The other two guys standing there laughed at my reaction. “She’s digging for gold, man,” one of them said to me.
“Why?”
“Dude,” said the same brown-haired freckly-faced kid. “You obviously never had swimmer’s ear.” He put his hands over his own ears and rubbed gently.
“Ouch,” the other guy said, tugging at his own ears.
“Your granny is wicked awesome. Your name’s Jaswinder, right? Pretty name for a pretty girl. Your granny told us all about you.”
In what language, exactly, I wondered.
He lifted his eyebrows up to his hairline. “Whoa. First day with the white skin? That is gonna hurt,” he leaned over and peered into my red face. “You should have started off with the Japanese tourists.” He smiled at me. “They never get sunburns. I don’t know what their secret is. But your granny will take care of you. She keeps us all high and dry.” He nodded over at my grandmother, who, as I watched, put some kind of drops in the ear of the guy’s head on her lap.
“Ah,” he said, as if he were getting his feet massaged or something, instead of having his ear wax excavated.
“Mrs. Park. Thank you so much,” he said, standing and tossing his hair. He smiled and squeezed my grandmother’s small hands in his. “Righteous.” My grandmother, looking like she just won the lottery instead of a wad of Kleenex dotted with amber goo, grinned and clapped and motioned for her next victim.
“Your granny is famous,” said the big blond-haired guy. “I’m Zev. Nothing can stop us surfers. I surfed the day I had my wisdom teeth pulled. Kenny,” he nodded to the freckly kid who was now kneeling and putting his head onto my grandmother’s lap, surfed the day his father died. Sorry, dude,” he called out as Kenny waved his hand. “Bronco,” he jerked his head to the guy not wearing a T-shirt, thank you very much, “cried like a baby the first time he got the ear ache. It’s bad. You can’t surf with an ear ache. But, your grandmother has the magic touch.”
“So you guys always come here and have her clean your ears?”
“Wednesday’s wax day, and we’re not talking about our boards.” They all laughed. I did, too.
“She keeps you all healthy?”
“None of us,” he waved his hand out back to include the others, “have had an ear infection since we started coming here. You should try it. It’s amazing what she can pull out of there.” He waved a shaka sign, his teeth bright white inside his tanned cheeks.
I felt a surge of pounding, as a headache settled in my brain. “Haven’t you ever heard of Q-tips?”
They all laughed again.
“Q-tips are for amateurs,” Bronco said. “Haven’t you ever heard you’re not supposed to stick anything in your ear larger than your elbow? Besides, it’s not like a bunch of brothers are going to sit around and pull that shit out, sorry Mrs. Park, of each other’s ears. In fact,” Bronco walked closer to me and tried to look into my ear.
“Stop,” I said. As I waved him off my burned arm cringed. His skin was darker than the other two guys, and between his abs and his shorts that hung low on his hips, he could have been in a grown-up Coppertone baby ad.
“Seriously, you gotta do it. You know how good you feel after you get your teeth cleaned? This so much better. Freeing.”
“I even surf better after your Grandma empties the trash out of my head,” Zev said.
Bronco laughed. “He gets his ears cleaned before surfing competitions.”
“You got to try it,” Kenny piped up.
“No, thanks,” I said. When I turned to head back to the living room to enjoy my sunburn in peace, Zev grabbed my hand. “Come on, Kenny. Any more and she’s going to start pulling grey matter. Let Jaswinder take a turn.”
“I’m good,” I said, tugging away from Zev. I didn’t stand a chance. Kenny got up and maneuvered me to the floor in front of Halmoni. My grandmother’s strong, sure hands nestled my head into her lap and smoothed back my hair. I hugged her thighs and tensed, and prepared for a sharp jab in my ear.
Surprise. It did feel good. My grandmother gently swirled her implement on the upper and outer ridges of my ear canal. It tickled. She also massaged my earlobe and I began to relax.
“Ooh, look at that! Good one!” I thought that was Kenny doing a play-by-play. Hot surfer guys in Maui admired my ear wax production, that my grandma harvested, like a pig rooting for truffles. I suppose I did still have some alcohol toxins on board.
