in the Food Court their breathing ceased, pending the next few moments.
Shane stopped a mere foot from the formerly cocky brash confident bully boy. Shane wasn’t aware of the the shock his body had produced in those three local boys. He was unaware of the former hate and anger oozing from their bodies to pool in puddles of shame at their feet. No. Shane was aware of only one thing. Enough. He would never let anyone use that tone of voice on him ever again. Nor would he allow it anywhere near him. Had it been someone else in that Food Court that day, and not Shane who they targeted for their derision and chance to do violence, Shane would have stepped in and made it his business.
“I am not a Ha’ole. I am Shane. This is my first day here. I came because I hears of Aloha, of the Aloha Spirit. Of the Ohana’ attitude of most Island folks. You have taken that away from me. You have two choices. Leave. And some other day when you see me apologize and I shall forgive. Or say ugly things to me again. If you decide to show how tough you are, you are welcome to see how much pain my body can take, before yours goes to the hospital….or the morgue. I will not stop you today, I will stop you from ever bullying anyone again. Or I will die trying. “
Shane wasn’t breathing heavy. His fists were not clenched, his hands splayed open and steady at his sides. His eyes were empty of all but one promise- Enough.
The three backed away. Not in fear. In awe. They had seen death up close, but witnessed mercy too. They would, a few days later apologize to Shane. But not today. They knew if they opened their mouths, their jaws might have to be wired shut. So they wisely just backed awa, and like foam scum on the open sand floated away without notice.
Shane walked back to an empty table. He sat on the bench. His eyes were locked somewhere back before he was thirteen. He did not know that tears were streaming down his face he couldn’t see, at least not anything in the present moments, but only things no one should have ever seen. It took him a moment to realize he was being held. Hugged tight to a chest that was soft, feminine, curved, and safe. It was a local woman. She pulled Shane gently, willingly, closely, to her body.
Shane reached around her waist with both hands burying his face into her blouse. Huge wracking silent heaves of his chest and shoulders the only sign of the grief and anguish flooding out of him, a fountain of buried shame, hurt, and helplessness surfacing for the first time in years. Her blouse was soaked, drenched with the pain of memory. She cuddled his head by wrapping her arms around it and with fingers that brought hope, solace, forgiveness and peace, stroked his hair in a repeating pattern of comfort. After a while, Shane leaned back to look in her eyes. Not quite breaking the embrace, just wanting to see where the concern was coming from. She looked down, her own eyes wet and flowing…
“It’s okay. Its okay. You are here now. It’s okay.”
Her fingers still tracing comfort in his hair.
Shane felt a soft feather like touch on his shoulder. He looked over to see a brown Asian looking face. It as a guy near his own age, eighteen or so. The face smiled at him.
“Aloha, Bra.” And the touch was gone. Then another soft touch, another brown face, and another : “Aloha, welcome to Hawaii.” It seemed an endless stream of loving gentle feather touches on his back, or shoulders- all of them followed with a simple word: "Aloha. “ It was heartfelt, fulfilling, soul healing Aloha. Hundreds touched Shane that day, and every feather touch carried away a weight. “Aloha. Aloha. Aloha.” The Ancient Gods would have frolicked in the amount of Aloha present in the Food Court that day. Shane’s inner scars - for the first time, scabbed over. When those scabs fell off, the wounds would be healed, only the scars left to hold the history of his life.
The woman holding Shane drew him close again. She hummed a Japanese lullaby that she sang to her own nearly one year old son. She may have only been 21 years old, but she had the wisdom that wise loving women carry from birth. Shane nestled in. He felt yet another tap, a tap that seemed to complete a circle. He looked up from the safe pressure of her body- he saw her husband, one hand draped around his wife, the other gently resting on Shane’s shoulder. “
“Aloha.” The man whispered in a soft voice, leaning slightly against his wife, so she could draw his comfort and love too, to help make Shane safe. “
Shane closed his eyes and leaned back in. He had found his first new friends. It went beyond that. He had found his Ohana. He had family now. For now, it was just the three of them, and later that day he would meet their new baby. Her husband and Shane became like brothers. She and Shane became like the very best of brother and sister friends. Years later, Shane would marry her sister. He had found Aloha.
Or Aloha, had found him.
