06-I'm Kona Love You Forever

by JoAnn Bassett

  ***

  After the police left, Shayna invited me into Malia’s kitchen to talk. I was pretty sure she was hoping to soften me up so I’d blab about the “snag,” but I was on guard. I had my own reasons to want to see where David had grown up.

  The interior of the house was a disaster. Some of it was probably due to the dozen or so emergency services people who’d shown up. They’d had to drag the gurney through the house since the garage was too narrow. But the sticky floor, unwashed dishes piled on the counters, and reeking cat box had been there long before any paramedics had been called.

  “Sit wherever you can,” Shayna said. “My mom’s a pig.”

  I did a double-take and she said, “My bad. I guess I should’ve said, ‘My mom was a pig’.”

  Shayna pulled a kitchen chair away from the table and pushed a sleeping cat onto the floor. I had to relocate a foot-tall stack of People magazines before I could sit down.

  “Jeez, look at that,” Shayna said, picking up one of the magazines. “She’s got gossip rags dating back to the days of Tom Cruise and Katie Holmes; maybe even Nicole Kidman. I swear the woman never tossed anything. You ever watch those ‘hoarder’ shows on TV? My mom could’ve been on there. But she was too bitchy. The TV people want nice freaks, not crabby ones.”

  I said nothing.

  “You probably think I’m horrible. But believe me, I have a million reasons. She treated us girls like lepo, like dirt. As far as she and my dad were concerned, David was the master and we were the slaves. It was always ‘Go help David’ or ‘You can’t have that because I need to get something for David.’ Behind her back us girls called him ‘King David’ because that’s how it was.”

  “You mentioned your dad,” I said. “Is he around?” It seemed odd to me no one had said anything about Malia’s husband up to that point.

  She barked a laugh. “I’m sure he’s probably celebrating at a bar somewhere. He and my mom fought like cats and dogs. They haven’t been together for years. He moved out when David was just a little keiki.”

  “They got divorced?”

  She leaned her pudgy body toward me and whispered, “Never married. But most people around here don’t know that.”

  “Oh. I see.” It probably sounded judgmental coming from a wedding planner so I went on. “Your parents had three daughters and a son? That’s a pretty big commitment right there.”

  “Four daughters. The joke in our family is my dad, Pono, stuck around long enough for mom to pop out a boy and then he took off. Go figure.”

  “And you’re the oldest?”

  “Yeah. I’m thirty-five. My twin sisters are thirty-two and my youngest sister is twenty-nine. The rest of them got smart and moved to O’ahu. I’m the only fool who stuck around.”

  “There’s a twelve year age gap between your youngest sister and David?” I said.

  “Right. Us girls think my mom may have had some miscarriages or whatever, but eventually my dad got his son.”

  “But he didn’t name him ‘Pono’ junior?”

  “Nah. Even though we’ve got a lot of Hawaiian blood, my mom was never into Hawaiian names. I’m Shayna and my sisters all have haole-sounding names too. They agreed to name my brother ‘David’ and that’s probably the last thing they ever agreed on.”

  We sat in silence for a few moments and then Shayna said, “I know I shouldn’t be saying this but nobody’s surprised my mom finally did it.”

  “Was your mom ill?”

  She blew out a pfft. “She was a sick, sick puppy. You name it, she had it: diabetes—and I’m not talking the pill-kind, I mean the shots kind—and fibromyalgia, and hypo-thyroid, high blood pressure, clinical depression, the list goes on and on. But what do you expect? She was at least eighty pounds overweight. She never stuck to her diet and then she’d have an episode and they’d rush her to the hospital. I’m an LPN, a licensed practical nurse, but I haven’t been able to hold down a full-time job in over two years. My mother was my full-time job.”

  There was a quick knock at the door and David and Lili came in the kitchen.

  “Hey, Shay,” said David.

  “Hey,” said Shayna.

  Lili flew across the room, dodging cats, spilled cereal, and stacks of newspapers. She threw herself at me, nearly dislodging me from my chair. But I’m pretty good at maintaining my balance when attacked so I managed to hold my ground. Lili ended up in my lap.

