The Color of Air

by Gail Tsukiyama

  “Dammit! Get back to work!” he hisses. “Now!”

  The crowd scatters. Efren scurries to his feet and gathers up the cane, while the luna picks up his whip and climbs back up onto his big, black horse, his brimmed hat covering his eyes, so that all I can see is his large nose and bearded chin as we all hurry back to work.

  * * *

  “You the king here,” I say, walking back into the field.

  Koji doesn’t say anything. He grips his machete and looks down the long row of cane ahead of him. I wonder what he thinks about his newfound power. If it were mine, I would have killed that luna, stealing my father’s razor from my boot, swinging the blade open and singing it across his throat in one smooth swoop, yeah. But that’s me, that’s Franklin, not Koji. Never Koji. Instead, he takes a deep breath and I see him reaching deep down inside of himself to call up his monster, eh, that strength that makes him such a fast cane cutter that even the lunas and plantation police won’t touch him. Then before I can say another word he begins cutting with such speed I can’t keep up.

  Every whack of the machete releases his anger.

  Every whack of the machete makes him stronger.

  I pick up the pace and try to follow.

  We have to stay one step ahead.

  Lost and Found

  December 6–8, 1935

  22

  Ashes

  Daniel carefully snapped apart and boxed the metal railroad tracks before slipping each railcar back into its original packaging, all the while thinking of Maile. It had been more than a week since he’d seen her after the meeting at the fish market. Since then, it was as if she’d disappeared back into hiding. He had a mind to stop by her cousin’s place just to make sure she was all right, maybe see if she’d have a meal with him. Daniel shook his head; he was acting like they were in high school again.

  With his railcars and track packed and back in the hall closet, the kitchen table looked stripped. Daniel had been home for two weeks and knew it was time to clean up his toys, as his mother used to tell him, though his railroad set had been a welcome sight every morning when he walked into the kitchen. His first week back, he watched the railcars click-clack around the table as he stood at the counter eating his breakfast, comforted by them like being in a room with old friends.

  Daniel sat down at the table with a cup of coffee and glimpsed his father’s glass ashtray sitting on the counter. Earlier, while he was rummaging through the pantry, he was surprised to find it tucked behind jars of dried mango and shaved coconut flakes. His mother had always put the ashtray on the kitchen table when his father came home from a construction job, the thin gray film of ash on the bottom washed clean. It had disappeared for the first time not long after his father had left for Oahu, never to return. Daniel reached for it now, fingering its chipped edge as he set it on the table again. His memories of his father were scant. He was six when he left, too young to realize that those early years were all he’d ever have of the father who bought him gumballs and licorice, and took him to Wailuku River to swim every time he came home from a job.

  What did Daniel remember about his father? He seemed well liked by everyone in Hilo town. When they walked down the street, they were always stopped by someone who knew him. He was Frank, Frankie, Franklin, all three rolled into one. He was always generous, as if he didn’t have a care in the world. He left all the worrying to his mother. When his father first arrived home after finishing a job on another island, he was always happy, buying his mother flowers and taking them out to eat at the Lahaina Diner, only to become anxious and antsy after a few weeks. Even as a small boy, Daniel could feel the air thick with tension, his father roaming around the house like a trapped animal, drinking cups of coffee as he filled the ashtray with his cigarette butts.

  There was the one rare afternoon his father stayed home to watch him while his mother went shopping; it was the first time Daniel had been alone with him. His father had hurt his back in a fall on a job and it was the longest period of time he’d ever stayed home with them. “Daddy can’t carry you,” his mother told him, “so you hold his hand if you go out, yeah.” Daniel was no older than three or four and had wanted to run after her as he watched her leave.

  They’d sat on the couch, and his father read him a book about a rabbit and a snake who become friends when they have to escape a forest fire together. Afterward his father stood and stretched his back, grimacing with pain, and then said, “Let’s play a game.”

  Daniel watched his father pick up a pad of paper and a pencil from the table, leaning closer to him. He smelled like cigarettes and something sweet and flowery he used to comb his hair with. “This is a guessing game called What Is It? Where Is It?” he’d said. “I’m going to draw something, yeah, and I want you to tell me what it is and where it is. Do you understand?”

