The Blessed Event

by Frankie Bow

  I really couldn’t figure out how someone capable of so much compassion could be so cold to his Uncle Brian.

  I stuffed the Styrofoam clamshell from Chang’s into the trash, refilled my coffee mug, and went back to my workstation. I now had additional data from my sample of working law enforcement officers. The sample size was small, of course, but I could spin it as a pilot study and mention it in the Directions for Future Research section. If I buckled down, I could get all the information from the paper forms entered into my spreadsheet before everyone came back from the Farmer’s Market.

  Skye had left the browser open on my computer. I was about to close it, but my bad angel had other ideas.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  I maximized the browser window and saw two tabs open. Skye and Gloria had traveled to Mahina under different reservations. I clicked over to Gloria’s confirmation number and then to her full itinerary. Hey, I was just sitting at my own computer. It wasn’t like I was sneaking into someone’s room and rummaging through their sock drawer.

  According to her itinerary, Gloria had taken a redeye from San Jose to Honolulu and then to Mahina, arriving on the morning of the seventeenth. Sunday. I remembered the date because Monday the eighteenth was when I had started my diversity seminar for Mahina PD.

  And Gloria didn’t show up at our house until after Skye arrived. When was that? It was the day we had to cancel the second half of the session because half the class was called out to break up a cockfight. Tuesday. Gloria had arrived in Mahina two days before she showed up at our front door.

  I closed the browser window and got to work. I was entering data for about an hour before my right eye began to throb. Outside it looked cool and overcast. I slipped my umbrella into my bag and started on the ten-minute walk to Donnie’s Drive-Inn. I’d get an early lunch there to make up for the previous day’s gastronomic disloyalty at Chang’s. I walked out to the main road, turned right at Laukapu High School, and started downhill. When I reached the Drive-Inn, it wasn’t even eleven o’clock yet, and hardly anyone was there. Lunch could wait. I went a block and a half farther down the road toward the ocean. Then I turned into the narrow alley and went into the vacant lot, retracing the previous day’s steps.

  The lot was empty. There was no indication a man had lost his life here unless you counted a few patches of trampled weeds. The second-story window was shut. The dumpsters were empty, their lids propped open. I stood there and looked around the soggy lot for a few moments. Then I turned around and walked back out through the alley.

  I found Donnie at the Drive-Inn, wiping down the shiny red picnic tables.

  “Hey.” He grinned at me. “The family was here for breakfast. I missed you.”

  “I was working on my book chapter all morning. I didn’t know they were coming here, or I would’ve tagged along. I thought they were just going down to the Farmer’s Market.”

  “Not a lot of customers right now.” Donnie looked around. “I can take five minutes.”

  I sat down at the picnic table. Donnie disappeared and then returned with two Styrofoam cups and a plate of hard chicken katsu strips.

  “So everyone else went out to have fun, and you stayed home?” He set the food down and slid onto the bench. “You’re a hard worker, Molly.”

  “I’ve got nothing on you. Besides, I have to keep publishing. Publish or perish, you know.”

  “What about the guy you work with, Rodge Cowper?” Donnie dipped a katsu plank into the plastic tub of brown sauce. “From what you and Emma say, he doesn’t seem to have much on his plate.”

  I took a piece of katsu and decided to forego the ketchup-and-Worcestershire dipping sauce. I liked the crispy crust, and thought the sauce just made it soggy.

  “I don’t want to be like Rodge Cowper, Donnie. Rodge is a master of strategic incompetence. No one will even put him on committees anymore because he’ll just tell one of his jokes. And then he gets pulled off whatever committee he was on and sent to sensitivity training.”

  “So, what is this research that’s taking all your time? Can you explain it to a non-expert like me?”

  “You want to know what I’m working on? Really?”

  “Yes, I do.” Donnie rested his handsome chin on his hand.

  “Well. All right. If you insist. Have you heard of the ultimatum game?”

  “No.”

