The Descendants

by Kaui Hart Hemmings

  “I wasn’t the best husband,” I say.

  Alex looks out the window to avoid my confession. “If we go on this trip, what will we tell Scottie?”

  “She’ll think we’re going on a trip of some sort. I want to get her away from here.”

  “You’ve already said that,” Alex says. “Why should I go?”

  “You’re the only person I have,” I say. “And I want us all to be together. It will be good for us.”

  “Oh, so now I’m back in the picture again.”

  “Alex. Something bigger than you is occurring right now. I’m sorry about your unhappy childhood.”

  She glares at me in that special way of hers and Joanie’s that makes me feel worthless and foul-smelling.

  “So we’ll tell Scottie we’re going on a vacation while Mom is in the hospital?”

  “It’s for a day or two,” I say. “Scottie’s been in the hospital every day for almost a month now. She needs a break. It’s not good for her. I’d like you to be in charge of answering any questions she may have. She looks up to you. She’ll hang on whatever you say.”

  I’m hoping a leadership role, a specific chore, will make Alex act like an adult and treat Scottie well.

  “Can you do that?”

  She shrugs.

  “If you can’t handle things, let me know. I’ll help. I’m here for you.”

  Alex laughs. I wonder if there are parents who can say things to their kids like “I love you” or “I’m here for you” without being laughed at. I have to admit it’s a bit uncomfortable. Affection, in general, is unpleasant to me.

  “What if Mom doesn’t make it for two days?”

  “She will,” I say. “I’ll tell her what we’re doing.”

  Alex looks uncomfortable with this idea, that what I’ll say will make her mother want to live. “I’m bringing Sid,” she says. “If he doesn’t come, then I’m not going.”

  I’m about to protest, but I see the look in her eyes and know this is yet another battle that I’m bound to lose. Something about this guy is helping her. And Scottie seems to like him. He can keep her distracted. He can work for me.

  “Okay,” I say. “Deal.”

  I CALL THE Realtor who spoke to Alex, and she doesn’t know, or won’t tell me, where Brian’s staying, but she does tell me he’s in Hanalei. I print out a list of Hanalei hotels and call them all with no success. I make a reservation for two rooms at Princeville; I’m surprised he’s not staying there. Either he’s staying in an unlisted B and B, he’s rented a house, or he hasn’t checked in. I don’t know what to do. He needs to be found, but I’m sure I can go and run into him somehow. It’s what happens on islands, especially in the miniature town of Hanalei.

  I think about what else I need to take care of before I go. I need to finish that motion, ask someone to cover a deposition. I need to get my daughters to join forces with me. I need to get Sid to go home. I need to be with my wife, to forgive my wife. I need to be able to look at her without thinking of him.

  I need to talk to Joanie’s doctor. I call Sam at the hospital, and when he isn’t there, I call him at home.

  “No,” he says. “I can’t put it off any longer.”

  “I just need a few more days,” I say. “One more day. I need to go to Kauai to get someone.”

  He tells me he needs to abide by the will now that the permanent coma assessment has been made. Tomorrow it has to be done. “But it’s okay,” he says. “You can go. You have time.”

  I pack my bags and hope he’s right.

  24

  IT’S A beautiful morning.

  I look at Joanie’s side of the closet and touch her clothes. Then I close my eyes and walk into the clothes, letting her blouses and dresses fall over me. Today her ventilator will be removed, her room will be stripped of the things that sustain her, and our family will leave her on her own. I don’t feel good about this, yet it needs to be done, and as the doctor says, it can be done. He says it will be good for the girls, so I let myself look forward to the trip. Maybe we can use this time away to create something special, something that acknowledges it will be the three of us now. I want the experience to be successful.

  I leave the closet and see the girls slowly entering the bedroom.

  “We’re packed,” Scottie says.

  “Then let’s go,” I say, walking toward the hall.

  The girls don’t move.

  I realize they’re eyeing my room, their mother’s room. They’re looking at the place where their mother used to sleep.

  I go to the dresser, pretending to gather more things so the girls can stay a bit longer. The birds are making a racket. I look out the window at the banyan tree and see the birds vying for position. One keeps getting pushed off, then flying back to the same spot. The sun is glaring over the Ko’olaus, and a few clouds are floating in from Waimanalo, trapping the heat in our valley.

