“They eat that?”
“Sure, it’s sweet. Keo spoils them.”
“Will they stampede me?”
“You say something like that and I begin to wonder if you’re really from this island.”
“I grew up in Kona. I’m a city slicker.”
Pili laughed. “Just keep away from the high-headed ones.”
“High-headed?”
“The cows that lift their head when we step out of the truck. They’re skittish. They can’t be trusted.”
Pili grabbed a blanket from the back of the cab and a plastic bag filled with pineapple cuttings and apples Maile had collected for them, a sign of her forgiveness. Albert followed Pili in an exaggerated tiptoe. “You can walk normally,” Pili told him.
“Won’t they hear me coming?”
Pili began to laugh again, but Albert was serious. “They’ll hear you,” Pili said. “They’ll smell you. They’ll see you. They know more about you than you know about you, but if you approach slow and cautious, they won’t scatter.”
The cows watched them. The animals lying in the grass turned their heads in the men’s direction, and the ones standing shifted their bodies. Only one kicked back her chin so Pili could see the thick brown hair of her neck, and then she ran to the back of the herd. The rest were calm, but they kept their eyes focused on Pili and Albert, and when the men moved, the cows’ eyes moved with them. “It’s like Children of the Corn,” Albert mumbled.
They reached the first few cows, one of which lowed, and one of which took a step in the direction of the ravine. Albert paused and looked at Pili as if to ask if anything was wrong, but Pili smiled and held out a handful of pineapple scraps. A Charolais stepped toward him and wiped her long tongue along his hand and wrist. “Take some,” Pili said, opening wide the bag of fruit scraps.
Albert took a few pieces and held out his hand with hesitation. A heifer moseyed over to him and licked up a piece of pineapple. “Their tongues scratch!”
The rest of the herd surrounded them then, the animals all wanting a taste of the fruit. Pili could feel the heat of their bodies and the rhythmic expansion of their sides as they breathed. Beside him, one of the animals quivered, her hide rippling like the surface of water in a breeze. Another swatted at a fly with her tail. Everywhere he heard the cows jostling for space, the soft, crunching sound of their hooves in the grass, and beneath him the sweet scent of their droppings rising in waves. Pili held out another bunch of scraps. An entire apple disappeared from Albert’s hand. One cow tried to wedge herself into the center of the crowd, her head like the tip of a piece of pie and her backside sticking out, wide and round.
“Will she come after me?” Albert backed away, pressing his body against Pili’s.
“We’re out of fruit, so they’ll lose interest in a minute.” Pili scratched the ridge of a cow’s back. Her belly was hanging low and her udders were engorged, so he knew she would be birthing within the month. She was early. The rest of the herd wouldn’t begin to birth for at least another forty-five days.
Pili tucked the empty plastic bag in his back jeans pocket. The herd moved away slowly, the nervous ones first and then the others. Pili felt a soft tap on his buttocks, and when he looked, one of the yearlings was trying to get hold of the plastic bag with all the sweet juice on it. She scooted when he spun around, stopping ten feet away to observe him with Albert. Pili laughed, looking from her to Albert, and then Albert laughed, too.
Pili led Albert to the ravine. Behind them, the cows lowed, one to the other, or perhaps called for more sweets. He followed the edge of the ravine as it widened and deepened into a tiny canyon. The sun had passed behind the volcano, and the grass no longer resembled bronze but was a deep red river coursing down the incline of the field.
Amid the tall needle grass, Pili spread the saddle blanket so they’d have a place to sit, the blue one with the turquoise waves. Just the sight of it made him feel weightless, and he smiled again.
“Why are you smiling?” Albert asked.
Pili didn’t know how to answer Albert’s question, how to explain the blanket’s significance. “It’s one of my dad’s favorites,” he started, then paused. “It’s beautiful.”
Pili wanted to add that it had been his mother’s engagement gift, a sign from Harrison to Mahea that he was ready to interweave his life with hers, but he couldn’t think of a way to introduce the story. After several seconds passed in silence, Albert sat unceremoniously on the blanket and motioned for Pili to join him.
Pili laid back and spread his arms. They hung over the edges, in the high grass, and he could feel its sharp tips poking into his skin. When he rested his hands upon his face, thin scratches wound like bracelets around his wrists and forearms, and spots of blood gathered at the end of each cut.
