I opened the door. Elliot was maybe thirty-five and short; even shorter than my father at five-five tops, with wavy blond hair and a neat mustache. He was dressed conservatively by island standards in tan slacks, a Hawaiian shirt, and shoes, which he slipped off, revealing the only pair of socks other than my own I had seen on Kauai. He seemed fairly confident as I gave him the old once-over: freckled skin and bluish-greenish eyes, the kind that adapted to whatever color might be nearest to them. He had a habit of licking his lips, which were chapped with fresh blisters on top of healed blisters. He probably surfed or owned a boat. In a sort of contagious response, like catching a yawn, I licked my own lips and motioned for him to have a seat.

“Mirabelle’s not here, she’s playing at Kahlua’s house,” I said, turning down the TV.

“Oh. Right on.”

He licked his lips again and pulled out one of those mini tubes of Vaseline. He wore a wedding band.

“I guess Merilee forgot I was coming,” Elliot sighed. “Again.”

We let a moment of awkward silence pass between us, then we fumbled for our voices at the same time.

“So…”

“So how long are you here for, Jackie?” asked Elliot, beating me to the punch.

“I go home tomorrow.”

“Oh. Cool, cool...”

Another silence.

Elliot crossed and uncrossed his legs. “I don’t know what she told you about me.”

“Not much,” I answered. He didn’t say anything. I was pretty sure she hadn’t told him much about me either.

He noticed me looking at his ring. “I wasn’t married at the time.”

I nodded. Cleared my throat.

He licked his lips again.

“Would you like a glass of water?” I asked, breaking the silence.

I didn’t know how long he was planning to stay, and it felt rude not to offer.

He shook his head. “She worked for me for a short while. I keep the books for the time-share office over at the Hilton. Merilee was the receptionist.”

“Ahhh,” I said as if that explained everything. Suddenly I felt nervous like I might get more information than I bargained for. “I bet that job didn’t last long,” I quipped. “For her.”

Ignoring the remark, he continued. “Then she, well, we got pregnant and well, for a while there…” He whistled low. “But now,” his tone brightened, “y’know, she’s doing awesome so looks like everything’s worked out.” He tried smiling at me then seemed to think better of it and gazed down at his socks.

Another silence spread between us, this one too wide to traverse. Elliot pushed up from the chair and walked to the door. “Well, I guess I’m off to Kahlua’s then to pick up Mirabelle. It was nice meeting you, Jackie.”