CHAPTER 5 (WELCOME HOME)
Several hours and a short flight from Honolulu later we exit the plane at Lihue’s airport in Kauai. My dad and I take the short trek in this little airport towards baggage claim. Gazing at the tourism photos that line the white walls of the airport hallway, I realize how unlike my home this place is. The pictures paint a strikingly beautiful landscape and I wonder if what I see in these photos is really what I’ll get.
When we reach the open baggage claim area we emerge out into a crowd of hundreds of people in what seems to me like chaos. It’s not really though, we are surrounded by families reuniting, vacationing couples looking for their designated luggage carousels and Hawaiian greeters with lei’s in their hands. I watch as a pregnant woman greets a man in Army fatigues that I’m guessing is her husband. I never realized how touching the arrivals gate can be. If I ever need a good dose of humanity in its happier moments, this would be the place to go.
As we walk around trying to find our way, we see two beautiful Hawaiian women holding a sign that says: “Townsend Family.”
I look to my dad in question. He gestures with his head and we stride over to them. Both women are identically dressed in black summer dresses with the traditional Hawaiian floral print in yellow and red. They were both wearing bold tropical yellow flowers in their hair; they looked like they were picked fresh that morning. Several layers of shell-strung necklaces decorate their necks. In their hands they each hold a lei made of boldly colored red flowers headed off with white undertones. One of the leis is different from the other. It has green leaves intertwined with the flowers.
Once we reach the two women they simultaneously say, “Aloha,” place a lei on our necks and give us a brief kiss on the cheek as Hawaiian tradition dictates.
I got the lei with the green leaves woven in which smells sweet and floral. I say, “Thank you,” while giving them a meek smile.
My dad replies “Ma-halo.” I look at him in surprise wondering how he knew to say, I’m assuming, the appropriate Hawaiian thank you. He shrugs and gives me a half smile followed by a wink. “Your old man did his research of course. You don’t think I would move my teenage daughter to another country without Googling island life first?”
I stick my tongue out jokingly at him for making a dig on my ‘another country’ reference.
My dad reaches over and touches the green leaves on my lei. “These are from the Ti plant. They are woven in to chase evil spirits away and to bring good luck to the wearer.”
One of the women speaks up, “You have studied well Mr. Townsend.” She gives a pleased smile to my dad. “Thank you for coming to our island. The Kealoha’s are grateful to have such a bright and talented man in their employ.”
I think about what my dad said about the Ti plant leaves and wonder why they didn’t put those leaves in his lei. I guess it’s because he’s here to document some evil spirits. If they were chased away like their superstition believes, there would be no point for us being here.
“Thank you; we’re happy to be here,” my dad replies. He looks at me briefly to make sure my facial expression doesn’t show anything different. I’m sure he’s relieved that I’ve given up my ‘life is over’ attitude. He then continues to introduce us, “This is my daughter Emma and you can call me Alex.”
I say, “Aloha,” and immediately feel a little goofy and unsure of myself. Unlike my dad, the language flows unnaturally from my tongue.
The other woman speaks up, “Emma, you are absolutely beautiful. Alex, you will need a shot gun to keep our Hawaiian boys away from your daughter.”
“Um, thank you... I mean Ma-halo.” I say blushing from head to toe. I don’t consider myself beautiful, although it was a generous compliment for her to make. I doubt my dad will need to run out to the store and buy a shotgun anytime soon. After all, he didn’t need it back in Texas.
The women and my dad participate in brief small talk including the weather, and how our trip was while we await our luggage, which has just started spitting out onto a conveyor belt.
Luggage begins to spin slowly around as I watch for our bags to emerge. I see the purple ribbons I tied to the bags as they turn the corner to us. I begin to grab for it when a man from behind me takes them off instead. It startles me to think I didn’t even know he was there in the first place. He is dressed in black slacks and a white button up that has the sleeves rolled up just high enough to reveal his tribal tattoos on both forearms.
“Ummm, dad?” I do a slight tug on my dad’s shirt and nod towards the man. I’m hoping this guy isn’t planning to take off with our bags. After all, basically everything I have to my name is in those bags now. Both of the women noticed the man grab our bags but instead of showing concern they begin shuffling us towards the front door. I feel like we are in a slow motion pursuit. The man has already made it outside with our bags in tow. Once outside, I open my mouth to yell at him to see what the heck his problem was but immediately close it. I watch in awe as the man who originally grabbed our bags is now placing them in the trunk of a jet-black stretch limo. He soon comes around and quickly opens the back door for us. I look to my dad and he does a little eyebrow wag, which I guess means get in. Once we are seated the man closes the door. The two women are left standing at the curb waving their hands goodbye. I guess I can assume at this point that they aren’t riding with us.
