Later, I found out about the legions of 1970’s counter-culture kids who’d scraped together enough money to fly to Hawaii and then had just stuck around. They surfed and smoked weed and mooched off the government for as long as possible before either maturity or family pressure called them back to the mainland.
Apparently my father had fallen into the latter category.
I folded the birth certificate and put it back in the envelope. I sat at my desk, staring out the front window and pondering everything that had happened in the past week. I’d learned my precious mother had died trying to save my brother’s dad from the police chief’s pot-head son. And my dad had returned to Hawaii and became a wealthy businessman who chose to never reveal himself to me until he died. And then he’d willed me millions of dollars while totally excluding his other children. His first wife had just died in a drinking and driving wreck and, for some reason, the cops think I had something to do with it. Then, after all that, I come home to my best friend becoming a new mother and my “Rookie of the Year” boyfriend playing the gracious host to two women and three kids.
Last week had been over-the-moon bizarre. This week couldn’t help but be better.
***
About half an hour after I’d faxed Valentine the birth certificate I got a call. “Hello Pali, it’s Valentine again. Say, I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask another favor.”
“Okay.”
“I appreciate you faxing your birth record, but the court will require an attested birth certificate.”
“So the fax won’t do? Do you want me to mail it to you?” I said.
“No, that won’t help. I need a certified copy of the original long form birth certificate. The document you faxed to me isn’t a legal document. It’s just a birth record. It doesn’t contain any signatures.”
“But that’s all I have. When I applied for my passport they accepted it.”
“Yes, well the federal government has latitude with these things. The courts view it differently.”
“What can I do?”
“You should be able to get a copy of your birth certificate from the state records office in Honolulu. You can order one by mail but it’ll take too long. I need a copy by Friday. The records office will want ID and a document stating this is an urgent request. I’ll fax you a letter to take with you.”
“So this means another plane ride?” I said.
“Didn’t your dad mention you were an air marshal at one time?”
“Point taken. It’s just that I’m not getting any work done here. I need to—”
“Pali, after you get me that birth certificate, this probate can get underway. And once probate’s been settled, your job will be the least of your concerns.” She said it with a smile in her voice but it made me cringe.
“You said it could take months or even a year. I’ve still got to make my house payment.”
“Of course. But right now, the most important thing is to get that birth certificate to me ASAP.”
“I’ll go tomorrow,” I said.
“Tomorrow’s a holiday. Try to get the earliest flight out on Thursday,” said Valentine.
“Oh wow, I forgot. Tomorrow’s the Fourth of July.”
“Yes, no mail, no banks, and no government offices.” There was a beat of dead air and then she went on in a cheery voice, “Have you made plans for the holiday?”
“Not yet. But I’m still playing catch-up from being gone. I’ll probably just hang around the house.”
“Well, whatever you do, have a relaxing day. And please give me a call when you get that certificate.”
We said our good-byes. I looked up the website for Hawaii birth records and found I’d have to go to the Department of Health, Vital Records Division on Punchbowl Street in downtown Honolulu. I understood why Valentine had advised me to get an early flight. The office was only open from 7:45 in the morning to 2:30 in the afternoon.
I’d hoped to hear from Hatch but it was already three o’clock and so far, nothing. I sat at my desk willing the phone to ring until I’d had enough. I locked up and went down to Palace of Pain. I went full-tilt, no holds barred. It worked. I’d learned long ago that one way to avoid fretting was to start sweating.
CHAPTER 23
After spending the Fourth of July washing my car, doing laundry, and generally just moping around the house, Steve allowed me to tag along with him to the Independence Night Blowout at the Ball and Chain. The B & C was his gay bar of choice in Kihei; a town known more for family-friendly vacation rentals than Calvin Klein underwear models. The proprietor had decked the place out in red, white and blue bunting and balloons and he’d strewn glittery confetti stars over every possible horizontal space.
When we walked in someone yelled Steve’s name from a table in the corner. We both turned. It was Levi. He waved us over to join him.
“You chat him up,” Steve whispered in my ear. “I’ll go grab us some drinks. Meet me at my usual spot.”
Levi asked about Farrah and I filled him in as best I could about Farrah tracking down the baby’s birth mother and them coming to an agreement about Farrah raising the boy as her hanai son.
“I don’t get it,” he said. “You can do that? I mean, don’t you have to go to court or something?”
“Nah, the Hawaiians have been taking care of family stuff like this for more than a century. It’s like they say, We don’t need no stinkin’ badges.”
“Well, that’s good I guess. Say, what’s with Steve? He’s really been avoiding me lately. Did I do something wrong?”
If he had, Steve hadn’t let me in on it. I shrugged. “Sometimes he’s like that. When was the last time you bought him a drink?”
Levi bolted from the table and headed toward the bar.
Steve came over with a glass of chardonnay for me and a club soda for himself. “What was that about?” he said. “Levi practically vaulted over the bar to pay for this round.”
“He thinks you’re shutting him out,” I said. “I asked him if he’d shown appropriate patronage to his don.”
“Oh great. I guess you’re still hung up on the mafia thing.”
