A Gift of Aloha
Phoebe Wyoming
Illustration by Guy Junker‘Twas Christmas Eve, and nothing stirred, save for the occasional centipede, but what can you do? Giles and I were snuggled in our beds, conked out after a day of baking glamorous gingerbread people and an evening of liquid merriment. Visions on this particular night would not be unusual, I daresay. Suddenly, a ruckus erupted outside, and I more or less sprang to the window to see what was the matter.
The moon on my snowy breast reflected with spectacular effect and spotlighted the hubbub above. It was St. Nick and his posse, of course, who always make Maui, and a visit to Chez Wyoming, the last stop on their world tour. Shortly, the din of hooves on my tiny tin roof ripped through the Ha‘iku silence, and I knew a neighbor would probably nail me for breaking the 10 p.m. noise ordinance.
As I rushed to tell them to keep it down, Nicky landed on my lanai with a thud. He was sooty, naturally, but had at least taken a moment in transit to change into a T and some board shorts (the red hat remained, however). I knew he’d spend all of tomorrow bathing at one of Maui’s secluded beaches, thank Heavens.
"Ho! Ho! Ho!” Clausy boomed, and in my somewhat addled state, I thought this was a character assessment directed at me. Giles, ever the perfect servant, had woken and was now offering milk and cookies. I declined in favor of something stronger, but Nick accepted, having no choice, due to his saintly status.
“Nick, dearest, welcome back!” I exclaimed warmly, and sat him in a chaise. “How was this year’s journey?”
“Less traffic without Aloha Air and the rest, of course,” he began pragmatically. “It’s been as crazy a year up North as it is everywhere else, though, and I’m thoroughly exhausted! The Mrs. and I were to be here for our annual holiday, but with the TVR situation, we can’t find lodging.” He sighed.
“How dreadful, darling! You need your rest, and Maui is such a healing place!”
Whatever can I do? I wondered, as I wandered the lanai and, as is often the case, realized the best gift I could give was that of my own gorgeous self. “Why don’t you two stay here with me this year?”
For a moment I thought Nick might have some cane dust up his snoot, so curious was his countenance. Then I understood: a man who gives so much must be wholly unused to receiving. But times are tough all over, and I was only offering what I could—the gift of aloha. He knew it, too, and a twinkle sparked in my chum’s eyes. His dimples deepened alarmingly.
“
Mahalo, my dear, and Mele Kalikimaka!” Nick exclaimed, and such a feeling of warmth spread through me that, I swear, darlings, I swooned a bit. Nick caught me, bless him.
“Mele Kalikimaka, darling! Now, do you think you might take me off that awful ‘naughty’ list of yours?” I ventured as I righted myself.
“Maybe just this once,” Santa grinned, and shortly thereafter I led him to the guest room for a long winter’s nap. As I shut the door, I whispered softly.
“Aloha to you, my friend, and to all a good night.”
