The Tattoo

by Chris Mckinney

  Koa smiled and spit on the ground. “Shit, working wit’ your fadda is buss ass you know. You seen him? Last yea, he had fo’ get surgery on his knee. Das why he limp. Fuck, you should see dose old guys at Hayashi’s. Fuckas drop like flies. Bad knees, bad backs. But man, you hurt yourself, you get fuckin’ paid. Your fadda got fifteen grand for his knee, and he neva even lawya up. I told him, ‘Uncle, get one fuckin’ lawya, sue da fuckin’ company fo’ big bucks.’ Da fucka went jus’ look at me funny and said, ‘Shit, I not li’dat. I not goin’ make like one haole.’ He said dat, and I taut about it real hard. I taut,‘Fuckin’ haoles, dey get ‘um. Fuckas no give a shit. Dey smarta den us.’ You should see, none of da old timas dat get hurt sue da company. Dey jus’ take whateva settlement dey get.”

  He stopped. I thought about the possibilities. For a moment I found myself wishing I would blow my knee when I started working with my father in construction.

  “Hey,” Koa said, “go grab couple more beers and come back.”

  I walked back to the picnic table and Kahala and Claude were gone. I found a note on the table. In Claude’s handwriting it read, “Kahala and I took the kids and went out for dinner. Be back in a few hours. Love, Claudia.” I walked over to the cooler and took out a couple of beers.

  Koa and I cracked open the beers. We moved back to the picnic table. Koa lit a lantern and put it on the table. He went to his truck and turned on the radio. The dial was on one-o-five-point-one, the Hawaiian station. Makaha Sons of Ni‘ihau’s Take Me Back to the Country was playing. Koa sat back down. “You know, your fadda probably told you, I was good for a while. I would work my forty-hour weeks wit’ one smile. I would work on da house on weekends. Man, I taut, I married now, I cannot fuck around. Dis was when Kahala was pregnant wit’ James. I figured, I one family man now, I betta provide fo’ da family. Man, I used to buss my ass! Shit, da boys at work used to tease me, call me pussy-whipped and shit. But I would jus’ smile, and tell dem, ‘I get betta tings for do den get drunk.’ But half da time I wanted fo’ stay. Shit, I was eighteen years old, I wanted fo’ party, too.”

  He stopped to go take a leak. I thought about what he was saying and felt sorry for him. Then I realized that the job he was describing was going to be mine. I felt the loss of a college education. For the first time, I regretted dropping out of school. I felt lost.

  Koa came walking back and sat down. I looked into the light of the lantern and saw termites flying toward the light. They were bouncing off the glass. Then I heard Koa’s voice. “So, what happened wit’ you in town?”

  I told him the story. I told him about the crazy money I had been making there. I told him how I had met Claude and how I was eventually banished from Mama-san’s world. I told him about Mr. Yellow Teeth and the other two nameless Koreans I had killed and left for the pigs. Koa listened to the story like a child would a bed-time fairy tale, eyes wide open.

  When I finished the story, he gulped down the rest of his beer and reached in the cooler for another one. He cracked it open. “So actually Claudia fucked it all up for you.”

  This surprised me. “No, no,” I said, “fuck dat. Da pregnancy thing, that was both our fuck up. But what happened next, dat was all Claude’s madda’s bad. I tell you Koa, I wanted fo’ kill dat bitch so bad. I had da fuckin’ gun pointed right at her face. I neva give a shit about da cops. I would’ve killed dem too. If wasn’t for Claude, I’d be in fuckin’ jail right now. Besides, we going have one kid. Maybe das one fuck up, or maybe not. Why, you regret having your kids?”

  Koa took a sip from his beer. “Shit, you sound like me when I found out Kahala was hapai. One side of me was worried, I taut I fucked up, but da odda side said, ‘Right on, I going have one kid.’ But I telling you, it’s not all dat it’s cracked up to be.”

  I didn’t really want to hear it. I mean, I knew he loved Kahala, but in my mind, they couldn’t match me and Claude. Koa and Kahala were high school sweethearts, Claude and I were soul mates. I shrugged.

  Koa smiled.“I know what you tinking,” he said.“You tinking you all in love, and das enough. But I telling you, sometimes not enough. Your fadda told you I was going church? You know why I was going church? Because I was beating up Kahala. When Kahala told my madda and fadda about it, all three of dem walked up to me one night and said, ‘You betta go church.’ So I went church twice a week.”

