Island Boyz

by Graham Salisbury

  But still I get jealous, because she’s so good, and it just comes natural to her. You know? Some people just have what it takes.

  But anyway I have my own boat. So what if it’s only a fiberglass skiff? It’s still a boat.

  You can find it tied up in the small bay behind the pier. What I use it for is when I get time off from my summer job, I take it out and anchor in the harbor. Then I practice my guitar, which I started playing in the summer before ninth grade. Besides being a fisherman, my dream is to play slack-key Hawaiian music at some hotel at night. So I practice. A lot.

  But I have a real job, too.

  Grocery-store bagger, which is not so bad. You get to see lots of people.

  But mostly I sit in that skiff, where I can practice my brains out and no one can bother me or hear my mistakes.

  Anyway, to get back to my problem.

  One time last year us guys were sitting near the pool at King Kam Hotel. We only got three hotels in our small town. This was the one down by the pier. Anyway, I was playing my guitar, and Alton and Jimmy were nodding their heads to the music and checking out the haole tourist girls. Alton likes to think of himself as a loverboy.

  It seems to work, sometimes.

  So Alton says, “Hey Izzy, you getting pretty good on that guitar. One day maybe you really might play in some hotel lounge. I can see it. All the drunk guys going say, Play me one for my sweet, okay? Then they going stick five-dollar bills in your shirt pocket. You going get rich.”

  And Jimmy said, “Nah nah nah, Alton, that’s not it, Izzy going play love songs to the freak of nature. Shoot, how come we never thought of that before now? Am I right, Izzy? Huh?”

  “Shuddup, you dingdongs,” I said, pretending I was mad. But I wasn’t.

  Alton the stupit laughed and slapped his leg, saying, “Mr. and Mrs. Freak, bwahahahaha.”

  “Alton,” I said, “if she ever heard you say that, you can kiss your face goodbye.”

  “You got that right, brah,” Jimmy said.

  I can admit it. Tina’s still bigger than all of us, but so what? She’s about six-one, hundred fifty, something like that. And all we ever going be is puny punks, prob’ly all our days. Standing next to me, Tina’s a giraffe, but don’t you laugh, okay, because right now I got that serious problem.

  Because my story gets worse.

  A couple weeks ago I was at the pier with Alton and Jimmy, as usual. This time I had my new Taylor 612 blond-face guitar with the cutout music box. I was trying to play “Ku’u Kika Kahiko” by Ozzie Kotani in Mauna Loa tuning with the alternating bass. Really sweet song.

  Okay, anyway, while we were there, here comes Lefty’s boat into the harbor, the Angel-Baby II, forty-five feet of bright white fiberglass glowing in the late afternoon sun. Tina was standing on the bow with the dock rope coiled in her hands, ready to jump off when they came up to the pier.

  Listen.

  She had on jeans shorts and a white T-shirt, barefoot. Skin like creamy coffee. Long black hair blowing in the breeze, and when she spotted me she smiled and gave me a small wave and kissed me with her eyes—ca-ripes, she doesn’t even know what she’s doing to me. Even then, before I knew what I know today, I thought man, how much longer can me and her be just friends?

  Things were . . .

  Changing.

  I stood up and handed my guitar to Jimmy because I didn’t trust Alton to hold it. I told Jimmy, “Don’t let this bang on anything, okay?” And Jimmy took it and fake-tripped, pretending he was falling into the water. I nearly had a heart attack, the idiot bozo babooze.

  They never let up, those punks.

  I jogged over and Tina tossed me the rope. I wrapped it around a cleat, then ran back and caught the stern line and tied that up, too.

  Tina winked.

  The Angel-Baby II had two men and their wives on board. Lefty and Tina tossed the four fish they caught up onto the pier. Kind of a junk day, only four small kawakawas, or what the mainland guys call skipjack tuna, maybe ten pounds each. Lying on the pier they looked like stiff torpedoes.

  Lefty nodded to me, then told Tina he’d be right back and took the two couples back to their hotel in his truck.

  Tina said, “You want to help put the boat to bed?”

  Of course I did. So I jumped aboard, yelling, “Hey, Jimmy, try bring me my guitar,” and Jimmy got up and brought it over and handed it down to me. I took it and set it on the bunk inside the cabin, then came back out on deck.

