The 'Ohana Tree

by Rebecca Addison

  "How long has it been?"

  "A long time."

  "Why now?"

  "I don't know. I used to come here when I was a kid. It's kind of legendary on the island, even though it doesn't seem like much. I had a feeling you'd be able to see what I like about it."

  "I wish I could read these," she said running her finger over the old Hawaiian newspapers glued to the walls. "What does that one say?"

  I gently moved her finger aside and leaned in to read the tiny text. "Lost: on the 6th June 1964, one diamond ring with a gold band, from Kuhio Beach Park between three and six pm. Reward offered. Please contact Mrs. Kahele via the Editor."

  "Oh," she frowned. "That's sad. I wonder if she ever found it."

  I touched her hand. "What are you doing for the rest of the day? I have something I want to show you."

  She lifted her eyes to mine. "What is it?"

  "I'll tell you once we're there. It's a long story but..."

  "When people say something is a long story," she said kindly, "all they're saying is that they're not ready to talk about it yet."

  "Maybe that's true."

  "It is true. It might be a long story, but that's not why you're not telling it. And that's cool, Kai. I don't need to know right now. Just tell me if and when you want to."

  She squinted at the newspaper text.

  "Do you want to come? We'll be gone for the rest of the day. It's not going to tell you everything, but it will explain some stuff about me and maybe help you to feel part of things here on the island."

  She rested her chin on her hand and narrowed her eyes. "Now I'm intrigued."

  Before she had time to say anything else, Margie arrived with the plates. She placed Tessa's eggs and toast in front of her and then slid mine along the tabletop. It was a pancake in the shape of a penis.

  "Enjoy," she said, grinning to herself as she walked away. Some things never changed.

  "Wow." Tess stared at my plate. "That's quite a meal. Do you reckon you'll be able to fit all of that in your mouth?"

  "Stop."

  "I mean, where do you even start with something like that?" She picked up the can of whipped cream on the table and raised an eyebrow. When it was obvious I wasn't about to stop her, she shook the can and sprayed swirls of white in all the places you really don't want to see whipped cream on your pancake penis. "There!"

  "You know I can't eat that now, right?" I said and she burst out laughing.

  "Do you want to swap?'

  I dropped my eyes to the plate again. "I'm not sure."

  "Why not?"

  "I don't think I want to watch you eat it, either."

  She pushed the plate to the side, covering it with a napkin. "Let's share mine then since you're refusing to eat your penis."

  I watched her as she carefully divided her plate in half, pushing a piece of toast and some scrambled egg to the side for me. I loved watching her hands. They were small and fast and her nails were always painted in different colors. Her eyes were different that day too, more violet than blue, but just as beautiful.

  "You're staring."

  "I know," I said, taking the fork from her hand. "Is that bad?"

  "Depends on what you're looking at." She took a bite of her toast and chewed it slowly. "If it's because you're fascinated in the same way you'd be if you came across an alien, or a mutant frog, then yes, it's bad."

  "What?"

  "Come on, Kai," she said, "that's nothing new for me."

  "Hey." I placed a hand on her arm. I didn't want her to ever think I would see her that way. "I was staring at you because when I'm with you, I can't look at anything else."

  She glanced up, surprised amusement in her eyes and a forkful of egg hovering in front of her mouth. "In that case," she said, returning to her meal. "You can stare away.

  "It's still early," I said, threading my fingers through hers. "Quick detour?"

  "Sure." We turned off the main road and soon we were hidden by trees. "Where are we going?"

  "I thought we could take a swim first if you're up for it."

  She ran her hands along the top of her jeans.

  "I picked something up for you to wear this morning," I said, answering her thought with a satisfied smiled. "Garrett lent me the keys to Makai and I've left some money and a note for Aka so he can put it through the register later."

  "He's going to kill you for that," she said and I nodded.

  "Yep."

  We drove for another five minutes, the road narrowing until it was no more than a bumpy track. Everything was green.