  “When you sell our land, can we buy Doris Duke’s estate and can I hire my own Samoan?” Scottie asks.

  “No,” I say.

  “Can I have Mom’s diamonds?” she asks.

  I turn to see Scottie on the bed, looking through the drawers of Joanie’s nightstand. She takes a photo of the contents, which makes me feel like I’m at a crime scene.

  “No, you can’t have her diamonds,” Alex says.

  “Why?” Scottie asks.

  “Because you’re a selfish little worm, and diamonds would implode as soon as they touched your ugly skin.”

  “Alex!”

  “Well, what a goddamn awful question. And I don’t care that she’s ten. I had my first beer when I was ten. She needs to grow up. And stop taking pictures. Why are you documenting this? Is this something you want to remember?”

  “Yes,” Scottie says. “When Mom comes back, I’ll just ask her myself.” She puts her camera and the photograph on the dresser, then closes her mother’s drawer. Fake pearls and real pearls. Fake diamonds and real diamonds. Intertwined necklaces glint in the photo. “Let’s go,” I say. “We’re racing the clock these next few days. We have no time for any of this.”

  “Why are we racing the clock?” Scottie asks.

  I ignore the question and walk briskly down the hall to the garage. The girls follow, bickering. “On Xbox, I shoot pro sluts, so watch what you say,” Scottie says.

  “Seriously,” Alex says. “You’re a spaz. Get some Ritalin.”

  “Get some acne medication,” Scottie says. “You have a volcano on your chin that’s about to spurt like Mauna Kea.”

  “Mauna Kea’s dormant, asshole.”

  “Your asshole’s dormant.”

  “You don’t even know what that means, Scottie.”

  “How do you know?”

  “Shut up!” I yell, which makes me feel like my father-in-law. I put our bags into the trunk, furious yet at the same time thinking about what to do with Joanie’s diamonds, jewelry, clothes. Of course Scottie can have her diamonds. I see that it’s a practical question, yet I can’t admit to Scottie that it’s okay she asked.

  “Where’s Sid?” I ask. “Why do I always have to ask where that idiot is?”

  “Don’t call him that,” Scottie says.

  Sid comes out the back door.

  “Did you lock it?” I say.

  He goes back and I look to make sure he presses the lock in.

  “Shotgun,” Scottie yells, but Alex opens the passenger-side door and sits down. Scottie has a virtual seizure until I force Alex to climb into the backseat. Before Scottie gets in, I say to Alex, “Didn’t we just talk about you helping me with her? You’re acting like a complete dick. Come on. Get with it.”

  I sit at the steering wheel, glowering at the stuff in our garage. There will be so much to clear out, to claim, to fight over.

  Sid gets in the back. With him comes the scent of cigarettes and a fresh dose of marijuana, so strong I feel a contact high. Scottie plants herself in the front seat and buckles her seat belt. “Go,” she says, and even th
ough I’m having second thoughts about all of this and am on the verge of either snapping or bawling, I go. I take this strange detour and hope for the best.

  25

  THE SECURITY LINE is longer than it should be. Still, most of the people in line seem content, which is irritating. There’s nothing worse than being angry and seeing tranquil faces all around you. Security is checking everyone’s bags, even though we’re just going inter-island.

  “I swear they do this just to feel like real security, which isn’t really something to aspire to,” Alex says.

  Thank God my daughter isn’t a happy person. We watch a man rifle through the bag of the woman ahead of us. Her hair is crispy and white, and her back is rounded with a bump the size of a hard hat. The man shakes a package, then puts it back in her bag. It could have been a grenade, I want to say. If you’re going to check, then check.

  Four boys right in front of us are being asked where their shoes are.

  “We knew we had to take ’em off,” one says. “So we never went wear any.”

  “Never wore any,” Scottie says. The boys look back at her. They all have shark’s-tooth necklaces around their necks, and their stomachs are stout and hard. One carries a ukulele and has a tribal tattoo entwined around his right leg. Another wears a tank top that reveals the entire side of his torso, a black nipple, and a wild bushel of armpit hair. I look back at Scottie, pretending I don’t know who she is.