  Jimmy winked and wagged his eyebrows, and Tina saw it and said, “What, Jimmy? Got eye twitch?”

  Jimmy grinned and untied the Angel-Baby II, then tossed the lines aboard. Tina started up the boat and walked it out into the harbor, and the water was so quiet and silky. When I looked back, Alton and Jimmy were getting smaller and smaller behind us, both of them just standing there, looking.

  As Tina skippered the boat between the moorings I walked up the aisle and sat in the seat across from her. She turned and smiled at me, and kept smiling.

  “What?” I said.

  She waited a second, then said, “You want a job?”

  A job?

  “Sure,” I said. “When you like me to take over?”

  She laughed. Man, her teeth are so white. “Funny boy,” she said. “I mean for a few days.”

  I told her I already had a job, and she said, “You call that a job? How about this? How about a little trip to Honolulu for dry-dock repairs? Daddy can’t do it because of his hip.”

  I said, “What’s wrong with his hip?” And she told me it was some old high school football injury coming back to bite him. He had to have an operation.

  “I have to take the boat to Honolulu and fly home,” she said. “Take about three days. But I can’t do it alone. I thought . . . you know . . . maybe you could come with me. Want to?”

  Whoa. Hey, I mean, think about it. What that meant.

  I said, “Well, yeah . . . sure . . . but I don’t know. When?”

  “Couple weeks. Ask your mom. Or do you want me to?”

  “I’ll do it,” I said, looking down.

  My mom likes Tina. A lot. So she didn’t even blink when I brought it up. “Sure,” Mom said. “Go. You want me to talk to your boss?”

  I couldn’t believe it. Didn’t she see how Tina was looking at me lately? Didn’t she see it was diff’rent now?

  But then Mom didn’t know about the volcano.

  That’s right.

  There’s more.

  Back in the beginning of summer the volcano blew again. It was all over the papers, but when Tina heard it on the radio, she called me. She said she and her dad were going to drive up and see it that evening, and did I want to come?

  So they picked me up and we headed south in Lefty’s smelly fish truck. I remember looking down from way up on the side of the mountain trying to see the ocean far below. But the whole world was as black as octopus ink. Except for up ahead, where there was an orange glow that looked like a small town was on fire.

  As we drove closer, Tina’s warm arm was pressing up against mine. And her leg and knee.

  Ho, man! Every time I moved, just a little bit, she was right there, still next to me.

  So anyway, an hour later we drove into Volcanoes National Park. The eruption was in an old crater. The fountain was shooting straight up and falling straight back down. It looked like a giant sparkler lighting up the night. I can still remember how every tree and rock was ghostly still in their sharp shadows. And you know how it’s supposed to be cold up there, at that altitude? Not that night. It was like we were on Mars.

  Lots of people had the same idea as us. Cars were parked bumper-to-bumper for about a half mile along the road. We walked awhile, then made our way through the jungle to the edge of the crater.

  The air got hotter, and hotter, then way hotter. When we broke out of the trees, it was like we were standing in a fire. The lava fountain was maybe a quarter of a mile away from us, and it was roaring and crackling like a sugar mill—
or maybe it was the trees around us that were crackling. I had to shield my face with my hand, it was so hot, like you would if you were staring into the sun.

  Lefty gave each of us a large ginger leaf with holes in it he’d punched out for eyes, and we put those over our faces. It helped, though the leaf almost melted and my eyeballs were sizzling. But who could stop watching?

  I’d never in my whole life seen anything like it. It was so awesome to think that the earth was just a ball of fire held together by a thin, dried shell, and inside it was raging to get out, like now.

  But the lava didn’t flow anywhere. It just fell into the crater and made a giant cinder cone behind it.

  While me and Tina were looking, Lefty walked off for a while.

  Tina said, “This is kind of spooky. What if the whole crater blows?”

  I said, “Yeah, but we’d never know it, would we?” And she said, “Probably not.”

  And that’s when it happened.

  Not the volcano.

  Tina.

