36
Uncle Koji
The smoke grew heavier, dimming the sunlight. Daniel finally slowed and turned around, expecting to see Uncle Koji right behind him. Instead there was only a cloud of smoke wafting down the empty trail. The truck was just up ahead. Daniel waited, catching his breath, his throat dry and scratchy, dread rising as he stood there expecting to see Uncle Koji coming around the bend at any moment. Instead there were only shadows playing tricks, the air moving around him growing warmer and darker.
Where was he?
Daniel quickly backtracked up the trail. It felt like he was walking into a cave, leaving the daylight behind. Why hadn’t he waited? He should have waited. Instead he took off like a shot and ran when Koji told him to. Daniel knew how dangerous it was so close to the flow. The air hissed and crackled as trees caught fire. Uncle Koji was no longer the young man who had somehow made it down the mountain amid a typhoon to get to them. That night he’d brought him his first railcar. His once invincible uncle was as vulnerable as they all were now. Daniel shook away the thought and hurried back up the trail, calling out, “Uncle Koji!”
He ran faster, careful not to fall.
“Uncle Koji!”
Still there was no answer. Daniel looked up to see the smoke rising over the trees, the new lava breakout consuming everything in its path. He hurried up the trail. The smoke thickened and he began to cough, his eyes burning, his bandana lost somewhere along the path. What was he thinking? He held his breath through the cloudy smoke. Why didn’t he wait instead of running again? Did he let his anger rule his judgment? Why did you both lie to me? he thought. He felt sick knowing that Koji never would have left him, not in a million years. What was Daniel thinking? All his uncle and his mother ever did was protect him.
Stupid. He was stupid.
“Uncle Koji!”
Daniel was afraid of what the silence meant. He ran farther up the empty trail where a sputtering, crackling, whistling noise filled the hot air, blowing like the beginnings of a typhoon. He imagined the trees engulfed, catching fire and falling over like dominoes, worried that his uncle might be trapped underneath one of them. Koji had always been the one who saved them, never asking for anything in return. Where was his father all those times?
“Uncle Koji!”
Daniel’s heart pounded against his chest. If something were to happen to Koji he would never forgive himself. He couldn’t help but think of his mother and how distraught she would be. In all the years she and Koji were together, Daniel had rarely seen his uncle unable to manage any situation, fix what was broken, or calm their fears. All except for the one Sunday evening when Koji’s low, anguished cry moved through the house. Daniel had just turned ten, only interested in baseball and being with his friends, but the sudden and unexpected cry from Koji was startling. Was he hurt? Daniel was hit with a quick jolt of fear and was off his bed and at his room door in a flash, quietly opening it and stepping into the hallway. From the living room, he listened to Koji and his mother talking in the kitchen. Koji was sitting at the table with his head bowed low. He watched as his mother knelt by him, her hand on his knee.
“Mama said there must have been something wrong, yeah.”
Koji moaned softly. Daniel had been shocked to see Koji so upset.
His mother closed her eyes. “Something that had caused the miscarriage,” she continued. “It would have been more difficult if the baby had gone full term and had problems, yeah.” Her voice caught and she didn’t say anything else.
Koji looked up at her and slowly stood, helping her to stand. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close. “Doesn’t mean there won’t be another chance, eh,” he said.
His mother nodded.
Daniel stepped back and knew something big had happened. There was a baby and then there wasn’t. A brother or sister. As far as he knew, another chance never came. Whatever anger Daniel felt, whatever childish resentment he held against his mother and Koji, only left him embarrassed now. He looked toward the smoke-filled, suffocating darkness. He had to find Koji.
“Uncle Koji!”
Daniel paused and coughed, his throat parched and raw. He was scared and wasn’t sure how much farther he could go before the path was completely engulfed in smoke. Where was Koji? He could hardly see two feet in front of him. Just after he rounded the next bend, the smoke thinned and he saw Koji’s dark shadow lying on the ground. Daniel rushed to him, his instincts kicking in. He gently turned him over. There was a gash bleeding profusely below his hairline. He felt for a pulse on his neck, then quickly took off his own shirt to stanch the flow of blood from Koji’s forehead.