“Hey, if the shoe fits. So are you?”
“Are I what?”
“Are you shutting him out?”
“No,” he said. “Not intentionally.”
“Trouble in paradise?”
“I guess it’s something like that. You’ll notice I’m here with you tonight and Steven’s nowhere in sight.”
“So, which is it? Has Steven got a thing for Levi or the other way around?” I said.
Steve shook his head. “Don’t even ask.”
“Sheesh, look at us,” I said. “I’ve got Hatch troubles and you’re pining over Steven. Our lives are like a pathetic reality show.”
“Yeah,” he said. “Except neither of us is getting rich or famous in the process.”
I sucked down the rest of my chard and then put my hand on his. “Can you keep a secret?”
The rest of the night passed in a hazy blur of bad chardonnay, dancing to the soundtrack from ‘Glee,’ and trips to a stifling ‘ladies’ room where half of the ‘ladies’ were guys in drag hogging the mirror.
***
I woke up early Thursday morning with a headache and a throbbing pinky-toe.
“Coffee?” said Steve as I stumbled into the kitchen.
“Can you set up an I-V? I think my throat’s on strike.”
“You were pretty funny last night. I mean, it’s kind of fun to be the designated driver. If I were diabolical I could’ve gotten enough photos to blackmail you out of a year’s rent.”
“Did Steven ever make an appearance?” I said. It was unkind of me to bring up Steve’s bruised love life, but I didn’t want to suffer alone. I poured myself some coffee and dumped in cream and sugar.
“Yeah, actually he did. In fact, he’s still asleep upstairs.”
So much for misery looking for a little company.
“You guys made u
p?”
“Yeah. I was just being touchy, I guess. He said he’d seen me introducing Levi around and thought he should do his bit.”
“And what was his ‘bit’?”
“He danced with him most of last Saturday night.”
“Some ‘bit’.”
“Yeah, but it’s okay. I’ve gotten over myself.”
I put two more spoonful’s of sugar in my coffee.
“Didn’t you already put in sugar?” Steve said.
“I’m not feeling very sweet this morning. I guess it’s time for me to consider getting over myself too. I haven’t heard a peep from either Hatch or Farrah since Monday. And I’ve got to leave again this morning.”
“Didn’t you see your message? Hatch left a voicemail on Tuesday. I wrote it down.” He got up and rifled around by the phone until he came up with a scrap of paper. In his precise handwriting it said, Picnic Honokowai Beach Pk. 7/4 at 3pm, Call Hatch.
“Why didn’t you tell me about this?”
“Hey, I wrote it down. You need to check for messages. I always put them right here by the phone.” Steve sounded irked but it was probably to cover up his guilt for forgetting to tell me about it.
“I’ll call him later this afternoon.” I checked the wall clock. “First, I need to make a quick trip to Honolulu to pick up my birth certificate.”
“For court?”
“Yeah. Valentine said the thing I’ve been using for a birth certificate isn’t official. I’ve got to go to the state records office and get a certified copy.”
Now that Steve knew about my possible inheritance he was eager to help me get it. He offered to drive me to the airport.
“And I don’t mind parking and walking you up to security.”
“Hey, hold off on the major sucking up,” I said. “I haven’t seen a penny yet and according to the lawyer, these things take months. Sometimes years.”
He was undeterred. “Still, you’re an heiress-in-waiting. That’s good enough for me.”
When we pulled up to the white zone it seemed like even the airport was nursing a hangover. In the open-air lobby there was hardly anyone in the check-in lines. The sky caps were leaning against the posts gabbing with each other.
“Just drop me off,” I said. “I’ll make the next flight, no problem.”
I was waiting at the gate for the eight-fifteen flight to be called when my cell phone rang. Good. It was probably Hatch calling to say he’d missed me at the picnic. I prepared myself to act indignant that Steve hadn’t given me the message.
“Aloha,” I sang into the phone.
It was Valentine. “So glad I caught you. I called and called last night but you never picked up.”
Since when is it a serious breach of conduct to be out of touch for a few hours? But maybe in Valentine’s world—where her clients are using their one phone call from jail—it is.
She went on. “Anyway, where are you now?”
“I’m in the Kahului airport. I’m on the next flight to Honolulu.”
“Good. We need that birth certificate. Will you be bringing it over to Kaua'i?”
“I was hoping I could just fax it.”
“Yes, well I thought that would work, but this morning I learned the judge is insisting on originals. He’s taking a two-week vacation starting tomorrow so if we don’t get this locked up before then, it will be put aside until he returns. And after he returns he’ll be swamped with backlog. Do you see where this is going?”
“Yes.”
“Can you indulge me by catching a flight as soon as you get the certificate?”
“Can’t I just send it with a courier?”
“I don’t want to go into all the times I’ve had couriers drop the ball,” Valentine said.
Another trip to Kaua'i was right up there with a root canal or jury duty, but I had no excuse. I had no wedding business pending and my personal life had flat-lined. I told Valentine I’d come. I got in line for my Honolulu flight and shut down my phone. It looked like I wouldn’t be getting together with Hatch for at least another day.