  “Take it easy,” said Shayna, pulling a tissue from her bra. She held it out to Lili, but when Lili didn’t take it, Shayna leaned over and proceeded to wipe the younger woman’s face like a mother spiffing up a snotty-nosed kid.

  “Can you stay here with me this week?” Lili sobbed into my shoulder. “I need to stay.”

  “I only have the room at the B & B for one more night,” I said. “Then I have to get back to Maui.”

  “You could stay with me,” said Shayna. “My house is nothin’ fancy, but you and David could sleep on the blow-up bed. My daughter would probably like having other kids to hang out with.”

  Lili cried harder.

  Shayna looked annoyed. “Was it somethin’ I said?”

  “There’s a chastity agreement in play here,” I said in a low voice.

  “A what?”

  “No cohabitating until the wedding,” I said.

  Confusion clouded Shayna’s face. I wasn’t sure if it was because she didn’t know what “cohabitating” meant or she thought the purity pact was bizarre.

  “They can’t sleep together until they’re married,” I said. “Or even stay under the same roof. Lili took a pledge with her dad.”

  “For real?” said Shayna.

  Lili kept crying.

  “So if she stays with me, where’s David supposed to stay?” Shayna said.

  David finally spoke up. “I’ll stay at Dad’s.”

  Shayna laughed. “Good luck with that. Talk around town is he’s hooked up with some skank from the mainland. None of us girls have seen or heard from him in weeks. But who knows? Since you’re King David he’ll probably make an exception.”

  “Shay, gimme a break, okay?” David said. “My mom just died. I don’t need you ragging on me.”

  “She was my mom long before she was yours, bruddah. And if you’re feeling guilty because you think maybe you caused her to do this, well good. It’s high time you learned about consequences. All your life you’ve gotten away with being a spoiled brat. But sooner or later it catches up. There’s always payback and it’s a bitch. Payback for you will be that for as long as you live you’ll know your selfishness killed your own mother.”

  “What?” said David.

  “Yep. You as good as stabbed her. She didn’t die because she lost her job or was sick or whatever. She died because you broke her heart.”

  The venom in her voice practically puddled on the dirty linoleum floor.

  CHAPTER 15

  Ah, family values. I grew up in a big “family” that, aside from my half-brother, was mostly made up of people I wasn’t related to by way of biology. The “mom,” a woman we called Auntie Mana, was my mother’s best friend who took in my brother and me when our mom died suddenly. The “dad” was an assortment of Auntie Mana’s brothers and cousins who stepped in and stepped up to do the disciplinary heavy lifting when necessary. My siblings were three of Auntie Mana’s own kids from a husband who’d taken off, along with two or three other keiki she took in during our time with her.

  Over the past fifteen years, as I’ve watched conventional families interact, I’ve come to the conclusion that our strange conglomeration was actually more civil than most. We didn’t fight over who was “mom’s favorite” because there wasn’t any point. We all pretty much knew where we stood on the proverbial totem pole, and it was in everyone’s best interest to simply toe the line and keep a firm grip on their position. Upward mobility was never an option, but sliding downward and getting kicked out of the family and into “the system” was.

  Shayna left so
on after her scathing attack on David. I offered the kids a ride, but David said his dad just lived down the road and he’d catch a ride with someone. He helped me get a still-distraught Lili out to my car.

  I was about to leave when he said, “You probably wonder what my sister meant by me breaking my mom’s heart.”

  “Hey, if you want to talk, I’m here. But don’t feel obligated to explain anything to me.”

  “I want you to hear my side of it,” he said. “My sisters think my life was jake, but it wasn’t. I can’t remember a single day when my Dad lived with us. He left when I was a baby, and I didn’t see him except on the occasional weekend. My mom used to cuss and bitch about how horrible he was. But every time I’d visit, he was always nice to me. It was real confusing. One time I asked my dad why he and my mom didn’t live together. He said she was crazy and he couldn’t take it anymore.”

  “Was your mother a stay-at-home mom?” I said.