He turned on his side to face Albert and noticed for the first time the sprinkling of silver in Albert’s hair and the way his nascent beard curved over his cheeks and chin just as the grass curved over the topography of the land. A gust of wind blew through the ravine and Albert’s hair stirred with the grass, and Pili laughed. He reached out a hand and let his fingers nestle in Albert’s beard. Pili kept his hand there, longer than he intended, too long, until it seemed as awkward to draw away as to leave it against the side of Albert’s face. Albert laughed nervously, perhaps feeling the same awkwardness as Pili did, or perhaps at Pili’s unease, and then Albert took Pili’s hand in his and lifted Pili’s fingers to his lips. He wrapped his mouth around Pili’s thumb, and his tongue was softer than Pili expected. Albert sucked gently. Without ever taking his eyes off him, he moved the thumb to Pili’s forehead and rubbed a spot above Pili’s left eyebrow. “You had some dirt there,” Albert murmured.
The wind swept down Mauna Kea hard and fast now, and at first they were cold. But as the grass beneath the blanket yielded, they sank lower and lower to the ground, until they were shielded by the grasses and could no longer feel the wind. They pressed their faces next to each other, their mouths so close Pili could smell the fish Albert had eaten for lunch and see the delicate lines of red that flared through the whites of Albert’s eyes. They kissed. Then they kissed again, more carefully this time, their tongues softly exploring each other’s mouths.
Pili sat up suddenly—he wanted desperately to speak, to put into words his hesitations and fears, his hopes—but the wind stole his breath from him, and Albert lazily slung his arm around Pili’s shoulders to pull him toward the ground again. Pili hesitated but then lowered himself and pressed his chest to Albert’s and kissed him hard.
Albert’s arms coiled around Pili’s neck, and Pili’s hands searched Albert’s chest and shoulders, as if looking for handholds, for a way to better fit his body to Albert’s. For a long time they pawed at one another like adolescents. The grass sliced into Pili’s back and arms, but it didn’t matter. He struggled against his shirt, the wind, even Albert, and the struggle felt exhilarating. But even as they writhed on the ground, hands caressing skin, mouths pressed together, Pili felt himself drawing away. Albert began to unbutton Pili’s shirt, and Pili thought of Harrison clothed in those white sheets like a mummy.
He rolled onto his back, away from Albert. They were both breathing heavily—Pili watched Albert’s chest rise and fall—but the wind took away the sound of their breath. “Are you okay?” Albert asked.
“He’ll die soon, won’t he?” Pili felt gripped by despair.
“Yes.” Albert spoke without emotion.
Pili began to button his shirt. “Will he be in pain?”
“No. When the time comes, I’ll administer more morphine. We’ll make him as comfortable as we can. And then, eventually, he’ll just stop breathing.” Albert reached out his arms and drew Pili to him.
Pili pressed his face into Albert’s neck. “I’ve never seen someone die,” he admitted. Albert’s skin was warm and soft and smelled sweet-sour like rice vinegar.
“It wouldn’t matter if you had. It’s different every time, and
this is your father.”
Pili wanted to ask Albert for a description of death—what it looked like, sounded like, smelled like—but he knew preparations were useless. If death was as individual as the life it took, then it would look, sound, and smell unique, too.
The sun dipped into the water and, with a final flash, slid from view completely. They stood and wiped the dust from their clothes and hair. Pili folded the blanket, and together they walked through the pasture toward the car. The cows watched them as they passed, and Albert waved as if the animals were old friends. Pili laughed and took Albert’s hand. He felt light again, lighter than he had for weeks. On the drive home they listened to the radio play old paniolo favorites, the men’s voices crooning softly in Hawaiian and the twang of their steel-string guitars filling the air.
“Joe and Keo bin hea yesterday. Dey stay talk story fo’ long time, and I tol’ dem I like fo’ you help run the ranch.” Harrison lifted the ledgers in his lap as if to hand them to Pili, but when Pili reached for them, Harrison set them upon his legs again.
