Ohana

by Dustin Stevens

  "Great," Dyson mumbled.

  "Anyway, while the medic was working on Snowman's nose, Max, our head of security, started combing through camera footage. Based on what Mei told him and what we'd heard Snowman say to you, it wasn't hard to find.

  "Snowman waited until Mei went in to clean your room, then pretended to be you, grabbed your stuff and left."

  "Hmm," Dyson said, nodding. "So what happened?"

  "We told Snowman what you said before he went back. After Max showed him the tape, he readily agreed to your terms."

  Dyson's mouth dropped open. "You're kidding me."

  "Well, there was one small stipulation."

  "That being?"

  "Snowman is packing his stuff as we speak," Mahana said.

  Dyson's mouth remained open, but he said nothing.

  "Yep. After that fiasco a couple days ago and now this, Max told him to get his stuff and go."

  Dyson pushed out a low shrill whistle between his teeth. "Wow, didn't see that coming. I thought for sure you were the police coming to take me away."

  "Sorry, just me," Mahana said, shrugging.

  "Wow," Dyson said, lowering his eyes back to the floor. "Thank you."

  "You're welcome. So, as I said before, going somewhere?"

  Dyson slid his eyes to the bag packed on the couch. "Haven't decided yet."

  "Oh," Mahana said. "Do you have a reservation somewhere? We're all pretty friendly with each other, I can get it waived free of charge if you like."

  "Thanks, but I was thinking more along the lines of a plane ticket than another hotel," Dyson said.

  "Oh," Mahana said again as she resumed leaning against the window will, her arms folded in front of her.

  Silence settled between them for several long moments.

  "Had enough of Hawaii, huh?" Mahana asked.

  Dyson held up the back of his right hand for her to see, then used it to motion towards his face. "Hasn't quite been the trip I envisioned."

  Mahana raised her eyes to concede the point, approaching from a different angle. "Might I offer a small bit of unsolicited advice?"

  "What's that?" Dyson asked, lifting his eyes from the floor to stare at her.

  "Remember earlier when I asked why you were here and you said you weren't sure?"

  "Yeah?"

  "I thought about it earlier and figured it out," Mahana said. "You're not sure, because you're not really here."

  "Meaning?"

  "You've been here, what, three days? Now admittedly, everything that could go wrong for you has, but I think at least part of that is because you're doing it all wrong."

  "I'm doing what all wrong?" Dyson said, a touch of self-defense creeping into his voice. "Vacation?"

  "Hawaii," Mahana said. "You're doing Hawaii wrong."

  Dyson made a face and walked over to the couch. He grabbed his bag and tossed it on the floor, motioning for her to sit. When she did, he resumed his place in the armchair.

  "Explain."

  "People don't realize, whether by choice or by chance, that there are two very different Hawaii's," Mahana began. "The one that tourists experience, and the one that locals live in."

  "And by locals, do you mean all locals? Or the ones not living on the west side of the island?" Dyson inserted.

  Mahana waved a hand. "That's a category unto itself. We don't need to worry about them right now."

  "Alright, two Hawaii's," Dyson said.

  "Right. So far, with the five minute exception of this morning with China, you've been living the tourist Hawaii."

  "How's that? I spent a day at Kaena Point? I haven't set foot on Waikiki."

  "Pearl Harbor. Diamondhead," Mahan listed. "You don't get much more tourist than that."

  "But still..."

  "I'm not saying you're the worst offender of it," Mahana said. "Not by a long shot. But you are still at least a little guilty."

  Dyson dropped his feet to the floor and rested his elbows on his knees. "Assuming I stay, how do I get around being such a tourist?"

  "First of all, let's not pretend like you're going anywhere. If we'd have kicked you out, you would have left, but now there's no chance."

  "What makes you say that?"

  "It's a few days before Christmas," Mahana said. "You said you don't have a return ticket. I assume the plan was to spend the holiday here?"

  Her words sent him back a bit, their clarity stinging. Christmas was inching closer, something he'd been actively pushing from his mind since arriving.

