“Nah,” I said. “I just missed home.”
“Yeah, right.”
Claudia walked toward us. She smiled at my father, then kissed him on the cheek. “Hi, Mr. Hideyoshi,” she said. “Thanks so much for letting us stay for a while.”
“Ah, no worry. Dis my son. You goin’ have my grandchild. You guys family. Das da style down dis side, family take care of family.”
She thanked him again and the three of us stood there wondering what we should do next. Claude broke the silence.“I guess we should start putting this stuff in the house.”
My father nodded.“Yeah, das one good idea. I help you guys.”
When Claudia walked to the truck and began unloading things from the back, my father smiled at me. “Now I know why you went town,” he said. “You neva like da medakas on dis side, so you went town and got one swordtail.”
I laughed. The image of medakas, the plain, gray guppies which inhabited the mountain streams, popped into my mind. I pictured a big school swimming against the current, not moving forward, but just propelling themselves enough so they wouldn’t get swept further downstream. Then I imagined a brilliant red swordtail swimming into a school of them. The long sliver of its tail moved like a snake. The medakas stopped their effort and let the down-pouring water push them away. I looked back at Claude. She was a swordtail.
We got everything in by sundown. Afterwards, the three of us sat outside on the picnic table, our faces lighted by a Coleman lantern. I looked down at the cooler. The white lid read Hideyoshi in faded gray letters. My father was drinking his J&B, I was having a Miller Lite, and Claude was sipping a Diet Coke. My father told Claudia stories about me when I was young, how I’d gotten picked on in school. We all laughed. He told her about Koa, how Koa and I had always gotten into trouble. I looked over at Claude and couldn’t tell if she was really having a good time or if she was just faking it out of politeness. After he told her about the time Koa and I had been arrested in Kailua, how he had to pick me up from the police station, I asked, “So how is Koa?”
It took him a few seconds to start. “Not bad,” he said. “Not good eida. He jus’ got laid off couple months ago. I got him one job afta you left. He was working wit’ me. He was good too. Fucka was working, he was going church.”
I laughed. “Koa was going church?”
“Yeah,” he said. “You heard of ‘Hope Chapel’? Fucka was going couple times a week. He used to tell me at work, ‘C’mon,Uncle, come church wit’ me, maybe you not going be as mean if you go church.’ I used to laugh. I’d tell him, ‘Eh, I like being mean.’ We’d both laugh. He knew church wasn’t for me, but I tink he was jus’ asking to harass me. You know him, always making trouble wit’ me. But yeah, dat guy, he was going church wit’ Kahala and his son. He was working. He had couple more kids. He was putting in ova-time. Den all of a sudden, da fucka neva show up fo’ work. Was one big project, too. We was putting on one addition on one hotel in Waikiki. Fo’ one week he neva show, neva call. Afta dat, Hayashi had fo’ fire him.”
I took a gulp of my beer. “What happened?”
My father sighed. “I don’t know. He come by, once in a while, have couple beers wit’ me. One time I asked him. He just said, ‘Shitty, work.’ I neva say anyting. I figured, he know what he doing. I taut, maybe he get one betta job lined up. But fo’ couple months now, he neva work. I tell him, ‘Eh, you betta get one fuckin’ job, you get one wife, kids, family depending on you.’ He jus’ tell me, ‘No worry, Uncle, I get ‘um.’ I don’t know what he doing, but tomorrow maybe you should call him.”
I nodded. “I’ll call him tomorrow.”
I looked over at Claude and she seemed to be just soaking all of it in. My father stood up and walked toward the house to mix himself another drink. I looked across the street at the beach. The unlit water was black with white surf washing the shore. I leaned toward Claudia. “How do you like the view?”
“It’s dark,” she said. “I can’t really tell if I like it yet.”
As she said it, my father walked out of the house with his re-filled drink. He limped toward the bench while a little bit of J&B spilled over the rim of his plastic cup.
Claude and I went to bed an hour later. She stood up to turn off the light. I heard her cautious return to bed. She was in an unfamiliar room. When she finally got back, she said, “Damn, I guess I’m in the country.”
“What do you think?”
