Other Echoes

by Noe Dearden

  *****

  “It’s family bonding time!” Uncle Eddie announced over breakfast on Saturday morning.

  Charlotte sent him a questioning look over the cereal boxes. She had her headphones in, listening to Mr. Kerrigan’s music. She took out the buds. “What’s that?”

  “It’s only the best day of the week,” Uncle Eddie said. “When we all get together and bond over fun recreational activities.”

  Emi, who was perched on the kitchen stool next to her, leaned over and whispered, “Don’t be deceived. Family bonding day is not always fun. Especially when it involves fishing.”

  Uncle Eddie clapped his hands together in excitement. “So, what’ll it be this time, ladies? How about fishing? We could take the yacht out to…”

  “Negs,” Emi interrupted loudly. “I’m not sitting around all day on a boat so we can eat nasty pollutant-encrusted fish for dinner.”

  “How about the Wahine volleyball game tonight?”

  Aunt Sheena walked into the room nursing a cup of coffee. In unison, she and Emi said, “No!”

  “Please let’s not, Ed,” Aunt Sheena practically begged. “You know how you get.”

  “Dad is very aggressive about sporting events,” Emi explained to Charlotte. “He’s an embarrassment to the family. We actually got escorted off the premises by the police one time.”

  Uncle Eddie pretended not to hear.

  “Stand-up paddling? Horseback riding? Snorkeling?”

  “Charlotte’s injured,” Aunt Sheena pointed out. “She can’t do those things yet.”

  “The Waikiki zoo?”

  “Dad, I’m not five years old anymore.”

  Uncle Eddie shook his head. “Okay. I give up. What do you girls want to do?”

  “How about the Disney resort? We haven’t been there in a while,” Aunt Sheena suggested.

  “Yes. Massages, facials, water slides, people walking around in Mickey Mouse costumes,” Emi said. “It doesn’t get better than that.”

  Uncle Eddie rolled his eyes. “We did that last month.”

  “Yeah, last month,” Emi argued. “That was thirty whole days ago!”

  “You guys are no fun. Why would you choose a manmade reconstruction of nature when we could hike through the real thing? At Maunawili falls or up Koko Head or…”

  “Charlotte’s not to do any strenuous activity until her collarbone heals,” Aunt Sheena reminded him. “The resort is perfect.”

  Uncle Eddie made a frustrated guttural noise in the back of his throat. “I find fruity soaps and exfoliating rubs deeply emasculating. Can’t we do something manly for once? Like spearfishing or wild boar hunting?”

  “As much as I’d like to see mom wrestle a wild warthog, I can’t join this week,” Emi said. She dumped her cereal bowl in the dishwasher. “My French partner finally agreed to meet me this afternoon and I’m not passing that up.”

  “So much for family bonding time,” Uncle Eddie said in exasperation.

  “Looks like it’s just me and Charlotte this week,” Aunt Sheena said. “I’ll call the spa.”

  That’s how Charlotte found herself soaking in an “herbal tub” with her aunt that afternoon, sipping lime-infused ice water and getting waited on hand and foot by Hawaiian-print clad attendants.

  I could get used to this, Charlotte thought drowsily. She sank deeper into the warmth and wondered how much it cost to come here. Maybe the Kapono family got a special discount. She was pretty sure she’d spotted one of Uncle Eddie’s paintings in the lobby of the spa building. Now that she knew his trademark style, she was seeing his work all over the place.

  Charlotte opened her eyes halfway and noticed that Aunt Sheena was watching her from across the tub.

  “What?”

  “Nothing,” Aunt Sheena said innocently. “It’s just that you look so much like Annie, I can’t get over it.”

  Charlotte had heard this before, but she didn’t believe it. She had seen pictures of her mom as a teenager: a bombshell blonde with a face like a model’s. Charlotte had too much of her father in her. She had his mousey hair and his sideways mouth and his too-skinny legs. She’d seen pictures of him, too. Mom always said he was very charismatic, though not much of a looker.

  “How is Annie?” Aunt Sheena asked. “Really.”

  Charlotte had been dreading this conversation. She knew it would come eventually, but she’d avoided thinking about it.

  “She’s okay,” Charlotte lied.

  “What’s she up to?”

  “Waiting tables. She really likes her boss at the new restaurant.”

  Charlotte thought the inquisition was over, but then Aunt Sheena landed the question she was hoping she wouldn’t. “Does she still drink?”

  Cautiously, Charlotte avoided her aunt’s eye. “Sometimes.”

  “It’s not a problem, though?”

  Charlotte didn’t know how to tell her aunt that alcohol was the least of mom’s problems now. How could she possibly explain how her mom came home some days so whacked out on crack – sleepless, manic, strung out – that Charlotte felt she was a stranger? That her mom was so gaunt and drawn that it seemed she was disappearing, little by little every day? That Charlotte was no longer a priority, because the drugs always came first? That rush. That release. That need. And the crack was only to replace mom’s true love. Heroin. The cocaine just gave her relief where she couldn’t find it any more.

  Charlotte’s eyes dropped to the surface of the water. She did not want to be having this conversation. Not now. Not ever. She wanted to make her mind numb to all thoughts of it.

  “What is it Charlotte?” Aunt Sheena pushed.

  Charlotte couldn’t speak. The attendant came and refilled their water glasses.

  “Charlotte,” Aunt Sheena said. “I’ve been trying to give you space these past few days, but I need to know something. Something important. Okay?”

  Aunt Sheena moved closer. “You know, your mom and I haven’t spoken in years. Not since you were a baby. That was the last time I saw her. The last time she really let me speak to her. But I’ve always wanted to help you both so, so much. You know that, right?”

  Charlotte nodded.

  “So you can understand how peculiar it was when she called me out of the blue and begged me to take you in,” Aunt Sheena said. “I told her yes, no questions, no conditions. I didn’t want to scare her away. But I have this bad feeling in my gut that something serious is going on. And that you’re not telling me the whole story.”

  Charlotte struggled to meet Aunt Sheena’s eye. “You’re doing enough to help,” Charlotte promised.

  Aunt Sheena was not satisfied with this answer. “Why was it so important that you come stay with Uncle Eddie and me? What happened that your mom felt you had to come here for help?”

  “I was doing bad in school,” Charlotte said automatically.