  "Didn't have a plan," Dyson said. "Still don't. This whole 'real Hawaii' thing sounds a bit appealing though."

  Several questions passed over Mahana's face, but she let them slide. "Does that mean you're entrusting the rest of your vacation to me?"

  Dyson’s eyebrows raised. “Is that what you’re offering?

  Mahana nodded. "I'm offering top-flight island tour guide services here. So?”

  “I’m debating it.”

  "You're going to have to do better than that."

  Dyson let out a smirk. "Oh, well in that case, sign me up.”

  "Meet me in the lobby tomorrow morning at seven. Be dressed for the water."

  "Yes ma'am," Dyson said.

  With a nod, Mahana rose and headed for the door, Dyson rising to his feet behind her.

  "Hey, don't take this the wrong way," Dyson called, "but why are you doing this for me?"

  Mahana swung the door open and looked back over her shoulder, long dark hair spilling down her back.

  "Call it a kindred spirit thing," she said, letting the door swing closed behind her.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Dyson descended from his room at ten before seven to find Mahana already waiting for him in the front lobby. Unlike every morning before, she was on the outside of the counter, leaning forward and talking to Connie. She was dressed in blue shorts and a white t-shirt, a bathing suit top tied behind her neck.

  The two were laughing as Dyson approached, wearing a pair of Montana State Football gym shorts and a plain grey v-neck. "You're joining me this morning?"

  Mahana took a healthy pull from the coffee sitting in front of her. "Is that not alright?"

  "I just kind of figured you'd be pointing out the right direction and sending me on my way."

  "No such luck," Connie said from behind the counter.

  "Besides, we tried that yesterday and it didn't really work out, remember?" Mahana added.

  "That wasn't exactly my fault you know."

  Mahana made a show of leaning back away from the counter and looking out through the glass doors of the front. "Well, it looks like it shouldn't be an issue today. Clouds have rolled through leaving nothing but blue skies."

  "You guys have fun," Connie said, shaking her fingers at them as they said their goodbyes and headed outside.

  Stepping out into the early morning, Dyson could see that Mahana was right. Despite the hour, the sun was already well above the horizon. The air was warm and the sky was spotlessly clear.

  "Where to, boss lady?" Dyson asked, standing on the curb and holding a hand out in either direction.

  Mahana went straight to the end of the curb, circled around a black Honda Accord and headed for the driver's seat. "Boss lady huh?" she asked, pretending to mull the name over for a moment. "I kinda like that. Hop in."

  Dyson did as he was told, folding himself into the front seat of the car and looking over at his guide.

  "You ever had a malasada?" Mahana asked.

  "A mala-what?"

  "You're such a mainlander," Mahana said, rolling her eyes as she dropped the car into drive and circled out into traffic.

  "Um, sorry?"

  Mahana slid her sunglasses down over her eyes and shook her head from side to side. "A malasada is a Portuguese doughnut, made from fried dough and coated with cinnamon and sugar."

  "I like them already," Dyson said, peering out the window as they wound through the still sleeping city.

  "Here in Honolulu, th
ere are two places you can get them, Champion's and Leonard's. Both are excellent, but everybody has their favorite."

  "Kind of like Pat's and Geno's in Philadelphia?" Dyson said.

  "Pat's and Geno's?" Mahana asked, making a turn towards downtown.

  "Two best cheese steak joints in Philly," Dyson said. "You're such an islander."

  A grin creased Mahana's face. "And proud of it."

  Dyson matched the smile, watching the signs outside slide by. "So we're headed to both of them this morning?"

  "Oh no," Mahana said. "Today, we're going to Champion's. Malasadas are to be enjoyed, savored. You can't line them up taste test style. Each one has to be tried on an empty stomach."

  "My apologies.”

  Champion's came into view as Mahana whipped a sharp turn into the empty parking lot.

