"ALOHA," A WOMAN'S VOICE SAID AFTER I FINISHED MY GGG spiel.

"Aloha," I responded.

"No, no, it's a question. Can you tell me if it's true that aloha means both 'h.e.l.lo' and 'good-bye'?"

"It does indeed," I said. "And it can also mean 'I love you.'"

"Really? But, what if you meet some guy in Hawaii and you think he's saying I love you, and he's really telling you good-bye. I mean, doesn't that get confusing?"

I looked over at the clock on my living room wall. I pictured the pointy arms circling around and around in slow motion until today's endless shift was over. I couldn't believe this was my life.

I flopped across the couch and put my feet up on the old trunk that served as a coffee table. "Not really," I said. "You just have to pay attention to the tone of voice and the context."

What I was really thinking was that if you couldn't tell if the guy you were with was about to say I love you or good-bye, you should probably find another guy. But who was I to give advice about love in any language.

I took a deep breath. "It's part of the beauty of the Hawaiian culture. Aloha is a way of showing affection, compa.s.sion, and kindness-essentially the elements that make up the culture of the Hawaiian Islands. It's a very accepting, inclusive place, partly because there are so many influences and ethnicities-Chinese, Filipino, j.a.panese, Korean, Portuguese, Samoan, Puerto Rican, Vietnamese, Thai. Hawaii is a great reminder that the world is a melting pot, and we're all pretty much a bunch of mutts."

A call beeped in. "Excuse me," I said. "Let me just put another call on hold. I'll be right back."

I clicked the Call b.u.t.ton. "Great Girlfriend Geta-"

"Hi, it's Joni."

"Oh, hi," I said. "Listen, I've got a potential group on the line. I'll call you right back, okay?"

"Can you stop by the office when you get a chance?"

I looked at the clock. If I left now and didn't stay for more than an hour, I could make it back for the bus.

"Sure," I said. "I'll be right there."

I clicked back to the other call and picked up the pace. "We have two GGG trips to the Hawaiian islands, one to the big island and one to Maui. Would you like me to see that you get some information?"

"Can we all take hula lessons?"

"Absolutely," I said. "They're actually included in both tours. You've just missed the Merrie Monarch Festival, which is Hawaii's biggest hula compet.i.tion, but you can still get there in time for Lei Day."

"Ooh, that sounds good."

"Doesn't it?" I admitted.

I sighed. I took a final gulp of my tea and walked the cup over to my kitchen sink. "Oh, and you have to take the side trip to the Kilauea Volcano. Legend has it Madame Pele, the powerful volcano G.o.ddess, makes her home in the Halemaunau firepit there. But be careful, if you try to take a souvenir rock from her volcano, she'll hunt you down and plague you forever with bad luck."

"Sounds like my sister-in-law. But it's kind of a family reunion, so we have to take her with us."

"Well," I said. "I'm sure you'll have a good time anyway."

I took down her mailing info. "Okay. I guess that's aloha then."

"Aloha." She giggled. "And I totally get which kind."

"My work here is done," I said.

JONI WAS SITTING in the middle of the floor surrounded by cartons of paperwork.

I opened the gla.s.s door, and she looked up at the sound of the bell.

"Aloha," I said.

Joni smiled. "Aloha yourself." She shook her head. "Geez Loueez, how could I let things pile up like this?"

"Easy to do," I said as I leaned over to give her a kiss on the top of her head. "Here, let me help."

"There isn't enough help in the world."

Something in her voice got my attention.

"Are you okay?" I said.

"Sit," she said.

I slid a cardboard carton out of the way and sat down on the floor across from her. She was wearing jeans and a long-sleeved gray T-shirt that exactly matched her hair.

"I'm thinking about selling," she said.

"The company?"

Joni rubbed her scalp with the fingers of both hands. "If I can even find a buyer in this economy. I'd probably be lucky to give it away right now."

"You can't sell," I said.

She smiled. "You'll be fine. Anastasia's getting older. It wouldn't hurt you to find a job where you had to leave the house."