  Daniel nodded. He’d never heard of the game before. His father began to draw a circle with spears around it. “The sun!” Daniel yelled out, louder than he expected to.

  “That’s right,” his father said. “Where is it?”

  Daniel pointed up to the ceiling but he meant the sky. “Outside,” he added.

  His father smiled, and he felt a warm happiness spread through his body as he anticipated the next drawing. A flower, a tree, a cup, a train, all guessed correctly.

  His father paused and lit a cigarette before smiling down at him. “You’re a smart boy. You did good, son,” he said.

  Daniel thought about that afternoon now, remembering it as the first time his father had ever called him “son.” He didn’t realize how good it made him feel, only to never hear him say it again. It was such a small legacy to leave behind.

  * * *

  Daniel held the ashtray in the palm of his hand. One morning, months after his father had disappeared, he was outside playing in the yard and had found the ashtray half buried in the mud. His mother’s face turned pale when she saw him washing it off in a bucket of water. “Give it to me,” she’d said, her voice sounding strange, cold and flat. Her eyes were dark and annoyed as she snatched it quickly out of his hands. Daniel wanted to say he was sorry because he’d made her mad though he wasn’t quite sure why. Later, when he went inside all the anger was gone and his mother was back to herself. Daniel never saw the ashtray again until this morning. He finished his coffee and stood to put it back where he found it, buried deep in the pantry where she wanted it.

  Ever since Mama Natua had mistaken him for his father, Franklin Abe had crept back and lay heavily in his thoughts. The ashtray was just another reminder. It felt as if his father kept returning, only to disappear all over again. Daniel tried to remember when he finally realized his father hadn’t left for work, he had left them.

  * * *

  Outside, the sky was clear, the warm wind finally carrying the sweet scents of the pikake and naupaka blossoms he missed. Daniel looked around the yard to see so many tasks ahead of him. The house could use a fresh coat of paint. The garden needed cleaning up, and his mother’s beloved mango tree was so much taller than he remembered. He was back now and finally understood what the mango tree had meant to her: it was the living embodiment of their family’s time on the island—the past, the present, and the future. It would remain long after they were gone, a reminder of the resilience of life. It was his turn to make sure it continued to thrive. Daniel walked down the dirt path to the main road. It wasn’t until he turned the corner that he knew where he was headed.

  23

  The Surprise

  When Maile heard footsteps at the front door, she stopped mopping the kitchen floor and quietly waited. All afternoon she remained in the thick heat of the small house while her cousin was at work. When the knock came she flinched, a sourness roiling in her stomach. She held on to the mop tightly. All I have to do is stay quiet, she thought. Just stay quiet and wait until whoever it is goes away. Maile stepped slowly toward the front door, taking deep breaths in and out to swallow her panic. She was scaring herself. It could si
mply be a neighbor, or a salesman, or a Bible-toting missionary recruiter. He couldn’t know where her cousin lived. She had only mentioned her cousin to him once or twice, in passing. All he knew was that both her parents were dead. Maile’s thoughts stumbled over each other. She leaned the mop against the wall and picked up a screwdriver her cousin had left on the coffee table. It was impossible to keep living her life like this, held hostage and afraid. Blood pumping, she used her bandana to wipe the sweat from her face. Her shirt clung sticky against her back by the time she reached for the door and pulled it open, only to find Daniel standing there.

  * * *

  Two days later, Maile was early and already waiting for Daniel on the wood platform at the train station. He wanted to take her on a train ride, he’d said, standing outside her cousin’s front door the other afternoon. He had asked her to meet him at the station, looking like the boy from high school, laughter and kindness in his voice. He made her feel like that young girl again. It was the first morning she hadn’t thought about anything else, hadn’t felt the knot of anxiety in her stomach getting up to face another day. Maile was halfway down the road before realizing she hadn’t looked for him when she stepped out of the house that morning. And now her fear rose again, having let down her guard. She wouldn’t look back, she wouldn’t. Even if it was for just this one morning, Maile tamped down her anxiety. She walked straight to the train station without turning, breathless with hope, breathless with anticipation.