  "Island lesson number one," Mahana said, putting the car in park. "Nobody here uses the term ma'am. Or sir. If someone is the same age or younger than you, they are bruddah or sistah. If they are older, they are auntie or uncle."

  Dyson held up his still-pink arm. "Uh, I don't think anybody out here is going to be mistaking me for family."

  Again Mahana shook her head, swinging out from behind the wheel. "It's not about family, it's how we address each other. You saying ma'am is the same as us saying auntie."

  "Alright, sistah?" Dyson said, holding the front door open for her.

  "A little better," Mahana said, stepping through.

  Inside, a clear glass case split the interior in two, spanning the entire room and separating the kitchen from the guests. The far right third displayed row after row of cakes, cookies and brownies. The middle third offered turnovers, éclairs and scones.

  The far third offered hundreds of round balls of dough, all looking identical to one another.

  "You know what you want?" Mahana asked, watching with amusement as Dyson tried to make sense of the vast spread in front of him.

  "Um, no. Not really," Dyson said.

  "Good, cause it wouldn't matter anyway," Mahana said. Turning to the balding Chinese man behind the counter she asked for a dozen and a half plain malasadas to go, smiling as the man scurried into the back to fill her order.

  "So it's going to be like that?" Dyson asked, sliding up beside her but keeping his eyes on the cases before him.

  "You can get them filled with vanilla or chocolate custard," Mahana said, "but I think you have to go the traditional route to really make an accurate assessment."

  "I agree, but that's not what I meant."

  "Hey, you entrusted this to me, remember?"

  "That I did," Dyson said as the man returned from the back with an oversized white box in his hands. He paid the man and thanked him and less than five minutes after arriving they were back on their way to the beach.

  The smell of fresh-baked pastry filled the car as they drove, wafting from Dyson's lap to his nose and setting his stomach to growling.

  "So where are we heading now?" Dyson asked. "And are we really going to eat a dozen and a half of these things?"

  "God no," Mahana said, angling them back in the direction they had came. "Most of these are so we can head back to Ala Moana and pick up where you left off yesterday."

  "Ah, so I'm getting back up on a board."

  "Not just that," Mahana said, turning the Honda into the beach park. "This morning we teach you perhaps the most important thing in all of Hawaiian culture. How to talk story."

  Chapter Twenty

  "What the heck is talk story?" Dyson asked, swinging out of the car, box in hand.

  "You know, talk story," Mahana said. "Shoot the breeze."

  "So why not just say, shoot the breeze?"

  "Because you're in Hawaii now haole. Why don’t you mainlanders call it talking story?"

  "Fair point," Dyson conceded, following her down the sidewalk to the white tent situated right where it was the day before. A few more handfuls of people dotted the landscape, but otherwise the only difference was the sunshine streaming down around them.

  "Hey!" Mahana called as she walked to the front of the tent, her arms out wide in front of her. In unison all four men rose to their feet and returned the call, Long Hair sliding off the end to give her a hug and kiss on the cheek.

  "Long time no see sistah," Handlebar said, shuffling around the table to offer a hug and kiss as well.

  "Been working," Mahana said. "We can't all live the fabulous retired life."

  "You should," China said, finishing the round of greetings from all. "It's so much better than working, yea."

  Mahana laughed and turned to Dyson standing awkwardly before them. "Guys, this is Dyson. I think you met him yesterday, but he wanted to come back today and try things again."

  Handlebar eyed him and said, "Get wet yesterday haole?"

  Dyson smiled. "Soaked. You were right, I should have stayed."

  A pleased smile spread across his face as the group laughed. "One day you haoles will learn to listen to us. Just cause we old no mean we stupid."

  "Well, that's part of why we're here this morning," Mahana said. "Dyson here has never heard of talking story."

  Four sets of eyebrows raised in unison, the men's faces all switching to various shades of suspicious.

  "Never heard of talking story?" the fourth man interjected for the first time. He appeared to be older than the others around him by at least a decade, though it was difficult to tell as his entire face and head was shaved clean.