“I don’t know, I’m still feeling it out. Do you guys talk about anything else except working and fighting?”
“Yeah, we talk about fishing and hunting, too.”
“You’re joking, right?”
“Of course. We also like expressing our feminine sides. You know, my father can go on and on about his feelings, about how sometimes he feels a lack of tenderness in his life.”
Claude hit me with a pillow.
When we woke up the next morning, my father had already left for work. I got out of bed and cooked breakfast. I heard Claudia run to the bathroom. Morning sickness. When she got out, she looked at the food and ran back into the bathroom. I laughed. She skipped breakfast.
After I ate, I decided to give Koa a call. As Claude dragged herself toward the television, Kahala answered the phone.“Ken,”
she screamed, “oh my God, I haven’t seen you for so long. How are you?”
I told her I was fine. I told her I had moved back, I told her about Claudia. I asked her how she was doing.
“Not so good,” she said. “Having all these babies was hard on my body. Jeez, when you see me, you probably won’t even recognize me.”
I told her I was sure she still looked as great as ever.
She kept denying it. “No, no. I look like an old lady, like a mom. I’m always chasing these kids around. Besides Koa’s not much help. Did you hear? He’s not working. I don’t know what I’m going to do. I think he’s hanging out with Freddie again. Sometimes he doesn’t come home at night. Ken, you don’t know how many times I felt like calling you, you know, calling you for that ticket, that escape ticket. But I always figured you were busy with your own life. Besides, I know you offered me a ticket, but you never did say whether I could bring kids, too. The thought of my three kids hanging all over you, I knew you wouldn’t want that.”
She was rambling. She was acting like she hadn’t spoken with anybody for weeks. I had forgotten all about that night at the graduation party. I forgot that I had told her I’d help her out if things got too rough for her. I shook my head. I had been drunk that night. I couldn’t believe she remembered what I had offered, that she took it so seriously. “Yeah, it would’ve been hard,” I said.
“Hey,” she asked, “when are you going to come over to visit?”
“Hopefully today. Give the phone to Koa, I’ll work something out with him.”
“He’s sleeping, but hold on, let me wake him up.”
I heard the soft sound of her feet running. I heard her say, “Koa, Koa, wake up.”
I listened to the soft sound of Koa swearing at his wife. I heard my name. Then the soft sounds were broken by Koa’s booming voice.“Ken, you fucka! What you doing? Where you stay?”
I told him about my return. “Stay ova dea,” he said.“I coming right ova.”
“Nah, I go come ova dea. I like you meet my girlfriend Claudia.”
He was quiet for a few seconds. Then he said, “Nah, I come ova dea.”
“Nah, I go drive. Plus I like see your kids, too. More easy if I drive. Only get me and Claudia.”
“O.k., o.k., I give you da directions.”
When Claude and I drove into Waiahole, she seemed to enjoy the sights. “Wow,” she said, “it’s so beautiful here. Maybe this is God’s country.”
I looked out the window. The only things I saw were broken-down houses in mosquito-rich country. “Do you really think it’s that nice here?” I asked.
“Yeah, it’s so green. It’s like anything can grow here.”
I couldn’t bel
ieve she couldn’t see the ugliness, the unpaved roads, the rusted-out cars, the old wooden houses. She was blind to the poverty that hid in this jungle. I followed the directions that Koa gave me and was led to a dusty, gravel driveway which was marked by a mailbox with rusted holes in it. It amazed me how fast the salt air corroded it. The box was held up by a wooden pole. The pole leaned to the left. I tried to read the painted numbers on the box, but they were too faded. It didn’t look like the mailbox would be standing for much longer.
When I first saw the house, I figured Claude would change her mind about the beauty of this area. It was more like a shack than a house. Half of the house was built with unpainted wooden planks, the other half was a skeleton. The unfinished half looked like it should have been three more rooms, instead it was a series of wooden beams, roofed with shingles, but without walls. The hollow space was occupied by a picnic table. The house was surrounded by a field of wild California grass. The long, thick stalks of grass stood at least three to four feet high. It was as if the house would be buried by the invading grass within a month.