  He paused to take a gulp of his beer. “Fuck,” he said, “I was into it too. I fuckin’ believed. I stopped hurting Kahala, I worked on da house even harder on da weekends. I figured, hard work and all, it going make me one good person and den I going heaven.” He laughed. “I was one fuckin’ mess.”

  I finished my beer and grabbed another one out of the cooler. I was extremely drunk. I carefully opened my beer and gave Koa my best poker face. He smiled. “So what happened den, how da ting turned all to shit?” I asked.

  “You should’ve seen me. I was one fuckin’ big ass pussy. Fuckin’ Kahala loved it, though. ‘Hey Koa, take out da trash.’ ‘Hey Koa, watch da kids while I go run errands.’ ‘Hey Koa, I goin’ go out wit’ my girlfriends, cook dinner.’ For yeas was da same ting. One odda kid came. You can imagine, I was working fuckin’ full-time, sometimes ova-time, working on da house on weekends, and let me tell you, was one bitch fo’ do da plumbing, and den on top of all dat, sometimes I was cooking dinna and watching da damn kids? I get all dis shit goin’ on and sometimes Kahala would say tings like, ‘Oh, how come we no go out sometimes. How come you no take me out.’ Sometimes I wanted to kill dat fuckin’ bitch, but den I taut about God and I would hold ‘um in.”

  He stopped and pulled out a joint from his pocket. He lit it and took a hit. He held in the smoke and passed it to me. I waved it away. He coughed out the smoke. “Take one,” he said. “Dis da good shit. Purple strain. I got ‘um from Freddie last night.”

  “Nah, I’m good.” I knew the mixture of weed and drunkenness would make me sick.

  “Nah, c’mon, for old times’ sake. C’mon, you and me, we braddas. Take one hit from your bradda.”

  I took a hit. I coughed out the smoke. My stomach slightly convulsed, and I swallowed a ball of puke. Koa laughed. “Lata tonight, we go check out Freddie. We can get some coke from him.”

  I was thankful I had seen Freddie once in a while when I was living in town. Whenever he’d dropped off stuff for me to sell to the strippers, he knew I was clean and meant to stay that way. If I saw him with Koa, he’d back me up in my refusal to blow a few lines with them. He knew I had helped him catch blue cats and I was a better hunter off drugs.

  Koa was astounding me. He had been tanking beers since eleven in the morning. He had put down well over a case and the alcohol seemed to still be energizing him. I had been sipping my beers during the afternoon, so I had only put down about a cold pack. But it was enough to make me feel ill. I wanted to get his mind off of going to Freddie’s. “So what happened den?” I asked, “When you went quit da church and your job?”

  “Oh, yeah. Anyway, one night, couple months afta Kealii was born, I was home watching T.V. Was right afta work and was fuckin’ raining hard. I was falling asleep in front da T.V., den I heard Kahala screaming. She was yelling,‘Koa! Come, hurry up!’ I grumbled to myself, den I followed her voice to da batroom. She was screaming because all kine shit wata was coming out of da tub. I told her fo’ get out and I went in da tub wit one plunga. Wasn’t doing shit. Den I taut about it. I got out of da tub and walked outside. Da whole time Kahala was yelling at me cause my feet was leaving all kine shit wata on da floor. Fuck, she was getting on my nerves. So anyway, I went outside to da cesspool. I was getting all wet from da rain. I took one flashlight wit’ me and lifted da cover. Sure enough, da fuckin’ cesspool was full. Somehow da fuckin’ rain went get into da cesspool and da fucka was over-flowing. So I left da cover off. I figured maybe not going have as much pressure if da cover stay off. I walked back inside da house. Fuckin’ bitch was yelling at me again, dis time cause I was trailing fuck
in’ rain wata in da house.

  “I grabbed one bucket and started taking da shit wata out of da tub. But every time I would dump da bucket, more fuckin’ shit wata would come up. Pretty soon, da shit wata was coming out of da toilet, too. You should’ve seen, I had all kine towels on da batroom floor, and I had one big pile by da door so da wata wouldn’t go into da odda rooms. Da whole time I was filling da bucket up wit’ shit wata and dumping ‘um out da window. Fuck, you rememba in school, da day I met you in English, we read about dat one guy who was in hell and he had fo’ push da big rock up da hill every day, foreva? Every time he would get da rock up, da fuckin’ rock would roll back down. I rememba I used to tink dat story was stupid. Rememba when I told da teacher,‘Fuck I wouldn’t do dat. I would tell da boss of hell, fuck you, and not touch dat fuckin’ rock.’ But den dea I was, standing in a tub of shit, doing da same fuckin’ ting dat guy was doing in hell. Only worse, at least dat fucka neva have to deal wit’ da shit wata. I figured, I stay in hell now anyway, why da fuck I trying fo’ be so good?”

