All these lights and hopes and near misses

Fen is sitting in bed with a half-done crossword on his knee when his phone starts ringing.

He leaps off the mattress as it buzzes, the ringtone—once a favourite song—a cloying jangle of notes now that it has lost all its charm to being played a thousand times.

Seconds later, he finds himself at the receiving end of a very loud call from a very thrilled Pala, who has only just arrived at her workplace to find out that her boss is offering free Havaiki River Tours coupons to all interns.

He has many questions, but he asks none of them. What is of operative importance, for now, is that Pala would like him to join her today, and that "you gotta do the tours after dark."

Of the many things Fen’s parents never let him do, one was to leave the house alone after six o’clock. This rule has been revoked—something he only finds out when he asks his father, poring over some cross-stitch in the living room.

“You're sixteen now,” the man says, wincing as he pricks himself on a needle. “I don’t have to say when you can come and go.”

And with that, Fen flies out the door, and down the three flights of stairs, barreling out onto the road before the turn of the hour.

---

Fen’s parents never let him anywhere near the casinos so, needless to say, he has formed several ideas about what they look like inside.

None of those ideas, he discovers as he steps out of the evening heat and into the air-conditioned lobby of the Promenade Hotel, are correct.

“You work here?” he breathes as Pala flies off the couch to meet him. He is almost too busy staring around to remember to say hello.

A screen wall gazes out over the river, and all its sparks shine into the lobby, gleaming off the marble and lighting everything from below.

The air smells lightly of pua melia, a far cry from the heady alcoholic musk he was expecting. Just like the video game arcade in the mall a street down from his house, the air is bright with sound: the jingles of slot machines, the rattle of roulette wheels accompanied by the ringing of tokens on padded tabletops. From what he can see through the towering entrance, it isn’t like the arcade in any other way: the floor is carpeted, and the tables, rather than standing in surly ranks and files, are positioned with ample room between them.

Feeling just a tad under-dressed in a blue shirt and old jeans, Fen draws his arms around himself, and lets Pala laugh at him.

“It’s nice, yeah?” She clasps her hands together and bounces on her toes. “Did you finish the crossword?”

“When I had to be here at ten past six? No time for crosswords, I left home right away!”

“Oh, I didn’t mean to rush you! You’re okay to be out this late?”

Fen nods. “I’ll survive,” he replies with an inward laugh. She’s barely able to keep her feet down, already dashing towards an alcove in the corner that conceals an exit opening to the riverside.

From the Promenade Hotel—Pala is sure to tell him with her phone map up in her hand—it’s a quick five-minute walk down the boardwalk to the terminal. The heat is more forgiving now, as they pass the sliding automatic door. The sun is halfway past the horizon, and the red fades to indigo over the silhouettes of towers, where the light is slowly being pulled back from the first of the stars.

They descend the glitter-flecked steps from the hotel to the burbling river’s edge, slowly engulfed by the roaring of its waters. Palm trees line the bank, boxed into concrete squares. Across the shimmering expanse stands the other half of Havaiki’s postcard skyline: the Red Lotus Hotel tapering to its base, ringed with magenta lights, and the four blue-silver skyscrapers behind it.

At the riverbank, they turn right onto the boardwalk, Fen walking closer to the water. Every few steps down the path, Pala jumps over a plank, landing lightly with a thump on the next one. After a minute’s watching, he realises she’s jumping over the shadows of the bollards.

“So, why’d Miss Mahi’ai decide to give you tickets all of a sudden?” says Fen.

Her head perks up and she pauses in her shadow-jumping, walking along (while still careful to step over the shadows). “Kalani thinks we did good this holiday time,” she says, turning to him with the river lights on her face, eyes so bright he almost can’t meet them. “She just shoved it in my hands. We musta done real good this week! And I mean, you know, she did make me work double, with the lights and reception—we got so many guests. Too bad I’m not always on reception. She says the visitors like me!”

“How could they not?” he replies, an answer that teases a laugh out of her. “And she gave you two tickets?”

