JoAnn Bassett - Islands of Aloha 07 - Moloka'i Lullaby Page 17

  “How long?” I felt as if I couldn’t get enough air in my lungs.

  “What? To make captain?”

  I nodded. It was unlike me to be so tongue-tied, but there it was.

  “Not long,” he said. “A couple years, maybe three. It all depends on how turnover goes in the department.”

  “But I can’t live on the mainland for two or three years. I was barely able to handle the four months I spent over there for air marshal training.”

  “That was New Jersey,” he said. “This is Southern California. LA is pretty much the same as Hawaii: palm trees, beaches, sunshine every day.”

  “It’s nothing like Hawaii,” I said. I’d finally found my full voice, and it sounded like I was scolding a teenager who’d tried to cut ahead of me in line.

  By now, the driver had entered the H-1 freeway and was zooming along, dodging in and out of slower traffic. It was hard to tell if this was his normal driving style or if he was anxious to get rid of the squabbling couple in the back seat of his cab.

  “Are you saying you won’t support me?” Hatch said. “This is my career we’re talking about. You’re going to benefit from it as much as me; maybe more. You know, survivor benefits for widows of fire officers are really good.”

  “Survivor benefits? Widows? Are you serious?”

  “I’m dead serious,” he said.

  And that’s the last thing either of us said until we got out of the cab at Queen’s Medical Center.

  CHAPTER 25

  I was happy to see Farrah, but Hatch’s plans to move us from Hawaii to Los Angeles had rattled me into a sullen state of mind. In the previous couple of days, I’d had more than my share of shocking events, but nothing compared with the thought of leaving Maui for two or more years with no guarantee of returning.

  What was he thinking?

  Under normal circumstances, I’d have three confidants I could go to for advice: Sifu Doug, Steve, and Farrah. But I was in Honolulu, so unless I wanted to wallow in self-pity via cell phone, which I was unwilling to do, that knocked out Sifu Doug and Steve. And Farrah had troubles of her own. Her babies were getting stronger, but they were still in the neonatal ICU; and her blood pressure had only recently been brought under control. Two excellent reasons to keep my latest Hatch Decker drama to myself.

  It was hard to see her and hold back the torrent of emotion I was feeling. We’d been best friends since we were seven-year-old keiki. I didn’t always follow her guidance—after all, there’s only so much faith you should put in a Ouija board—but it always helped just to have her listen.

  I leaned in and hugged her. She was propped up in bed and I commented on how much better she looked than she had on Tuesday.

  “You think?” she said. “Maybe it’s all the weight I’ve lost by not chowing down the gnarly hospital food.”

  “Are you hungry? Do you want me to go get you something?”

  “Mahalo, but I’m groovy. Ono brings me these bad-ass kale and wheat-grass shakes from a food cart called ‘Green Grinds’ down near the I’olani Palace. They’re delish.”

  I couldn’t stop the image of a cow chewing its cud from coming to mind.

  “Good to hear,” I said. “I haven’t had a chance to check in on the babies yet. How’re they doing?”

  “They’re fab. Our boy is breathing on his own now.”

  “That’s wonderful.”

  “Yeah, and our girl’s such a little ipo—so sweet. She’s the spitting image of her daddy.”

  “I guess you haven’t named them yet,” I said.

  “No.” She ducked her head and looked back up at me through thick black lashes. “The deal is: we thought we’d chill on it until you and Hatch were both here. We wanted to tell you guys before we told anyone else, since you two are our bestest-best.”

  “Ah.” I wasn’t sure what to make of that. My shaky situation with Hatch made things a bit uncertain. But I stayed true to my vow to keep my issues to myself, so I didn’t let on.

  “You know there’s only about two weeks ‘til your wedding,” she said. “Are you getting freaked?”

  More than you know, I wanted to say. But instead I said, “It’s pretty exciting.”

  “I hope we’ll all be out of here next week, but the doc has the final say. The babies have to hit some milestones before they can go.”

  “Do you know what they are?”

  “You mean, the milestones?” she said. “I’m not exactly sure. There’s a list of stuff.”

  “Maybe he’s just waiting until you name these kids so he can fill out the birth certificates.”

  “Don’t sweat it. The naming thing’s pau—a done deal,” she said. “And the names are totally awesome.”

  “Can you give me a hint?”

  “We sort of named them after you guys. But not like ‘junior’ or anything bogus like that.”

  I’d been plagued with a bizarre given name since birth. I could only hope that my many rants about it had made some impact on Farrah.

  She shot me a beaming smile. “Ono wanted to wait until both of you were here, but I want to tell you first. We’re calling them Hatshepsut and Plácido.”

  “What?” I hadn’t meant to screech, but it seems I failed.

  “The girl we’re calling Hatshepsut, after the first and most powerful female pharaoh of Egypt. And the boy we’re naming Plácido: it’s the Spanish word for ‘calm.’ My parents’ favorite singer was the fab Spanish tenor: Plácido Domingo. Their nicknames will be Hatchi and Placi, get it?”