  She moved around behind me and put her arms around me in a real soft kind of bear hug. The top of my head only came up to her eyes. But she hugged me so nice and easy, and I was so surprised I couldn’t even think of what to do or say, especially when she started rocking, just the smallest bit, side to side.

  Ho.

  I just let her do that.

  Even though the heat from the volcano was frying me and making me sweat like a spit-roast pig.

  I could see Lefty making his way back over to us, and as he was coming closer, Tina said, “Izzy.”

  That’s all. Just my name.

  We stood there, and all the time Lefty was getting closer and closer. When Tina saw him, she kissed my ear and let go.

  We left soon after that because it was way too hot. But I was so far gone I didn’t care where we were by then. I knew from that moment, and really for the very first time, that now we wouldn’t be just friends. I didn’t know what to do about that.

  And that ain’t all.

  There’s still the trip to Honolulu on the Angel-Baby II. It’s weird, because it just keeps getting worse and worse. Or better and better, I don’t know.

  Jeese.

  And that’s where I am right now.

  On the boat.

  Just me and Tina.

  Alone.

  See my problem?

  We left early this morning.

  It was a windy, overcast day when we got down to the pier, and Lefty said, “Maybe you two should wait a day, let this weather pass.”

  But Tina said, “Nah, Daddy, we can do it.”

  Lefty looked at me like, you tell her, Izzy. But I just shrugged and said, “I don’t get seasick.”

  He grinned and tapped my shoulder, like that was what he wanted to hear. “Fine,” he said. “Go.” Just like my mom. “But if you get down by Kawaihae and it’s gotten worse, you set in there and wait out the weather, okay? I don’t want you two out there in a nasty sea. I got enough to worry about with this damn hip.”

  Tina gave him a big hug. “Don’t worry, Daddy. I know what I’m doing.” Then she turned to me and said, “Let’s go,” and that was that.

  We set out on that stormy morning with Tina standing at the wheel. She had a kind of imp look on her face when she checked out that bad weather, so sure of herself. I thought, Man, here we go.

  When we got out past the lighthouse the world opened up, free of land, free of people. Just me and Tina and the sea. It was unreal . . . and so was the weather, in a bad way.

  Now, ever since that night at the volcano, Tina’s been on my mind. In my dreams at night she’s kissing my ear and holding me in that soft bear hug, the both of us frying in the heat and not caring about it one little bit.

  Wow.

  So here I am on the boat, wondering if Tina ever thinks about the volcano like I do. Maybe she doesn’t. Maybe she just felt good that night, or something. I keep trying to stop thinking about it. Impossible.

  It takes us a couple of hours to get down by Kawaihae, where her dad wanted us to set in if the weather looked worse. Well, it does look worse, but not terrible worse.

  Tina smiles and winks.

  I say, “You gonna call him?”

  “Nope.”

  A little while later she says, “Shall we see if we can make Lahaina by nightfall, or you want to check in at Kawaihae and make Daddy happy?”

  What can I say to that?

  So I go around tying everything down. It’s going to get a lot rougher out in the channel between the islands of Hawaii and Maui. Alenuihaha, in case you didn’t know, is one of the world’s most treacherous ocean passages.

  As we rumble out from the protection of the mountains on the north end of Hawaii, the wind smashes into us like an overloaded cane truck. It rises up and spits whitecaps across the ocean for as far as you can see, and the swells crank higher, and deeper, and it’s as wild as I’ve ever seen it.

  But it isn’t really stupid to be out here. Not yet, anyway. Tina would not have come this far if it was. I know that girl.

  Nothing to do now but wait and see what happens. Ride it out and pray some rogue wave doesn’t roll the boat.

  I think about Lefty. “Don’t you think you should call your dad? He’ll worry.”

  “No. He’ll tell me to turn around.”

  I shrug.

  “We can do it, Iz. I’ve seen worse.”

  “You’re the skipper, Angel-Baby.”

  She grins real big. “Say that again, would you? I like the sound of it.”

  She does have a sense of humor.

  By three o’clock the sky is as black as tire-dump smoke. We’re fully out into the channel now. Behind us Hawaii is barely visible. Ahead is Maui, coming closer, growing more visible, but we’re still way out in the middle of a very angry sea.