"I leave the house," I said. "I'm here, aren't I?"

Joni leaned over and put her hands on my knees. "Jill. Honey. I'm old and tired, and you're young and stuck. It's time."

We looked at each other. I tried to think of something positive to say, maybe wish her well, thank her for all the years she'd been there for me, ask her what she was planning to do with all her free time once she sold. Tai chi on the beach? That Photo-shop cla.s.s she could never fit in?

"But, what am I going to do?" was all that came out of my mouth. I bit down on my lower lip so I wouldn't cry.

As soon as Joni wrapped her arms around my shoulders, I started to sob. She patted my back, rocking me back and forth the way I'd rocked Anastasia a thousand times.

"It'll be fine," she said. "Nothing's going to happen right away."

I lifted my head off her shoulder and looked around for a tissue.

"Desk," Joni said. "Back right corner."

After I finished blowing my nose, I sat on the edge of Joni's desk. I was still rocking, I noticed.

"What if I started doing more work?" I said. "You know, take most of the load off your shoulders? Or maybe you could scale things back, just keep the trips that are consistently filling up. I could put together a list of recommendations for you...."

Joni pushed herself up off the floor. "I think the best thing for me would be a clean break. But don't worry, when and if I find a new owner, there'll be plenty of time for us to get in there and pitch you and your ideas, if you decide that's what you want to do."

"Seth is back," I said, as if it might somehow make a difference, as if for some crazy reason Joni might say, Oh, Seth is back? Well, of course, now that I know that, I wouldn't even consider selling. It would be far too much stress for you to have to deal with both at once.

Joni shook her head. "Men. You can't even count on them to run away reliably."

"Ha," I said.

Joni's watery blue eyes held mine. "How's it going?"

I rocked back and forth while I thought about it. "I don't know. I mean, I know how much having a dad in her life would mean to Anastasia, but I'm just not sure I can get past wanting to kill him for what he did to us. All those years of nothing. No letters, no phone calls. No money."

"How long has it been now?"

I shook my head and reached for another tissue. "Seven years. And now he thinks he can waltz right back into our lives, all good intentions, like he's never been gone."

"Well, you'd certainly be within your rights to kill him, but it's messy, and the cops always go after the deserted wives first." Joni opened the little office refrigerator. She took out two bottled waters and handed me one. "So maybe your best bet is to let him waltz. Just make sure you lead."

"Thanks." I opened my water and took a long, parched gulp. "But what if he does it again? I mean, Anastasia would be devastated."

Joni took a sip and screwed the top back on her bottle. "You can't control that. If he takes off again, you and Anastasia will be there for each other, just like you were the first time around."

I guzzled some more water. "And the other thing is the money. I mean, how do I get past that? Do you know what I could do with seven years of child support?"

Joni smiled. "Buy me out?"

"Exactly," I said, even though I wasn't completely sure that would be the way I'd go. Somewhere behind a towering mountain of anxiety, a whisper of a voice was telling me maybe Joni was right-I was stuck, and it was time to move on to something else. With seven years of child support I'd have the incredible luxury of shifting out of survival mode and getting to a place where I could actually think about what I wanted to do.

"Let it go," Joni said.

"Let it go?" I repeated.

Joni nodded. "And I quote: 'At the end of every seven years you shall grant a release of debts.'"

"That's ridiculous. Where did you even get that?"

Joni grinned. "The Internet, of course. Where does everybody get everything these days? But it's from the Bible-Deuteronomy, I think. The next part goes something like, 'Every creditor who has lent anything to his neighbor shall release it....'"

"I don't think it applies to this situation. Seth wasn't a neighbor." I slid off the edge of Joni's desk and walked over to look out the window. "He was a husband and a father. Is. Was. What ever."

Joni waited until I turned around. "It's not about him," she said.

"What do you mean?"

"It's about you. Honey, if you don't forgive him, it'll eat you alive."

13.

