“There’s Anton,” Hannah whispered.
“Anton, it is,” I said, recognizing him from TV.
“Yep. I’m gonna call him ‘The Enforcer,’” Hannah said.
After Anton, seven more armed women with earpieces came into the room followed by a short man, quite short, in fact, who in person looked like Andrew Jackson and Richard Nixon had had a son in the underworld.
I knew who he was from the California Homeland Channel. He was at most five foot one, and he wore an immaculately tailored green double-breasted wool blazer, a green bow tie, a white cotton shirt, green slacks, and loafers with green socks. He came up to Hannah and me, smiled, shook our hands and said, “Great to see you, and thank you for your service tonight. The California Water Party needs your advice and help. Please join us.” He worked his way around the room before heading to the podium.
Jeremiah Trehoviak had arrived.
Close to him was a strange but compelling looking man I had seen on TV, but TV has a way of overriding imperfections or magnifying them, and in his case, TV had made him appear beguiling.
In person, his eyes were deep-set, and he seemed to glare at you from the recesses of two long tunnels set atop a large bulbous nose, almost like a mini turnip. His cheeks sagged in loops, like wattles, and he was almost bald. His neck was elongated, and his hands moved about as he walked, like he was skiing or moving about with imaginary walking sticks. He was dressed in an ill-fitting navy-blue suit with a red, white, and blue tie, and he nodded at Hannah and at me. Everyone in the room stood up as he entered.
Chief Justice Barryman Waldis Cathay, a New Yorker just like me, had arrived.
His security detail was with him, and behind it were seven armed female Hoviaks with earpieces, who stood at the entrance as the CWP members around the room burst into applause, prompting everyone in the room to applaud those who had just arrived.
“Wow,” Hannah said. “I’ll never forget this day for the rest of my life. Chief Justice Cathay seldom leaves the Beltway. He’s also the wittiest Chief Justice we’ve ever had. Probably the smartest by a long shot, too. It’s so hard to pigeonhole him. Sometimes he reads like an old right-wing politician, sometimes like a centrist, and sometimes like he’s on the left. He’s one of my heroes. Sixty-seven years old, and he has a sharper mind than anyone in America.”
Hannah was smiling as though she’d just received her annual bonus, which was 100 percent of her salary. Whatever hunger she had felt earlier had probably been replaced by a sense of awe.
Chief Justice Cathay sat at the same table as the justices of the Supreme Court of California, who were beaming as they nodded appropriately, and they stared at him as he devoured his caviar course just as the rest of the room went onto its fourth.
Only Mike attended Chief Justice Cathay.
The Chief Justice, like the Speaker of the House, Raphael Imaga, who reminded me of a boy who had lost his mom and was constantly in search of her, nodded at Mike. A bottle of scotch, Zanzivahl Rising 1956 (served in a crystal decanter), was served to both of them.
Imaga had opposed the Chief Justice’s nomination. His opposition had been in all the newspapers since Chief Justice Cathay had been accused of the repeated theft and use of a colleague’s drugs while at Condorvine College of Law, which “disgusted” Imaga, whose campaign slogan was “The Winning Side of History.” The allegation against the Chief Justice had its supporters and its detractors, and Chief Justice Cathay was confirmed in the Senate by one vote.
Beaming, Larry walked briskly up to Hannah and me. I thought he might announce that he and Michelle had eloped.
“Best night of my life,” he said. “We’re gonna rake it in. It’s gonna rain. Have you guys eaten?”
“We’re fine, Larry,” I said. “Everything looks delicious.”
“Great! I’m hearing great things about you two. Professional and all that.”
“Anything for WS&X,” Hannah sighed.
“A small setback,” Larry said, “but we’ll make up for it in your bonus, Hannah.”
“I’m no longer introducing Trehoviak?”
“No, you aren’t,” Larry said. “The guy below Trehoviak, Trehoviak’s ‘Second,’ a guy called Anton, wants to introduce him. They’re grooming him to run for office in the future. So, the guy named Mike, over there, will talk first, and then Anton, and then Trehoviak.”
“No problem, Larry.” Hannah forced a smile. “He’s probably the right person to do it.”
“Great.” Larry nodded. “OK, you guys. Enjoy.”
Hannah sighed as Larry walked away.
“I think,” Hannah said with some regret, “I should have worked for a public interest organization like the public defender’s office or in immigrant and migrant rights. But they pay peanuts. $60,000 to $75,000 a year. I’d never be able to pay off my loans. Well, they’re paid off now, but you get the idea.”
“Ladies and gentlemen,” Mike announced from the podium at the front of the room. “The California Water Party is honored to welcome you to our first annual fundraiser at Wagon, Shui & Xebec. We’re especially proud to welcome the Speaker of the House, the Honorable Raphael Imaga; the Chief Justice of the United States, the Honorable Barryman Waldis Cathay; the honorable senators of California, Arizona, Colorado, Nevada, New Mexico, and Texas; the honorable justices of the California Supreme Court; colleagues and friends in business, entertainment, medicine and social justice; and fellow family members of the California Water Party.
