“On second thought, I’ll just have a cigarette.” I reached into my jacket pocket for my Marlboros.

“Outside,” my mother pointed. “No smoking in the house. And no shoes! Take off your shoes, Jacqueline.” She pointed at the Doc Martens. They appeared huge sticking out on the end of my feet. Clown shoes.

“Nobody in Hawaii wears shoes in the house,” Bea offered.

Outside, the ritual of lighting my cigarette helped steady me. I leaned against the nubby outer wall of the condo and inhaled. Okay. I had a sister. Not such a big deal, really. Hadn’t I always wanted a sister? No. A sister would steal my makeup and wear my best clothes. What was I saying? She was a little girl, seven or eight, just about the age I had been when my mother left. The realization nearly doubled me over. She hadn’t wasted much time between dumping one daughter and having another.

I took another drag off my cigarette. And where was the kid’s father? I knew Merilee hadn’t married again because Daddy still sent her alimony. Who took care of her when Merilee was on a bender? And what would poor Mirabelle do if Merilee ran off looking for her freedom again; who would she live with? None of my business, I told myself. This is not even really my family. I stubbed my cigarette out on the wall and stuffed the butt into my pocket.

I unlaced my Doc Martens and lined them up with the other shoes by the dirt-caked welcome mat. I was still stoned, but I had come down a notch.

Inside, a small, round cake dripping with white icing and over-adorned in pink and yellow florets had been set out on the coffee table, sixteen red-and-white-striped candles crowded on top. Merilee, Bea, and Mirabelle sat on stools at the kitchen counter, their expressions hopeful like three pups waiting for me to throw a ball. I walked to where Merilee had dropped my duffle bag, unzipped it, and fished around for my Walkman. How was I going to survive a whole week here?

“Mommy, can we light the candles now?” Mirabelle whispered loudly.

Had I once asked the same thing of that same person? It seemed impossible.

“Jacqueline?” Merilee poked me with her voice.

“Yeah. Whatever,” I muttered.

Bea lit the candles, and they all sang Happy Birthday, first in English, then Hawaiian.

“Make a wish,” my little sister said, bouncing on her stool.

I blew out the candles and wished for no more surprises.

At dinner, Bea and Merilee did most of the talking while I managed to choke down a bowl of tofu and tasteless brown noodles.

“If the wind holds, otherwise we’ll go to Mahalapoo,” Bea was saying.

“Or Maui?” Mirabelle asked. “Mama, can we go to Maui?”

“Have you ever windsurfed Jackie?” Bea asked.

I shook my head.

“It’s hard,” Merilee said. “It took me weeks just to stand.”