Pili and Harrison were alone. Albert’s shift didn’t begin for another four hours, and Maile was in Kona to have brunch with a girlfriend. Pili felt proud of himself for having convinced her to go. He also felt giddy still from the evening before, from touching Albert and kissing him and the promise of what might follow. He had felt that same expectant nervousness while they ate dinner with Harrison and Maile, and he worried Maile might have sensed it. But she, too, was excited, happy to eat together as “one real ʻohana” and pleased to be cooked for, even if she did ask why Pili had purchased chicken when they had plenty of beef in the freezer.
“And what did they say?” asked Pili.
“Joe tink it akamai, da plan. He like if you check da money, da way it come and go. Keo, he no say much, but. He jus’ like know you and da sista neva gon split da ranch. You know Keo, he wit’ us folks since small kid time, and his papa, too, and he like see da ranch stay da kine. Same fo’eva.”
“I would never let the ranch be split. Neither would Maile. Did you tell Joe and Keo I’ve got a job in San Francisco, and a life there, too? I won’t be here to watch over things.” Pili tried to sound firm, but part of him was wondering what might happen if he moved back to Waimea. Would Albert come out to his family in order to start a life with Pili?
“Ah, boy. You tink I no know dat?” Harrison looked down at his ledgers, and then up again. “But one day, in da future, you gon tink, ‘Eh, I like fo’ be dere, at home,’ and den you gon come back. Until den, you help da sista. Approve da purchases, try make mo’ sales, help wit’ da marketing—dat what you do awready—and maybe you look into da kine organic beef dem uddeh ranches like do. You gon do evryting I do now.”
“Dad, you do a lot more than that around here.”
“Not so much anymoa.”
“Maile’s not going to like me taking over your role.”
“You tink I care what she like?” he boomed. “Son, dis stay my ranch. I get fo’ decide how it run. I no care what you or yoa sista tink. You go change it all when I ma-ke.”
“Don’t talk like that.”
“What? When tell I go ma-ke, or when tell how you suppostu run da ranch.”
“The ma-ke part.”
Harrison snorted. “Mo bettah fo’ me talk ma-ke dan tink you two no care fo’ da ranch how I tell you fo’ care.” Harrison shifted in the bed, and this time he let Pili take the ledgers and place them on the other chair in the room. “Remember when you jus’ one keiki? And da cousins come hea fo’ da summer and you kids run everywhea. Ho, I tell you. I like give da whole lot dirty lickins, always in my way. But I neva trade it fo’ nutting. All you, wit’ auntie and da uncles and Joe and Keo. Dey still young den, too, and wild, dem.”
“Those were good years.”
“I like see dat fo’ you and Maile.”
“One day she’ll remarry, Dad. She’ll find a good man, and they’ll have kids, and I’ll come back in the summer to spoil those rascals.”
“Ho, son, one day you gon have da kids and she gon spoil ’em. You bring yoa wahine hea, and da keiki, too, and teach ’em fo’ ride. No, you let Maile teach ’em. Dat way dey stay on da horse.” Harrison laughed so hard he began to cough.
Pili took a deep breath. He didn’t want this line of thinking to go any further. “Dad …” Pili searched for the right words, the gentlest way to say what he needed to say. “I don’t know if I’ll be having kids. I don’t know if I’ll marry a woman.”
“Son.” Harrison reached his hand out and rested it on Pili’s. “I know.”
“You know?”
Harrison closed his hand around Pili’s palm and squeezed. His father’s skin was dry and soft as a summer wind, and Pili squeezed back. He felt exhausted with relief. “I know,” Harrison repeated, nodding his head. “You still one young man. You still haf plenny wild in you. Settle down wit’ one wahine? Ho! Tink neva can. But one day you gon change. I neva t’ought I marry and den I wen meet yoa mudda and bam. I neva move so fast! Awready forty, like one old man, me. And young, her. Beautiful.”
“Dad,” Pili said, trying to interrupt. The relief he had felt was turning into panic. He was desperate to make his father stop speaking.
Harrison ignored the intrusion on his monologue. “Find one like da momma. If can, love her. Treat ’er real nice. Do whateva you haftu fo’ make her feel good, yeah? Das de ol’ paniolo way. You lucky find one good woman, bettah keep ’er happy.”
“Dad—”
“Ho, I tired now, Son. Like sleep.” Harrison closed his eyes and folded his arms across his chest. “Can talk story afta dinna.”