I take a second to look around. I’ve never been in a limo before. The inside of the limo is awesome! We are surrounded by fiber optic lighting, which sets off a peaceful ambiance to the cab. Above a stylish wet bar is a flat screen TV. There’s a small fridge with a glass door under the bar. I look in and see several different soda brands and waters. There are also bottles of champagne in the door. I pull one out jokingly but my dad shakes his head giving me a ‘yeah right’ kind of look.
I notice the driver is the same man from the airport that took our bags. The window at the front of the cab is up. Like in movies, there is probably a switch somewhere in here that will raise and lower that window, allowing us to speak with the driver, if he speaks at all. I mean, he hasn’t said a single word to us. It’s actually kind of creepy when I think about it, he just grabbed our bags without a single word to let us know what he was doing and we were expected to just follow him blindly. I decide it’s safer to just keep the window up for now.
Sliding around the seats towards the wet bar I grab a coke out of the fridge and pop the top. It’s ice cold and extremely refreshing.
Looking to my dad who again has his laptop open, I ask him, “So, how far do we have to travel?”
He shrugs his shoulders. So much for Mr. Talkative. I’m just going to assume he doesn’t know. Settling for just stretching out across the long row of seats, I drink my soda in silence.
I barely notice the hour that passes as I stare out my window admiring the majestic landscape. The lush, thick green countryside is so utterly different than Texas’s parched plants and short trees. Hawaii is not at all like I had pictured in my head. I imagined flat land with palm trees and beaches surrounded by ocean for as far as the eye can see. I didn’t expect to see such intimidating mountains jutting up from the ground and flowing rivers surrounded by thick rainforests. The beauty of this island is simply breathtaking.
Eventually the land starts to flatten out and the Pacific Ocean comes into view. The churning waves are crashing hard onto the beach but surfers don’t seem afraid as they skillfully take them on. A few minutes later, the limo turns off the main road and into a small residential area. I count seven massive mansions dotting the beach. Wow, these houses look like they come straight from an MTV Cribs episode. I feel a hint of disappointment when we turn right and pass the last mansion on the street since it’s obvious that none of those will be our new home. We continue to follow a windy road that runs parallel to the beach for half a mile until we end at a circular driveway in front of a tropical hideaway that puts some of the other homes we just passed to shame.
This luxuri
ous house, or maybe they call it an estate, is as massive as it is beautiful. It looks like a house of glass with panoramic windows that wrap around the entire front of the house showing off a stunning atrium. There’s a lanai off to the side next to the beach that has the most pristine views of the ocean. As the limo parks I turn and see that my dad has the same expression of admiration and wonder on his face, that I’m sure mirrors mine.
A few seconds later, our driver silently opens the limo door. My dad exits first, as I attempt to scoot around the seats towards the door. The limo driver extends his tattooed arm towards me in a gesture to help me out of the cab. I accept it gratefully. Even though I feel a bit classy in a limo I realize that there is just not a way to gracefully get out of it on my own.
I stand in front of this home next to my dad while the limo driver gathers our bags; it all seems so surreal. I wonder if this is where we are staying. I don’t think I’ve ever been in a home this grand.
I look to the driver and risk asking, “Is this where we will be staying?” He just nods his head without a word. Wow, I guess he must have missed his calling for silent films. I turn and look at my dad giving him a ‘what the heck is up with this silent dude’ look. He just laughs and heads towards the door.
I start feeling a little nervous. I mean, this is going to be our new home. I have a distinct feeling that my life is going to be a whole lot different than I could ever have imagined. I take a second to steady my nerves and draw in a deep breath allowing the smell of salt water mixed with lush plants and tropical flowers to filter through my senses. I follow my dad up a small flight of stairs onto the porch, just as the door opens.
Another Hawaiian man dressed in linen slacks and a Hawaiian shirt greets us, “Aloha! You must be the Townsends. I’m John, the Kealoha’s personal assistant. The Kealoha’s are very grateful to have you here. They should be here later tonight to introduce themselves to you. This is the house you will be staying in. The Kealoha’s stay in a home that is closer to Mr. Kealoha’s office so you and Emma will have this house all to yourselves. While we are waiting for them I will show you to your rooms so you may get settled.”