“Although the media would have you believe that we’re a cult, a religion, a hate organization,” [laughter from the audience] “and a group that exploits others, we are, in fact, a community of concerned Californians fighting for the soul of our state and nation, the greatest nation this planet has ever seen and will ever see.” [Applause.] “The California Water Party was founded on one principle alone: the Right Path in all things. It’s quite simple. We have one major resource that is increasingly scarce—water—and we have dedicated ourselves to its conservation and to its most efficient uses across the globe while upholding the basic tenets of humanity that are consistent with the Right Path.
“We are also dedicated to the great and unfinished work of making America moral again, to the great and unfinished work of repairing communities ravaged by environmental collapse, and to the great and unfinished work of nurturing a new birth of morality and environmental sustainability in our great state and our great nation. [Applause.] You’ll hear our moral code reflected in our seven beliefs and seven postulates, written for a time like ours by people fully dedicated to resolving the most pressing issue of our time. Let the world never forget what we begin here tonight.
“I now call on all members of the California Water Party and on our friends in the audience to join us for Scrimmage. Let’s show our fellow Californians and Americans that their beliefs and fears are ours, that their concerns about the moral fabric of our state and our nation are ours. Together:
“We believe in the Constitution of the United States of America, in our right to liberty and the pursuit of happiness. We believe in private property and in our constitutional right to defend it. We believe in the state of California, in its people, and in its need for strong moral leadership. We believe in one Right Path, one republic, indivisible, out of many, one. We believe in the seven moral postulates, delivered to put us back on the Right Path. We believe that without these moral postulates, we are doomed to repeat the mistakes of the past and destroy our planet and ourselves. We believe that only the California Water Party has the vision to bring these postulates into being. These are our seven beliefs, and these are our seven moral postulates. We live and die by them:
Good morals and good water are the foundation of a healthy people.
When morals and water become polluted, we die.
We must avoid death at all costs.
We live by facing our moral and water issues.
These are life and death issues.
The Right Path wan
ts us to thrive.
If we fail, destruction awaits.”
Applause from across the room followed, except from the table with the justices.
“They must always appear impartial,” Hannah said, “even if they probably will tow the Hoviaks’ line. People don’t just attend events in which they have no interest. That’s not how the world works, and it’s certainly not how our justice system works.”
The fifth course, roasted monkfish, was served, and my heart sank. The monkfish smelled so good, and the smiles across the room only rubbed in the fact that I wasn’t paying $5,000 for a dinner that was being hosted by my firm.
“Please allow me to introduce Anton,” Mike continued, “Jeremiah’s ‘Second,’ his right-hand man. Many of you know Anton from our California Homeland Channel, which addresses the most pressing environmental questions of our time. Many of you have already met Anton, probably several times. You’ll be glad to know that you’ll be seeing a lot more of Anton in the coming weeks and months. You’ll also be happy to hear that Anton will never ask for money.” [Laughter.] “That’s my job.” [More laughter.] “Anton Cola, everyone.”
“Thank you, Mike,” Anton said as he reached the podium. “Friends and family members, the California Water Party was founded, not on the back of a napkin, but on the heels of the incredible suffering that Jeremiah witnessed abroad and here at home. As an unsurpassed visionary, both in business and in philanthropy, Jeremiah set about responding to the urgent issues that previously divided us, and in 2025 he brought together a group of six people of like mind from a variety of backgrounds to put together a plan that will forever change how we think of strong moral leadership in times of global crisis.”
Anton looked at Trehoviak and winked. I wondered what that was about.
“Jeremiah was not born to wealth,” Anton said. “He was not born to privilege. He was not born with a silver spoon between the lips.” [Laughter.] “He came from a challenging background in Stockton, put himself through college and business school, and fought hard to make the contacts he needed to found California Bear Philanthropies, which not only provides millions of people abroad with potable water, malaria prophylaxis, and treatment. It also offers scholarships to many young Americans who can no longer afford an education. California Bear Philanthropies provides shelter, medical care, education, and immigration assistance to thousands of individuals at our border. It houses, free of charge, many of our state’s rising homeless population at our San Ysidro Center, including many internal migrants who also, like you and me, are Americans. It also runs our planet’s first medical center devoted to water-related illnesses: the groundbreaking Center for Water-Related Illnesses up in Menlo Park.” [Applause.]
Anton applauded Trehoviak’s philanthropic work, which prompted all the Hoviaks to do so.
“But this is only part of what Jeremiah has achieved,” Anton continued. Anton then scanned the room and nodded.
“Jeremiah founded the California Homeland Channel, which is a growing force in the media, and it has made our competitors take seriously the challenges posed by environmental degradation caused by humans. The California Homeland Channel brings the world into your home in ways unmatched by any other broadcaster. We have now been nominated for the second-highest number of TV, movie, and radio awards ever.” [Applause.] “We don’t just make TV, we define it. For Jeremiah, TV is not just entertainment but, instead, a medium to bring about necessary change since Jeremiah requires that all programming revere our most crucial resource both here and abroad.”
Anton looked at Jeremiah again and applauded him.