“Da-di-da, da-di-da,” Halmoni said, before squeezing drops into my ear. She placed her hands on my cheeks and turned my head, and repeated the ritual on the other side.
I stood up as the guys watched, waiting for my reaction. I nodded and smiled. “It’s good. Really good. Even my headache feels better.” It did, too. “Mahalo, Halmoni.” My grandmother beamed.
“Do you surf?” Zev asked.
“No.” I could feel their disappointment.
“But, I want to learn, someday.” I did, too.
“We’ll teach you. Say the word. Anything for Mrs. Park and her hot granddaughter.”
I couldn’t blush because my cheeks were already beet red. “Thanks. Not today, though.” I shrugged my stiff arms, as if they couldn’t see my ridiculous sunburn.
“We’ll take your grandmother to pick up her car in Lahaina, too.”
“Thanks.” I nodded, hoping the flush hid my guilty look.
I grabbed a water bottle from the refrigerator and headed back to my sanctuary in the living room. My mood lifted, but my shoulders were burning.
I wondered if the hunky Hawaiian guy from the bar I gave my number to would call me before I left Maui, or better yet, the sexy surfer, Dr. Jac. Too bad I never gave him my phone number. Well, too bad he never asked for it. He did know where I stayed, since he drove me home, but I really didn’t picture him driving back here, pulling up and asking for more sex. Goosebumps marched along my arms as I remembered last night. It would be embarrassing if I ever did see him again, anyway. That’s why they are called one night stands. I quirked my lips to wipe that stupid smile off my face.
I fell asleep on the couch and woke up to the sounds of silence, which I could hear really well now with my new super keen, super clean ears. Aside from that, though, I really wasn’t feeling very well. My face was clammy and I felt feverish, not just warm from the tropical air. I scrolled through a couple of channels, pausing to catch the end of a music video on VH1, “Let it Burn.” Har har.
I rolled off the couch and went back into the kitchen for another bottle of water, and pulled out a tub of cottage cheese from the refrigerator. My grandmother must have gone to the grocery store for me, bless her heart, after the Saint Surfer boys helped her pick up her jeep. The cool air from the refrigerator felt good as I kept looking. I pushed aside the kimchi, scooted over a carton of milk, poked at plastic-wrapped fish heads, ugh, and dropped down for a better look at the bottom shelf, fearing the worst. I reached in, maneuvering past the lettuce, carrots and onions my grandmother stuffed in there. It has to be here. Ah. Blindly, my fingers grasped onto the familiar plastic bottle. Bingo! Halmoni remembered.
I smiled and pulled out the ketchup. I squirted what would have been a healthy dollop if it had just been a plain tomato slice, over my bowl of cottage cheese and then opened the bag of Hawaiian Sweet Maui Onion potato chips that my grandmother left on the counter for me. I dipped a chip into the cottage cheese and ketchup, and crammed the whole thing in my mouth. “Mmm.”
I blinked my eyes. It was so weird. I thought I saw something flutter over in the corner. I thought I was getting heat exhaustion. That sun was a killer.
Chapter 8
Squirmatology
Crunching gravel and squealing tires announced the end of the good ol’ days when my biggest worries were merely a sunburn and no future. At the pounding knocks I rushed to the front door.
“Maui PD. Open up!”
I opened the door as my grandmother scurried out of the kitchen and dried her hands on a white towel. Two officers
stood there, blocking the sun. They flashed their badges as if they were auditioning for a scene in Hawaii Five-O. How I could have used a big dose of Steve McGarrett right about then—a la Alex O'Loughlin. No such luck. I squinted. No Daniel Dae Kim, either. Not even Kono. I sighed. Wrong island, I know. They’re too busy keeping Oahu safe.
“What’s wrong?” I asked them.
“We need to talk to Mrs. Park,” said one of the officers. He nodded over my shoulder at Halmoni. She motioned them into the living room.
Uh oh. This couldn’t be good. Was she still doing her so-called business? “Who are you?” The Detective who looked like he was in charge asked me.
“I’m Jaswinder Park. I’m her granddaughter. I’m just visiting from San Diego.” Yikes, I was nervous. I was getting a very bad feeling, along with feeling very bad. My face felt flushed, as if I had a fever.