“Uncle Koji,” he said, patting his cheek. “Uncle Koji.” He heard a soft moan and saw movement. “It’s okay,” Daniel said. “I’m here.”
Koji tried to sit up but slumped back down.
“Stay still,” Daniel said. He put more pressure on his forehead.
“Tripped.”
“Looks like your forehead took the brunt of it. Are you feeling pain anywhere else?”
“No,” Koji said. He began to cough, his hand rising to his forehead.
Daniel waited until his coughing subsided. “Can you stand up?” he asked.
Koji nodded.
“We need to get out of here!” Daniel said. “Come on.”
He helped to lift Koji to his feet, his uncle leaning heavily against Daniel as he half dragged him back down the smoked-filled trail toward the truck. The spitting, crackling noise felt closer and louder, as if the fire were chasing them down the path. Koji’s foot slipped and they almost fell when Daniel found his balance and managed to heave his uncle back up.
“Leave me,” he heard Koji tell him.
“Never! We just have to move faster,” Daniel said, raising his voice against the hot wind of the firestorm. “Just a little farther,” he encouraged.
Koji grunted, and seemed to understand as he began to push forward. They picked up their pace until they finally glimpsed the truck through the murky air up ahead.
“There’s the truck,” Daniel said.
“The truck,” Koji said, squeezing his shoulder, coughing.
Daniel breathed a sigh of relief when Koji was finally in the truck, leaning heavily against the passenger-side window, his eyes closed. Daniel quickly backed the truck, completely engulfed in smoke now, out of the narrow dirt track and onto the main road. From there it was an easy drive down the mountain to Hilo Hospital.
“Hold on,” Daniel said. “You’re going to be all right.”
Koji lifted his hand in response but didn’t say a word.
* * *
It took nine stitches to close the gash on Koji’s forehead. Even in his groggy state, he refused to spend the night in the hospital to be monitored, so Daniel took responsibility of watching over him. By the time he drove home, it was long after dinner. He was surprised to see that Maile had stayed at the house and came outside as soon as she heard the truck. He saw the worry and relief on her face as they helped Uncle Koji inside.
37
The Truth of It
Koji woke to darkness, his head throbbing, and a bitter taste on his tongue. He must still be in the hospital. His eyes adjusted to the dimness in the room, focusing on the shadows that slowly took shape. He reached over to turn on the lamp on the bedside table, knocking over a glass instead and causing a small ruckus. A cool wetness spread across his pillow. The one movement had sapped all his strength, and Koji slowly lay back down on the damp pillow to rest for a moment. He gently touched the bandage that spread halfway across his forehead. His body ached along with the pulsing wound. He heard the sudden burst of rain pebbling against the windows, creaks, and then footsteps before the door opened. Everything felt heightened. When the light clicked on, Koji squinted against the painful brightness to see Daniel standing there.
Koji was confused to see him there in the middle of the night. “Where am I?” he asked hoarsely. His mouth felt like cotton.
Koji remembered. He had tripped on the trail. “A tree root got in my way, yeah,” he said, and coughed, pain shooting to the top of his head.
Daniel smiled. “Do you have a headache? Any nausea?”
“Head’s pounding,” he whispered. He’d felt more sensations in the past ten minutes than in the past two years.
Daniel reached down and checked his pulse, then carefully switched his damp pillow for a dry one on the bed. “We need to see about that cough, too.”
“It’s nothing.”
Daniel shook his head. “We’ll see.” He paused and then said, “Uncle Koji, I’m sorry. I should have waited for you on the trail, I don’t know what I was thinking.”
“You were doing what I told you to do,” Koji said. “Nothing to be sorry about.”
Daniel looked as if he might say something else, but didn’t. “I’ll be right back,” he said, taking the empty glass with him. “Don’t go anywhere.”