“Right! Says it’s for us to enjoy with a loved one. And, I’m not about to go with my Ma and Baba, they won’t want to anyway. Had to be you.”

“Aw, that’s sweet,” he replies. While he's busy trying not to look too abashed, she stares past him, eyes going wide.

Liftiing an eyebrow, he turns to look the same way, and the sheen hits his eye with such blazing intensity that he has to squint at first. They are across from the Iruka Tower, one of those young new skyscrapers, all corners and edges, that makes him think Havaiki is becoming more than just the quiet city they’re used to calling their home.

Here and now, Fen is hard-pressed to dislike it. The Iruka façade glows with a towering portrait of the jagged skyline, flaming clouds behind it. They can see themselves in the reflection, tiny as ants against a sliver of bright, empty sky between buildings. Pala points at their reflections and waves at herself. The speck waves back.

They walk on, and a steady breeze stirs around them, their hair fluttering into their eyes. The boards under their feet change to concrete: without either of them noticing, they have arrived right by the terminal, a roped boat bobbing by the jetty, trails of grime streaked down its orange hull.

Beside it, the boat’s pilot stands with a puncher, taking tickets from a pair of customers. Waving with a shout, Pala dashes the remaining distance, and Fen does his best to give chase. By the time he arrives, gasping for breath, she’s already pranced across the gangplank, ticket punched. He almost sprints after her, but instead he comes to a halt before the surly pilot, patting his pockets for his wallet.

Then he remembers that his ticket is with Pala.

“Pala!” he shouts, waving at her, but she’s already up on the deck. He calls her name a few more times before she finally whips around, bewildered. “I need my ticket!”

It takes her half a minute to figure out the meaning of all his frantic gesturing from the jetty. A hand covering her mouth, she races back down the ramp and taps the pilot’s shoulder—to a gasp—presenting the other ticket and pointing at Fen.

With a nonplussed grunt, he takes and punches it, and waves Fen aboard.

“Sorry!” Pala exclaims as they cross the bobbing gangplank. She screws up her face. “Yuck, this place smells like someone spilled fuel all over it.” They round the back of the cabin to where the deck opens up to the sky, the whole river shining gold and pink behind it.

They exchange grins when they discover the bench right at the stern empty, hurrying to claim their spots. Really, it surprises Fen that no one else seems to think it the best seat on the boat. There’s a fair level of chatter inside the cabin, and some passenger straying across the deck, but they are alone out back, with the whole view to themselves.

By the time the boat engine rumbles to life and Fen can finally smell boat fuel, joining the scent of the river, everything is pink: the water, the skyscrapers that reflect it onto the roads, the sky and each other’s faces. The sky dims like stage lights, and the city on both sides of the river sharpens into clarity, oranges and yellows mingling in a merry palette. Pala is ahead of him, already studying the scene behind the boat intently.

“I’ve never been out this late without my parents,” Fen says, marvelling at the blinking red at the tips of the spires.

They pull past the jetty. A smooth voice crackles through the speaker. “Welcome to Havaiki River Tours! Brought to you by the Havaiki Tourism Council, sponsored by the Pacific Union Bank…”

While the guide begins rattling off a series of sponsors, Pala reaches out in the dimness, as everything slowly fades to purple, to pat his hand. “This is your first time out at six-thirty?”

“Yeah, my parents were always on about how six-thirty is too late and what if I can’t get home on my own and…it’s all pretty dumb.”

She frowns. “Yeah. I thought your parents are nicer than that.” 

“They are nice, but they also…have the wrong idea about me sometimes.”

“On our right, we see the Iruka Tower. Standing at a hundred and fifty-two metres, it is the tallest building in Havaiki…”

“But they let you out this evening?”

“…housing the headquarters of the Iruka Trust, the Westpac Havaiki branch, and several embassies and consulates…”

“Shuuut uuuup,” she moans, finally lifting the hand that has, up till now, been patting his. She plugs one ear with her finger and bows her head, breathing deeply as if to still nerves. It isn’t till a minute later that she’s back in a place where she can look up and talk. “But—yeah, you’re not…here without their permission, right?”

