It was just after the morning rush and the market was quiet. Daniel was greeted by Jelly clearing the trays from the counter. “Thought you were another one of those skinny geologists coming in again,” she said, happy to see him. She shook her ample hips.

Daniel laughed. “Just came by to see Auntie Nori,” he said. “What did the geologist have to say?”

Jelly’s voice turned serious. “Came to tell us the lava flow had picked up, flowing down the mountain at the rate of a mile a day now, yeah. If it keeps up, it’ll reach the Wailuku River in two weeks.”

Daniel flinched at the news. It felt like a bad dream, like the old bedtime stories the aunties and uncles used to tell them as children about the awakening gods causing havoc.

“There’s still time, anything can happen,” Daniel said reassuringly.

“Last straw for some folks,” Jelly said quietly, stacking the last empty tray on top of the others. “I’ll wait until after Christmas. Things can change at any time, yeah.”

Christmas was three days away. It was the first time Daniel heard Jelly mention leaving and felt her fear. “Let me know if there’s anything I can do to help,” he said.

“Thank you,” Jelly said. “Nobu can be a handful, yeah.”

“How’s he doing?”

Ever since Jelly’s son, Nobu’s, accident nine years ago, she’d had her hands full caring for her middle-aged son, who had never been the same after nearly drowning at Ke’aloha Beach. He’d been caught in a rip current while swimming and wasn’t breathing when they pulled him from the ocean. When he was finally revived and brought back to life, the Nobu they knew had died. Once easygoing and athletic, he could hardly walk now without help, and was prone to angry outbursts when he couldn’t form a sentence or express himself.

“Good as can be, yeah.”

“Just let me know if I can help in any way,” Daniel repeated.

“Thought I heard your voice,” Nori said, walking out from the kitchen carrying a tray of Inari sushi for the lunch crowd.

Daniel smiled. “You’re just the person I was hoping to see,” he said.

* * *

They sat down at the back table where the Hilo Aunties still played Hearts every Saturday, close to where he and Mano shot marbles in the back corner of the market when they were boys. He could still hear the marbles rolling across the wooden planks, the click click of one hitting another, followed by their joyful shouts as the victor collected his marbles, remaining oblivious to their mothers and aunties talking and laughing nearby.