Koji smiled and didn’t move. He closed his eyes. It took a moment for it to flicker through his brain before his eyes opened wide. He was in Mariko’s room and lying in her bed again.
* * *
Three days later, Koji was up, sitting on the edge of Mariko’s bed. He’d slept most of the first two days, realizing he hadn’t slept that much since he was a baby. When he woke this morning, his headache was all but gone and the sunlight no longer bothered him. The bandage across his forehead made things look much worse than he felt. Koji stood and slowly dressed, still a bit unsteady as he stopped to take a good look around the room now that he was upright. It was just as he remembered it, warm and comfortable, uncluttered except for the top of Mariko’s dresser, which was covered with small objects she’d collected over the years, stones and shells and carved kukui nut shells. “I’m leaving a trail of my life,” she once told him. “Tells folks where I’ve been and what meant something to me.” He could see her once again holding each small prize, delight radiating across her face. Then, from the corner of his eye, he saw a small black lava rock that she must have taken the day they visited the lava cave so many years ago. He had reminded her it was bad luck to take any lava rocks. “No bad omens,” she said, “as long as the lava doesn’t leave the island, yeah.” But when he looked closer, he was relieved to see it was a piece of black obsidian glass instead.
Koji stared at her collection, his throat dry. There was so little he had collected along the way, so little to show for except for Mariko and Daniel. All the other surfaces in his life were empty.
* * *
Koji heard voices from the kitchen and knew Nori had arrived. She and Maile had come by each day bringing food, making sure he was eating and comfortable. “Don’t know how you’re going back up to Puli after being so pampered,” Daniel teased. Koji had seen the worry in Nori’s eyes when she’d visited the morning after he’d fallen. Each day since, he lay in bed waiting for her to scold him for being so foolish, for going so close to the lava flow, but she still hadn’t said a word.
Koji knew Nori wouldn’t be happy to see him out of bed and dressed. If she had her way, he would rest for a few days more, a full week preferably, but he couldn’t; he was already going stir-crazy lying in bed the past few days.
Koji paused in the living room, listening.
“Lava’s been flowing for ten days now, folks don’t know whether to stay or leave,” Nori said. “Uncle Samuel wants to wait it out.”
“And you?” Daniel asked.
“Same.”
“Me too,” Daniel said. “This house is all I have left of her. I’m not abandoning it.”
Koji cleared his throat and walked into the kitchen.
As he expected, it was Nori who spoke first. “What are you doing out of bed?”
“Feeling fine,” he said. “Time to get going again, yeah, before these bones get too stiff to move anymore.”
Nori watched him for a moment. “What were you thinking?” she asked sternly. To his great surprise, she didn’t say anything else about it. “At least sit down and eat some breakfast,” she then said, glancing at Daniel as if they shared some secret.
After they’d eaten and Nori returned to the market, Koji looked across the table at Daniel and said, “Be nice to get some fresh air, eh. Let’s go for a ride.”
Daniel smiled. “You do remember what happened the last time we went for a ride,” he reminded him.
* * *
Koji leaned back in the passenger seat, happy to be outside for the first time in days as Daniel backed the truck out of the driveway and drove toward town. When they reached downtown, Koji turned to him and said, “Let’s go to Onekahakaha Beach.”
Onekahakaha Beach was four miles down the coastal road from Hilo. He, Razor, and Franklin used to walk the distance from the train station to the beach and back as if it were nothing. Koji hadn’t been back to the beach since Mariko died. He paid close attention to the coastal road, lined with waving palm trees, a sprinkling of sand rising in the wind and dancing along the blacktop. Everything appeared to come alive. He felt different, too, as if the numbness in him were finally beginning to thaw. He looked for the words to explain what he was feeling, but it was Daniel who spoke first.
“I made a mistake,” Daniel said. His voice rose above the rumbling of the truck. “A little girl will never be the same because of me.”
Koji glanced over to see Daniel’s hands, white-knuckled on the steering wheel. He saw the boy again first learning to drive, who always tried so hard to get everything right. He knew now what had brought him home from Chicago.