“I’m Detective Imada,” said the older Hawaiian Detective, “and this is Detective Morgan. We need to ask you and your grandmother some questions.” My grandmother smiled at him as if she recognized him. He nodded respectfully before flipping open his notepad.
“What’s the problem?” I asked. If jail couldn’t convince her weed was illegal, what could? Why wouldn’t they just leave this little old lady alone? She was as sweet as I remembered her. Time for damage control. “Do you officers know my grandmother? She’s lived here all her life, and she helps so many people. I don’t know why you keep bothering her. What could she have possibly done wrong?”
Sweat beaded on the faces of the detectives who wore poly-blend hotbox suits. Detective Imada cleared his throat and swiped his hand over his Hawaiian helmet of hair, that had no gray. The kimchi burp he tried to hide as he exhaled smelled like it had hitchhiked in on a bus full of Korean grandfathers.
“We’re investigating a murder.”
“What?” I squawked. “Who was murdered? Whoa. And what makes you think my grandmother knows anything about it? She’s been around here all week. I came out from San Diego and got her out of jail myself the other day.” Good one. Remind them of her shady past.
“Where were you last night?” Detective Morgan asked. He didn’t look that much older than me. He had dark hair but lighter skin than Detective Imada, which gave me no clue to his nationality. His muscles bulged through the sleeves of his jacket. He looked like he’d forgotten to shave the left side of his face, or only had a five o’clock shadow between the three o’clock and six o’clock positions on his cheek.
“Me?” My voice pitched so high I sounded like a dolphin. I didn’t know which hurt worse, my sunburn, hangover, or threat of a murder charge. What a nightmare. My grandmother began speaking to the detectives in a mixture of Hawaiian/Korean-sounding pidgin. She squeezed my hand and lifted it in the air, shaking, saying, “Not that.”
It took all my effort not to just faint and make all of the nonsense disappear. “I was at the Coconut Shack.”
The two detectives glanced at each other. “From when to when?”
“I don’t know. It’s Hawaii. Who tells time over here? I wasn’t paying attention.” I really hoped they didn’t ask me what time I got home or how I got there or where my bra was. I began to shake. A globule of sweat fell off my face and my teeth started to chatter. I couldn’t look more guilty if I tried.
“Who died?” I managed to ask. Oh no. My stomach churned. If there was such a thing as a guardian angel, please don’t let it be the guy I schtupped the night before. I remembered Jac’s slow smile and amazing eyes. I didn’t even realize I had been hiding a fantasy from myself that we’d see each other again.
My grandmother reached up the back of her hand to my forehead. “I don’t feel very good,” I said. Halmoni pushed one of the detectives back and pulled me over to the couch. I felt so lousy I didn’t even cringe as she patted my face.
“I don’t know what’s wrong with me.” I shivered.
“Miss, I think you have heat exhaustion to go along with that sunburn you have there,” Detective Imada said, leaning in so close I nearly succumbed to a kimchi coma. Halmoni gingerly pulled up the sleeve of my T-shirt.
“Blisters,” half-shaved face said. He took half a step back, either to give me space or to escape the effects of his partner’s lunch.
“My head is spinning.” I reached for my water bottle on the end table and almost fainted.
“We’ll never be able to conduct an interview with Mrs. Park with her granddaughter in this condition,” Detective Imada said to not Danno. “Mrs. Park. We have a warrant to search your house. You better get her over to Dr. Case.” He put his notebook in his suit pocket. “You need to get those shoulders checked out, young lady. Looks like it could be a second degree burn to me.”
“And heat stroke,” the other detective added.
“We’ll check back with both of you later on. Don’t plan on going anywhere.”
Go where? I thought. It was all I could do to take a sip of water.
“In the meantime,” Detective Imada said, “We’re going to take a look around.”
I felt as bad as I knew I looked, and two detectives standing their looking like they were accusing me or my grandmother of killing someone didn’t help. “Who died?” I asked again. “When? What happened? And why do you think we had anything to do with it?”
“We’ll talk more later,” Detective Imada said again. “You need to get to the doctor.”