  “Seriously?” I said. “Don’t you remember how awful it’s been for me with my goofy first name?”

  “You like to whine about it, but I’ve secretly always thought your name was pretty far out,” Farrah said. “Really. I pretend to act like it’s bogus, to be a friend and all, but you’re the only one who thinks it’s a total bummer. Ask Hatch if you don’t believe me.”

  “You mean, ‘Hatchley?’” I said. “His given name is ‘Hatchley,’ you know.”

  “Cool; that’s even groovier.”

  I leaned back and crossed my arms. There was no arguing with the woman. I wondered what Ono really thought about naming his kids after an ancient Egyptian pharaoh and a modern Spanish tenor; but he cherished his wife. He’d probably think it was adorable if Farrah had dubbed them Frick and Frack.

  Was it wise to be so adored that your spouse never challenged you—even when you were dead wrong? Probably not. But then again, maybe it wasn’t the best idea to marry someone who was so bull-headed he wanted to drag you off to a place like LA just to further his career.

  ***

  It was getting late, and I asked Hatch if we should see about finding a place to stay for the night. He dangled a house key in front of me and said he’d been staying at the apartment of a guy he’d worked with when he was with HPD.

  “Do you think he’d mind if I joined you?” I said.

  He laughed. “Not hardly. He’s not there. He’s at a cop conference in Vegas until Monday.”

  He said the apartment was within walking distance of the hospital, so we said our good-night’s to Farrah and started out a few minutes after ten. The place turned out to be a mid-rise on King Street, near the downtown campus of Hawaii Pacific University. HPU is a private college with a large contingent of international students, so I wondered if the other tenants would be a bunch of rowdy college kids, but when we got there, the place was quiet. It had a tidy lobby and a reasonably quick elevator to the sixth floor.

  Hatch had slept on the futon in the living room for the past couple of nights, but he asked if I wanted to use the owner’s bed.

  “I’ll be fine out here with you,” I said.

  He glared at me. “I didn’t mean for you to sleep in there alone,” he said.

  It seemed we were communicating even less successfully than usual, and that was saying something.

  “Let me get us a glass of wine,” Hatch said. “I bought a bottle of your favorite.”

  He went int
o the kitchen and came out holding a bottle of chardonnay. It really wasn’t my favorite, but one time I’d commented on how well it went with something Steve had made us for dinner, and Hatch took that to mean I loved it.

  “Look, let’s just take this LA thing one step at a time,” he said. He sat down, and held my left hand in his. Then, one by one, he kissed each of my knuckles. I found his knuckle kissing more annoying than endearing; but I kept my mouth shut.

  “First off,” he said. “I’m just going for an interview. I’m pretty sure I’m probably the most qualified candidate, but there are two other guys…”

  I didn’t realize I’d shot him a look, but I must’ve, because he amended his statement.

  “…well, two other people. The other candidates could be women; the HR guy didn’t say.”

  I picked at a dry cuticle on my thumb, but still didn’t weigh in.

  “Anyway,” he went on. “Even if I don’t take this job, there are tons of other ones out there. There’s an opening for an EMT Two in Seattle; and they’re advertising for an entry-level inspector in the fire marshal’s office in New Orleans.”

  So far, nothing he’d said was the least bit encouraging.

  “Pali, I wish you’d get that scowl off your face. This is a great opportunity. We’ll be able to see different parts of the country before we settle down to raise a family. I know you want to come back here, and that’s fine by me. But don’t you want us to have nice things: a bigger house, new cars, maybe even private schools for our kids?”

  I didn’t care about any of that. I’d be thirty-six on my next birthday. If we didn’t start a family soon, his rolling-in-the-dough salary would be needed to pay for a surrogate mother for his kids.

  “Look,” he said. “I love you, and I want to do right by you. Just promise to think about it. If you really don’t want to go, I’ll tell them I’ve changed my mind.”

  He raised my hand to his lips, but I gently patted his cheek before he could start the knuckle smooching again. I think he got the message.

  We made up the futon and went to bed. I slept on my side, at the very edge of the thin mattress, all night long.

  ***

  Hatch had to leave on a six-thirty flight the next morning in order to make it to work by eight. Before he left, he handed me the key to the apartment and asked when I’d be coming home.

  “We’ve got to get this hammered out,” he said. “If I’m not going to LA, I need to tell them. The interview’s a week from today.”

  “I know, and I promise I’ll think about it.”

  He kissed me, and held me tight. “I love you, Pali. I just want to make you happy.”

  I rode the elevator with him down to the lobby, and waited until his cab showed up.”

  “I’ll do my best to be home tomorrow morning after you get off work,” I said.

  “Thanks, babe.”

  He got in, and I watched the cab turn the corner at Bishop Street. Then I walked to the hospital.