At least the driveway was clear. A path of gravel led to the house. But even on the driveway I could see the grass struggling to grow from beneath the rocks. There were patches of grass between the tire marks. I looked over to Claude. She looked back at me. “When did they start building?” she asked.
“Like five years ago.”
Just then two children came running out of the California grass. They appeared on the driveway about ten feet in front of me. I stopped the truck. The older one, the boy, fearlessly looked through the windshield. He looked like a Puana, only he wore Kahala’s thinness. He was shirtless and his shorts drooped down his skinny waist so that the waistband of his briefs was visible. The younger child was a girl, shorter and fatter than her brother. She also looked into the windshield, but her look was more inquisitive. She was wearing stained, lavender corduroy pants and a red, long-sleeved cotton shirt. Both were barefoot. After standing still for a few seconds, they ran toward the house. Their feet scurried across the sharp gravel and they left a dust trail. I looked over at Claude. Without looking at me, she said, “More than anything else right now, I want to take a washcloth to those kids.”
I smiled. She seemed to be getting it.
I parked behind the Puanas’ blue Ford truck. There were three bumper stickers on it. One read, Hope Chapel in blue letters. The second one, Keep Da Country Country.And the last one, in rainbow letters, There’s No Hope in Dope. Claude and I stepped out of the Pathfinder and we were greeted by the smiling face of Kahala Puana.
She had exaggerated on the phone. She did not look bad at all. In fact, in a way she looked better. Her body was still the same, thin, waifish. But her face looked more mature. It held sharper features. I looked at those green eyes which she was famous for in high school and they seemed less playful and more interesting. She ran up to me and kissed me on the cheek. Then she did the same to Claudia. At that moment they looked almost like sisters. They were both thin and about the same height. They were both tanned. And both had that hapa look. Though Kahala’s hair was brown and Claude’s black, and Kahala’s eyes were green, while Claude’s were brown, I don’t know what it was, but to me, for an instant, they looked like two swordtails, like two sisters. Evidently, country living hadn’t beaten all of the Ahuimanu upper-middle class out of Kahala yet. After Kahala kissed Claude, I noticed that she still hung on to Claude’s hand. Kahala looked at me. “It’s been so long,” she said.
I smiled. “Yeah, about five years.”
Kahala looked at Claude. “So how long are you guys staying down this side?”
Claudia looked over to me. “Oh, I don’t know. Until we get enough money to move to the mainland.”
Kahala laughed and let go of Claude’s hand. “Wow, Ken, planning to step up in the world? First town, now the mainland.” She looked back at Claude. “In high school, you should have seen, he was so smart.”
Claude looked at me. “Yeah, he’s a regular smart-ass.”
We all laughed. “Where’s the Hawaiian?” I asked.
Kahala sighed. “Still sleeping. He didn’t come home till about four in the morning last night.”
Just then the house door opened. “Hey, neva mind talking shit about me behind my back.” It was Koa. He threw me a cold beer and waved us into the house.
“It’s fuckin’ eleven in the morning,” I said. “You must be outta your mind if you think I going drink dis beer now.”
He laughed. “Why, you one fuckin’ townie now? Rememba you stay country. On dis side get no such ting as too early.” I cracked open the beer and followed him into the house.
The four of us ended up sitting on the picnic table on the skeleton side of the house. I sipped my beer and looked at Koa. He had changed. His hair was longer, especially in the back, where a rubberband held a big bush of it together. He had a goatee, which made him look even meaner. But the biggest change was in his body. He was even larger, maybe even larger than his father. He must’ve passed the three-hundred- pound mark. I looked down at his forearm, which rested on the table, and I saw that he had a new tattoo. His entire right forearm was covered with a black, triangular pattern. It was a Hawaiian tattoo pattern. I looked at his enormous hand and saw it wrapped around his beer can. I looked at his SYN tattoo and noticed it was faded, but not sour-green like mine. He didn’t look like the same guy who graduated with me. It was like those flower leis which covered his neck on graduation day died and wrapped around even tighter.
“So what, you fat shit,” I asked, “how much you weigh now?”