Pili sat in silence beside Harrison for a long time, wondering if he should wake his father, or if he should just let his dad live and die with a false promise of Pili’s return, wife and kids in tow. Finally, he lowered the head of the bed with the hand crank to let Harrison sleep more easily and slipped from the room.
Albert arrived each evening as scheduled and took care of Harrison. After dinner, Pili joined them in the study. Harrison’s energy was flagging now, but he grew animated when allowed to describe the types of grasses the herd ate and how the pastures were rotated and why he was angry about the fluctuating price of beef. Albert asked numerous questions, encouraging Harrison to remain engaged, and the conversation often wound to other topics, such as fishing for ulua or exploring lava tubes or the rumblings under Kīlauea that were all over the news. Eventually Harrison’s eyes would droop or the pain would overwhelm him and he’d fall silent. Albert gave him the painkillers orally, but the time was close when even that would be impossible. Harrison had stopped eating.
As Harrison tried to find sleep, Pili and Albert sat in companionable silence. Sometimes Pili pretended to read and Albert actually read, and just to sit with their chairs side by side calmed Pili. In other moments, Pili wished he could take Albert’s hand in his, or rest his palm on Albert’s leg, or even smile at Albert in that private way a lover is allowed to, but Pili knew that in front of Harrison Albert would tolerate nothing but absolute professionalism.
After Harrison was asleep, however, Albert relaxed. He and Pili would leave the study to sit on the porch and stare out into the empty space of the night. Maile visited with them for a couple of minutes each evening, and, before she retreated to her bedroom, they spoke pleasantly about the weather warming and when the herd might switch pastures and which grains needed to be ordered for the finishing. While they waited for the light in Maile’s bedroom to turn off, Pili and Albert whispered to each other, describing their boyhoods and memories with a sense of great urgency. Those nights felt coiled, like a towel twisted to squeeze out every last drop of water. Pili was determined to hear all of Albert’s memories, every thought and emotion, every dream and lofty goal. He yearned to know everything about Albert, and for Albert to know everything about him.
When the house was at last dark, Albert checked on Harrison once more. Only then could Pili persuade him to wal
k down to the barn. Each night Pili showed Albert something new—Harrison’s favorite saddles, the collection of spurs Keo kept in a gigantic wooden crate in one of the unused stalls, photographs of Joe’s eldest daughter from the previous year’s rodeo when she won in her age group for barrels. Eventually Albert would become nervous and push to return to the house. But the next evening, once Maile was asleep, Albert would let himself be lured to the barn again.
One night, Pili at last convinced Albert to climb up to the hayloft. At first Albert was unsure of himself. He was nervous that the old ladder wouldn’t hold him. But when he reached the top, he breathed the air deeply and sighed. “I understand why you loved it up here as a boy,” he said. Pili hung the electric lamp on a nail in one of the beams, and the yellow light trickled over them. Albert reclined against a pile of hay.
Pili rested his head on Albert’s thigh, and Albert sank his fingers into Pili’s hair to rub his scalp. “Being here, with you, makes me almost believe I could live on island again,” Pili said.
“You are a man with a divided heart.”
Pili kissed Albert’s knee. He wondered if his longing to come out to his dad, yet his inability to do so, was also because of his divided heart.
Albert’s fingers rifled through Pili’s hair again, and Pili imagined Albert was sifting through his emotions like Maile sifted through rice when she was cooking. Pili let his body sink heavily against Albert’s, and Albert’s hands moved from Pili’s scalp to his cheeks and then his lips. Pili unbuttoned Albert’s shirt. They undressed each other without haste. Pili pressed his mouth to Albert’s stomach and sucked softly at the small pouch of belly there. Albert’s pubic hair smelled musty from sweat, and his hands had the blue antiseptic scent of the soap he used after working with Harrison, but despite these smells—or because of them—Pili desired him even more. Finally Albert pushed Pili facedown in the hay and climbed on top of him. He bit Pili’s shoulder, then wound his tongue along the back of Pili’s neck. Albert spread his arms over Pili’s, interlacing their fingers. Pili stared at the light brown hairs on Albert’s knuckles, and the dust clinging to the back of Albert’s arms sparkled like the snow on Mauna Kea’s peaks.
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