  "This is it." I turned the engine off. "Here's your swimsuit. I'll let you get changed."

  I passed her a plastic bag and climbed out of the truck, shutting the door. I leaned on the driver's window, imagining her holding the bag on her lap, wondering what I'd chosen for her. She'd seen the swimsuits at Makai. She'd sorted them all and hung them on the racks. If I was right, she guessed I'd picked that little black string one with the cut outs. I hoped she was okay with what I had chosen, and I tried not to imagine her through the glass behind me as she changed.

  "Everything fit okay?" I said when she walked around the truck.

  "It's great, thank you. I can pay you back." She looked down at the long sleeved rash vest and blue board shorts then back up to me.

  I held out a hand to her and shook my head. "No thanks."

  As we walked, I sang her some old songs in Hawaiian and she tried to join in, laughing at herself when she stumbled over the harder words. We arrived at some wooden steps and the tree with a pink arrow painted on the trunk, pointing down. The canopy was thick above us, blocking most of the sun and it cast a bluish light across her face as she made her way down the steps.

  "You can swim here without worrying about getting sunburned," I said when we got to the bottom. It was a small pool of dark water surrounded by rocks and a narrow sandy beach. Old trees soared and stretched their limbs above us almost obscuring the sky. I kicked off my shoes and pulled my t-shirt over my head, dropping it onto the sand. When I looked up again she was staring at me, her eyes naked. I met her eyes, the heat in them sending a wave of blood surging through my heart.

  We walked to the water and waded in. It was warm, like bath water, and I winked when I saw her smile. We swam out until the silt under our toes dropped away.

  "Why do people call you Dipper?"

  "Garrett gave it to me," she said, tipping her face up. "It's a bird. A White-Throated Dipper."

  My eyes moved down to her throat.

  "There are a lot of them in Norway and Sweden. He used to show me photos of people from there when I was a kid. He kept telling me that I wasn't wrong. I was just in the wrong place.” She ducked under the water and when she came up, there was something hidden in her eyes. “Kai, the White-Throated Dipper is a migratory bird. It knows when it has to move on."

  I moved backward and my chest tightened. I wanted to kiss her. It was hard to do that, though, knowing that the closer I got to her, the more she tried to pull away. Instead, I broke away, swimming to the other side of the pool and back, then dove under, going all the way to the bottom before soaring up and through the surface. I hovered there for a few seconds, watching her as the water lapped at my chin.

  "How much time do we have?" I said, deliberately keeping some space between us. "Will you tell me before you leave?"

  "Kai, I'd never just take off without saying goodbye."

  She swam closer but stopped an arm's length away and we hovered like that, treading water, waiting to see who would break first. Finally, her hand accidentally connected with mine and I grabbed hold of it, pulling her roughly through the water until we were chest to chest.

  I dipped my head and press my lips to the tattoo behind her ear then lifted the bottom of her top so that my hand was flat against the small of her back. She pressed her chest against mine and lightly kissed the hollow of my throat. "Tess, we should go."

  "Why?"

  "Because if any
thing happens between us," I said, tasting the water on her skin, "I don't want it to be like this."

  We broke apart, back to watching each other. She followed me to the shore and up the steps to the track. And I bit my tongue the whole walk back to the truck because all I wanted in the world was to tell her exactly what I wanted it to be like. In detail.

  Chapter Thirteen

  I chose that place because geographically, it was as far away from Onakea as you could get without leaving the island. If you got a map and drew a line at the widest point, you'd find it right at the edge. There was no inland road then to make the journey faster. The only way was around, and that was another reason why I chose it. When I went there, I feel like I was just one man, standing alone in his own space, not a man with a brother and a legacy and a broken father all clinging to his back. It was the only place in the world where I did whatever I wanted to do without anyone watching or expecting anything from me. I had never brought a girl there before.