  “For a while, but when I got to grade school she went to work for the County Parks Department. She was there until just a few months ago. She liked that job a lot. Even though she’d complain, I knew her job was pretty much the most important thing in her life. Especially after I left for high school in Hilo.”

  “So, you live full-time in Hilo now?”

  “Yeah. That’s what my sister was getting at about me breaking my mom’s heart. I got a chance to go to the Kamehameha School over in Hilo and I took it. Who wouldn’t? A first rate education, and they don’t charge kids like me anything. I want to go to college. The only way that was gonna happen was if I moved to Hilo.”

  ‘But your mom didn’t want you to leave.”

  “Right. Well, I s’pose she did and she didn’t. I’ve been doing hula since I was little. And in Hilo I got in a really good halau—that’s a hula school. She was all proud of me and telling everyone how I was going to be in the Merrie Monarch Festival and all that. But every time I’d call her she’d boo-hoo and beg me to come home. It made me nuts. After a while, I pretty much stopped calling.”

  “And your sister thinks that’s what caused your mom to do what she did?”

  “Who knows what my sister thinks? She’s got her own stuff with my mom, trust me.”

  I drove back to the B & B and got Lili into the room. She said she didn’t want anything to eat, so I went to a fast food place and picked up a sandwich. Before I left, I reminded her she’d promised to call her parents and tell them she was okay.

  When I got back to the B & B, Lili was fast asleep in the middle of the bed. I grabbed a pillow and made myself as comfortable as I could on the sofa. I read for a while, then drifted off. As I was falling asleep, I wondered what kind of funeral they’d hold for Malia and how many people would show up. Judging from the number of people standing around in the driveway there were a lot of folks who were concerned about what had happened. But time would tell how many were actual friends as opposed to simply bored neighbors who’d trotted over to see what all the fuss was about.

  ***

  The next morning when Lili woke up she acted as if she’d put Malia’s suicide behind her. She popped out of the bathroom smiling and composed.

  “How about we see if we can get açai bowls for breakfast?” she said.

  “What’s that?”

  “Oh, you’re gonna love ‘em. It’s mashed up berries with stuff piled on top. They’re the best.”

  We asked around and, sure enough, there was an açai place in Kailua-Kona called Basik Açai. It was off the highway at Kahakai Road, above a snorkel gear rental shop. When we pulled up, the place was buzzing with activity and had a line snaking down the wooden stairs to the parking lot below.

  “Wow, this is crazy,” I said.

  “Wait ‘til you try them,” Lili said. “You’ll get addicted.”

  I ordered a small bowl topped with granola, bananas and strawberries. It had chopped almonds on top, along with little carob nibs and a drizzle of honey. It looked like dessert instead of breakfast, but Lili was right. After one bite, I was hooked.

  “What is this stuff?” I said poking my spoon into the cool dark purple mash underneath the granola and fruit.

  “It’s açai berries. They come from South America. They’re good for you; like anti-oxidant and all that.”

  I shoveled the yummy concoction into my mouth as if I hadn’t eaten for a week. Soon, I was scraping the bottom of the bowl.

  “Shoulda got a big one?” Lili said.

  “Shoulda.”

  After breakfast I suggested we call Loke and see if she’d be willing to meet to talk about Lili’s phony birth certificate. I was purposefully avoiding any mention of David’s mother’s death. We’d have to deal with it sooner or later, but I was opting for later.

  “We should go pick up David first,” she said. “I need to be with him.”

  “Is he at his dad’s?”

  “I’m not sure. I’ll call.”

  “Speaking of calling,” I said. “Have you called your folks?”

  Lili rolled her eyes.

  “You promised,” I said.

  “I know, but I need a little more time.”

  “Do you want me to call for you? I promised your dad I’d let him know when I found you.”

  “I’ll text.”

  It was better than nothing, so I let it go.

  It turned out David had been allowed to spend the night at his dad’s house. Lili had never met David’s dad, so she was understandably nervous. As we drove over there she pulled out her phone, fiddled with it for a few minutes, then leaned over and started punching through the stations on the car radio.

  “Why don’t you have any decent music on here?” she said.