  “It’s basically a demonstration of how pride and spite override self-interest. There are two players. Say you and I are playing. I get a hundred dollars, and then I have to split the money between the two of us. So I could split it fifty-fifty, or I could keep ninety-nine dollars and give you one. Then you could choose to accept the deal, or reject it. If you reject it, though, neither of us gets anything.”

  “I think you’d split it fifty-fifty.”

  “Donnie, how do you know?”

  “Because I know you.”

  “Pretend we don’t know each other. I’m just some random selfish jerk who wants to keep most of the money. But remember: If I propose a split and you reject it, then neither of us gets anything.”

  “So you have to propose something fair,” Donnie said. “Otherwise, we both lose out.”

  “Aha. But why? Econ 101 would say as a rational being, you would accept an unfair split because you would still get something, which is more than nothing. But let me ask you. Would you accept an unfair payout? Would you take one dollar if the other person gets ninety-nine dollars? Or would you turn it down, and get nothing?”

  “What would I do? I think. . .hmm. I think I’d reject the deal if I thought it was unfair.”

  “Exactly. You just described what happens in real life, as it turns out. People will reject an unfair settlement, even if it costs them a little money to do so, because it’s more important to punish their greedy partner.”

  “No, I didn’t say I wanted to punish anyone. I just wouldn’t take an unfair split.”

  “Anyway, that’s what Betty and I are working on. We’re trying to describe the phenomenon a little better. We’re looking at how personality affects the way people play the game. And beyond that, we’re going to look at whether we can tweak some of the conditions to affect peoples’ responses. Maybe we can make certain aspects of their identity salient, or even threaten their self-concept in specific ways.”

  “So what does this game have to do with management?”

  “Oh, that’s easy. Classic example. An employee thinks they’re being treated unfairly. So they walk out, leave their employer hanging, even if they don’t have another job to go to. On the face of it, it’s irrational, right? But people do it.”

  Donnie nodded.

  “It’s called cutting off your nose to spite your face.”

  “You’re right. I guess you could say that.”

  “I’d like to think my employees don’t feel that way.”

  “I’m sure they don’t. I’ll bet you’re a great boss.”

  “I try.” He smiled.

  “You know Skye and Gloria bought their return tickets this morning.”

  “They told me.”

  “Well, I’m glad I finally got to meet your sister. And her husband. Did you ever find out what the story was with her going missing?”

  “I think it was just some miscommunication between the two of them about their travel plans. At least they got it straightened out.”

  He looked around and seemed to be doing a head count of the few customers sitting around the picnic tables.

  “Everything okay?” I asked.

  He nodded absently.

  “Yeah. Fine.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  That night at dinner, we discussed how Gloria and Skye might best spend their remaining three days in Mahina. Skye wanted to make the drive down to unincorporated Kuewa to tour the LightSpirit Organic Farm and Natural Birthing Center, the one with the algae-coated birthing pool. Gloria hoped to find some locally-made soaps she could sell at Gloria’s Spa. Donnie suggested a walking tour of downto
wn Mahina’s historic buildings, which I thought was a sound idea.

  At first glance, downtown might not seem like much of a beauty spot. But Mahina’s century-old buildings still had a certain faded glamor. Downtown also boasted a number of grassy parks, which used to be neighborhoods until successive tsunamis had washed the buildings away.

  Gloria liked the idea of a downtown stroll, and began to reminisce about some of her favorite Mahina haunts. Donnie then had the sad duty of reminding her that many of the old businesses she might remember were now defunct. Places like Tatsuya’s Moderne Beauty, Etsuko’s Fashion Frocks, and Modern Jewelers were gone, the storefronts either vacant or occupied by social-service agencies.

  Skye tried to move the conversation into a debate about mixed-use development and high-density urban housing, but he didn’t have much success. Davison, who could usually be counted on to contribute his opinions (however uninformed) to any discussion, seemed preoccupied and uncharacteristically quiet.

  “Something on your mind?” Donnie asked Davison.