  * * *

  The small station shook like a quake had hit when the first local passenger train arrived. The day was airless and already warm, but Maile’s heart jumped at the shrill sound of the whistle. The wooden planks reverberated under her feet as the large train rumbled and slowed toward the station. Clouds of steam swarmed around her as the train ground to a stop, wheezing one last time, full of sighs and ticks. The light circled her and changed just as suddenly, tinged with expectation. The quick commotion of doors cracking open was followed by dockworkers, women in bright-colored, loose cotton muumuus, and uniformed schoolkids coming to Hilo from towns along the Hamakua coast, stepping down from the cars and hurrying off to their destinations.

  The Hawaii Consolidated Railroad had opened up the small world of Hilo, connecting them to other parts of the island. News of the lava pooling above Hilo hadn’t changed any of their daily routines yet, and she watched, amazed at their resiliency and ashamed of her own weakness. Voices echoed from all directions as the scurried movements of the day beginning reminded her of being back in Oahu, sparking a moment of renewed fear.

  Maile inhaled and exhaled and pushed it out again.

  She waited until the very last passenger disembarked from the train and it stood completely empty. Only then did she sit down and wait for Daniel, the world around her having gone quiet again.

  Daniel arrived not long after. Maile looked across the tracks to the platform on the other side and saw him emerge from the small station, looking for her. It took another moment for Maile to believe that all of this was really happening. Just a few weeks before, she’d been walking along the streets of Honolulu’s Chinatown, stopping among the sad stalls of pungent salted fish and vegetables wilting in the afternoon heat, never imagining she’d be here now. Maile looked across the tracks and watched Daniel, wearing a white shirt and dark pants, always so handsome, still recognizing his quick, lanky movements, his shorter haircut, and his caring, inquisitive eyes that suddenly looked across the tracks and caught hers. She couldn’t help but wonder again why he would still be interested in her. Daniel smiled, then waved to her.

  “You’re on the wrong side!” he yelled over.

  Maile smiled and waved back to him. She hadn’t thought about which direction they were heading. She hadn’t thought about coming or going; she simply knew it was with someone she wasn’t afraid of, someone she knew for years and could depend on. Maile’s tongue swept over her lips and she tasted the sweetness of that feeling again.

  24

  The Scenic Express

  * * *

  THE HAWAII CONSOLIDATED RAILROAD

  ANNOUNCES THE SCENIC EXPRESS.

  EXPERIENCE HAWAII LIKE YOU’VE NEVER SEEN IT BEFORE.

  RIDE AND DINE IN THE COMFORT OF OUR LUXURY TRAIN CARS.

  ENJOY THE SPECTACULAR VIEWS ALONG THE HAMAKUA COAST.

  —TICKETS AVAILABLE AT THE HILO RAILWAY STATION—

  * * *

  Daniel had first seen the ad for the Scenic Express tacked on the Okawa Fish Market’s bulletin board the night he returned. He’d thought nothing of it until he saw Maile again. In Chicago, he’d spent most of his days and nights at the hospital, leaving little time to spend his salary. During his residency, he sent money home whenever he could, but his mother was already gone by the time he began working full-time at the University of Chicago’s Medical Center. Even in these lean times, he reasoned he had worked hard for this small extravagance, and there was no one he would rather share it with than Maile.

  “Our train should be arriving soon,” Daniel said as they waited on the platform.

  Other passengers had begun to gather. Daniel recognized the manager from S. H. Kress & Company and his wife, a doctor he’d spoken with at the hospital, and other well-to-do haoles who lived in their big houses up in the hills east of downtown. He glanced down the platform and was surprised to see a missionary minister who’d come by the fish market trying to recruit locals. Daniel wondered how he could afford such a luxury on a minister’s salary. The murmur of excited voices and laughter surrounded them, the sweet-scented aftershaves and perfumes of the men and women finely dressed in suits and expensive dresses. He watched Maile watching them before looking down uncomfortably at her faded cotton dress and scuffed shoes. Had he made a mistake?