  “It’s a rental.”

  “Still. The first thing I do when I get in my mom’s car is put on my music.”

  “Did you text your mom?”

  “Ugh. Would you stop bugging me about that? I’ll do it right now.” She punched a few buttons on her phone and then tossed it back in her purse.

  “Are you happy now?” she said.

  We drove south to the town of Captain Cook. It seemed odd they’d name a town after a haole explorer who’d been killed by the locals (there are at least three different stories of how he met his demise), but maybe it was a sort of mea culpa: Sorry to have clubbed and stabbed you. But it sure looked to us like you were trying to kidnap our king. So, hey! How about we name a town after you?

  Captain Cook is perched high above the ocean. Steep streets on either side of the highway allow many of the residents to have ocean views. David’s father lived in a ramshackle house on the mauka, or inland, side of the road. His house had no view. In fact, the place was so run-down it looked like a scowling kid in a family vacation photo.

  David and his dad, Pono, were in the yard peering under the hood of an ancient truck. When Pono ducked out to see who’d driven up, I could see he was a big guy—at least six foot four and two-seventy-five or so. Not a dude I’d mess with, black belt or no.

  “Hey,” said David. He took Lili’s hand and leaned in to kiss her.

  Pono flinched. It wasn’t a big movement, but it appeared his son’s PDA—public display of affection—clearly made him uncomfortable.

  “Dad, this is Lili Kapahu. I’m glad you finally get to meet her. Lili, this is my dad, Pono Onakea.”

  Lili stepped forward and held out her hand. Pono glared at her as if he had something to say, but then seemed to dismiss it. He languidly shook her hand.

  Lili glanced nervously at David. “You’ve told your father we’re getting married, right?”

  “Of course. He’s real happy for us, aren’t you, Dad?”

  Pono grunted and tossed his head as if dislodging a fly.

  “Are you worried we’re too young?” Lili said.

  “Nah, but it’s not a good time, you know? What with David’s mom killing herself and all.”

  “Yes, I know. I’m sorry for your loss,” said Lili. “I’m sure it was a shock.”


  “No shock. She was pupule. She been pupule for years.”

  Lili looked at me and whispered. “That means ‘crazy’.”

  I’m used to people translating common Hawaiian words for me. Even though I was born and raised in the islands and I know as many everyday Hawaiian words as anybody around, I’ve come to accept that I look a lot more like a divorcée from Little Rock than a kama’aina from Hali’imaile.

  “David,” said Lili. “Pali’s taking me down to see that woman whose baby died. You know, the one whose birth certificate got mixed up with mine. You want to come?”

  Pono crossed his arms across his chest. “What you talkin’ about?”

  “There’s a problem with my birth certificate,” Lili said. “I need to get it fixed so we can get married.”

  “Huh. Well, my boy needs to stay here and help me get this truck goin’.”

  David seemed to be weighing his options—and the consequences of each.

  “I better stay with Dad,” he said.

  Lili narrowed her eyes. “Seriously?”

  “You don’t need me, babe,” he said. “Pali will be a lot more help than me.”

  “But I’m not marrying Pali,” Lili said.

  “Look, you go on without me. I need to help my dad get this truck running. He’s got to get to work today.”

  Lili turned on her heel and clomped down the packed dirt driveway like a kid who’d been voted off the playground.

  “You see that?” Pono said. “That one there is trouble.”

  I butted in. “Not really. She’s just awfully stressed. She’s got this birth certificate thing, and she’s really upset about what happened to your mom. Let me give you the address of the coffee farm. When you get the truck running, come on down.”

  David nodded.

  “You tol’ me you were gonna come to work with me today,” Pono said. “I need the help.”

  “Give me a break, Dad. I got a lot goin’ on too, you know.”

  “Son, you listen and you listen good. You let a spoiled pupule girl like dat push you around, you gonna be sorry ‘til the day you die. Tell her you’re not comin’.”

  “Mahalo for the advice Dad, but here’s the deal: I love Lili. And we’re getting married. Sorry I can’t help you out today, but she needs me.”