A meet cute that happens on a dive holiday…enjoy!
The lone rain cloud traveling across the ocean caught up to Camila strolling along the dirt road circling the volcanic island that had pushed itself above the sea tens of thousands of years ago. After eons, the peak formed of lava began to sink, creating the clear, reef fish filled lagoons, bringing her there for diving.
The day had started out with clear blue skies, the kind of day best for sitting in the shade of the palm trees fighting each other for their space on the motu, and reading a book. The wonder of nature, that in the middle of the ocean, rain clouds collected over the ancient extinct volcanoes providing the fertile black soil for the kind of green abundance that forced uninhabited structures to retreat back into the landscape in just months.
Camila, drenched, ducked into the first shop she came to with an open for business sign on the door. Ordinarily she would have felt relief stepping into the air-conditioning, but she was dripping wet. When she looked up, a Tahitian man, wrapped in a blue and white pareo, with smooth skin and dark hair pulled back in a man bun was standing in front of her with a folded towel in his hand. She shivered, maybe because of the sudden drop in temperature, maybe because of the man, a traditional tattoo covering his arm, the muscles in full operational view as he offered her the feather-light Polynesian textile to dry off with.
I’m in a Tahitian pearl shop, she realized only after lifting her eyes from the tattoo and the biceps.
“Please,” he said in French.
“Um, I don’t speak French, I’m sorry to say.”
“And Tahitian?”
“Oh I wish. About all I can say is how are you and thank you.
“Here, take this towel.”
“You are too kind.”
“No worries. Getting caught in a downpour happens several times a day on this spec of a tropical island.”
“You seem prepared for the occasional tourist who thinks it’s never going to rain in a rainforest. While on their holiday anyway.”
“My shop is just in the right location…and we Tahitians are gracious hosts for our country.”
“Yes, I’ve discovered that. We tourists, that’s another story. I even hear some of them excited to discover a McDonald’s on the other side of the island. I don’t understand.”
“My grade school age niece and nephew go along with me on my trips to Papeete just to have McDonald’s.”
“I’m so sorry American culture has corrupted even French Polynesia. And the island food is so fab. Fresh fruit and vegetables and fish. And desserts. I’m not much of a dessert person, but coconut and chocolate combined with French pastry? I’m in heaven here, in so many ways.”
“What are you doing here?”
“Doesn’t everyone want to escape to French Polynesia once in their life?”
“Yes, but usually they’re on their honeymoon. Or they at least arrive here as a couple.”
“I’m not one of those. I’ve dreamed of traveling to French Polynesia I think since my conception. But scuba diving was my justification for giving myself a trip here.”
“And?”
“I. LOVE. IT. The water is delicious. It’s so clear and the only place I’ve been diving where the water is so warm I don’t think I need my wet suit. And it’s a shorty.”
“So you’re alone?” he said, confirming her relationship status.
“Yes, so alone that the guys at my hotel called out when I entered the restaurant the other night, “There she is, the woman without a husband.””
“Oof, that’s brutal. I apologize for my countrymen. Gotta respect a woman who isn’t waiting around for any man to bring her here.”
“Mauruuru…Did I say that right? If not, I meant to say thank you,” Camila said. “What about your shop?”
“I sell Tahitian pearls. Well, we sell Tahitian pearls. It’s my family’s business. I’m just the front man. We cultivate the pearls in an oyster farm on this side of the island. Have been for the last 100 years and then sell them to tourists or jewelers from around the world. Here, have a look.”
“How about these?” he said, a crease appeared on either cheek as he grinned, bringing out a long strand of round Tahitian pearls the size of giant marbles. “I’m dying to see them on someone.”
“You’re not afraid I might run away with these?”
“Um, no.”
“I can’t run too far I suppose. Island life, an internal safety mechanism. Everyone knows everyone’s business here.”
“It’s impossible to have secrets. Unless you meet a beautiful stranger from another land,” he said. “The pearls are perfect on you. The lighter gray ones match your coloring.”
“I’m sure they do, for this price. When you want a man to pay, one isn’t around.”
“So details?”
“I came to dive. It’s my go-to when a man, um, gets under my skin. I buy a ticket to paradise.”
“So a cure for heartbreak,” the man said. “And how many island paradises have you been to?”
Camila smirked.
“You better take these off of me. The longer I wear them, the more I will want them and a 30,000 dollar necklace is not something I can afford right now. That’s way above my credit card limit. And I can’t wear it in the lab where I spend most of my life anyway.”
“The lab?”
“I’m a scientist. A molecular biologist.”
“So about this man, what happened?”
“I don’t know you.”
“My name is Tanetoa. There, no longer a stranger,” he said, crossing his arms over his chest covered with a white T-shirt.
“Does your name mean anything?”
“Yes, warrior man.”
Warrior man, she thought. I wonder how? Tanetoa appeared to dance through space and bring a sense of calm with his soft, although deep voice.
The man with the large, dark lashed eyes looked down.
“So about this man. You got bored with him? Tossed him out?”
“No, he was not boring. The opposite. But when the girlfriend I didn’t know about was going to visit from overseas, he cut me off, just like that.”
“How could he do that?”
“I let him is the only explanation I have.”
“A soulmate?”
“Soulmate…it felt like it, but only to me.”
“Well, you’re here on my lovely island home, where maybe you can find someone else, I mean, something else to fill that emptiness you’re feeling right now. How about a single pearl for a necklace, or a ring, a symbol of your strength, maybe a souvenir of your time here.”
“Some shopping therapy?” Camila said.
“Let’s choose one for you.”
“Alright, a ring.”
Tanetoa asked her to hold out her hands, taking them into his for a moment, examining their color and size, and the length of her fingers.
“This one,” he said. “This is the one.”
The young woman handed over her credit card.
“A special price for you if you agree to dinner with me tomorrow night. I’ll show you some of our other island traditions.”
“Let’s see what Google Translate says,” she said. “Ae! Yes!”
Books…
Norwegian Lessons in Indonesia (2023)
An Accidental Artist: Discovering Creativity through Scuba Diving (2018)
Art for sale at AnemoneWatch on Square
Janice Nigro 
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