“You know, I think I’d like to check your blood pressure.” Tom rose from the couch and went upstairs, presumably for his medical supplies.
“It’s really not necessary,” my father protested to those of us who remained.
“Of course it is! You must drink some more water,” said Uncle Hiroshi, heading to the fridge.
“Don’t worry about me so much, Rei,” my father said to me. “I’m not the one in danger; Braden is. The boy misbehaves to attract attention from his parents, but this latest act, if in fact he did it, will change his life, as it changed the lives of the poor family who lost their daughter.”
“It’s very sad, yes. I think Braden understands how serious things are.” I spoke in an undertone, because Tom was coming back down the stairs.
“It’s been a while since I’ve been involved in forensic psychiatry, but I would like to talk to the boy,” my father said, while Tom began wrapping the cuff around his upper arm.
“Your family is working much too hard, taking care of your relatives’ troubles. Wouldn’t it be less of a conflict of interest if I did the interview with Braden? And, you know, I could advise his family on finding a psychiatrist who may be willing to testify in court that the boy has some pathological issues.”
“You mean, the insanity defense?” I shook my head. “Let’s stop this conversation here and now. Especially if we’re trying to keep my father’s blood pressure from rising.”
“The reading is one-forty-five over one-hundred; I’m not thrilled with it,” Tom said. “Ojiisan, you’re going to need to relax if you want us to include you in tomorrow’s trip to Hanama Bay.”
“I don’t know if that’s a smart idea,” Calvin began.
“Sure it is. I’ll go, too,” I said. The timing was right, because Michael and I had decided to spend the day apart. I’d been unable to explain to him how frustrating his show of interest in me was, and how restraining myself felt like torture. So I’d let him feel a little bit hurt when we’d said goodnight, because it got me off the hook. And now I was going to spend the next day with my family, which was where I really belonged.
CALVIN WAS RIGHT about one thing; it was not a good idea to commit to the next day’s plan. In the middle of the night I awoke drenched in sweat. My stomach pitched and heaved, and a sickening flow inched up my esophagus.
Trying to turn on the bedside lamp, I knocked it to the ground. I heard the sound of a bulb breaking, and a few seconds later, felt a shard pierce the palm of my hand as I crawled to the door. I couldn’t get to my feet; it was impossible. I hadn’t felt this sick in years, not since I’d been poisoned by gas in Japan. I reached the doorknob, wrenched it open, and then crawled into the cool marble hallway and toward the bathroom door, where a nightlight glowed softly, leading me on.
I made it just in time to lose my supper and a good bit more. When I’d finally stopped, I blearily noticed someone had entered the bathroom. My eyes traveled upward from a pair of short, broad bare feet to see Uncle Hiroshi standing in his blue and white striped pajamas, patiently holding a glass of water. It was only because of the pajamas I recognized him; I felt so sick that his face was just a blur.
“The others,” I whispered, because I’d lost my voice along with my dinner. “Are they sick?”
“No, just sleeping. You poor child,” he said, and put the glass to my lips. I drank gratefully, but in a few seconds the water sliding down my throat came right up, so I spun around to the toilet again. When I was through, he offered me another glass of water, and I waved it away.
“I can’t take it,” I said weakly. “I’ll go back to bed now.”
“What’s wrong? Why are you ill?”
“I don’t know—”
“Maybe it’s a virus,” he said. “I could wake Tsutomu and get him to take your temperature. I’d rather not bother your father, if that’s all right with you.”
“Don’t get Tom either,” I said, noticing for the first time that my hands were trembling. “I’m sure in the morning, I’ll be fine.”
But I wasn’t fine. Between episodes of vomiting and diarrhea, I tried to recall everything I’d eaten, which was a challenge, given my light-headedness. Sushi seemed obvious, but I’d been feeling sick earlier in the day, on the road up to Tantalus. Maybe it hadn’t been just motion sickness, but a reaction to the mainland-shipped yogurt I’d had in the morning. I could also have become ill from food at Josiah Pierce’s home. This was much more sinister, given that I’d confessed my agenda to Josiah Pierce over lunch. But we’d already been eating when I dropped my bomb. He had no idea of my motivation when I’d called him the previous day, or so I hoped.