“I’ve only listed a few of Jeremiah’s achievements,” Anton said. “We all come to the CWP family with our individual stories. Some of us are internal migrants, some were once homeless, some are from the best universities in the world, and some are still completing college. I, personally, joined the California Water Party because I believe in Jeremiah. I remain a member because the Right Path requires us all to do our part. We are a structured, dedicated, organized, and determined community of citizens, who are devoted to making the changes we must.”
Jeremiah was smiling at Anton, and he took a deep breath. It was almost as if Jeremiah were beside himself with pride.
“My name is Anton Cola,” Anton said. “I am Jeremiah’s Second. I love this guy with all my heart. Since we live in a time of great inaction from Washington and Sacramento, there is no better or more courageous leader than Jeremiah. Before I ask my First, Jeremiah Trehoviak, to come onto the stage, I’d like to introduce or reintroduce you to some people you’ll be getting to know quite a bit. They were there from the beginning, almost twelve years ago: Greta O’Connor, Mike Iet, Sheila Stanleyson, and Miriam Raffles—”
“Something’s . . .” Hannah said. “These people. Something’s off.”
I wondered, for a moment, if Jon and Nate would one day end up like Mike and Anton: in a political party that I already didn’t like not only because of Eleena but also because something about them made me uncomfortable. If my children did end up part of such an organization, might it provide them with a sense of community that I’d never seen outside religion and family?
When I thought of it, however, the CWP reflected the dynamics of every family, which has its Antons and its Trehoviaks.
In our household, Mom was the enforcer. She performed the role with spankings, curse words, and whatever else came to mind when she was mad at me for lying about something I’d done as a child. She believed in “discipline.” “Discipline” continued until I turned eighteen. At that point, she she said I was “a woman, an independent woman who will be spoken to like a woman under this roof.” No more “discipline,” just cold shoulders and silence when Mom was angry.
I wondered what Anton was capable of when he was angry.
His reputation, in that regard, preceded him somewhat, but reputations have a way of distorting the true contours of a character. Reputations are like a husk imposed by someone who wants to give the impression that an individual’s exterior is only hard and impenetrable. The truth, however, is that the husk, or what appears to be nothing but an outer structure that is permanently impervious, often harbors within something more nuanced, intriguing, and even appealing.
If you believed Dad’s reputation, for example, he was just an uncaring lawyer born in the Southern African Federation, who had moved to the US with my grandparents when he was a child. You’d never know that Dad had won the lottery twice. The first time, he won just over $2 million. The second time, about $71 million. He and Mom could have retired. Dad could have lived off the interest of his winnings. He could have gotten a face-lift like one of Mom’s sisters did when Mom wrote each of her closest family members a one-time check for $200,000. He could have gotten liposuction, like Mom’s niece, my cousin, did when she received her check.
Mom and Dad could have traveled further than Hawaii, but Dad didn’t care what others expected of him. He could have visited the extended family we still had in the Southern African Federation. Instead, he focused on what was right for him. He kept practicing law and supported Mom in whatever she did. He also allowed her to take charge of their bank accounts. You’d often hear Mom saying she’d won the money, which made Dad and me smile.
As for Mom, she had one goal in life: to unseat Pastor Jim of Living Heavens Church. She also ensured that Dad didn’t give me any more of what she claimed was her money because, she claimed, my college education at the University of the Finger Lakes had almost “bankrupted” them. Mom also announced that I’d never inherit any of “her” money.
My stomach growled as Anton completed his introduction of Jeremiah Trehoviak.
“I’m going to marry Mike Iet.” Hannah nodded as she grinned in Mike’s direction. “Write that down, Janet. I’m going to marry Mike Iet.”
I almost grunted, and Hannah shrugged in response. Once Hannah was determined to do something, she almost always succeeded. But I was in awe of her certainty. Some people mee
t someone and know that they will be married, and they are right. Mom said she knew Dad was right for her when she just couldn’t stop staring at his feet, which were so big she told herself he was a keeper.
I, on the other hand, had no idea when I met Mauru that I’d be attracted to him as much as I grew to be, that I’d love him, marry him, and have a family with him. We often seemed so different, and it sometimes felt like we found ourselves in a dark room somewhere, clawing our way back to each other after fumbling about as we tried to find the light switch each day. A lot of the time, it felt like we were winging it. Sometimes I wished there were a manual that took me by the hand and walked me through every part of my life.
Mom to Two Boys: The Manual.
Loving a Thoughtful Man: The Manual.
Interracial Marriage: The Manual.
Pregnant with Twins: The Manual.
Woman in a Man’s World: The Manual.
Daughter-in-Law of Swingers: The Manual.
Short in a Tall World: The Manual.
Daughter of Immigrants: The Manual
Living as the World Collapses: The Manual.
I would pay for each of those manuals. I’d share them with my friends and neighbors so they could understand how crazy I sometimes felt—but also how lucky, how thrilled, and how honored—to be living my adventure with those parents and in-laws, that husband, those kids, those friends, and those coworkers.
I remember looking up at Mauru after we’d been intimate one evening, him smiling and laughing, as he always did afterward, because I gave him “the best workouts ever” (ahem). I was shaking my head, smiling in return, with my hands outstretched on the pillows as I drew him to me and kissed him.
Sands Rising Page 13