I prefer him Sunday nights. He hasn't been drinking, no paka lolo in his lap. He is sleepy, not bothered by how early he has to wake up. This is when his wisdom shines, when he doesn't curse so much, and his laughter comes from his heart. On Sunday nights, I don't care that he is much older than me, was on his own while I was in middle school. He lies on his back and tells jokes, the languages he brought from St. Lucia and Panama and O'ahu fall out of his mouth in tandem and it all makes sense. He is still playful, but he's gentler with me, more available, he holds me, lets me know he likes me in some kind of way. I study him long after he's fallen asleep. Good Lord... I stay the night, leave with him early in the morning, admiring how quiet and dark it still is outside. People say "Good morning" at 5 a.m..