I wanted to talk to Michael. When there was enough light in the room, I made it to the desk where I’d left my cell phone to charge. My call rang straight into his voicemail. Maybe he was still asleep, and the phone was recharging. The other less pleasant idea was that Michael was suffering his own bout of illness. I whispered something about not feeling well and asking him to call me when he had a chance.
I clicked the phone off and fell into a sickly slumber, waking to an odd, clanking sound and midday sun. I rubbed my eyes and saw a man on his hands and knees behind the bed.
I screamed.
“The next time you fall ill, you should wake me to help.” My father’s tone was as reproving as his words.
“Sorry, I…I didn’t see that was you, and Uncle Hiroshi did all that anyone could. Otoosan, you don’t have to pick up the broken lamp. Don’t lean down. I’ll clean it up myself—’ I struggled upward and, hit by a new wave of nausea, fell back.
“I checked your temperature, and there’s no fever. I suspect you’re suffering from food poisoning.”
“I don’t know,” I said warily. “My vision’s all blurred.”
“Really?” My father leaned close to me, and suddenly, I was flat-out terrified. “No, please, no,” I heard myself saying. Or rather, screaming.
There were more people in the room then, Tom and Uncle Hiroshi. Tom was trying to take my temperature and read my blood pressure and I was fighting him. Couldn’t any of them understand they were frightening me? In the midst of all this, I heard my cell phone ringing.
“Let me talk!” I cried in vain, but nobody did. The next thing I knew, they were bundling me into the third row of the minivan. Between vomiting and crying, my aching head exploded with panicked thoughts. I couldn’t go on, but how would I get out? The window? But the windows were locked, and my father and uncle were staring at me, listening to my every thought. Where was Michael? He’d save me from this, if only he knew.
They took me to Queen’s Medical Center, unloading me fast, and suddenly I was surrounded by more blurry people who rolled me on to a stretcher. A needle shot something into my arm, and within minutes, everything slowed, even the fear. The last thing I remembered was the sound of my father arguing with somebody about whether I needed a pregnancy test, and then everything went black.
I WOKE UP, no longer nauseated, but feeling more uncomfortable than I could remember. There was an IV line going into the top of my left hand, and another one attached to the intersection of my shoulder and neck. A line even ran between my legs, where I should have had underwear. But I had no panties, and I had no regular clothes, either; just a dismal cotton gown, and underneath it, electrical patches sticking to my chest, with more lines connecting to a piece of equipment that I recognized from my father’s hospital stay as a heart monitor. Oh, God, had I turned into my father?
No, I realized with relief, my fingernails still had the same ballet-pink nail polish I’d applied at the start of the Hawaii trip. And my father was sitting on an uncomfortable chair in the hospital room across from me.
I could see him; I could see my father. My vision was back. My stomach still hurt, though, and my throat was sore.
I croaked aloud, ‘I see!”
“It’s about time,” my father said, breaking his chain of movements to come to the bed and embrace me.
“I’m feeling better, too—oh, my God, so much better. I don’t like to remember…”
“You had a drug overdose. That’s why you were ill.” My father’s words came slowly.
“Otoosan, I didn’t take drugs, I swear it. All I remember was getting sick in the middle of the night. I thought it was food poisoning…” I broke off. “What about Michael? Do you know, did this happen to him, too?”
“Michael’s in the waiting room. Now that you’re conscious, I’m sure they’ll allow him to see you.”
“You mean, he’s been out there for…how long?”
“You arrived here yesterday. We’ve all come and gone, staying for blocks of time. It was a very serious situation, Rei. You could have died, if they hadn’t given you the activated charcoal in time. That’s the reason for the nasal line, in case you were wondering. The catheter and IVs and EKG monitoring leads are not signs of trouble in those areas, but all routine for someone recovering from the kind of problem you had.”