Aloha.(Kevin Hughes)
It was his first day in Paradise. He had heard about Hawaii, the Aloha Spirit that it was a place of unsurpassed natural beauty. He was told that the people were just as naturally beautiful. “Poi Dogs” is what his Filipino friend in California had told him. He asked what that meant. It meant a person who has at least four major ethnicities in their background. His friend told him that one of the reasons there was so little prejudice in Hawaii, is that most folks had extended families that included many different nationalities. You might be part Hawaiian, Samoan, Japanese, Chinese, Filipino, Tongan, Korean, and Ha’ole too. Of course, if you marry a Ha”ole well then, you children become Hapa Ha’ole. Or just Hapa. Half.
Shane was bewildered by all these many combinations. He himself did not know his heritage. He was well over six foot tall, had red hair and fair skin, so he guessed that he had either Dutch or Irish genes in him. He was raised by Foster parents. They were insane, and almost drove him insane- with their constant beatings, torture, and abuse. His childhood was so horrific that the records were sealed.
He was found naked and bleeding in an Oregon backwoods little town. He was thirteen, and already over six feet tall when he took his torn and bloody body, broke free of his chains, and walked into town. He saw two Police Officers sitting in a cafe window. He walked up and knocked on the window and asked if they could help him. Thousands of stitches later, and tons of antibiotics, helped heal the wounds on his body. The two Police Officers became his Legal Guardians, with their help, and five years of unrelenting therapy, Shane had healed, or at least dealt with most of the psychic wounds too.
He called those two Officers : “My Angels.” They taught him kindness, trust, and to how to care. Feeling and emotions that he rarely ran up against in his young life. He never did call them Mom, or Dad, but by their given names: Martha, and Felix. His one friend, Arvin, had lived in Hawaii for ten years before moving next door to Martha and Felix’s house in Oregon. Because of Arvin, Shane had decided to move to Hawaii, go to the University of Hawaii, and (maybe) try out for the Basketball team. Shane had never gone to High School. He was a genius. One of the gifts (and I swear to you, that is what he called them) - one of the gifts that those psychopathic Foster parents gave him, was the gift of perfection. If he didn’t get it right, no matter what it was, he was beaten, burned, or shocked.
If his finger missed a key on the Piano, an electric wire was slapped onto the back of his palm. If he could not do the Math or calculations in his head, then his Foster Father (who was sadistic but a brilliant mathematician and engineer) would beat him with a whip like rod that shrieked as it sped through the air splitting skin and sound with equal aplomb. If he had an accent in any of the three languages they taught him (Chinese, German, and Russian) they might put a cigarette out on his skin. By the time he was eight years old he made few mistakes. It was a harsh way to learn perfection. But Shane did learn. It didn’t stop the beatings, or torture, but it did slow down the unnecessary extra bits and pieces of horror.
When Shane met Hawaiians through Arvin and the close knit Filipino/Hawaiians that were Arvin’s relatives- he was thrilled to see how family oriented they were. He had met Arvin’s Samoan Friend, Sielu, and his wife Karen. It just seemed to Shane that Hawaii was all about Family. That being different wasn’t a big deal there. Because Shane was a genius, and was gently guided by Martha and Felix and encouraged to let that genius blossom. Shane had used his remarkable math and memory to turn a small loan of $2,500 from Martha and Felix into a privately held Hedge Fund. One that had more than four billion in assets. In Oregon, Shane lived with Sam and Felix in the small house on Baker Street. Even though he had made them both rich, the only way you could tell, was that Felix always had a new Ford truck every year, and Martha flew to see her sister and Mother almost monthly.
When Shane moved to Hawaii, he bought a brand spanking new 3 Bedroom condo down near Ward Center. He figured that when Arvin or Felix and Martha came to visit, they could have their own rooms and bathroom, and he would have the other one. He liked that it was near the mall, the beach, and close to the Bus lines. Shane wasn’t a big car buff, and preferred to walk most places. Now that UBER was ubiquitous he couldn’t see the sense in having a car, or truck, so he didn’t. Today was his first day in Hawaii. He had decided to move there in June so he could spend the summer getting to know that place, and the people, before he started school in the Fall. He would walk on to the Basketball Team and try out after School started. Until then, he just wanted to soak up the sun, the food, the people and the scenery.
