The Descendants

by Kaui Hart Hemmings

  “What?”

  “Carbs,” she says.

  “Get a piece of lettuce, then, and after that, Reina, you should probably meet your helper—don’t want to keep her waiting—”

  “Him waiting. He’s a Samoan with a heart of gold.”

  “Okay, him waiting, and Scottie, you’ll come back so we can have our family time together.”

  “That’s okay,” Reina says. “I’m done.” She looks at Scottie and waves. “You aren’t a liar after all.”

  Scottie darts her eyes among Sid, her sister, and me. I wonder what Reina is talking about.

  “Don’t you want to hang out?” Scottie says, pushing herself off of Sid.

  “No, I have to choreograph this dance sequence.” Reina reaches into her purse and looks at her text-messaging gadget and rolls her eyes. “Justin is so ree,” she says. “Okay, I’ll see you at the club. Hope your mom gets better. Smooches.”

  We all stare after her with our mouths open. After she’s gone, I ask Scottie, “What did she mean by ‘You aren’t a liar after all’? And what’s ‘ree’? What does that mean, ‘Justin is so ree’? Why’d she call you a liar? What is wrong with that girl?”

  “She didn’t believe that mom was sleeping and…” Scottie pauses and looks at Sid. Her face takes on a cherry tomato–like hue. “And ‘ree’ is short for retarded.”

  “And…” Alex says.

  “And that’s all,” Scottie says.

  “So you just had to prove to that twat that Mom was in a coma?” Alex asks. “What the fuck is in your skull? A bunch of stupid pills?”

  “Shut up, you motherless whore,” Scottie says.

  “Whoa,” Sid says. “Easy there.”

  “What else did she think you were lying about?” Alex asks.

  I think of Scottie cozying up to Sid and the way Reina looked them over.

  “Was it about Sid? Did you say something about Sid?”

  “No!” she says.

  “You don’t need to make things up for that girl,” I say. “She may do things with boys, but that doesn’t mean you do things, too.” I now feel it’s my only duty in life to make sure Scottie doesn’t resemble Reina in any way, because I know the potential is latent within her, quickly surfacing.

  “I just told her he was my boyfriend so she’d get off my back,” Scottie says.

  “You’re such an idiot,” Alex says.

  “Whatever. He told me he’s not your boyfriend. He probably finger-fucks thousands of girls.”

  “Scottie!” I yell.

  Alex has a wounded look in her eyes. “I don’t care,” she says. “It’s not like we’re together.”

  Sid opens his mouth to say something, but then he just shakes his head. I look at Joanie, lying there silent.

  “Your phone’s vibrating,” Scottie says. She takes my cell phone out of her pocket, the phone she has stolen from me to text her friend. She doesn’t even care that she has disobeyed. She doesn’t care that she said “finger-fucked” in front of me. It’s as though I’m not a father.

  I don’t recognize the number, so I don’t answer. I like to let people leave messages, and then I’ll call back after I rehearse what to say.

  “You never answer your phone,” Scottie says. “What if someone needs help?”

  “Then they can leave a message and I’ll call right back.”

  Alex takes the phone out of my hands. “Hello?” she says.

  “What the—? Do I not exist, girls? Do you realize I’m in charge here?”

  Scottie whispers, “Who is it?”

  “Oh, no,” Alex says. “This is the right number. This is his assistant…Sharon.”

  Scottie opens her mouth, delighted. I’ve always been impressed by Alex’s effortless ability to lie.

  “That sounds nice,” Alex says, then punches me lightly on the arm. “Where? Great. And for how long? Okay. Well, thanks. Maybe we’ll peek in on Sunday. Thanks so much. Okay.”

  She closes the phone.

  “Well?”

  “That was a Realtor, Dad, from Brian’s office. She says she’d be happy to show you the house you called about. Well done, Dad. Very clever.”

  “Good one, King,” Sid says.

  “What about Brian?” I ask. I feel strange talking about this with Joanie in the room. I position myself so that I face away from her.

  “He’s on Kauai,” she says.

  “For how long?”

  “Until the eighteenth.”

  “Did you get a number where I can reach him?”