“Thank you for bringing me here,” I said. “I don’t know what got into me; I barely remember anything but…terror.”
“You were in a state of psychosis,” my father said. “I’ve seen it many times before. The mechanism of your brain had simply gone haywire; despite your best intentions, you couldn’t have done anything other than what you did.”
At least I hadn’t killed anyone. I asked, ‘What kind of drug was in me? Heroin, crack, crystal meth? Am I addicted now?”
“Of course not. Your system was full of lithium mixed with Motrin, one of the most highly toxic combinations. If you had died, the medical examiner would have tried to classify it as suicide.”
“You know I’m not suicidal. The drugs must have been chopped up and added to something I ate or drank yesterday.”
“Michael suggested the same thing. As the situation stands, you will have to take very good care of your thyroid and kidneys for a while.”
“Does that mean a special diet?”
“No, just avoiding certain irritants. You should try to consume very little alcohol, citrus, and caffeine. And stay away from ibuprofen, Tylenol and acetaminophen, and get your thyroid checked regularly, for a while.”
“Will do.” I breathed deeply, glad to be alive. “Otoosan, will you do something for me?”
“Yes. What do you need?”
“Michael. Could you bring him to me?”
“YOU’LL NEVER SEE me look as bad as this again,” I said to Michael, when he rushed into the room a few minutes later. There were rings under his eyes, his face was unshaven and he looked as if he’d slept in his clothes. He was carrying a large brown paper bag with an oily stain, which he set down on my tray. All in all, he looked more disreputable than I’d ever seen him—but utterly glorious.
“I don’t care, Rei. I’m just glad to see your eyes open.” Michael took the hand that didn’t have a tube coming out of it, and held it tightly.
“I’ll just go downstairs and get a decaf,” my father said, and the door closed behind him.
“That was nice of him,” Michael said. “Giving us some privacy.”
I sighed. “I apologize in advance for anything that my family might have done, while I was out of commission.”
“Oh, there’s nothing to apologize for. We talked a bit in the waiting room, and your cousin Tom was good enough to let me know what was going on by finding my number on your cell phone. I’m so sorry that I missed that first call you made. My phone was recharging, and by the time I got the message and called you back, it was too late.”
“I heard you calling, but I was in a state of psychosis,” I said. “You heard about the drugs in my system? Looking at you, I’m guessing the same thing didn’t happen.”
“No, it didn’t. Since we ate lunch together, that means it’s not terribly likely you picked up the poison at Josiah Pierce’s, unless he was extremely devious and sprinkled the drugs in your water glass—though if that were the case, the powder would just sink to the bottom and not affect you much at all.”
“The maid poured for all of us out of the same pitcher,” I said, “And my water tasted fine. My suspicions are leaning toward the guy who can write a prescription for pretty much any controlled substance he wants. Calvin Morita was fixated on my eating this sushi he’d brought back from a restaurant…”
“I heard that from your father. Believe me, I put them through an interrogation they didn’t expect. But regarding Calvin—yes, he’s a creep, but the fact is that anyone with bipolar disorder could have lithium prescribed to them, or borrow or steal someone else’s. We have to think about everything you ate or drank in the last few days. There’s a concession stand at the resort pool; did you order something and leave it while you swam? What about all those lattes you’ve been consuming at Kainoa’s coffee shop?”
“Are the police treating this as a criminal case?” I asked.
“Not until they’ve interviewed you. And maybe, now that you’re better, that can happen today. You hungry? One of the nurses clued me in on a street nearby that’s full of amazing cheap Korean restaurants. I brought you something to eat, black noodles. It’s a phenomenal dish that I haven’t had since I was last in Seoul.”
“Not right now,” I said. “How long will I be here?” I couldn’t hide the waver in my voice, as I thought how I’d already lost two days of Michael’s precious week in Hawaii.