  Dyson considered saying he'd spent more than his share of time shooting the breeze on porches and river banks, but opted against it. If Mahana wanted him to play the role of ignorant rube, that's what he would do.

  "Never."

  "So that's why you ran off so fast yesterday," China said.

  "I just thought he was another mainlander, always in a big rush," Long Hair said.

  "I meant no disrespect," Dyson said, stepping forward. "I even brought malasadas this time, which I'm told are rather good."

  "You've never had malasada?" Handlebar said, his face relaying disbelief.

  "Never even heard of them," Dyson said. "And I brought Mahana too. Together, that should cover my gaffe from yesterday, right?"

  Baldie and China both laughed while Handlebar and Long Hair stared at the box in his hand. Noticing their gaze, Dyson walked forward and placed it on the table. He peeled the lid back as all four leaned in close.

  A plume of sweet smelling goodness wafted up at him, filling his nose with the scent of the bakery. His mouth began to water and his stomach again let out an involuntary rumble.

  "Well don't let them get cold," Mahana said, breaking the moment as six hands reached in at once. As a group, everyone tore into theirs, sending cinnamon and sugar flying in all directions.

  Growing up in a town with three bakeries, Dyson liked to think he had enjoyed some good doughnuts in his day.

  Nothing he'd ever had before compared to the explosion of perfect flavor that hit him on the first bite and continued with every one thereafter.

  It took the group less than five minutes to polish off the box, everyone remaining silent as they devoured their allotted share and licked their fingers clean. Once they were done the ensuing conversation lasted through the morning, running well past noon.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Dyson made the turn on the far end of the lagoon and drifted to a stop, his oversized yellow board pulling even with Mahana's shorter light purple one. Ahead of him extended a quarter mile of clear blue water, framed on either side by white sands and heavy coral acting as a natural breaker.

  A handful of swimmers and paddlers dotted the waterscape, though for the most part the place was entirely theirs.

  "Not bad for a first timer," Mahana said, casting a sideways glance at him.

  "Thanks," Dyson said, extending his paddle out in front of him with both hands and rolling his shoulders. Despite it being a low-key activity, he could feel himself using new muscles as a thin sheen of sweat covered his
face.

  "But before you go getting too cocky," Mahana said, "how about a little challenge?"

  "What do you have in mind?"

  "See the last buoy down there? By the volleyball courts?"

  Dyson held a hand to his eyes, picking out the one she was referring to. "First one there?"

  "Loser buys dinner?" Mahana asked.

  "Now that hardly seems fair," Dyson responded. "I bought breakfast."

  Bending at the waist, Mahana balanced her paddle across the board and peeled her white t-shirt off over her head, revealing a solid black bikini top. Grabbing up her paddle she stood to full height, tucking the shirt into the waistband of her shorts. "Well, if you're afraid, I understand."

  For a moment, Dyson said nothing as he stared at her, waiting until she turned her head and offered an expectant look before saying, "Bring it, Barbie."

  A mischievous grin spread across Mahana's face as she leaned forward slightly. "We'll see haole. On your mark..."

  Dyson dipped the end of his paddle into the water and matched her pose.

  "Get set..."

  With a quick surge Mahana took two hard strokes, pushing herself a full board's length ahead of Dyson.

  "Go!"

  "Aw, what the hell!" Dyson said, scrambling forward while flailing his paddle wildly through the water.

  Mahana gained another board's length on him as he tried to get going, his erratic strokes sending the nose of his board more side to side than straight ahead. By the time he got evened out, she was almost full three lengths ahead of him.

  Casting a quick glance ahead, he expected to find Mahana looking back and laughing at him. Instead he saw only the back of her head as she remained aimed forward, rattling off quick strokes on one side before switching to the other.

  Setting his jaw, Dyson dug his paddle deep into the water, pulling hard as the board leveled off and began to surge forward. To his left a swimmer breast stroked by and off to the right he could see a woman lazily paddling with her dog perched on the end of her board.

  Otherwise, his vision was tunneled on the path in front of him.