  “No. What do you want to say to him?” Alex asks, and again I’m stumped.

  “What are you guys talking about?” Scottie weaves in between us.

  “Do you think he knows about Mom?” Alex asks.

  “Of course,” I say. It occurs to me that he most likely knows she’s in the hospital, but he couldn’t possibly know that these are Joanie’s last weeks or even days to live. I wonder what they did together. My wife and Brian. I think about what Kai said or insinuated: that I drove Joanie to have an affair. That my chilliness or aloofness led her into his arms. I thought we had something special, that she didn’t need as much tending to as other women do.

  I look at the macadamia nuts and the pictures of motorcycles and boats Scott taped to the walls. I see gardenias, her favorite flower, and I see a bottle of wine.

  “Are we still going to people’s houses to tell them about the party?” Scottie asks.

  Alex shrugs, and I feel bad that I’ve made her make up these lies, even though she probably likes doing it.

  “No,” I say. “We’re done with that.”

  “When is the party?” Scottie asks.

  I dust some sand off Scottie’s T-shirt. Where does she get these shirts? I’m going to have to get her some new clothes. The shirt has a picture of an elephant on its back, legs in the air, tongue hanging out of its mouth like a playground slide. WASTED, it says, and I notice the beer cans scattered around the desert in the background.

  When is the party? I wonder, and I realize that this would be a good way to tell the rest of the people on my list. I can’t continue on my trail. I’ll make them come to me. Again I’ll have to talk to Dr. Johnston and tell him to hold on. Wait. I want to make sure everyone has the chance to say goodbye. I want to make sure all the right people are here.

  22

  ALMOST EVERYONE IS here except for Kent Halford, who’s in Sun Valley, and Bobbie and Art, who often don’t show up to anything and never bother to make excuses. I had Alex and Sid take Scottie to a movie.

  The sun is going down. I have platters of sushi and fruit and lavosh on the dining room table, and everyone stands around the table with cocktail glasses and chopsticks in their hands. It’s like a party, and I’m beginning to feel terrible because they don’t know why they’re here. They don’t realize that they’re the remnants of people I still need to inform.

  I’ve let my guests chat and mingle for a while, and now it’s time. I’m ready. I walk to the head of the table so I can see everyone. I clear my throat. I need to just say it, get it out, and then I can back up.

  “Everyone,” I say. “I know you have all asked about Joanie tonight, and I’ve given some ambiguous answers, but I want to tell you that Joanie’s coma is permanent. Soon she will not be receiving any artificial help. She’s not going to make it through this.”

  Buzz laughs at something Connie says, and Lara whispers something. Buzz’s smile fades.

  “I’m sorry to do it this way. I just wanted to tell you in person. You’re all our dear friends, our best friends. I appreciate everything you’ve done for us. Goddammit.” My throat burns and my eyes water, which isn’t how I planned it. I had a good speech. I practiced it, and this didn’t happen when I practiced. Everyone is looking at me, and then the women begin their approach. I hug every one of them, Lara, Kelly, Connie, and Meg, inhaling their perfume, hiding tears in their hair.

  “Are you sure?” Connie asks. “You’re sure?”
/>   “Yes,” I say.

  “Can we see her?” Lara asks.

  “Yes,” I say. “Please see her. Now, or tomorrow morning, or when you get a chance. That’s what I wanted to tell you. That’s why you’re here.”

  “What about Kai?” Lara asks.

  “I’ve already told her.”

  Russell and Tom walk up to me. I feel bad for Russell, who has a sheepish grin on his face as he reaches to hug me. It’s the same look I get when someone tells me bad news. I can’t help it—I just grin, stupidly. Russell pats my back roughly, and my chin presses into his shoulder.

  “Did two doctors make this determination?” Orson asks. He’s a plaintiff’s attorney with an abundance of female clientele he calls his Suing Circle. “Because you need the diagnosis of two doctors.”

  I stare at him.

  “Of course,” he says. “You know what you’re doing.”

  “How long?” Kelly asks. “What happens now?”

