Option Three

"What she's saying," Alola said, "is that bi, gay and trans couples have been part of the traditional culture for centuries. Dad and Mom are nothing if not traditional. They might be a little more openminded than we were thinking."

"That's good, right?" I asked. "Sarah, do you think you can find a way to drop something into a conversation with them? Just see how they react? Not like, tell them, or anything, just see the direction of the wind?"

She laughed. "Yeah, I talk about sex to them all the time."

We all laughed. "I'll find a way," she assured us. "It might take me a while. You weren't like going to drop the bomb on them tomorrow, right?"

We giggled. "No," Alola said. "We're not in any hurry. I'm scared, and if it takes years, or never, I'd be okay."

"Same," I said. "I would like to be open with them at some point, though."

Sarah didn't mention anything for almost three months. Finally, she got around to it after there was an advertisement on social media about a craft festival, featuring baskets made by the pinapinaaine society.

She said Mom and Dad didn't seem aghast or upset, and they talked about the world changing. None of us were really religious, although Mom and Dad were a little into traditional animism, so the pressure from the Tuvalu church didn't mean much to them. They attended traditional Polynesian cultural events, and they had a female empowered theme.

We had been to some, and although feeling out of place as a blonde white girl, they always made me feel welcome.

We had Liko and Sefina, her mother and father, along with Thomas and Sarah, over for dinner on a Friday evening. It was all laughter and love, the baby girls being the stars of the show, and over mojitos after dinner, Alola broke the news.

Sefina was beaming all over her face, but Liko was pretty stoic. Neither of them said much, and we were a little nervous, but they did hug and kiss us both as they were leaving.

They didn't mention it again, but there was no change in the way they treated us, so the elephant was in the room, but not uncomfortably so. It made Alola anxious sometimes, and there was some tension that hadn't existed before. I figured it would settle over time, and it turned out that I was right.

We did get married. Thomas, Sarah and the girls went with us to Wallis and Futuna, and Alola was radiant in white. The most shocking thing happened. Liko and Sefina were there when we arrived. It turned out that Thomas and Sarah had told them we were sneaking off, and they planned to surprise us.

Liko came up to me at the hotel where we were celebrating in the club. He had two glasses of champagne, and he took me by the elbow, steering me out onto the patio.

He raised his glass, and we toasted. He then hugged me and kissed my cheek. "Kai, Sefina and I feel like you are our daughter," he said. Tears were running down his cheeks, and my eyes weren't dry, either.

"Thank you, Liko, I feel like you're my father, too. You guys are my family now. You know I've never had a family, and you guys mean everything to me," I promised him.

"I know," he said. "We really didn't know what to make of you, at first. I mean, look at you. You are very beautiful, Kai, you have one of our names, but we were a little slow to trust you because you're..." He trailed off.

"White?" I asked.

He laughed. "Yes, I apologize, Kai. We just needed to get to know you. Sefina and I see how happy you make Alola. We have been thanking the stars for you ever since you told us that you were in love. We have trouble saying things... we're old, Kai, but I speak for Sefina, too. We love you and we are so happy that you're part of our family."

I was crying like a baby, and when he took me in his massive arms and held me, I knew I was clinging to the father figure I'd never had.

"Dance with me," he said, and we moved to the music drifting to us from inside.

When we went back in, Alola looked a little concerned, but I gave her the heart sign with my hands, and that beautiful smile I so adored spread over her gorgeous face.

It wasn't how I envisioned my life would be, but I was deliriously happy. Our union wasn't recognized at home, of course, but we gave zero fucks about that. Our lives were complete. We were great together, but when Alola came home one day in tears, I asked her what was wrong.

She showed me on her phone. It was a story about the devastation from the volcano in Tonga. It detailed a mother and father who died in the tidal wave while getting their twin two-year-old babies to safety. We cried together, feeling the sorrow of the Tongan people.

It was Sarah who suggested that we inquire about those children. Six months later the adoption came through, and two little gorgeous brown babies joined our family.

I often thought back to that day in the Arizona desert and how my life had changed. The misfortunes of drug dealers turned out to be the good fortune of my family. Money may well be the root of all kinds of evil; I didn't see it that way. Option three was the right choice.