The House With The Blue Door

Pela knew the house with the blue door before she knew what it would mean to her.

Most everyone in that part of Wailuku did. It sat just off Church Street, the road she walked every afternoon after the bus dropped her off. A long off-white gravel driveway ran alongside a low fence that wrapped around a lush tropical garden.

It was inconspicuous, but it didn’t belong. People from the mainland stayed there. They came and went. Sometimes they came back.

Pela never thought much about the house.

Until one afternoon, she did.

It was Monday. She walked home the same way she always did, backpack hanging off one shoulder, dust kicking up under her sneakers. The sun sat heavy, even through the clouds. The air felt still, except for the occasional hot wind and the faint clucking of chickens nearby.

As she passed the house with the blue door, something in the yard caught her eye.

Two people. A man and a woman, lying in the grass.

At first, Pela thought something was wrong. People didn’t lie out like that here, not in the middle of the day, not in a front yard where anyone could see.

She slowed, almost to a tiptoe.

The couple was still. The man was dark-skinned, broad, with short black hair. One arm rested under his head, the other lay easily across the woman’s waist. His wallet, phone, and keys sat scattered beside a blanket.

The woman’s skin glowed bronze in the light. Her hair fell in loose, wavy braids.

She’s so pretty.

Nothing about it looked out of place to them. They looked peaceful.

A drop of water landed softly on Pela’s brow.

She paused and looked up, expecting rain. But the sun held. Just a passing drop.

She looked back at them and felt a lightness in her chest.

Pela had seen couples before. At school, older kids sitting close at lunch, hugging, kissing each other on the cheek before getting on the bus. She had crushes too, but they were never reciprocated. She was an athlete, and the boys couldn’t stand losing to her in gym class and field days.

At home, her parents loved her and her little sister. She knew that. It showed up in routines, in questions, in everything they did for them.

But her parents never touched. Never reached for each other. Never fell asleep side by side like that. Never kissed.

Pela stood there longer than she meant to. The woman shifted slightly, pressing closer to the man.

Pela looked away, suddenly aware of herself, and kept walking. She closed her eyes, and a small smile found its way onto her face.

I want that.

By the time she reached her house, the feeling was still there.

For the first time, love didn’t feel distant.

It felt real.

The house with the blue door stayed with her.