  “Not long,” I say. “That’s all I know. And it would be great if you all went in the next few days so the girls can have their time alone. I mean, if you want to go in. You don’t have to.”

  Kelly’s new boyfriend seems relieved. I see him trying to hide the fact that he’s chewing something. Kent Halford’s son, Kent, Jr., doesn’t even try to hide his appetite. He spreads the Brie onto the cracker and pushes it into his mouth. I like that he’s eating, that he’s doing what he wants to be doing, though I suppose he always has. I remember when he used to live next to us; he stole our tractor in the middle of the night and rode it to the H3 lookout to meet his friends. He rode it back inebriated, and I found him on the tractor doing doughnuts on our front lawn. I walk over to him and spread some cheese on a cracker. I know his grandfather just died, and Kent was extremely close to him. I’m assuming his grandfather’s death will give Kent license to either really screw off or try to get his act together.

  “This sucks,” he says.

  “I know,” I say.

  “I really like Mrs. King. She’s always so nice to me.”

  “She likes you,” I say.

  He’s deep in thought. He’s such a better guy than his father. I like the way he seems to be working his hardest with the hand he’s been dealt.

  “I’ve stolen beer from your outdoor fridge,” he says. “I’ve done it a lot.”

  “I know,” I say.

  Buzz walks up to us and shakes his head. “I can’t believe this is happening. That motherfucker Troy.”

  “Don’t say that.” I look around at the guests, Connie and Kelly huddling together to talk about Joanie, about me. Kelly’s boyfriend and Meg’s new husband, Kula, standing together on the lawn with their cocktails, looking at the mountain, not knowing what else to do. Russell sits on the arm of a chair, close to the bar. Meg: Who knows what she’s thinking as she gathers empty cups and plates. She and Joanie always seem to be annoyed at each other; they bicker often and openly, a testament to their closeness. Orson seems to be lecturing Lara, perhaps listing all of the things to blame: Queen’s Hospital, the cigarette boat, Howard Aaron, the owner of the boat, Troy Cook, the engine, the wheel, the rough offshore waters, the love of competition and speed.

  Lara walks over to me. “What about Shelley?” she asks.

  “I’ve told her. I’ve told everyone who I think needs to be told. I’ve called Troy.”

  “We’re missing someone,” Meg says. She goes over to Kent and takes the pieces of sushi out of his hand and glares at him.

  “Mom? What the hell? I love sushi.”

  “He can eat the sushi, Meg.”

  The guests stare at me, expecting more, as they should.

  “I need to get out of here,” I say so that just Buzz and Kent can hear.

  “You go,” Buzz says. “I’ll take care of it. We all understand. Don’t even say another word.”

  I stare at the cheese, the crackers, the tiny red eggs in the sushi.

  “I’m sorry, you guys,” I say. “I know you want me to say more, to explain. She has a living will, you see. That’s why.”

  “Stop,” Lara says so everyone can hear. “You don’t need to say another word. It’s been a while, Matt. We were prepared, we understand. We are here for you and stand by your side.”

  Lara and Joanie have this hula group. The last time I saw Lara was in my living room, practicing with the other women, their bare feet patting the carpet, their arms drawing a large circle in the air, their gazes following their hands as if to say, Look at this abundance. What a beautiful place. I feel myself beginning to cry and take a drink of Kent’s Coke, which tastes strongly of rum. He looks at me with alarm in his eyes and I pat his back. “Boy,” I say. “That’s something.”

  The rum is wonderful on my throat. Buzz is standing so close to me, it’s like he’s the Secret Service. “You guys should go,” I say. “If you could get everyone going…”

  Buzz claps his hands together. “Okay, everyone. We should let the family have their time alone now.”

  I feel my face reddening. “Please take your time,” I say, but they get the hint and understand that they’re being ushered out. The men come first, shaking my hand so that I feel like the godfather, with Buzz next to me overseeing the farewells. The women come next, giving me fierce hugs that hurt a little. “Is there anyone else we can tell?” Meg says. “We’re not missing anyone? I’d be mortified if we missed somebody.”