  She fell asleep again on the drive there, and I let her because I didn't think she slept well at night. I wanted to ask her about that. And about a million other things. I wanted to know why she asked me hard questions but wouldn't answer any of mine, and why when I pushed her, she only gave me small details that just made the gaping holes in her story all the more obvious. I tried to fill them in myself and I wondered if I was right about any of it. Clearly, she was running from something, or someone. She was courageous, she would have to be, to be on her own like she was. But she was afraid, too. She wasn't good at hiding it. At least, not with me.

  I wanted to lie under the macadamia trees again and gaze up at the sky while I told her all the things that had happened to my family back then. More than ever, I wanted to say the words that no one on the island ever spoke. But something inside me knew that if I told her these things, there was a good chance that she would tilt her head and listen in that intense, quiet way of hers, but she wouldn't tell me anything in return.

  I watched her sleep as I made the long trip here. The way her long, slim legs folded up underneath her like a foal. Her hair, like corn silk, spilling over one shoulder and reaching almost to her waist. Her arms, dotted with freckles, some of them more like blotches of paint than spots. The way she left the top button of her jeans undone when we'd gotten dressed before. Her bare feet, small like a child's. And as we got nearer to our destination, I felt the small buzz of anxiety that had been sitting just under my ribs all morning crackle and hiss. Because I knew that the thing I was about to do could go very wrong.

  "Hey," I whispered, touching her cheek. "We're here."

  She stirred and opened her eyes and then her mouth set in a line. "I slept again."

  "It doesn't matter."

  "I missed the whole drive, though."

  "So you'll see it when we drive back."

  We stepped out of the truck, she let me open her door for her this time, and I stood back, watching her take it all in. "What is this place?"

  "I'll show you," I said, taking her hand and pulling her up the steps to the long wooden deck that surrounded the building. She broke away from me and walked to the railing, leaning over toward the sea.

  "There's no-one around. Where are the other houses?

  "No-one else is allowed to build here."

  She leaned back on the railing. "Why not?"

  "Because I own all of it. It was given to me by my grandfather when he died."

  "Oh." Her eyes ran along the wooden beams above us. "Did you build it?"

  "Some of it. Lots of people helped, donated stuff."

  I unlocked the door and pulled it wide. She waited, hesitating at the entrance and then she stepped in. I watched her walk along the wall of photos, stopping more than once, her eyes wide and her mouth open, before going further into the room. She stopped in front of the instruments, most of them packed away, and at the control room through the glass.

  "Oh God," she groaned, finally turning back to me. "I'm that girl."

  "What girl?"

  She put her hands over her burning face. "That stupid girl. The one who doesn't realize she's hanging out with a guy who's famous."

  "I'm not famous," I said, walking toward her and pulling her hands away from her cheeks. "Most people have never heard of me."

  "Oh, really?" she said, raising her eyebrows and striding over to a photograph on the wall. She pointed at a picture of me with the lead singer of a big band. We were drunk, smiling widely and holding up a bottle of beer each toward the camera. "Explain that, then."

  "Music people know who I am," I said, trying not to laugh. "But no-one else does."

  "Are you some kind of producer?" She looked through the glass at the mixing desk and then back to face me.

  "Sometimes. But most of my work is from bands coming here to record their albums. I rent them the space and if I'm lucky they ask me to be a studio musician on their records. And I open for them if they're playing in Hawaii."

  She walked to the piano against one wall, running her fingers over the keys. "Have you got your own record?"

  "No."

  "Have you thought about it?"

  I kept my eyes on her. "Every day."

  I showed her the rest of the studio, the control room, the kitchen and the living quarters out the back. She wanted to know the name of every famous person who had ever slept in the beds. And after we'd seen everything, I led her back down the corridor, my mouth dry and my heart thumping in my chest.

  "The reason I brought you here," I said, opening the door for her, "is because I wanted to see if you'd like to record something."

  She stopped walking, her face frozen and her hands calmly resting at her sides. Her pulse flickered at her throat, faster than a rabbit's.