CHAPTER 24
I arrived in Honolulu in the middle of rush hour. But then, there are only a couple of hours in the dead of night when it isn’t rush hour in Honolulu. I snagged a cab and gave him the address for the Vital Records Office.
“It’s near the corner of Beretania and Punchbowl,” I added. “Right downtown.” I didn’t want him to think I was a mainlander who’d enjoy taking the scenic route and paying twice as much.
“You on jury duty?”
“No.”
“You getting divorced?”
“No.”
“Then why you going to court?”
“I’m not going to the courthouse. I’m going to the Department of Health.”
“You sick?”
“Look, it’s early. I’ve had nowhere near my normal consumption of coffee and the traffic’s horrible,” I said. “Would you mind just getting me where I need to go?”
“Hey, I jus’ trying to be friendly. At a drivers’ meeting las’ week they say riders tip better if you’re friendly. Ask how their doing, what’s up with their family, that sorta t’ing.”
“I promise I’ll tip better if you just get me there fast. No talking.”
That was the wrong thing to say. The guy veered off at the next exit and roared through industrial back alleys like a cop in hot pursuit. He kept flicking his eyes up to check the rear view mirror. I wanted to tell him to knock off the stunt driving, but I’d already said enough.
We screeched to a halt in front of the Department of Health. He turned around in his seat and said, “That fast enough for ya?”
I pulled out two twenty’s for a thirty-dollar fare and told him to keep the change.
“Mahalo. You want I should wait for you?”
I sent him on his way and went inside. Hawaiian state government prides itself on its world-class bureaucracy. What takes two government workers on the mainland requires at least six people in Hawaii. I steeled myself for the gauntlet ahead.
The process to get my birth certificate turned out to be less taxing then I’d expected. I had to wait half-an-hour for them to locate the record and apply the certification seal, but I had it in hand within an hour. I was about to head outside when it occurred to me that I’d never seen a copy of my mother’s death certificate. Even when I went through Auntie Mana’s ‘special papers’ after she’d passed, I never came across anything regarding my mother’s death.
I went to the end of the line. When I got to the counter, I was directed to a different window than before. I explained to the ample-sized local woman working the window that I’d like to get a copy of my mother’s death certificate.
“You lose the first one?” she said in a sympathetic whisper.
I didn’t know what the right answer should be. Had I lost the one I’d been given? If so, it shouldn’t be a problem to replace it. On the other hand, what kind of daughter thinks so little of her ohana that she misplaces important family documents?
So, instead of answering, I puckered up my face as if the whole thing was distressing beyond words.
“No worries,” said the clerk. “Just fill in this form and come back. No need you do the line again.”
I took the form to a table and filled it out using the information my mother had provided on my birth certificate. Then I went back to the window. The clerk typed on her computer and looked up.
“Okay, here it is,” she said. “Do you need just your mother’s death certificate or do you want her marriage certificate, too?”
“Uh, both if possible. Mahalo.” Had my mother and father actually gotten married? I was having a hard time keeping up with the onslaught of new family information.
“I’m afraid it’s gonna take a few days to get you the certified copies. Is this is an urgent request?”
I’d used the letter from Valentine to get my birth certificate right away, but I didn’t have anything like that for my mother’s
documents.
“No. It’s important, but not urgent.”
“We’ll send it to you. Shouldn’t take more than a couple days.”
“That will be fine, mahalo.” I paid the fees and left the window. I thought about taking the bus to the airport but it was getting late and Valentine would be getting anxious. I was already anxious. My parents had actually married? Why hadn’t Auntie Mana told me that?
I called for a cab and hoped it wouldn’t be the same driver. A decrepit yellow taxi with shot shocks pulled up to the building and a woman driver popped out and waved me over. I got in and we made it to the airport with little fanfare. I gave her forty bucks even though the meter showed only twenty-eight. I believe in equal pay for equal work, and besides, she hadn’t made my adrenaline spike.
I bought a ticket for the ten-thirty flight to Lihue but then noticed there was an earlier flight leaving in seven minutes. I took off running. The gate agent shot me major stink eye as I came ripping up to the podium. They’d already closed the jet-way door.
“Sorry. I got detained at security,” I said, handing over my crumpled boarding pass.
She looked at me with eyes that said, Liar, liar, pants on fire.
“Really,” I huffed. “I didn’t have any luggage and I must’ve looked shifty or something ‘cuz I got treated to the full body pat-down.” I sucked in a deep breath. “Heaven knows I understand the need for security. I was a federal air marshal for a while. So don’t worry, I’m one of the good guys.” I shot her what I hoped passed for a winsome smile.
She glared as if this was a common ploy of would-be hijackers. “This boarding pass is for our next flight, not this one.”
“I know, but I need to get to Lihue as fast as possible,” I said. “I have an important meeting with a Hanalei lawyer.”
She softened a little, realizing only a local would be meeting with a small town lawyer.
“Take the first seat available,” she said in a steely voice. She punched in the code to the jet-way door. “You’ve already delayed this departure four minutes.”
Kaua'i Me a River Page 14