  Kent finishes his drink. “Mom, if we think of anyone, we’ll let him know.” He hugs me, then takes his mother’s hand and leads her out. “We love you, Matt,” I hear her say. I thank Buzz, who momentarily forgets that he, too, needs to leave. “I’m going to lie down,” I say. “Be in touch.” I turn and walk away, concentrating on the smooth stone walkway, trying to make it to a couch or a bed where I can take a moment to rest. I am satisfied that I did it this way, even though it was hard. It’s something Joanie would have wanted. I remember the things her father brought for her—the wine, the pictures, the chocolates, symbols of her desire—and when I get to the den, I find myself thinking of the things I can bring, the symbols and mementos she would like from me, and a thought comes to me that I wish had never occurred. I think of the trail I blazed from house to house, the people I rounded up to say goodbye.

  What about him? I never considered that he could be the one who knows and loves her best. I never considered that this is what she wants most of all. He doesn’t know what’s happening, and this is unfair. If I put my emotions aside, I can see the pain his unawareness could bring—to him, to her, and possibly, eventually, to me. Now I know who’s missing and what I need to do. I need to tell him to return from Kauai to say goodbye to Joanie. I need to write him onto my map. I need to bring him home to her.

  23

  THE KIDS SAW a movie about two boys who are stoned and crave hamburgers. I try to listen to Alex explaining that it was about much more than their yearning for hamburgers. I tell her I’m sure it was.

  “Do you think he deserves a chance to say goodbye?” I ask Alex.

  She’s standing in the door of my room, which means she’s in a good mood. When she’d get home sometimes after an evening out with friends, she’d stand in our doorway and tell us about her night while Joanie and I lay in bed. She’d make me and her mother laugh, and this would make her stand there longer, trying to prolong our amusement. I love when she stands in my doorway.

  “You mean him? Tell him to say goodbye?”

  “Yes,” I say. “Brian.”

  “No,” Alex says. “That’s crazy.”

  “Is it?”

  She looks at the Dictaphone in my hand.

  “Are you recording this?”

  “No, Alex, I was summarizing a deposition.”

  “How can you work?”

  “How can you see a movie? How can you have a friend over?”

  She looks away. Half of the room is bright from my lamp. The other side is dark, the sharp silhouette of the mountain framed by the window running a
cross the room. The image always reminds me of a panoramic picture.

  “You’re going to tell him to come back to say goodbye?” she asks.

  “Yes.” Although I feel I should at least say “fuck you” before all the Good Samaritan stuff.

  “You’re a better person than I am,” Alex says.

  “No, I’m not.”

  She shakes her head and I feel I’m appealing to someone much older.

  “I’d like you to come to Kauai with me,” I say. “And Scottie. I think it would be good to get her away from the hospital for a day. We can leave in the morning, find him, and be home tomorrow night. If it takes us a day longer, that’s fine, but we won’t stay more than two nights. That’s our deadline. If we don’t find him, then at least we know we tried.”

  “And this will make you feel better somehow?”

  “It’s for her,” I say. “Not for him or me.”

  “What if he’s a wreck? What if he loses his shit?”

  “Then I’ll take care of him.” I imagine Brian Speer wailing on my shoulder. I imagine him and my daughters by Joanie’s bed, her lover and his loud sobs shaming us. “Just so you know, I am angry. I’m not this pure and noble guy. I want to do this for her, but I also want to see who he is. I want to ask him a few things.”

  “Just call him. Tell his office it’s an emergency. They’ll have him call you.”

  “I want to tell him in person. I haven’t told anyone over the phone, and I don’t want to start now.”

  “You told Troy.”

  “Troy doesn’t count. I just need to do this. On the phone he can escape. If I see him in person, he’ll have nowhere to go.”

  We both look away when our eyes meet. She hasn’t crossed the border into my room. She never does during her nighttime doorway chats.

  “Were you guys having trouble?” Alex asks. “Is that why she cheated?”

  “I didn’t think we were having trouble,” I say. “I mean, it was the same as always.”

  This was the problem, that our marriage was the same as always. Joanie needed bumps. She needed rough terrain. It’s funny that I can get lost in thoughts about her, but when she was right in front of me, I didn’t think much about her at all.