“Oh, nah, they let me come this evening. Apparently they changed the rules. Without telling me. Typical Ma and Ta.” He laughs. “Maybe they’ll even let me get a job if I ask them.”

“Ooh, what would you be?”

“I’m gonna deliver pizza,” Fen says almost instantly. Pala laughs. They’re interrupted by a blaring strain of tour-guide patter about the hotels as they pass, but this time they pointedly ignore it, turning silently to the stern to watch the dazzling lights rise behind them.

The city, it turns out, is an unplanned light show waiting every evening to be watched. The water is a rippling mirror of the lights stretching all the way down the canyon of glass, the glass walls reflecting the glow back and forth between them. Boats besides their own weave across the blackness, scattering the rainbow glimmer across the water. A band of children sprints down the boardwalk, remote-controlled insects skirting the surface alongside them with their propellors whirring, the LEDs on their tails glittering.

Here in the breeze, everything feels momentous, and nothing does.

“This is like a movie scene,” his companion murmurs absently. “There’s so much going on. Everything feels so big. Know what I mean?”

Turning, Fen is a little startled to find her staring right at him—startled enough that a flush sweeps over his face.  “This view is amazing,” he breathes. “It almost doesn’t feel like we’re in the same world.” 

She nods. “It’s like that every day. And even more as time passes.”

The words puzzle him, but he knows she knows what she means. “Yeah?”

“You know how I told you that walking in some places makes me feel…really, really off?” she says, waiting until he nods. “It’s been so much worse this month. More often, and worse. Like the world shifted all of a sudden. Everything's out of place, and I’m kind of scared, like something’s going to happen, like something’s happening, something’s happening…”

Her face has changed suddenly, pain-wracked and on the brink of panic.

“Hey, Pala, you alright?” he says, unexpectedly breathless.

She shakes her head, all but mute.

His heart is clawed at by fear. “Don’t worry, Pala, I’m here, okay?” he whispers. “And you’re fine. Nothing’s happening right now. Even if anything does, I know you’ll be okay.”

Her simple answer is to snatch for his arm, and hug it, almost desperately. Haltingly, he wraps his fingers around hers, and squeezes them, trying to communicate what he can through his grip. She is resolutely watching the buildings as they pass—the Promenade Hotel, façade lit by an animation of birds of paradise in dancing flight, and the Red Lotus Hotel, pulsing in countless colours. The cars winding left and right down Promenade Road, in rhythm with the river’s sinuous form, and the several endlessly-tall towers with their ever-shifting lights.

“…here on our left is Ngun Island, and if you look closely, you will see the Falanruw Monument: one of the oldest structures on the island, built by settlers three centuries ago. It is said it was originally a trading outpost where residents of villages up and downstream would do business…”

“Yeah, and who's it sponsored by?” mutters Fen.

Pala makes an odd choking noise. Then she starts laughing into her fist, in tiny fits, before giving up on subtlety and guffawing outright. “Fen!” she cries, and the rest of her words are engulfed by laughter.

Fen feels Pala’s grip loosen as the commentary drones on. He lets out a breath he has been holding, though it is a while yet before his throat unclenches. If only he knew half of what she does—at least enough to know what he should do. But she's just watching the streetlamps and cars zip past on the riverbank, now, and finally, he lets his shoulders slacken.

The boat rumbles to a gradual stop at the northern terminal. They alight the way they boarded, up a gangplank and onto hard, unyielding ground.

The buildings still feel too tall here, too alien and distant: not the Havaiki they know. Not Taona Atau and the yellow-green foliage. Not the curling fern-frond streets of tiny houses, overlooking a quiet sea. 

But standing here on the riverside with Pala, with nothing past or future to fear, the skyscrapers of Havaiki fade out of sight. And the place feels like home again, all these lights and hopes and near misses.

“Hey, Fen," she chirps. "Thanks for coming with me." 

He beams back. “Thank you for asking me along. Much better way to spend the evening than on crosswords.” 

Pala chortles. "Hey, it’s seven o’clock. How about dinner? Pizza? I know a place.”

"Yeah, if they do vegetarian."