Shane was not a talker. Nor did he smile a lot. When he did smile, it was a genuine quick and honest one. Because of his background, he was leery of almost everyone. Shane preferred, in spite of his size, to be invisible. Funnily enough, most of the time he was. Just a big quiet kid, standing in the corner, or in the shadows, noticed, but skimmed over and forgotten. He liked it that way. He had wandered the Mall at Ala Moana almost all day. Just watching the people pass by, a few girls gave him a smile and a giggle, and he smiled shyly back at them. He was getting hungry, so he headed to the Food Court to try and find a local style fast food place. Arvin had assured him he would like the local food. The Food Court at Ala Moana was a plethora of choices, the smells, scents and spices that filled the air made his mouth water.
He was looking up at sign over a Korean Barbecue stall when he first heard the words:
“Hey Haole! Hey Haole boy!”
He didn’t know they meant him but he knew the sound of that kind of voice. It was the voice of viciousness, or a bully, or a bigot. He knew the sound, even if he didn’t know the word. It was mean spirited, petty, and cruel. Oh yeah, he recognized the pitch of that song. Shane turned to look.
Three local boys were looking right at him. Two were almost as big as Shane, maybe not as tall, but thicker. The other one was slim, short, and wiry. It was the slender kid with the man eyes that was yelling and pointing at Shane.
“Yea, you Haole boy. Go home. Take your spoiled rich ass and go home.”
Shane froze. He had done nothing to these boys. He didn’t know them at all. He hadn’t even been in Hawaii one day- already he was finding out that Arvin didn’t tell him everything. The bully boys mistook Shane’s frozen posture for fear. It was a mistake they wouldn’t make twice. The slender boy kept taunting Shane with slurs, insults and threats. as Shane slowly walked towards them the whole Food Court grew silent. It was filled with mostly High School kids and young mothers with children, since it was early afternoon, around three O’clock on a weekday. Lots of kids just killing time until their bus showed up. Lots of Military dependents were there too, but they were mostly young women with children, there were very few adults around, at least male adults.
Shane’s face had lost all emotion. His eyes had gone flat. He was thirteen again, and ready to have a reckoning with his Foster Parents. Just like that day he broke his chains, his body was calm his moves deliberate and his mind was devoid of any emotion. He was a deed. He was an action. He was a reckoning. The voice of that local boy, filled with its ugly venom and vitriol, had brought to the surface what he had felt that day when he was thirteen: Enough! It stops now.
Every eye was on him as he strode towards the bullies. Strong, even, non hesitant steps. Eyes blank, body relaxed but poised, like a lion sizing up its prey and distracting it by looking relaxed. Power seemed to flow from him, gather itself, flow back in, and make Shane into a force of nature, a freak of nature, an unexpected reckoning with fate. As he drew near, the slender man puffed out his chest with false bravado, the two bigger boys balled their fists, quickened their breathing, as their feet slid naturally into a fighting stance. Shane did not ball his fists, nor did he puff out his chest. There was absolutely no posturing, puffing, or punk like pretense in Shane…he was just a solid object moving directly towards an encounter.
When he was about fifteen feet away from the slender vicious bully boy, and his preening punks, Shane took off his shirt. Everyone gasped. Shane threw his shirt to the side without a backward glance. His body was a testament to a past that included living nightmares. Scars wandered like rivers of pain around his torso. Huge folds of cheloid tissue puddled in their ugly pink clay like molded ridges of sorrow. Some scars were as thick as a rope, others looked like the fine laser like cuts of a scalpel, for indeed, they were incisions made by a scalpel one wielded with knife like precision by a Maser of Pain. A demon in human form. Acid had left its mark too, along side burns that left tiny craters of corrugated angry looking flesh. Shane body, almost every inch of it, was a road map of terror over time.
Some of the girls, almost all of the children, and more than a few of the Mom’s in the Food court, had openly shiny eyes, or tears streaming down their faces. Children stood closer to their Moms, girlfriends hugged each other to share the burden of just looking at what Shane’s body revealed about the cruelty of some people, if they could even be called people. The three bullies unballed their fistsin spite of their open hostility, they were - after all- human. Some part of their misdirected anger at Ha’oles, recognized that his man had suffered enough, and would suffer no more. They no longer held the upper hand, nor did they want too. Now fear grew in them, kindled by the fact that this man had taken dirty lickings that they had only given - and survived. He wouldn’t stop if he started in on them. They knew that. Like the rest of the people in the Food Court their breathing ceased, pending the next few moments.