  “Huh? Oh yeah.” Davison came back from wherever he was daydreaming. He pushed his chair back and stood up.

  “Everybody, I got a big announcement.” He lifted his glass and looked around the table.

  We all lifted our glasses in response, ready to join him in a toast. Maybe he’d found a summer job—I could get on board with celebrating Davison’s gainful employment. He could save up for a housing deposit, and then move out and get his own place. Donnie and I would finally have our house back. Maybe this summer wasn’t going to be so bad after all.

  “I’m a father,” Davison declared.

  I set my glass down quickly to avoid dropping it.

  Gloria broke the stunned silence.

  “Baby, that’s wonderful. Aw, congratulations.”

  She stood up and squeezed Davison in a hug, pinning his arms to his sides as if he himself were a giant infant. He reddened a little but looked more pleased than embarrassed.

  “Congratulations.” Skye offered his hand. Davison fist-bumped him.

  Davison and Sherry had a baby now? Of course, they were both adults, and if Davison wanted to be his own half-brother or whatever, it was their business.

  Unfortunately, Donnie wouldn’t see it that way. When Donnie found out the whole story about his ex-wife and his son—well, Donnie couldn’t find out, that was all there was to it.

  “Where is she?” I asked Davison. “The mother? Shouldn’t you be with her?”

  “What did you just say?” Donnie was staring at Davison, and looking pithed.

  “Her and the baby’s staying with her family now. She’ll be here soon, but.”

  “She’s coming here?” I exclaimed.

  “Boy or girl?” Gloria asked.

  “Do you have a name yet?” This was Skye.

  “It’s a boy. His name is Davison Hiapo Keali`i Junior. That’s just the first part. We didn’t pick out the rest yet.”

  “Great news, son.” Donnie choked on the words. He obviously didn’t approve, but neither did he want to spoil his son’s proud moment.

  “Bet you wasn’t expecting that, ah Dad? Beat you to it.” Davison sat down, beaming.

  I realized I was the only one at the table who hadn’t made congratulatory noises yet.

  “Well, I’m speechless. Congratulations to you and the mother. Donnie, are you okay?”

  “Just swallowed something the wrong way. Excuse me.” Donnie jumped up and rushed over to the kitchen sink to refill his water glass.

  Now what? I imagined Sherry showing up at our front door, diaper bag slung over one shoulder, baby over the other, cigarette in her mouth. I grabbed the wine bottle from the middle of the table and filled my glass to the top.

  “Eh, Molly,” Davison said. “You gotta cut back your drinking if you gonna try come hapai too.”

  “You and my brother trying for a baby, Molly?” Gloria smiled encouragingly (and, in my opinion, a little condescendingly). “Aw, good for you.”

  “If we’d known, we would have brought some of our Fertili-Tea blend. I’ll send you some when we get back.”

  “Aw no, she’s not gonna like the Fertili-Tea, Skye. It’s the one was making the ladies all gassy.”

  I looked helplessly in the direction of the kitchen sink, but Donnie couldn’t hear the conversation over the running water.

  “She should try the Super Cleanse capsules at least,” Skye said. “I brought a box with me. Molly, let me get you a sample. You’ll like it. Very energizing.”

  “Thanks Skye, you don’t have to get it right now. Maybe after dinner—”

  “No problem. Before I forget.”

  Gloria watched her husband disappear into the guest room.

  “I already put everything away. He’s never gonna find it.” She stood and followed him out, leaving me alone at the table with Davison.

  “So, how’s the baby doing?” I asked, to make conversation.

  “He’s doing real good. Was born premature, you know. Less than six months along.”

  “Oh, Davison, I’m so sorry.” I set down my wine. “And they sent him home already? Is he going to be okay?”

  “No worries, Molly. It’s all good. ’Cause the mother took care of herself, that’s why. Cut down on her smoking an’ everything. Baby boy weighed more than eight pounds when he was born.”

  “Your son was born three months early, and he weighed eight pounds?”