  The swells rise up and we rise with them, then we slam down into the troughs between. Tina clings to the wheel with both hands, muscling the rudder to stay on course. I grip the seat across from her, gritting my teeth as the boat bangs ahead, pitching and rolling like a dead fly whirling down a flushed toilet.

  Tina glances over at me. “Almost as good as the volcano, huh? Remember that?”

  “Yeah.”

  I don’t know about her, but the volcano itself isn’t what I’m thinking about. “What were we doing there, anyway, Tina? I mean, you know . . . hugging and all.”

  I say it just like that.

  She’s quiet a moment. Then, “I wish this boat had windshield wipers like in a car, you know? This ocean is a mess.” Like I didn’t even say what I said.

  Fine, I think. I don’t want to know anyway.

  Which is a big fat lie.

  By five o’clock the channel is tossing us around worse than ever, rattling every loose thing in every drawer and nook and stowage cabinet on that boat. The racket is incredible, like if you take a drawer full of silverware and drop it on the kitchen floor every ten seconds for five hours straight. You wouldn’t believe it. You’d just have to hear it for yourself.

  Tina shouts over the noise, “It’ll get calmer just as soon as we get into the lee of the island.”

  I’m ready for that.

  Well, we make it, we slip into the lee where the island blocks the wind, and the ocean goes back to just being cranky.

  We finally head in toward Lahaina harbor. It’s about seven at night. It’s already dark because night falls like a rock in the islands. The sky is still thick with clouds, but the wind has finally stopped and the ocean is coming flat again. I don’t think I’ll ever in my life forget seeing the lights on shore, how they reached out over the water, welcoming us in, and how I could hardly wait to get on solid ground.

  Several yachts are anchored in the bay, and maybe five more are in slips inside the breakwater. It’s all so peaceful after what we’d just been through.

  Lucky for us there are no boats docked at the pier, so we tie up there for the night.

  Now, I gotta say, the quiet af
ter Tina shuts down that boat is awesome. After a day of humming engines and rattling loose objects and howling wind and a banging, pounding hull, I’m in no-noise heaven. I jump off the boat and I don’t want to get back on it, and I say that to Tina.

  “Yeah, you’re right, little big man, let’s get off this tank and go get something to eat.”

  Lahaina is as welcoming as a fresh papaya. The air is warm, and the lights inside the stores and restaurants along the shore glow like yellow gold. Ho, man, talk about romantic. We just walk around, amazed at being here at all. And even when Tina takes my hand and holds it, I’m so happy I don’t even think about what we’re doing.

  We find a small restaurant, a low, dark green, old-style board building with white-framed windows that edges the ocean. Candles glow in orange jars on every table. Soft Hawaiian music is playing in the background. We get a table by the sea, and after we sit down, Tina reaches across the table and grabs my hands and squeezes them.

  “Can you believe where we are, Izzy?”

  I shake my head. It’s amazing, all right.

  “I’ve never felt so alive in all my life,” she says.

  We order and eat and talk about whatever comes into our minds. I probably won’t remember any of it, really. Not the words, anyway. But I don’t think I’ll ever forget what I feel and see. Like, out in the distance there are two boat lights crawling along the horizon. And the music, Cyril Pahinui playing “Panini Pua Kea,” so soft in the background. And a plane light slowly blinking across the black sky, now opening through the clouds, with a million stars in the infinite distance. And a small freckle just to the left of Tina’s mouth that I’d never noticed before.

  “Know what I want more than anything in the world?” Tina says, bringing me back.

  I blink. “What?”

  “A hot bath.”

  “Well, I could heat some water in the galley and fill up the fish box for you.”

  She laughs. “You are so funny, Izzy, you know that? And cute. I like you. I’ve always liked you.”

  I look down and mumble something.

  “I have an idea,” she says. “If I can’t take a bath, at least I can jump in the ocean and hose off at the faucet on the pier. How ’bout you? You up for it?”

  So we hike down the coast to where there’s a beach and we can get away from the harbor water, which smells like boat fuel. At this dark beach we just walk straight into the ocean with our clothes on, our T-shirts and shorts. We go in to waist high and sit down in the water looking back toward shore. I think I’m in heaven. Maybe I am.