  “You need shoes,” the security woman says.

  “Why?” the shortest boy of the group says. Security pulls a fish out of his cooler. It’s black and its fat lips are parted, a gelatinous eye wide open. It looks appalled. The woman picks up the fish by its tail, and the three boys look on proudly.

  “Gross,” Scottie says.

  Alex takes Scottie by the sleeve and pulls her back and says something to her. “Nice catch,” Sid says and all the boys nod. Another security officer comes to the table and waves me forward. I don’t have much in my carry-on, just my wallet and some work in a binder. He looks at what’s on top, then moves on to the girls, and I do all I can to keep myself quiet. If I had a bomb, I want to say, wouldn’t I do a better job of hiding it? He skips Scottie’s bag and checks Alex’s with more thoroughness than he used with mine. He pulls out a pack of Marlboro Reds.

  Scottie gasps and looks at me, her eyes wide open like the fish’s. “Are you going to spank her?”

  The security guard looks at me and hesitates, then hands me the cigarettes.

  I hand them back to him. “She’s an adult,” I say to him, but for Scottie to hear. “She makes her own choices.”

  With a sort of reverence, Scottie looks at the cigarettes being placed back in her sister’s bag, and as we walk out to the gate, I sense something has shifted. Alex walks beside me and Scottie walks behind her, not saying a word. “Were those your cigarettes?” Scottie asks Sid.

  “No,” he says. He pats his pocket. “Mine are here.”

  She looks at me, almost angry that I’m not reprimanding her sister.

  “Get over it, Scottie,” Alex says.

  DURING THE FLIGHT, Scottie is quiet and Alex reads magazines about dangerously thin actresses. Scottie writes in a notebook. They sit on either side of me like wings. Sid is across the aisle. I look over and see him studying the laminated safety card with great concentration. The flight attendant passes out cartons of guava juice. The barefoot boys miraculously made it onto the plane; I can hear one of them playing the ukulele. My mind is blank. I feel I need a game plan, but I can’t seem to think of one other than: Find him.

  Scottie is writing down something with purpose.

  Alex looks out the window, seeming defeated. I nudge her. “What if the doctor’s wrong?” she asks. “What if she’s okay and she’ll wake up?”

  “Even if,” I say, “she’d be—” I try to think of a good word. “She’d be broken.”

  “I know,” Alex says. “I get it.”

  I look out the window at Kauai, its steep cliffs and sharp coast. I usually look forward to coming here. There are two-lane roads and one-lane bridges and long, deserted beaches. Everything moves at a slow, slack pace, and I hope to mimic the island’s ease. I wonder what he’s doing right now. If he’s waiting to cross a bridge, if he’s in a hotel boardroom or having a business lunch, if he’s relaxing on the beach. I wonder if he knows what I look like, if he’s been in my bedroom and has seen pictures of me on the dresser. I’m going to change this man’s life.

  As we descend, I glance over at Scottie’s paper to see what she’s working on that has consumed her so. I read: I will not make fun of big Hawaiians. I will not make fun of big Hawaiians. This promise fills the page. I look over at Alex and gesture to Scottie.

  “What?” Alex says. “I handled it.”

  SCOTTIE WATCHES FOR our bags with Sid, and I ask Alex what Scottie thinks we’re doing on Kauai.

  “I told her we’re looking for a friend of Mom’s.”

  I look around the airport. I keep thinking I’ll see Brian or at least someone I know. It’s hard to go anywhere here without running into someone you know; you can’t get lost on an island. I wonder if we should move, head for the hills of Arkansas or some ridiculous place.

