Ohana

by Dustin Stevens

  Mahana finished her ponytail and dropped her forearms to the table in front of her, continuing to give him a blank stare. She shook her head from side to side, but said nothing.

  "I mean, I guess it makes sense," Dyson said, trying to redeem himself. "I imagine folks try to stay away from the tourists and the stuff that costs way too much because of them, so you go to the beach."

  Holding a hand up, Mahana said, "Stop. I appreciate the attempt to recover, but please, just stop."

  Dyson leaned back in his chair and took another glance around the room. Everyone had already forgotten about him and returned to their food, conversation and laughter growing louder by the second. "Alright, educate me."

  Mahana regarded him for a moment, then asked, "Have you ever heard of the word ‘ohana?"

  Dyson drew his lips together and thought for a moment, finally shaking his head. "I'm pretty sure I've seen it. Maybe an advertisement or something, but I wouldn't say I know what it is."

  "Not surprising. Half the companies on this island use aloha in their title, the other half use ‘ohana."

  "So it's a Hawaiian word?"

  "It is. It means family."

  "So, wife, kids, dog, picket fence kind of thing?"

  "No," Mahana said, shaking her head. "I mean, it can, but generally it means something much larger. Remember how I told you that everyone is either called bruddah-sistah or uncle-auntie here? It's because Hawaiians believe that everyone is connected, that we are all part of a greater family here in the islands."

  "Kind of an, it-takes-a-village sort of thing?

  "Kind of, but maybe even bigger than that. It's more of a never-met-a-stranger, we-are-all-one sort of thing."

  "Hmm," Dyson said, rolling the information over in his mind.

  "And so what you saw today wasn't just hanging out at the beach, it was an example of how ‘ohana works. China letting people use his boards and teaching them how to paddle just because he enjoys doing it. Paul pitching a tent and grilling for anybody that wanders by."

  Dyson nodded, thinking about the day. As he thought things over, one of the tiny Chinese women appeared from the back carrying a platter that was at least three sizes too large for her tiny frame. Carefully she lowered it from her shoulder to the edge of the table, balancing it there as she unloaded her wares.

  Dyson's eyes grew large as he watched her transfer one dish after another, filling the small space in just seconds. When she was done, she offered a toothless smile and a small bow before retreating.

  "Mahalo," Mahana said, already repositioning plates around them.

  "Thanks," Dyson mumbled, shifting his eyes back to the spread in front of them. "You do realize there's just the two of us here, right?"

  "What's wrong, you afraid you can't keep up?" Mahana said, doling out white rice from a large bowl for each of them. "Don't tell me you're going to let a girl beat you again."

  The look of astonishment on Dyson's face gave way to incredulousness as he stared back at her. "I was just saying it looked like a lot of bowls, not that I couldn't keep up."

  Mahana smiled smugly as she set the rice down and moved for another dish, this one filled with a purple paste resembling blueberry yogurt.

  "A lot of Oceanic culture is derived from Asian influences. In this case, Chinese dim sum. Lots of smaller dishes instead of just one large one."

  Dyson picked up a flat plate with what appeared to be two small bundles on it, both wrapped tight in dark green leaves. "And what are all these things?"

  "Those are laulau," Mahana said. "Butterfish and pork wrapped in ti leaves and steamed. What I'm dishing out now is poi, the basic starch of all Hawaiian meals." She sat the bowl of poi down and went around the table, pointing at various dishes. "Lomi salmon, which is bits of dried salmon with diced tomatoes and onions. Kalua pig, a salty roasted pork. Macadamia nut salad, pretty much exactly what it sounds like."

  Dyson gave them each a laulau, then continued dishing out the foods between them. The two worked in unison for a moment, their arms reaching back and forth in a steady labyrinth as they went.

  Once the dishes around them were empty and their respective plates overflowing, they began eating.

  Silence fell between them as they set upon the food, Mahana looking up after a few bites and making a gesture that said, "Well?"

  Unable to speak through a mountainous bite of Kalua pig and poi, Dyson nodded his head emphatically.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  "Good morning Miss Connie," Dyson said, his flip-flops slapping against the heels of his feet as he crossed the lobby.

