There were more aunties, uncles, cousins, parents, grandparents and great-grandparents than Clarissa could shake a stick at. The picnic tables overflowed with salads, grilled fish, sashimi, sliced fruit and of course the star of the show, the kalua pig. Mika had traded shifts with a coworker to attend the gathering. Clarissa hadn’t yet worked up the courage to broach the topic of her sculpture budget with him, but watching him clown around with his brothers and sisters, a beer in one hand, barbecue chicken leg in the other, she thought he looked more relaxed than she’d seen him in ages. “He one good-looking boy, isn’t he?” Mika’s mother nudged her, handing off a dish of macaroni salad. “That he is, Momma Na’ilah. You make beautiful babies.” Clarissa made room for the umpteenth salad. “When you two going to make some beautiful babies?” Tutu Lelani, Mika’s grandmother, arched an eyebrow. “Soon.” “You keep sayin’. You two having trouble…you know?” Both women looked at Clarissa expectantly as if ready to dole out sex advice.
