Chapter Text
“Will you tell me a story, auntie?” Luau is far too old for stories, he has heard them all a thousand times, huddled outside on the wooden patio, underneath the straw roof, and yet he still never tires of hearing them over and over again.
Abacaxi was not afraid to point this out, tsking her tongue and flicking her head so her leaves moved out of her face. She was an old pineapple, having roamed the shores far before Gummy Grotto had been as inhabited as it was now. She didn’t wear the typical sunglasses, didn’t listen to the music, that era was a little too late for her to get into, she feared. Even though she scolded, seeing Luau’s eager face, she still thumps down beside him, flip-flops settling on the first step. “Ah, you have exhausted me of my stories boy, I have none left to tell.”
As a girl, Abacaxi thought that she’d always have something new to talk about, never shutting up about the most recent interesting event in her life, but she’d managed to meet her match, she guessed. It was probably good for her. “Let me think.” The other leans forward expectantly.
To Luau, she’d always been there, always lingering in the shade, the sun just a bit too bright for her tastes, the heat too harsh. He called her auntie, as she’d taught him to, but in reality she had always leaned a bit further into the role of mother. She’d aged with him, and by the time that he was in his prime, she was leaning into squishy overripeness, bright yellow fading into golden orange. It was a bitter thing to think about in his eyes, and into the eyes of most people that lived in the coastal village that he hailed from. She was one of the pillars, and ultimately, her loss would be a devastating one. Luau refused to think about it until it happened, and even when it did, he’d probably still search for her.
He takes what he can while she’s still here and breathing, though, and after a bit of pondering she inhales, brain chugging along slowly, slower everyday.
“I tell you something from when you were a little.” Her leaves perk, and Luau’s umbrella does the same in response. These ones were his favorite. “Mm, perhaps when I first met you?” She sucks her teeth for a second, then clears her throat and looks forward.
“It doesn’t come to me as easily now, but I remember the fragments. It could not have been any later than noon. I remember that I was fishing, because that is what we would have to do for income back when I was young.” Abacaxi’s body tilts slightly to the side, trying to unjumble her thoughts, and she pauses for a long moment before carrying on, “I was pulling in nets, there was not very much for me to pull though. I was very disappointed, because I was hoping for a big catch, so I could use the extra money to buy myself ais kacang, but alas, life does not always work that way.”
Luau is leaning forward like this is the most exciting thing he’s ever heard, even though he’s heard this story the most out of all of them, and he knows it basically word for word. He doesn’t care, he just likes hearing her talk, and he likes hearing about himself.
“So I was taking what I could, because I did at least need to have a little money when I went into the city. I was pulling alone today, because my appa was sick, so I had no one to watch my back as I got out of the boat. No one else was around when I’d docked, so you can imagine my surprise when I feel a little too much resistance on my nets, yes?” The other nods with enough enthusiasm to send droplets of pink splattering on the porch, something that the coolada is beyond used to at this point in her life.
“So, I stop, and I look back, and who has their hand elbow deep in my net grabbing for fish, but this child, the likes of whom I have never seen, and I still have seen no one that looks even remotely like you.” This part always makes Luau think: he really did have no idea what he was, or where he was from. It had never caused him much strife, that thought. He never cared, he had his place, and he’d never really had that stereotypical ‘I need to know where I came from’ feeling that people on TV had. His eyes drift across the planks of the porch, and he counts the holes in the wood while she takes a breath.
“In my surprise, I remember just staring for a moment, thinking to myself, ‘whose child is this, because I thought I already knew all the locals!’ and by the time I think to tell you to stop digging through my catch, you have already spotted me, and have begun running away with likely the biggest fish in the net.” She gestures vaguely, the hints of exasperation evident in her voice, as if she still hasn’t forgiven Luau for the sin he committed almost three decades ago. “I drop everything and start to run after you, but somehow, even though you could have not been any older than just three, you were still taller than me and you still managed to outrun me!” Luau laughs, leaning back with a creak, and Abacaxi side-eyes him with an amused smirk.
“I gave up because at some point you had somehow managed to get over a fence that I myself couldn’t even climb, so I had to turn around and go back. I don’t know why I thought losing one fish was worth such a fight, because by the time I had gotten back, all the other fish were dead and beginning to shrivel up under the sun. It was not a pretty sight; my appa thought so too. I was mad about it for far too long, it really was my own fault for letting such a silly thing cost me almost every other fish I caught.
A long sigh leaves her mouth, and her eyes move from Luau to the sand in front of her. “I found a conch shell on my porch the next day, which I assumed was your form of trade. I think it only enraged me more, but I still kept it. By the time you began to show your face around town more, the urge to headbutt you was gone though.” Shifting on the wood, her posture turns into something of a hunch as she looks out at the street, smells the sweetness of sugar-coated beaches in the air. Something changes in her, and Luau can feel it the instant it happens. He says nothing, just waits.
It comes, just as he expects it to, as Abacaxi opens her mouth with a long inhale.
“You used to be so little, just a tot, watching me fish and go about my day.” Her eyelids droop, something longing to escape within the deepest caverns of her core. “Now, you are…” She eyes him up and down, it’s almost disrespectful in a way, and she chuckles as he looks back and forth nervously, “very big.” Abacaxi finishes with another looong sigh, and Luau’s shoulders droop. “And I,” she averts her gaze again, “am so old.”
There’s something sorrowful in it, and for a moment, Luau doesn’t know how to react. He’s not at all used to it, to her showing any sort of palpable emotion besides happiness and anger. Never sadness, never something that would give people the idea that she was not as strong as she seemed. There wasn’t a point of upholding it anymore, she was not young anymore, she was frail, she had trouble walking, seeing, just functioning was hard. Who did she have to be strong for anymore? Luau was strong for her, she didn’t care about doing it herself anymore.
He just wraps a gummy hand around her and pulls her close to his body, and Abacaxi leans against his outer shell, shutting her eyes and wondering where all the time went.