  Despite the early hour, the place was already abuzz with activity. A crew of hotel workers was overhauling the lobby, transforming it from a Hawaiian getaway to a holiday theme park.

  A large Christmas tree had been erected in either corner overnight, covered in red and gold bulbs and long swaths of ribbon over a foot thick. Massive packages wrapped in glossy red, gold and silver paper with bows atop them were arranged around the entirety of the lobby.

  In the background, holiday music played.

  "Mele Kalikimaka Mr. Dyson!" Connie said, holding her arms by her side and swinging her gaze towards the decorations being erected.

  "A Mele Kalikaka to you as well," Dyson said.

  "Kaliki-maka," Mahana corrected, walking up behind him, a coffee cup in hand. She turned her gaze to Connie and smiled. "Such a mainlander."

  "Yeah, but he's trying," Connie said. "That always helps."

  "Yeah, I'm trying," Dyson echoed to Mahana. "That always helps."

  Mahana rolled her eyes and took a swig of coffee, looking around the lobby. "So, what do you think?"

  "I like it," Dyson said, looking around. "I was beginning to wonder if you folks celebrated Christmas out here."

  "Kalikimaka," Mahana corrected again. "And why wouldn't we?"

  "I don't know, it's just that Christmas is now two days away and I haven't really seen the first sign of it."

  "You haven't been downtown to see the lights?" Connie asked.

  "Lights?" Dyson said. "Actually, I don't think I've been downtown at all yet."

  Connie looked disapprovingly at Mahana. "You'll have to be sure to show him those. That's my favorite part of the holiday season."

  Mahana shook her head, offering a faux glare at Dyson. "See this, you've already got me in trouble."

  "What did I do?"

  "Yeah, what did he do?" Connie echoed.

  Lifting her coffee cup from the counter, Mahana headed for the door. "See you back here at noon?"

  "You kids have fun!" Connie said, waving her fingers at them as she bobbed her head along to Frosty the Snowman playing in the air.

  Side by side the two walked through the lobby and out into the morning, the day just as pristine as the one before. Already the sun was warming things up and the sky was cloudless. The air was damp and a gentle breeze blew as overhead a pair of gulls drifted by.

  "Seems kind of strange to see all those Christmas decorations and walk outside into this," Dyson said, resuming his post in the passenger seat.

  "Never had a tropical holiday before I take it?"

  "Nope," Dyson said. "Usually it's quite the opposite. Snow piled high, fire in the fireplace, cookies in the oven sort of thing."

  "Sounds nice," Mahana said, swinging the car out in the opposite direction of the day before. "Where were these Christmases spent?"

  "Back east," Dyson replied. "So where we headed today?"

  If Mahana noticed the abrupt change of direction, she didn't point it out. "You ever snorkeled?"

  "I have not.”

  "Good," Mahana said. "Hanauma Bay might be bordering on touristy, but this early in the day and this close to Christmas, I think we should be okay."

  "So there are varying degrees of touristy that are acceptable?" Dyson said.

  "Yes and no," Mahana said, hooking a right and traveling parallel to the coast, just on the outer edge of Waikiki. "If you're going to snorkel, there
are really only two acceptable places to do it. One is on the North Shore and getting pounded by the winter swells right now."

  "Which I saw the other day. I sure as heck wouldn't want to be fighting those waves."

  "Right. The other is Hanauma Bay."

  "Fair enough," Dyson said, watching the sun wash over the streets outside. The city was starting to wake, with shop keepers sweeping their sidewalks and children rolling by on bicycles.

  A comfortable silence fell between them as they drove, Mahana taking lengthy gulps of coffee and Dyson admiring the scene around him. Despite the fact that he couldn't pronounce most of the street names and didn't recognize many of the restaurants, the neighborhood had a familiar feel to it that reminded him of home.

  The gentle smell of baked goods glided into the car long before their destination, setting Dyson's nose afire with curiosity. Without seeing any signs, he already knew where they were headed next.