“Shit, look at you,” he said, “all pumped up from da weights. Hah, pretty boy. You see dis here.” He rubbed his stomach. “You see, real men have bellies.”
Kahala playfully slapped his stomach. “Yeah, you should see, Ken. The last time I was pregnant, he was still more fat than me.”
I felt Claude’s silence. When I looked over to her, I noticed she was pre-occupied with something by her legs. I looked closer and saw a swarm of mosquitoes circling her calves. “Hey Koa,” I asked, “you no more mosquito punk?”
“Oh, I’m sorry,” Kahala said, “let me get one.”
Koa smiled. He looked at Claude. “You know why da mosquitoes biting you? Fresh blood, das why. Like you get haole blood. Shit, Ken was gone fo’ so long, da mosquitoes probably biting him, too.”
Just as he said it, I became conscious of mosquitoes buzzing around my legs, too. I took down a gulp of beer and tried my best to ignore it.
Koa laughed again. “No try fool me, you Japanee fucka.” He looked at Claude. “You should’ve seen, young kid time when I used to take him surfing. Dis guy was always pretending he not scared of sharks. And he taut he was fooling me. But I used to catch him looking ova his shoulda. Shit, I neva even like surfing dat much, but was worth taking him out jus’ fo’ watch dat fucka pretend.”
I looked at Claude to see if she caught the story. But she was still pre-occupied with the mosquitoes. They must’ve really been going after her. I grabbed her hand and held it. Just then Kahala walked out with a lit mosquito punk. I saw the tip of the green coil glowing orange. Kahala bent down by Claude’s feet. She put down the punk. “The mosquitoes used to really go after me at first, too,” Kahala said.
“Thank you,” Claudia said.
We talked all afternoon. Koa called out his kids and introduced them. The oldest, the boy, was named James, after Koa’s father. The second oldest, the chubby girl, was named Ariel. Both politely greeted us and ran off. Kahala told us their youngest, a baby boy named Kealii, was staying with Koa’s parents for a while. Throughout the conversation, I pitied, but was also amused by Claude. She sat there, trying not to scratch her mosquito bites while trying to pay attention to the conversation at the same time. After the mosquitoes were chased away by the mosquito punk, the smoke began irritating Claude’s sinuses. Every so often she’d sneeze and pull a tissue out of her purse.
Finally, wh
en the sky’s lightness began to dull, and I was drunk off my ass, Koa asked the inevitable question. “So why da fuck you moved back here anyway?”
I looked over at Claude. She was silent. I was wondering if she wanted to hear me tell the story, wondering if she wanted to hear the details of the night I killed at the pig farm. And for the first time, I wanted to tell it. I was drunk and began feeling proud of what I did. But something kept me from telling it. Instead I told them, “We were kicked out.”
Koa sighed, not satisfied with the answer. “What about you,” I asked. “What happened to you? How come you got fired from work?”
“Cause I neva show.” He paused, then said, “Come, I like show you something.”
I got up, kissed Claude on the cheek, and followed him into the California grass. I felt Kahala’s eyes on me. After we got about twenty yards around the house, I saw a clear patch. In this bare patch was a cement block with an iron handle attached to it. The top of the block was level with the ground and only an iron handle protruded from the surface. Koa reached down and pulled the handle. He pulled up the cement block. The smell quickly followed. “You see dis,” he said. “Me and your fadda dug dis cesspool while you was in town. Took us ages. But every Saturday, we would wake up early and dig dis fucka. Sometimes my dad, my uncle guys would come down and help. But you know dose fuckas, dey drink every weekend, so most of da time dey was too hung over to come down and help, and when dey did dey was so sick and lazy dat dey neva do shit anyway.”
Koa put the cement plug back in the ground. “Look at my fuckin’ house,” he said. “It’s one fuckin’ joke. Funny too, cause when my dad gave me da land, I taut only easy build one house.” He squatted down and took the last sip of his beer. He crushed the can and threw it. It disappeared in the tall grass. “What, you going work wit’ your fadda?”
I nodded. “Yeah, I guess. Fuck I need da money, I need da benefits. Claude stay pregnant.”
The Tattoo Page 18