Shane stopped a mere foot from the formerly cocky brash confident bully boy. Shane wasn’t aware of the the shock his body had produced in those three local boys. He was unaware of the former hate and anger oozing from their bodies to pool in puddles of shame at their feet. No. Shane was aware of only one thing. Enough. He would never let anyone use that tone of voice on him ever again. Nor would he allow it anywhere near him. Had it been someone else in that Food Court that day, and not Shane who they targeted for their derision and chance to do violence, Shane would have stepped in and made it his business.
“I am not a Ha’ole. I am Shane. This is my first day here. I came because I hears of Aloha, of the Aloha Spirit. Of the Ohana’ attitude of most Island folks. You have taken that away from me. You have two choices. Leave. And some other day when you see me apologize and I shall forgive. Or say ugly things to me again. If you decide to show how tough you are, you are welcome to see how much pain my body can take, before yours goes to the hospital….or the morgue. I will not stop you today, I will stop you from ever bullying anyone again. Or I will die trying. “
Shane wasn’t breathing heavy. His fists were not clenched, his hands splayed open and steady at his sides. His eyes were empty of all but one promise- Enough.
The three backed away. Not in fear. In awe. They had seen death up close, but witnessed mercy too. They would, a few days later apologize to Shane. But not today. They knew if they opened their mouths, their jaws might have to be wired shut. So they wisely just backed awa, and like foam scum on the open sand floated away without notice.
Shane walked back to an empty table. He sat on the bench. His eyes were locked somewhere back before he was thirteen. He did not know that tears were streaming down his face he couldn’t see, at least not anything in the present moments, but only things no one should have ever seen. It took him a moment to realize he was being held. Hugged tight to a chest that was soft, feminine, curved, and safe. It was a local woman. She pulled Shane gently, willingly, closely, to her body.
Shane reached around her waist with both hands burying his face into her blouse. Huge wracking silent heaves of his chest and shoulders the only sign of the grief and anguish flooding out of him, a fountain of buried shame, hurt, and helplessness surfacing for the first time in years. Her blouse was soaked, drenched with the pain of memory. She cuddled his head by wrapping her arms around it and with fingers that brought hope, solace, forgiveness and peace, stroked his hair in a repeating pattern of comfort. After a while, Shane leaned back to look in her eyes. Not quite breaking the embrace, just wanting to see where the concern was coming from. She looked down, her own eyes wet and flowing…
“It’s okay. Its okay. You are here now. It’s okay.”
Her fingers still tracing comfort in his hair.
Shane felt a soft feather like touch on his shoulder. He looked over to see a brown Asian looking face. It as a guy near his own age, eighteen or so. The face smiled at him.
“Aloha, Bra.” And the touch was gone. Then another soft touch, another brown face, and another : “Aloha, welcome to Hawaii.” It seemed an endless stream of loving gentle feather touches on his back, or shoulders- all of them followed with a simple word: "Aloha. “ It was heartfelt, fulfilling, soul healing Aloha. Hundreds touched Shane that day, and every feather touch carried away a weight. “Aloha. Aloha. Aloha.” The Ancient Gods would have frolicked in the amount of Aloha present in the Food Court that day. Shane’s inner scars - for the first time, scabbed over. When those scabs fell off, the wounds would be healed, only the scars left to hold the history of his life.
The woman holding Shane drew him close again. She hummed a Japanese lullaby that she sang to her own nearly one year old son. She may have only been 21 years old, but she had the wisdom that wise loving women carry from birth. Shane nestled in. He felt yet another tap, a tap that seemed to complete a circle. He looked up from the safe pressure of her body- he saw her husband, one hand draped around his wife, the other gently resting on Shane’s shoulder. “
“Aloha.” The man whispered in a soft voice, leaning slightly against his wife, so she could draw his comfort and love too, to help make Shane safe. “
Shane closed his eyes and leaned back in. He had found his first new friends. It went beyond that. He had found his Ohana. He had family now. For now, it was just the three of them, and later that day he would meet their new baby. Her husband and Shane became like brothers. She and Shane became like the very best of brother and sister friends. Years later, Shane would marry her sister. He had found Aloha.
Or Aloha, had found him.
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