“Maybe you’ll get out tomorrow, or the day after; that’s the best-case scenario. Everyone was so worried, Rei. Edwin and Margaret and Uncle Yosh all came here, in turns, because somebody had to stay with Braden. Speaking of Braden, I went to see him, because hanging in the waiting room for hours was making me, and everyone else, a bit crazy.”
Michael reached into the bag and pulled out a can of cold barley tea and poured it into two glasses. “I heard about your liver, and this has no caffeine. Enjoy.”
I took a sip from the glass that he held to my mouth, and it tasted better than any wine I’d ever had. “You’re sure I can drink this?”
“Positive.” He put the glass in my hand, and continued talking. “The best thing for Braden is that his grandfather has taken over his care—can you believe he’s making Braden spend two hours each day digging an extension to the koi pond? I heard Yosh say to Braden if he’s man enough to carry big rocks, he’s man enough to dig a bigger home for the fish.”
“Has a mutiny occurred?”
“No. I think Braden’s starting to feel like every day at home could be his last. The threat of a manslaughter charge really hit him hard, and Yosh told me there’s a threat the ranchers who lost horses may sue whoever’s found to have set the fire. Who knows, Pierce Holdings could sue as well.”
All the troubles of the past flooded back to me. “I can’t understand why Braden won’t give up the name of the person who could save him.”
“I agree, but who knows what Lisa Ping’s got up her sleeve. She’s one tough attorney.” Michael cleared his throat. “Now for the other bit of news.”
“Yes. I’m hoping that you’re going to tell me you’re taking an extra week in Hawaii…”
“Sorry.” Michael smiled sadly at me. “There’s another thing that I have to tell you, relating to the cottage address you asked me to locate for you.”
“Great. Did you find it?”
“Well, I didn’t want to waste too much time away from you, so instead of exploring Barbers Point I went to Pearl Harbor for a couple of hours to examine maps. Hawaii land maps are quite complicated to figure out, because you’re dealing with state land, privately held land, and military land. There’s also this weird unit of land measurement called an alapaa which is basically a strip that goes all the way down from a point on a mountain to the sea.” He reached into his backpack and withdrew a thick folio.
“So you found these maps at Pearl Harbor.”
“Yes. I had access to military maps, which are better resolution and more accurate. Anyway, I had to do all this because the street name you ment
ioned didn’t seem to exist on the military maps, which was strange. Finally, using the aerial maps and geographical coordinates, I was able to locate the shack squarely inside the Barbers Point naval air station.”
“But I thought it was on Pierce land.”
“It’s not. The land was seized by the military during the war, and at one point it was clearly marked by fencing—see?” He showed me a map that looked meaningless, followed by a photocopy of an old black and white photograph of the coastline, with the edge of a shack protruding into one corner.
“The fencing came down later. Josiah Pierce may still think he has twenty acres under his control, but he doesn’t. They belong to the military, and I have no idea whether they’d be inclined to sell to a Japanese developer. If anything, the military is likely to sit on it, to please the local population agitating for preserving unspoiled Hawaiian coastline.
“How can you be so sure about this?” I asked.
“I double-checked the maps and got extra paperwork from a military lawyer in the JAG office at Pearl. Apparently, the military isn’t always the greatest at keeping track of its holdings, especially if the area hasn’t been developed, or is being eyed for use. But this sure woke people up, to think that a landowner might attempt to sell off government land.”
“Will I have to tell Josiah Pierce? Oh, my God, I can’t imagine it.”
“Navy Legal will be in touch with him. And it’s better to have the information coming from them than from us.”
“Before I leave Hawaii, I want to see the house and land,” I said. “And I think Uncle Yosh and his family should be there, too. Obviously that ban on Edwin being near the house can’t stand up in court anymore.”
“I made my own map, since the ones I saw were still classified, though they shouldn’t necessarily be, after all this time.”
“Maybe that’s the reason nobody in the military caught on that Josiah Pierce had retaken the rights to that land—the map was misplaced or forgotten,” I theorized.
“It’s easy to see how that could happen. The forty acres surrounding this little piece are in a completely undeveloped area that’s open to the public.”
Shimura Trouble Page 16