  He stopped and took a last hit from the joint before he put it out with the tips of his fingers. He put the roach in his pocket. He let the cloud of smoke out of his mouth. “So anyway,” he said, “dea I was feeling like one jackass and in comes Kahala, all piss off. She said, ‘I taut you knew how fo’ do plumbing? What you did wrong? How come dis happening?’ Right den, I had it. I went punch her right in da mout. Afta she landed on all da towels covered wit’ shit wata, she looked up at me, all surprised. Den she went get pissed off. She called me one fuckin’ asshole and tried fo’ slap me. Even more I went lose ‘um. I grabbed her fuckin’ head and went push um down into da tub. I tink I would’ve drowned her too if James neva come in da batroom crying and screaming, ‘Dad, let go of Mom.’ I telling you right now, I almost went kill all of dem. But I neva. I let Kahala go and she took da kids to my fadda’s house. Dose fuckas neva told me go church again. Dey neva tell me shit again.”

  “So what you goin’ do?” I asked.

  “Nothing, bradda. Fuckin’ party. I tell you one ting, if you ask me, Claudia went fuck you up. Just like Kahala went fuck me up. Fuck, I could’ve went college, played football. You rememba B.Y.U. went offer me one scholarship? Fuck, I tell you dis right now. I regret da day I went get mixed up wit’ Kahala. As far as I’m concerned, she fucked up my life.”

  I wanted to tell him something that would change his mind. But I knew I didn’t have the words. No one did, his mind was set. I reached in the cooler and pulled out two beers. We cracked them open and toasted each other. “So what? You not scared you goin’ get caught?” Koa asked.

  “Nah, not really. Nobody gives a shit if a few fuckin’ nameless Koreans disappear. Fuck, dey give less of a shit about da Koreans den dey do us.”

  Koa nodded. “Das right bradda, dey no give a shit.”

  Just when the world started to spin, I saw the headlights of the Pathfinder creep up the driveway. I was relieved. Before it got to the garage, the Pathfinder veered off the driveway and charged through the California grass. I stood up.

  “Sit down,” Koa said, “das just Kahala. Dat’s how she tells me da grass needs to be cut. Fuckin’ cunt, she always does dat. She probably just seeing how good your car can cut grass.”

  I sat back down and tried to look through the window as the Pathfinder passed me. I could only see one silhouette through the windshield, but I shrugged and told myself I was totally wasted. The Pathfinder pulled to the back of the house, where I couldn’t see it, and stopped. After about a minute, it came tearing out from the back and pulled up to the garage. The kids poured out of the car and ran into the house. Claude and Kahala spent another several minutes talking until I walked up to the window and knocked.

  Despite Koa’s pleas to me to stay and drink more, I hugged him and Kahala good-bye. Claude waved casually to Koa and gave Kahala a giant hug. Claude drove me home. She was talking to me on the ride back, but I didn’t really hear her. I spent the ride with my eyes closed, resisting the alcohol-induced spinning of my head.

  When Claude and I woke up the next morning, we spent it puking together. Once we had to puke at the same time, so we shared the bowl. After we finished, we both slouched down and laughed. I figured puking together was like one step away from marriage. My head was pounding, so I opened the medicine cabinet and took some aspirin.

  Claudia spent much of the morning teasing me and yelling in my ear. I chased her around the house, but after the first few strides, my head would hurt so much that I would quit and wait for her to come back and torture me again.

  It wasn’t until the afternoon that Claude and I discussed what we heard from Koa and Kahala the night before. We were lounging on the sofa when she brought it up. “I heard some interesting stories from Kahala last night.”

  I nodded. “I heard some trippy stuff, too.”

  “How can he do that to her?” she asked. “How can he make her life a living hell?”

  I shrugged and turned on the T.V. “I don’t know. I guess he just got fed up.”

  Claude grabbed the remote control and turned the volume down. I saw the little green bars on the screen disappear one by one. “Fed up?” she asked. “I don’t care how shitty your life is, there is no excuse in the world for beating your wife.”