“Life doesn’t always work out the way we want it to, yeah,” Koji finally said.
Daniel remained silent. Koji didn’t know what else to say. If only he could heal his own wounds so easily.
“Tell me, would you have done anything different?” Koji asked. It was something he’d asked himself over and over since Razor’s death.
Daniel licked his lips, deep in thought. Koji imagined him reliving every step, every decision he’d made concerning the little girl. Minutes passed. “No,” he finally said. “Given the circumstances, no.” He said it softly, shaking his head as if to convince himself.
“Things happen beyond our control, yeah,” he said. “No fault in doing your best,” he added, wondering who he was trying to convince.
Daniel looked at him. “Only the guilt,” he said.
It was something Koji knew well.
* * *
The last time Koji saw Razor alive; he’d made him a promise he couldn’t keep. He ran into Razor coming out of the plantation store. Koji was all cleaned up and there was an extra lightness in his step knowing he was on his way down to Hilo to see Mariko and Daniel. Razor knew how important they were to him, how long he’d waited to be with Mariko, so he always nudged but never pushed him to attend the union meetings held once or twice a month. It was the first time Razor was serious and insistent.
“Just the man I wanted to see, eh,” Razor said, pulling Koji to the side. He lowered his voice. “There’s a meeting tomorrow night. I need you to be there. It’s important, yeah. We’re voting to strike.”
As soon as Koji heard the word “strike,” he grabbed his friend’s arm, worried. “You saw what happened to the workers over at Kailua. The plantation police have been like rabid dogs since that strike was put down. You know what will happen, yeah, if the lunas and owners get wind of it,” he said. His voice rose and he quickly reined it in. “You could lose your job, even worse, be labeled an agitator and blacklisted from working at any other plantation on the Big Island. On any of the islands, dammit! Then what will you do?”
Razor smiled at him. “More words than you’ve said to me in a long time, yeah.”
Koji felt guilty hearing the truth. He worked cutting cane, then spent as much time as he could down i
n Hilo with Mariko and Daniel. It was the first time in a long while that he’d actually had a conversation with Razor, who was his oldest friend, the one person on the plantation he’d trust with his life. He was about to apologize when Razor continued talking.
“You know what I’ll do if they dare to run me off the plantation? Keep fighting, that’s what I’ll do,” he said. “You can’t keep thinking that I’m standing under a teetering mountain of cane just waiting to come crashing down on me. We’ve learned over the years. We’re always careful, yeah. We won’t make the same mistakes others have.”
Koji stopped resisting. Razor was right: Koji still saw him as that antsy, funny, impetuous kid, always leaping before looking. During the years in between, Razor had grown up, settled down to become a passionate and strong organizer.
“That’s why I want you there, to keep me careful, yeah, like always,” Razor added. “You can’t keep standing on the sidelines. I won’t take no for an answer this time.”
Koji looked away before Razor saw the quick flicker of guilt he felt. He was right: Koji had run out of excuses.
“What time?” Koji asked.
“Seven p.m. At the cabin.”
“I’ll be there,” he said.
“Promise me.”
And there was young Razor again, that kid always trying to coerce him to play one more game of baseball, even when it was almost dark and the lunas would eventually come out and chase them back to Kazoku village.
“I promise,” he said.
Razor smiled. Only then did he let him go.
* * *
They drove down the road in silence until Daniel braked to slow down as they turned off the main road.
“When did you tell my mother that my father had returned?” Daniel asked, his voice calm.
Koji inhaled and took his time. He was going to tell the story only once. What Daniel did with it was up to him. He didn’t need to protect either of them any longer.
“When I came back down to visit the following Sunday,” Koji answered.
“What did she say?”
“She was hurt, yeah. And angry, but not as surprised as I thought she would be. As if she knew he’d be back one day.” Koji glanced at him, adding, “Your father came back because he was in trouble.”
The Color of Air Page 18