  "You're trying to fatten me up, aren't you?" Dyson said.

  "Don't know what you're talking about," Mahana said, finishing her coffee and depositing it into the cup holder along the dash.

  "So that's not malasada I smell?"

  "It might be," Mahana said. "But before you go claiming I'm trying to fatten you up, remember that I'm eating, or in last night's case, out eating, right along beside you."

  "Really? Really?” Dyson deadpanned. "I woke up with a sore back this morning from piggy-backing you through dinner. We'd still be there if we were waiting on you to finish."

  Sliding into the last spot in the parking lot, Mahana shoved the gear shift into park and turned a serious face to Dyson, half masked by her mirrored sunglasses. "Them's fighting words."

  "What can I say? Truth hurts."

  "Not as much as the beating I'm about to lay on you," Mahana said, swinging herself out from behind the wheel.

  In one quick movement Dyson did the same beside her, a smile on his face as he prepared to respond. Instead, the smile slid from his face as he watched the traffic along Kapahulu flow through behind her.

  Turning over one shoulder, Mahana swung to follow Dyson's gaze then back again, her long ponytail cutting an arc away from her head as she moved. "Everything alright?"

  "Snowman," Dyson said, watching the black Mercedes make a left at the closest light and disappear from sight.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Mahana whirled around, nothing but a blur of sunglasses and hair. "You sure?"

  "Very," Dyson said. "I saw his car the other day when I was sitting out front."

  "And you saw him driving it just now?"

  "Sort of. I saw somebody with a white splint going down the front of their face. Guess I can't be one hundred percent certain it was him."

  Mahana continued watching traffic, not entirely sure what she was watching for. "I graduated from high school with a guy who now works for HPD. Should we give them a call?"

  "And tell him what? Some guy I punched out but didn't report may or may not be following us?"

  Mahana paused for a moment, considering the validity of the statement. "Alright, but if we see him again..."

  "It'll be too damn soon," Dyson said. Again the smell of fresh baked goodness swirled around him, turning his attention towards the bakery. "Come on. He's gone. Let's get the second half of this unofficial taste test under way."

  With a double pat to the hood of her car Mahana agreed, following him inside. Despite the early hour a line already snaked the length of the counter and back again, stopping just inside the door. Two registers were both hard at work, waiting on customers with boxes stacked high in front of them.

  A long glass counter ran across much of the room, stopping three-quarters of the way down and making a ninety-degree turn towards the wall. A trio of older women ran to and fro behind it, filling customer's orders as they stepped forward. A large selection of apparel and memorabilia stretched across the walls, ranging from t-shirts to stuffed malasada-shaped dolls.

  "First impression alone, I'd have to give the edge to Leonard's," Dyson said.

  "Easy now," Mahana cautioned. "Don't be so quick to judge. This place just looks busier because it's close to Waikiki and they don't deliver."

  Dyson did a once over of the people around them, realizing that not a single other person in line spoke English. "Trust the locals, not the crowds?"

  A wan smile graced Mahana’s face. "You're learning haole."

  Ignoring the cases of custards, brownies and pies, they went to the front counter and got the same order as the day before, downsized for just the two of them. Perching themselves on the curb beside the Accord, they tore into the malasada, each finishing their allotment in record time.

  Like the day before, every bite tasted of deep-fried heaven. By the time Dyson was done sugar and cinnamon dotted his fingertips and the ground beneath him, along with some that ended up on his shirt and even in his hair.

  Casting an embarrassed glance over at Mahana, he couldn't help but laugh as he noticed a healthy spattering of sugar across her sunglasses.

  "Boy, we're a classy bunch aren't we?"

  Licking her fingers clean, Mahana shook her head back and forth. "All rules of etiquette go out the window when eating fresh malasada. Everybody knows that."

  "Ah," Dyson replied. "I didn't, but I do now."

  "So, what do you think? Champion or Leonard?" Mahana asked, rising to her feet and brushing her shorts clean.

  "Yes," Dyson deadpanned, standing and doing the same beside her.

  "Can't do that," Mahana said. "Got to pick a winner."