  "Have you ever heard your music played back to you?" I asked. She kept her eyes on me and slowly shook her head. "Would you like to?"

  "I don't have my violin here," she said, her voice barely more than a whisper. She took a deep breath and slowly let the air out through her nose and I pulled her to me for a hug.

  "I have two here. You can pick the one you like the best. It's okay, Tess. No one will hear it except for you and me."

  "Why are you doing this?"

  I knew why I was doing it. I wanted something of her to keep with me after she left. She gave nothing of herself away. But she and I both knew that she couldn't hide when she played. I wanted to see her get lost in it again.

  "It'll be good for you," I said softly. "Just try it."

  She walked the perimeter of the room slowly, and when she got back to me, she stopped, coming close and pressing her forehead into my shoulder.

  "What do you think?"

  "I hate you," she said. "Show me the violins."

  "Tess? Can you hear me okay?" I said, pressing the button on the desk.

  She startled. "Yes."

  "Whenever you're ready, then."

  She let the violin hang with one hand while she tugged on her t-shirt and fidgeted with her hair with the other. I watched her through the glass and she stared back, and then just when I thought she was going to back out, she lifted the violin to her shoulder and picked up her bow.

  I saw at once how wrong I was before. She was playing something different to the first time I'd heard her, but this piece still did the same thing to my guts. I thought it was about death. But it wasn't. It was about loss. I watched her play for a long time. She kept her eyes closed and I was glad, because I didn't want her to see my face as I listened to her. The notes she played were long and desperate. I miss you, it said. I miss you, I miss you, I miss you.

  When she was finished, she opened her eyes and found me through the glass. Neither of us moved. Her eyes were wet and when I blinked I suddenly realized that mine were, too. She placed the violin back in the case and carefully put it on the table. Only then did I remember to stop the recording.

  "Do you want to hear it?" I said when she opened the door to the control room and stepped inside.

&
nbsp; She shook her head. "Maybe another day."

  "Can I talk to you about it?"

  She smiled sadly, walking to where I was sitting. "Maybe another day."

  "It was beautiful, Tess. Who taught you to play?"

  "My mother."

  "And then?"

  "And then Garrett paid for my tuition. He's been trying to get me to go to school to study music ever since I left home."

  "That sounds like a generous offer. Why don't you take him up on it?"

  "Because I don't want to play. And I don't want to take any more of his money."

  "That's noble of you. But it's also bullshit. I think you do want to play."

  "I don't, actually."

  "I want you to listen to it. I'll play something over top of it if that makes it easier."

  She sat in the chair next to me, swiveling it around so that we were face to face. "What do I do?"

  "Just press this button when I tell you to. You can talk to me by pressing that button there. Got it?"

  She nodded.

  I walked around to the studio and clicked the door shut behind me. She was sitting at the desk with her arms crossed, her shoulders hunched up somewhere near her ears. I plugged in a guitar and set up a microphone, and when I was ready, I gave her the thumbs up. She hesitated and then I saw her say, "Fuck it," before lifting her hand and pressing the button.

  The studio was silent for a second and I watched her face, her lips clamped shut and her eyes looking above her head as if she was expecting the music to suddenly pour out of the ceiling and wash her away. I gave her a reassuring smile, which didn't help, and then the first note of her violin wound its way into the room. She flinched. I listened to the melody, remembering how it went, and then I add a few chords of my guitar to it. A small flash lit up her eyes at the sound and it gave me enough confidence to add a bit more. There was a song I'd been working on and I knew it would work if I changed a few things as I went. I cleared my throat and leaned toward the microphone.

  Chapter Fourteen

  I pulled back from the microphone and put my guitar on the ground, then came back through the door to the control room. The violin track was still playing and Tess kept her faced turned away. Her eyes were running over the mixing desk, searching for the button that would kill the sound. I pressed it for her and she closed her eyes briefly in relief.