NOW I KNEW WHY JAMES TAYLOR WROTE THAT SONG about going to Carolina in his mind. I was trying to stay calm by going to Hawaii in mine, while I sat cross-legged on the floor of my imaginary lanai overlooking the ocean. Over the years, Anastasia and I had made leis with everything from hyacinths to dandelions, but I'd always dreamed of the incredible extravagance of using fresh orchids. So that's what I was pretending to do.

It takes fifty orchid blossoms to make each single-strand lei. I was using imaginary pinkish purple and white dendrobium orchids, which are not only beautiful, but also resilient and long-lived. In fact, if I could be an orchid, I'd probably want to be a pinkish purple and white dendrobium.

And if I could be anywhere, it would be anywhere but here. I pushed myself off the floor of my ordinary bedroom. I closed my closet door and tried to slow my breathing. I resisted the urge to climb back into bed and pull the covers over my head.

I willed myself back to Hawaii. The kui method of lei making involves stringing the flowers together by pa.s.sing a long needle and thread through the center of each flower. There's also a braiding method called haku, which includes ti leaves, the same leaves used to make hula skirts, as well as a twining method called wili. I decided to go with the kui.

If I were planning one of GGG's Hawaii trips, our first activity would be to take a lei-making cla.s.s. The act of creating beauty through repet.i.tive motion was soothing, calming, a zen experience really. It might well end up being the highlight of our entire trip.

I stood up again. Before I thought to look away, I caught myself in the mirror over my dresser. "So much for the zen of imaginary lei making," I whispered to my worried face.

"Aloha," Anastasia said when I walked into the living room. She was wearing her gra.s.s skirt, part of her Halloween costume from last year, over a pink leotard and tights. Her pink headband held a faux silk orchid in place behind one ear. The orange flower made her hazel eyes look almost jade green. Her long dark hair was freshly washed and shiny.

She took my breath away.

"Aloha," I said.

Anastasia looked up from the poster she was coloring and wrinkled her nose. "Change your clothes, okay, Mom?"

I looked down at my favorite jeans. "Why?"

"Mom, it's a luau."

It wasn't worth fighting about, so I traded the jeans for a unky old flowered skirt that had kind of an island feel, if you didn't get too literal about it. The Hawaiian theme for Seth's welcome home party had been my idea. I thought "aloha" would be a good operating principle, since the way I saw it, this h.e.l.lo was still essentially a good-bye, and I'd need all the ompa.s.sion and kindness I could muster just to get through it.

The fact that I was getting a jump start on my prep for tomorrow's Lunch Around the World cla.s.s made me feel a little bit better about actually cooking for a man I would probably just as soon feed rat poison. But what could I do? Anastasia was only ten. It wasn't as if I could hand her the car keys and wish her happy shopping.

I walked back into the living room and executed an exaggerated model's turn on bare feet. My skirt circled out around me. "Better?" I asked.

Anastasia looked me up and down, every inch the ten-year-old critic. "A little makeup might help," she said finally.

I ignored her. I was trying my hardest not to ruin this day for Anastasia. Sharing her excitement was beyond me, but I was hoping I was a good enough mother that I could at least be a blank slate for her happiness to bounce off. I'd contribute a little cleaning and cooking to the cause. And while I was dying to take off to Hawaii for real the minute Seth showed up, I'd force myself to stay, to be there for my daughter, to make sure Seth didn't screw things up.

Anastasia had been practically airborne since she'd talked to Seth. She'd spent her time before and after school twirling through the house, her long hair whipping around behind her. She hopped ten times on one foot, ten on the other, then nine and nine, eight and eight, working her way down to one, then back up to ten again. She went out to our postage stamp backyard and turned cartwheel after cartwheel after cartwheel.

And the whole time I kept thinking: If he breaks her heart, I'll kill him.

Anastasia held up the poster she'd made. It was covered with red hearts and pink daisies. WELCOME HOME DADDY floated across the top in purple balloon letters, and under that a smiling trio of hula dancers held hands. I looked a little closer. Mama hula dancer, papa hula dancer, and baby daughter hula dancer smiled back at me.