an inventor, that her mother was still alive, aging and in
need of care.

"My father was hurt in an accident at work. I had to take care of him
when I wasn't in school. My mother always had other jobs. He was
strict. I couldn't go out like the other girls. I was taken in by our
church; they gave me a scholarship."

"So you went from home to the church life--and you never got married?"

"Never met anyone willing, Joe. Anyone right, that is." She bent over
the table and lowered her voice. "I'm a virgin--can you imagine?"

"What!?" A head turned in their direction and Joe lowered his voice to
match hers. "How on earth?"

"I believe in the sacrament of marriage, Joe. Technically, I'm not a
virgin because of something that happened a long time ago. But,
actually, I am one." He blinked several times as she continued, "I had
a boyfriend for five years. He was divorced. He was afraid of
commitment, Joe." Joe took a large swallow of wine. "We used to fool
around. Nothing below the waist," she added.

"Gurmpph." He cleared his throat. No one seemed to be paying any
attention. Alison was still leaning forward. His eyes were fixed on her
swelling breast and the curve of black lace that rose and disappeared
behind her blue-green blouse. "Coffee," Joe said. "We must have
coffee."

It had grown dark gradually, and Alison had her wish to look at city
lights. Honolulu lies on a narrow plain between the mountains and the
Pacific. Sharp ridges descend toward the water. The ridge faces have
been developed; at night they are like jeweled fingers, reaching high,
separated by vast darknesses. "Beautiful." Joe swept his hand toward
the window.

"Even nicer than I hoped," Alison said. "I didn't mean to embarrass
you, Joe."

"I'm not embarrassed. It seems like a waste, that's all."

"That's sweet." They had coffee and took a cab to her apartment, not
far from the university. "Was it so bad being normal?" she asked.

"No," he admitted. She leaned over and kissed him quickly on the cheek.
He felt like Uncle, thanked for a birthday present.

"There," she said and got out. "Night, Joe."

"Goodnight, Alison." The cab driver remained silent. "Oh, yeah," Joe
said. "Liholiho Street."

8

The young beauty with the makeup was not at the Wailana the next
morning. Joe ate a waffle and stared across the counter at the seat
where she had been. As he reached for his notebook, he realized why she
was sad. She was a perfect twenty-two