  "Why? They're both good," Dyson said, climbing in as the car sprang back to life.

  Mahana shot forward into the morning flow of traffic, catching the H-1 south towards Hanauma Bay. "Cause that's not how it works. Let's imagine the Snowman is standing over you, threatening to punch you if you don't choose. Which one are you going with?"

  "Really? In that unlikely scenario I don't pick either and dare him to try."

  "Okay, well let's say he's threatening to punch me if you don't pick. What's it going to be?"

  Dyson exhaled, watching out his window as the busy streets of Honolulu began to fade, giving way to Kahala and Hawaii Kai. He recognized the signs and their names from his drive through the dark just nights before, though everything looked much different by the light of day.

  Crystal blue water abutted the road on the right, a series of valleys lined up one after another on the left. At the end of them stood Koko Head Crater, looming even larger than Diamond Head behind them.

  Peering up at it Dyson asked, "Shouldn't that be a bigger draw than Diamond Head?"

  "It is with the locals," Mahana said. "See that trail going straight up the side of it? Over one thousand stairs of pure torture."

  Dyson let out a low shrill whistle, watching as a handful of tiny dots worked their way up the trail. "If forced to choose, I would go with Champion's. Leonard's are also damn tasty, but much denser."

  "Good man," Mahana said, slapping the steering wheel with the palm of her hand.

  "The whole lack of a crowd thing doesn't hurt either.”

  "No it does not," Mahana agreed, hooking a right into Hanauma Bay. A large wooden sign greeted them as they entered, as did a long line of cars and a few buses. "Though unfortunately it looks like we'll have a bit of one here."

  It took nearly fifteen minutes for them to negotiate their way into the small parking lot and nab one of the last remaining spots in the back. Grabbing a large cloth sack from the trunk, Mahana led them past the front gate and around the side.

  Years of sending hotel guests out to the Bay had formed a long standing relationship with many of the workers there, nearly all of which nodded and greeted Mahana by name. While most visitors stood in a long line to pay for entrance and another to watch a movie about proper Bay behavior, they were ushered through a side gate and down the main path towards the beach.

  "Wow, VIP treatment around here huh?" Dyson whispered.


  "They better recognize," Mahana said, her face immediately breaking into a smile.

  Dyson paused as they rounded the last bend in the trail, stopping to admire the view from on high. Beneath them, laid out in a horseshoe that almost came together at the ends was a completely self-contained bay. Pristine white sands lined the closed end while turquoise water flowed through the opposite side. Swaths of bright coral dotted the interior of the bay and heavy rows of palm trees stretched along both sides.

  "You alright?" Mahana asked, pausing to see where he'd gone.

  "Yeah, just taking a look," Dyson said, already moving back down towards her. "We sure don't have anything like this back on the mainland is all."

  "I told you this place was worth fighting a little tourism," Mahana said.

  "Major understatement."

  Mahana chuckled and threw a hand out in a sweeping gesture. "This my friend is Hanauma Bay. It's also a crater like Diamond Head and Koko Head, but since it was much shorter it filled with water. Over the years this place has served as a ceremonial ground, a vacation spot for the royal family, and now provides the best snorkeling on the island."

  With a few more waves to workers passing by, Mahana led him to the far end of the beach and dropped the oversized bag in the sand. From within it she brought out two pairs of fins, two masks and two snorkels.

  "You've really never been snorkeling before?" Mahana asked, handing him a set of gear.

  "Before three days ago I'd never even seen a palm tree," Dyson confessed.

  Mahana paused for a moment with her hands crossed in front of her, gripping the bottom hem of her shirt. "Such a haole."

  In one swift movement she peeled the shirt over her head and dropped her shorts to the ground, revealing a teal bikini.

  Trying his best not to stare, Dyson worked his t-shirt over his head and drew the drawstring tight on his gym shorts. "You keep saying that. I bet you've never seen a Lodgepole pine tree before, have you?"

  "They look anything like a Cooke pine?"

  "You mean those scraggly things you guys were using for Christmas trees in the hotel lobby? No. Not even close."