  “You’re right. Of course there’s no excuse. But I can see his side, too. Can you imagine how hard he was working? Putting in forty hours a week building just so he could spend his weekends building, too. I’m not saying what he does right, but I can understand why he lost it.”

  Claude frowned. “What about her? She had to stay in that sorry excuse for a house every day for the last several years. Chase those kids around. Now she not only has to do all of that, but she has to worry about money, too. Koa isn’t getting unemployment because he pretty much quit by not showing up. Kahala thinks he’s dealing a little, but she never sees that money. She can’t get a job because there’s no one to take care of her kids. She can’t afford a sitter and she’s afraid of leaving them with Koa. She’s so stuck. And it’s him that’s keeping her there.”

  I was getting irritated. I knew she was right, but she was talking about Koa like he was some kind of monster. Besides, the image she had of Koa hoarding drug money was ridiculous. Koa had never made much money as a dealer because he was a user, too. I sighed. “So what do you want me to say? You want me to say that my friend is the biggest prick in the world? Yeah, Kahala’s fucked. Koa’s fucked. Their children will probably grow up and be fucked. We shouldn’t be even talking about it. We can’t do anything about it.”

  “You can talk to him.” Her voice grew louder. “I talked to her...”

  I interrupted Claude. “What did you tell her?”

  “I told her that she should talk to him. If he doesn’t listen, I told her to give him an ultimatum: change or get out. I told her, if he doesn’t change, leave his ass.”

  I shook my head. It made sense that Claude could get to Kahala, though. They both grew up in a more civilized and sheltered world. “Why are you getting involved? You just met them. Besides, the last thing you want right now is Kahala poking at Koa. You don’t know him, Claude. She’ll be poking at him, and it’ll be like poking at a bee hive. You should’ve told her, if she leaves, leave quietly.”

  Claudia stood up. “Leave quietly? Like she doesn’t have the right to speak up? She should stomp out of that crummy house. You guys better come out of the stone ages.”

  “You guys? When did I get mixed up in this shit? I don’t know why the fuck you’re getting all hot about this for. What, is it a ‘sisterhood’ kind of thing? Shit, you don’t even know Kahala and you’re giving her advice, putting all kinds of ideas in her head.”

  “Putting ideas in her head?” Claude stomped to the bedroom and slammed the door. I shook my head. She didn’t know what the fuck she was doing. All of that women’s right’s shit, it might be great in civilized society, but Claude was on the Windward side now, in the area whe
re feminist ideas were squashed by the fists of men. Suddenly, I had this image of Claude getting some of the neighborhood women to picket Koa’s skeleton house. They were holding big signs, walking through the California grass. They were chanting, “Wife-beater, wife-beater, wife-beater, beat it.” I knew I had to get Claude out of the Windward side before she got somebody killed.

  I started working with my father the following Monday. Before the sun was up, we started our drive to the industrial district by Honolulu International Airport. With a cup of coffee in one hand and the steering wheel in the other, my father talked the entire way up the mountain. I leaned my head against the window and closed my eyes. It had been years since I had to wake up so early.

  “Hey, boy. What’s wrong? You sick or someting?”

  I lifted my head and leaned back on the seat. “I’m all right.”

  He laughed. “Look out hea. No mo’ traffic. Roll down dat window and breed in dat clean morning air. I always drive down early so I miss da traffic.”

  “You mean we’re going to be early?”

  “I told you grab one cup coffee, but you neva like listen.”

  I sighed and leaned my head back on the window.

  When we got to his building, my father drove past the high wire fences which surrounded Hayashi headquarters. He parked the truck and we walked into the office. The air conditioner hummed as we stopped at the front desk. “So what?” my father said. “My boy’s paypawork all done?”

  The secretary, a plump Japanese woman with badly permed hair, handed me a manila-colored card. “All set, Ken. Your fadda can show you where to punch in.” She looked at my father. “You neva forget, ah? I know you getting old.”

  My father smiled. “Yah, Clarisse, I getting old, but no worry, I can still get ‘um up.”

  Clarisse shook her head. “Yeah right, it probably fell off arready.” She looked at me. “Jus’, no be like your fadda, boy, and you should be fine.”

  I was getting pretty damn sick of being called “boy”. I followed my father to the time clock and we drank coffee for the next half hour while we waited for the clock to read “six.” I put the card in the time-clock and a loud punching sound came from it and made me jump. It sounded so ominous, so final.