  “Yeah. Her and me hooked up Christmas Eve, that’s how come I know the date.”

  “I see.”

  “What are we talking about?” Donnie asked as he sat back down. “And where’d Gloria and Skye go?”

  “We were discussing the importance of good prenatal care,” I said. “Speaking of which, here are Skye and Gloria with my Super Cleanse pills.”

  Skye handed a small glassine bag to Gloria, who handed it to me. It contained four gelatin capsules filled with a sinister-looking dark green powder. I thanked them both and slid the bag under my plate.

  “So Davison.” Donnie had composed himself now. “Who is the young lady?”

  “You’re gonna meet her soon.” He grinned. “Molly, you know her.”

  Donnie shot me a questioning look. I shrugged. I was not going to get in the middle of this.

  “Mom and baby can come stay with us, Davison. Whenever you’re ready. We have plenty of room.”

  “But Donnie,” I faltered, “where would they stay? Do you think all three of them want to be crammed into the one little guest room?”

  “The guest room is perfect for them, Molly. There’s already a queen sized bed, and room for a crib.” He smiled indulgently. “We don’t want to keep a young mother out in the cold.”

  “Mahina’s not cold,” I reminded him.

  “Young mother” was similarly off the mark. Sherry and I were born in the same year.

  We were still absorbing Davison’s announcement when we heard a knock at the front door. Donnie answered.

  “Davison,” Donnie called back to the dining table. “Someone wants to talk to you.”

  “Who is it?” Davison didn’t get up.

  “Police.”

  “What? I didn’t do nothing,” Davison grumbled, but he stood up and went outside.

  Donnie closed the door gently behind Davison and came back to join us. We sat and watched the door.

  “What do you think all this is about?” Gloria asked.

  I shrugged as if I had no idea, but in fact, I had a few. This visit could be about my missing jewelry. Or it might concern some other infraction Davison had committed. Or a third possibility: it could be about Davison’s biological father turning up dead in a vacant lot.

  After a few minutes, Davison came back in, looking dazed.

  “Everything okay?” Donnie asked.

  “Aunty Gloria.” He came back to the table and sank into his chair.

  “What is it, baby?”

  “He’s dead, Aunty. Iulani is dead.”

&
nbsp; So it was Door Number Three.

  Gloria lifted her chin as if to say something noble and consoling.

  “I hope he’s burning in hell,” she announced cheerfully. “Donnie, go open up another bottle of wine.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  Andy De Silva intercepted me on the way out of Mass the next morning and motioned me over to a quiet spot next to the sanctuary door. I watched my fellow worshipers streaming out into the sunny parking lot, and hoped Officer De Silva wouldn’t make me late for my brunch with Emma. Maybe he had a question about the thank-you letter he was supposed to be writing for me.

  “You got the next of kin notification yesterday.” It was a statement, not a question.

  “You weren’t there?” I asked.

  He shook his head no.

  “Someone from Mahina PD came by and talked to my stepson out on the front porch. Then he came back inside and told the rest of us. He seemed pretty shaken up, actually. So the, uh, the deceased really was Iulani Malufau.”

  De Silva nodded. “Those kinds of notifications are one of the hardest things we do. Was Gloria there?”

  “She was.” I wondered why De Silva hadn’t been there, and whether he had wanted to be.

  “How’d she take it? Finding out her ex died?”

  “I think she was overwhelmed.” Overjoyed was more like it, but I didn’t think it would be appropriate to tell him all the details. “People all deal with grief in their own ways, don’t they? Oh, by the way, I’m going to meet my friend Emma over at the Pair-O-Dice. You’re welcome to join us if you like. Or not, if you’re busy.”

  I wasn’t just trying to be friendly, although De Silva seemed nice enough and I’m sure Emma wouldn’t have minded a third at our table. I wanted to give him fair warning. If he was planning to spend another Sunday morning canoodling in a dark booth at the Pair-O-Dice with a mysterious female companion, Emma and I were going to be right there gawking at him.