The interior of the house looks like it comes straight out of a design magazine. The color scheme throughout is mostly made up of java brown and moonstone blue hues giving it a tropical oasis meets modern sheik look. The bamboo hardwood floors allot a tranquil feel almost like that of a spa. The walls are decorated with black and white canvas portraits of natural landscapes. Whoever designed this home really went all out. I do find it odd though that nothing in particular says anything about who the tenants of the home are. There are no pictures of family or knickknacks lying about. I wonder if the Kealoha’s live here full time or if they have another home and perhaps this is just a beach house?
John points out a few of the homes’ amenities as we are walking to our rooms which include: a media room, indoor hot tub and a fitness center with an indoor trampoline built into the ground. I wonder to myself if the Kealoha’s have any children. I know as a kid I would have loved an indoor trampoline.
We reach my room first. John opens the door and I have to quiet the squeal of delight that threatens to pass through my lips. My room, part of the atrium, is decked out with floor to ceiling windows. There’s a dream worthy canopy bed draped with shimmery tulle and violet plush bedding. The walls are painted a light lilac color, which complements the view of the ocean right outside my windows. On the far end of the room there’s a settee lining yet another window overlooking the beach. Directly next to it is a set of French-doors leading out to my very own patio.
My Dad comes up to me and comically closes my mouth. I hadn’t noticed that it was hanging wide open this whole time. I’m sure a little drool may have even escaped. I feel like I need to be pinched, this place is so perfect it’s unreal.
My dad says, “They asked me what your favorite color was. I guess they went all out to try and make you feel comfortable.”
Wow, they certainly accomplished that! I wonder why they would go through such efforts. Well, whatever the reason is, this is awesome!
I’m pulled from my gaze of awe when the limo driver enters the room and places my luggage at the foot of my bed. “Aloha,” he says with a nod before turning to go. Wow! He speaks! I barely contain a giggle when I reply, “Mahalo.”
John clears his throat and says, “Why don’t you get settled while I show your dad to his room.”
“Emma,” my dad calls from the door before he leaves, “the Kealoha family will be here in a little while. Make sure you get washed up and presentable before they arrive.”
I nod my head in response, still taking in the picturesque view from my window. I’m sure my dad wants us to make a good impression. I look down at what I’m wearing; I’m guessing my T-shirt and jeans combo is not first impression material. I get a little nervous about meeting the Kealoha’s. They are obviously extremely rich and I’m not used to being around those kinds of people. I’m really just a down home country kind of girl. I try to recall the social manners lesson Kaylee and I took last year during Home EC. I really hope we don’t have to eat any fancy meals together, I never can remember the rule on which forks to use.
Once I’m alone in my room I notice another door next to my bed. I venture over and open it. My dad isn’t here to close my mouth this time when I look inside to see a grand bathroom that is easily bigger than my room back home. It’s outfitted with marble floors and a jetted garden tub with a window above it looking out towards the gardens. There’s also a walk in shower and a double vanity sink littered with a ton of new toiletries including a full assortment of Bath and Body Works products that smell of Hawaiian Coconut. I spray a little of the body mist into the air in front of me. It’s a fitting scent for a tropical paradise.
At the far end of the bathroom is yet another door. I open this one and find a giant walk in closet. It’s fitted with organizational drawers and shoe shelves. There’s a cute beach bag on one of the shelves with a card attached to it that has my name on it. I open it finding a welcome home card signed by the Kealoha’s.
Wow, I think to myself. This is a bit outrageous. My dad is only doing a documentary for them. Why are they going so far out of their way to welcome us? I mean, I’m not complaining because this set up is truly princess worthy, but it sure isn’t the type of greeting I had expected.
I look down at my watch to find that a half hour has already passed. I better start getting ready. I go back into my room, grab my suitcase, and throw it on my bed. I open it and start rummaging through my stuff trying to find something presentable. I come across an ivory linen summer dress with a floral pattern on it. It’s the dress that Kaylee gave me at my going away party. She said she bought the same one for herself and made the joke that since I was moving away we wouldn’t have to worry about accidentally dressing like identical twins if we both wear it on the same day. We had made that mistake before at school, and never lived it down.
A twinge of sadness hits my chest as I think of Kaylee. I already miss her and a full day hasn’t even passed. I pull out my IPhone and send her a text, “OMG Kaylee, u will never believe this place! Actually, let me take a pic real quick for u.” I hit send and then switch my phone to the camera app. I take a picture of my room and the view from my windows then hit the send button.