The detectives went outside to start searching. I guessed they were being polite and waiting for us to leave before they combed through the house. My head throbbed. My grandmother started nattering at me. Somehow, I figured out what she said.
“I don’t know where my bra is, Halmoni. And my shoulders hurt so bad I’m not putting my bathing suit top back on. Let’s just go see this doctor.”
I stood up and caught sight of myself in the hall mirror. The T-shirt I wore, found in a drawer leftover from years ago, probably fit me back when I was twelve years old. It was an old faded yellow Hula Grill t-shirt, soft and comfortable. It made me look strangely voluptuous, and as long as it wasn’t cold in the doctor’s office, I figured I’d be okay. I was so sweaty and wrung out I didn’t really care.
Grandmother hopped in the driver’s seat of the old jeep, which was a good thing because I was still dizzy. I got another sweating attack on the way, drenching my shirt. It didn’t take long for my grandmother to pull up to an old island house in Lahaina and park out front. I jumped out and Halmoni came over and took my hand and pulled me up the sidewalk, casting sidelong glances at me, muttering and flicking her finger at my water bottle.
“Da-di-da, da-di-da.”
I took a drink and followed her through the thick wooden door of the cottage. Great. The air conditioning was set on North Pole. I shivered. My skin under the thin T-shirt shuddered. I crossed my arms and hunched my blistered shoulders even more.
“Aloha, Mrs. Park. Detective Imada called and told us you were headed in,” said the receptionist, a beautiful—and aren’t they all—young Hawaiian girl with swingy black hair that looked like it never got snarls. She handed me a clipboard and pen. “Just take a seat and fill that out. Dr. Case has a couple of patients ahead of you.”
I followed my grandmother, and took slow, deep breaths. The old cottage living room had been turned into the waiting room. If I had been feeling better, I would have been able to relax in the space that effortlessly seemed to say aloha, with its brightly polished honey-colored wood floors, dark sage green paint on the walls, and mahogany doors and crown molding.
I sat down in a wicker chair with nubby leaf-green cushions and started to fill out my information. I glanced around and saw a mother with her young son, an older man and woman, and two teenage boys, who, if they weren’t there for acne treatment might want to reconsider. I blew out a breath. It made no difference that I was a drop-in, almost-emergency patient. I knew it was a blessing that they fit me into the schedule, but I am sometimes accused of not having much patience. I blinked and tried to whoop
up a soothing yoga ohm in my head. How long would this take? I tapped the pen, jiggled my foot and went back to the forms, holding the clipboard at chest level. I shivered again. The A/C actually blew my hair.
“Mommy, Mommy.” The little boy tugged on his mother’s arm and pointed right at me and my chest. “Look at that lady’s goosebumps. That will never happen to me, right?” His eyes were huge and he looked like he wanted to cry. I hunched over even more, wincing as my T-shirt pulled against my blisters. The teens started laughing as the mother grabbed her son’s pointing finger and gave it a tight squeeze. “Hush.”
“Is she gonna die?” He asked his mom.
“Just from embarrassment,” I muttered. I crossed my arms as tightly as my sunburn would allow. I wondered again who died, and why we were suspects?
I finished filling out the paperwork and hung onto the clipboard for dear life. They finally called my name, and I followed my grandmother back to an exam room and climbed up onto the paper-covered exam table. “Dr. Case will be right with you,” the medical assistant said, looking at my flushed, sweaty skin, sneering with the superiority of a native Hawaiian with smooth brown skin and lots of melanin.
I felt a wave of dizziness and put my head between my knees as Dr. Case gave a quick knock and entered the room.
“Aloha, Mrs. Park.” I heard him say. “So your granddaughter got a bad sunburn today, hey?” From between strands of my falling hair, I saw brown feet in flip-flops, hairy legs bumping into a white medical coat. His voice sounded familiar. I lifted my head, looking all the way up to the back of my medical chart, which covered the face of Dr. Case.
“Well, let’s take a look,” he said, lowering the file. I communed with the dolphins yet again, letting out a squeak. My grandmother squinted at me. Dr. Jac Case widened his eyes. His lush lashes fluttered. I felt my flush melt into my sunburn, my pink skin a mood ring of emotions. At least he wasn’t dead.
Haole Wood Page 5