nter. It was beautiful
there at night, the buildings lit above and below each other like
modern cliff dwellings. A week after he arrived, he rented a one
bedroom apartment on Liholiho Street, telling the realtor that he had a
degree from the university--which was true--and that he was retired,
which didn't sound right. "Semi-retired," he amended.

It was a bare bones apartment on the third floor with a lanai that
faced mauka, toward the mountain. Joe bought a plastic chair, a round
cafe table, and an hibachi for the lanai. Batman made himself
comfortable on the table. Joe constructed a table in the kitchen/dining
room from pine boards and milk crates. He bought a foam camping
mattress, sheets, a light comforter, a pillow, and a reading lamp for
the bedroom. For the kitchen, he bought a toaster, a tea kettle, a pot
for cooking rice, and a wok. He set up a minimalist home: one plate, a
bowl and a mug, chopsticks. He splurged on an eight inch chef's knife.
After a week of moving the plastic chair in and out, he bought a
straight backed wooden chair for inside. He bought an exercise mat
which he left spread out in the main room.

It was fun to start over in this way, owning only what he needed for
his new life, whatever that was going to be. After some consideration,
he bought a compact sound system and a TV for news and sports. He ate
rice and fish, bought vegetables at the farmers market, and walked on
the beach. The beach belongs to the people in Hawaii; it cannot be
owned or sealed off. He bought a few aloha shirts and spent days at the
university, the main library downtown, the shopping center, and
occasionally, Waikiki. In a month he had a tan, and his pidgin had come
back. Kate had learned to talk on the island; she spoke pidgin from
deep down. Joe's pidgin was only half way there. If the locals are in
doubt, they will ask anything in order to hear you speak--in a few
words they know how long you've been around. Joe didn't mind the test.
Usually he got points for trying.

Kate wanted him to visit during the holidays, but he decided against
it. He was just getting used to the island and he didn't feel like
traveling. The day after Christmas, he was at the Moana leaning back
with a beer and thinking about Sperandeo's book on stock trading when
someone asked, "Caffe Ladro?" The woman he'd seen in Seattle was
standing a few feet away, looking at his T-shirt.

"Ah, Moira." he said, standing up. She was trying to place