A minute later she texts back, “What?!?! That’s amazing! I’m so Jealous!!!” She sends another text a second after that one, “I miss my BFI already! Let’s plan a Skype date. How bout’ 2morrow night?”
I text back, “It’s a date! I’ll Skype you at 7pm Texas time.” I calculate the time difference and text her once more, “That’s 3pm Hawaiian time.”
“Looking forward to it!” She replies back.
“Ten minutes Emma,” my dad yells from the hall. I put my phone away and run to the bathroom to put on my new dress then touch up my makeup.
I head out my bedroom door and make my way back through the labyrinth-l
ike house to meet my dad in the Foyer. I’m surprised I didn’t get lost; a place this big should come with a map for new arrivals.
When I get there my dad is already speaking with a Hawaiian couple. I take an educated guess that this is the Kealoha family. This husband and wife duo has wealthy dripping all over them. Mrs. Kealoha has straight jet-black hair pulled back at the nape of her neck. She looks like she stacked on as many diamonds as she could; they are literally dripping off every limb of her body. She’s wearing a tailored navy blue knee length Ann Taylor dress matched with Louis Vuitton pumps. Her husband is standing straight-backed next to her in a double-breasted pin striped business suit. He’s much taller than his wife and has an air of supremacy emanating from him.
I notice something quite interesting about the two of them, other than the way they dress. Both of them have that empty look about them; kind of like my dad. The look that tells you they have been through something difficult that is still fresh in their hearts. I have seen that look too many times before, and the knowing of it pains me. I don’t have too long to ponder on it since I can tell that they’ve noticed that I entered the room.
All three of them turn to me. My dad reaches his hand out and introduces me. “This is my daughter Emma whom I told you about.”
The wife smiles at me lovingly, “Oh Emma, it’s so wonderful to finally meet you. You’re father has said so many great things about you.” She has a soft voice that hints of an easy life.
I was about to hold my hand in greeting but instead she wraps me in a giant hug, clutching me against all her jewelry. She squeezes me a little too tightly, but I do my best to not allow the awkwardness to show.
I then turn to Mr. Kealoha, while trying to get my blood flowing again, who thankfully opts for a handshake instead.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you all. I have to say, this house is simply breathtaking! Thank you so much for letting us stay here.” I smile at them trying to insinuate how much I really do love it while at the same time trying not to overdo it.
“Why, it’s no problem at all. We are happy to have you and your father in our home. From the recommendations we received, we can see that your father is a wonderful and talented man. You both deserve nothing less.” Mr. Kealoha says stating the last part with finality in his voice.
My dad blushes a little and looks away modestly for a second. “I agree, he is a wonderful and talented man,” I say. “However, I can be a little bias.” I say with a smile.
My father grins like the Cheshire cat. I am guessing that my introduction exceeded his expectations “Emma, would you mind excusing us. We have some business to discuss.”
“Sure dad, I have some unpacking to do anyway.” I turn to the Kealoha’s and say, “Aloha.”
They reply in unison “Aloha.” Mrs. Kealoha adds, “It was a pleasure to meet you Emma. Please feel free to let us, or any of our staff know if you need anything at all.”
I nod with a smile and turn on my heels, heading back to my room. When I turn the corner to head down the hallway I see my dad and the Kealoha’s close a sliding door to a room that is off the foyer. Whatever they need to discuss must be private enough for them to need to close themselves off even though the house seemed almost deserted.
About a half hour later I see from one of my many bedroom windows, Mr. and Mrs. Kealoha getting into their limo and driving off. I was about to go and check on my dad when something caught my eye. From the window outside, I notice a smaller house next to us, slightly hidden by the palm trees. I hadn’t noticed it before, but you could see it just enough to know it was there. I edge closer to the window to get a better look. It seems about half the size of our house, but still very nice. I wonder who lives there, I think to myself. Well, I know there’s plenty of time, so I stick a mental pin in it for later.
I yawn and stretch my arms up over my head rocking back and forth, trying to get the kinks out of my body from our long, extended flights. I look at my luggage and decide that unpacking can wait till later. For now I’m taking a quick nap. I guess jet lag must be starting to set in. I head over to my bed, pull down the covers and slide in. I realize a second later that I’m still in my dress, but oh well; I’m too exhausted to change. In addition, this bed is ridiculously comfy. I quickly drift off into a dreamless sleep.
Night Marchers Page 6