  Sure enough, I hear, “Yo, Matt King!” and cringe, recognizing the voice of one of my cousins. I don’t know which one. I don’t even know all of their names—they all look the same, like chestnut horses. I turn to see Ralph, aka Boom—God knows what that’s supposed to mean. All of the cousins have nicknames with mysterious origins that imply something rowdy or nautical. Ralph is wearing an outfit almost identical to mine: khakis and a Reyn’s Spooner, rubber slippers and a briefcase, the briefcase proving he has some responsibilities in the world. I don’t know what he does. I don’t know what any of them do. To their credit, the cousins are not greedy or gaudy or ostentatious. Their sole purpose in life is to have fun. They Jet Ski, motocross, surf, paddle, run triathlons, rent islands in Tahiti. Indeed, some of the most powerful people in Hawaii look like bums or stuntmen. I think of our bloodline’s progression. Our missionary ancestors came to the islands and told the Hawaiians to put on some clothes, work hard, and stop hula dancing. They make some business deals on the way, buying an island for ten grand, or marrying a princess and inheriting her land, and now their descendants don’t work. They have stripped down to running shorts or bikinis and play beach volleyball and take up hula dancing.

  Ralph slaps my back. He grins and nods repeatedly. He looks at Alex and I know he has forgotten her name. She walks away from us to Sid. I almost tug her back so I won’t be alone with Ralph.

  “You’re looking tan,” I say.

  He keeps grinning and says, “All right.” I know that the tan has been sprayed on. “Are you here to talk to some of the cousins?” he asks. “Make sure they’re happy with your choice?”

  “No,” I say. “Tell you the truth, I want to make a decision without being influenced by the majority.”

  “Right,” he says and looks confused. “How’s Joanie?”

  “She’s the same,” I say.

  “She’s a strong lady,” Ralph says.

  “Yes,” I say. “She’s strong.”

  We both feign interest in the circling luggage.

  “I saw her a few months ago,” he says. “Right before…She looked good, too.” He stares into the distance. He slaps my back. “She’ll be fine.”

  “I know,” I say, wanting to escape from this conversation, but then I see an opportunity. “Hey, is your car here?”

  “Yeah,” he says. “You need a ride? Princeville?”

  “That would be great.”

  I see Sid carrying all of our bags. His eyes are bloodshot. The pot has made him mute. Am I supposed to confront him about smoking pot in my house? Is Alex doing it? Or do I just let it go? Sail away out of my care. Let it all go. Easy.

  “You okay?” I ask Sid.

  “What?”

  “Are you all right, I said.”

&n
bsp; “Yeah,” Sid says. “Just thinking about some things.”

  We follow Ralph to the parking lot. I force my shoulders down and take a deep breath. I watch my family walking ahead of me. They look normal from the back. They look good.

  RALPH HAS A Jeep Wrangler, which thrills Scottie and even Alex to a barely perceptible extent. Sid’s hair flies up, making him look as though he’s being electrocuted. It’s the most uncomfortable car I have ever been in. Even as we drive down smooth and flat roads, I feel as though we’re out of control.

  “I’m starving,” Scottie yells from the back, and then I hear, “Ow,” and I wonder if Alex has hit her. I don’t want to know.

  “I notice you have a Ducati shirt on.” Ralph looks in the rearview mirror at Alex. “Do you know how to ride?”

  “Yes,” Alex says. “My mom taught me.”

  “What?” he yells over the wind.

  “Yes!” Alex yells.

  “Did your mom teach you? Or this guy?” He punches my arm, and I look at the spot where his fist touched me.

  “My mom,” Alex says.

  Joanie rode a Ducati. It surprises me that Alex is wearing the shirt. “Where did you see Joanie?” I ask Ralph. It would be so embarrassing if everyone knew about her lover but me. Her lover. Jesus.

  “I saw her at the last shareholders’ meeting,” Ralph says.

  “Joanie?”

  “Yeah. Remember?”

  “Oh, sure,” I say, having no idea what he’s talking about. “I remember.” I imagine her jumping on a flight, going to a shareholders’ meeting, then coming right back in time to pick up Scottie. That makes no sense.

  “You’re lucky you have someone that fired up speaking on your behalf.”

  “Right,” I say.

  “I’m hungry!” Scottie yells again.

  Ralph careens off the main road and into Kapaa, then drives into the parking lot of the fish market. The gravel crunches loudly under his tires, and when he stops, we all fall forward then back. I give Alex money to get some poke to tide us over. Sid gets out of the car and Scottie follows. He raises his arms over his head and bends to the right and Scottie looks at his stomach.