  “Where are we going?” Maile asked, her voice rising just barely above the commotion.

  “It’s a surprise.” Then he smiled reassuringly. “Trust me.”

  He saw her flinch at his words.

  It was only after the gleaming black-and-burgundy train pulled smoothly into the station that he saw her slight apprehension turn to surprise. They were suddenly standing next to the luxurious Scenic Express, the letters spelled out in bold, gold letters on the side of each car. It offered a special sightseeing excursion in beautifully renovated railcars, part of Hawaii Consolidated Railways’ remedy to help cut the costs of building the railroad along the Hamakua coast to service the sugar mills north of Hilo. Daniel couldn’t imagine the amount of work involved in building a railroad along the rugged coast, rearranging nature to suit their needs. They had blasted through mountains to create tunnels, and built trestles to support the railcars rising hundreds of feet over valleys and rivers.

  “I read about the Scenic Express in an Oahu newspaper,” Maile said with awe.

  They counted six cars. Each large window had thick, velvet burgundy drapes tied to each side. It was beautiful and extravagant. She glanced at Daniel, her face flushed. She looked at the train and remained quiet. A burst of steam was released as the train shuttered and settled.

  “Is everything all right?” he asked.

  Daniel watched her, suddenly nervous as they stood on the crowded platform among the other excited passengers. He should have waited, done something simple and quiet. Instead he had to show off. Maile shifted from side to side, her brow knitted as if she were worrying over a math problem. Was this all too much for her? He only wanted to take her away from Hilo and the eruption for a little while. He grew warm at the thought that she might refuse to board the train with him as she eyed the fancy railcars and the well-dressed passengers.

  “We don’t have to—” he began.

  “No,” she said. “I mean yes, everything’s fine, thank you.”

  Daniel breathed a sigh of relief when she turned to him and smiled, her cloud of hesitation cleared away.

  * * *

  The Scenic Express didn’t disappoint. Instead of the hard, wooden benches and sticky gray floors of t
he passenger trains, the car was wallpapered in a burgundy and gold-leaf crown pattern, sharing matching burgundy lampshades on the overhead lamps and soft, plush gold carpeting underfoot. To each side of the center aisle were white-tableclothed tables set with china, silverware, and wineglasses, each table smartly positioned for gazing out of the large picture windows. They were shown to table twelve, toward the back of the car, as other passengers filled the tables around them.

  It was a luxury that couldn’t be further from Daniel’s sugar train experiences with Uncle Koji, sweating in the engine car, breathing in soot and coal dust, and yelling to be heard above the grinding, chugging train. “Too pretty, eh, for a real train,” Uncle Koji would say. Daniel felt a tinge of guilt at the lavishness and cost. He cringed to think of Auntie Nori’s retort, “Why pay, yeah, when nature is out there for free?”

  But as the scenic train slowly pulled out of the station, all his reservations disappeared. They sat at their white-clothed table and spoke easily, though Maile still hadn’t said anything about her fiancé. Daniel knew enough to wait. There was something fragile about her that he didn’t want to spook. When the train picked up speed, leaving the outskirts of Hilo and snaking down the Hamakua coast, they gazed out at the wondrous views, bordered by the ocean on one side and the lush, massive mountains on the other. After living in crowded cities surrounded by traffic and tall buildings, they were both seeing the island anew again, pure and wild and untouched. It was hard to believe that just on the other side of the mountain, the burning lava endlessly flowed.

  When they entered the first tunnel, the lamps in the train flickered on before the darkness surrounded them. Daniel thought he saw Maile tremble. He heard a collective intake of breath from the other passengers in the car as they were suddenly rumbling through the cool, black night. He looked at Maile’s reflection in the dark window, girlish in the dim light, and he could hardly believe they were there, moving straight through the interior of a massive mountain together. Daniel looked down at the silver knife rattling against Maile’s water glass. When he reached over to quiet it, his fingers brushed against hers and stayed. Moments later, the sunlight stunned as the train barreled out of the other side of the tunnel and the whistle blew through a cloud of rising steam.