Free Illumine Her by Sieni A.M.

pastries at staff meetings. I need a smoke.” She took out a cigarette and lighter from the pocket of her shorts and lit up.
    “I forgot how eerily peaceful it is here,” Alana spoke softly and glanced around them. The sun’s brightest rays were gone, replaced by coolness. The canopy of trees above cast pale shadows around them. The mountain was devoid of the beeping of cars, barking dogs, and the cackles from nearby villagers. The mountain’s music was comprised of the ma’oma’o bird, the rustling of ancient trees, and its opulent spray of leaves and wild flowers as it showered down on the pathway. The ground was a little muddy and damp from the shade. She suddenly realized its appeal to the famous Scottish writer who chose to be buried atop the mountain. A peaceful final resting place. She admired the novelist who traversed the Pacific sea in the nineteenth century before finally settling down in Samoa.
    “There are no foreign lands. It is the traveler only who is foreigner,” he wrote.
    While Alana agreed with the statement, it was a testament to the writer’s character and the inner workings of his mind that drew her to his work. To her it revealed a humble spirit born of the early pioneers who took up residence in foreign lands and blended in wholeheartedly as if it were their own. These two simple sentences spoke of a promise to travel with a mind open to myriad possibilities. It was a mantra Alana wanted to adopt in her own way of life wherever that road of life took her. Well-loved and respected by the local people, Robert Louis Stevenson was titled Tusitala . Teller of Tales. How very adept and appropriate. She was a lover of tales and a huge fan of his work. Thinking of tales, she wanted to know her sister’s. Alana peered over at Malia, who was puffing out smoke. With all of the preparations underway for the wedding, her mind shifted to something she hadn’t given any attention to in the last couple of years. Men. Love. Relationships.
    “Malia? How do you know Kane is the one? As opposed to the last guy you were in a relationship with?”
    Malia flicked the cigarette away and looked at her. “Because he lets me eat the food he can’t finish off his plate and doesn’t judge me for it.”
    Alana smirked. “You and your island appetite. Somehow I get the feeling you trained him that way. But seriously, I want to know how you came to this decision. Did he surprise you when he popped the question? Or was it something you consulted over and decided together?”
    Malia reached for her hair tie and pulled it off, untangling the braid and tying her straight hair up in a high bun. “It was definitely something we talked about.”
    “How did you initiate a conversation like that?” Alana asked intrigued. She retrieved a couple water bottles from her back pack and offered one to her sister. “Most of the movies these days portray a hero who can’t even voice his emotions, let alone say ‘I love you,’ which leads to a crisis, the big make-up session, and then—surprise!—the proposal, which she never sees coming. Somehow, the big talk in between gets lost.”
    Malia took the bottle Alana offered and drank deeply before placing the lid back on securely. “There are a lot of ways to show someone you love them without having to say the words. For us, it was natural to talk about it. It was something we both wanted to consciously work towards. We didn’t just go for some little fling,” Malia said. “But before we could decide together, we had to make sure of this as individuals. Consent to it as free adults. I had to work on being the one instead of focusing solely on searching for the one, you know? It’s hard work, but it’s been worth it.”
    Alana sat back and wiped her moistened hands on her shorts. “Like what? What did you work on?” she quizzed.
    Malia gave a throaty laugh. “A lot. My patience, for one. Being in a long-distance relationship sucks, but in a way it helped too because it