  ***

  At nine a.m. sharp I went to Farrah’s room. She was sitting up in bed with a plate of untouched pancakes, scrambled eggs and limp bacon congealing on the tray table beside her. I picked up her fork and, without asking, speared a triangle of pancake. The gummy pancake could have definitely benefited from a dousing of maple syrup, but that would’ve required me to break into the tiny plastic packet, and that was more work than I was willing to do for a dab of sticky corn syrup and artificially-flavored tree sap.

  “The doctor was just here,” Farrah said. “He said the babies gotta chill here at the hospital for another week, maybe two, but I can boogie anytime I want. But that’s bogus. I’m not leaving my keiki in this scary place all by themselves.”

  “So, what are you going to do?” I said.

  “Ono’s gonna get the boat and bring it over,” Farrah said. “Tomika said we could live aboard until we can take the kids home.”

  Tomika Fujioka was Ono’s boss, more or less. She owned the sailing catamaran he used for taking Lahaina day-trippers out fishing or snorkeling. She was one of the kindest women I’d ever met; and also one of the wealthiest.

  “Has Ono left yet?” I said.

  “Yeah,” Farrah said. She looked at the clock on the wall. “He booked on outta here right behind the doc. He wanted to get a seat on the next flight out.”

  At the word “flight,” she closed her eyes and bowed her head. Then, she steepled her fingers and whispered, “Namaste,” before taking three deep cleansing breaths. The ritual was something of a reflexive action with her, sort of like Catholics crossing themselves in an appeal for mercy.

  Once she’d opened her eyes again, she said, “So hey, what’re we gonna do about your wedding? No way I’m gonna let you get married without me.”

  I looked away, weighing just how much of my latest skirmish with Hatch I wanted to disclose.

  “Don’t worry,” I said. “We can wait until everyone’s home.”

  “But didn’t you already send out the invites?” she said. “Unless I messed up, big-time, there’s a date on them.”

  Hatch and I hadn’t mailed the invitations. In the swirl of activity over the Moloka’i wedding, and then Farrah’s life-threatening pregnancy complications, they’d never made it to the post office. More than anyone, Farrah could well appreciate the ill omen of such an oversight, but I didn’t want to let on.

  “Uh, no worries,” I said. “I’ve got the guest list. If necessary, I can send out ‘change of date’ cards.”

  A cold finger of guilt tickled my rib cage. I wasn’t used to keeping secrets from Farrah, and outright lying to her was definitely a new low. I felt my heart rate speed up, and I was glad I wasn’t the one hooked to the blood pressure monitor, or she’d be on me like a bruddah at an all-you-can-eat luau.

  “Oh, here’s something,” I said in the most casual voice I could muster, “Hatch is going to LA for a job interview next Friday.”

  Farrah’s eyes bugged out, but she didn’t say anything.

  “He says if he gets the job, he’s got a shot at making captain in a couple of years. I guess he’s jealous of Ono,” I said. “Get it? Ono’s a captain, so Hatch’s gotta be one?”

  She didn’t laugh. She didn’t even smile.

  “Anyway,” I went on, “Hatch is worried he won’t get promoted if he stays over here. He says he doesn’t make enough money here in the islands to support a family.”

  “Yeah,” she finally said. “He told me he was worried about that. So, that means you guys may have to move to the mainland?”

  I took a step back, waiting for the fireworks to start.

  “Yeah. Probably for a couple of years or so,” I said.

  I watched as tears collected in Farrah’s eyes. One ran down her cheek. I wanted to rush in and tell her I’d never leave, but I was conflicted. Now that she and Ono were married, our relationship had changed, and I wasn’t entirely sure where I stood. I prayed she’d beg me to stay.

  “You know, you’re my bestest-best,” she said. “And I’ll miss you, big-time, every single day you’re gone. But you gotta do the righteous thing for your man and your keiki.”

  My hands turned cold. Who was this person? Certainly not the woman I’d been best friends with for almost thirty years.

  “Are you saying it’s fine with you if I move to Los Angeles for who knows how long?”

  “It’s not fine,” she said. “It’s a total bummer. But when you love someone as much as you guys love each other, you gotta suck it up sometimes.”

  I remembered how I’d strong-armed her into flying to Honolulu to protect her babies. And then it hit me. The truth I’d been unwilling to acknowledge smacked me like an opponent clipping my jaw with a well-placed roundhouse kick, and I was headed for the mat.

  CHAPTER 26

  I returned to Maui on Saturday morning. I’d been gone for a week, if you didn’t count my quick trip to Maui Memorial to coerce Farrah into going to Honolulu. I’d only planned to be away for three d
ays, so my clothes were getting downright fragrant, and I longed to sleep in my own bed.

  When Hatch had come back on Friday, he’d retrieved my car from the airport parking lot and driven it to work. He offered to come pick me up after he got off work on Saturday, but I convinced him to go home and get some rest. I’d said Steve was already on his way.

  I’d been in Steve’s car for all of thirty seconds when he said, “Okay, spill.”

  “What? About Farrah? She’s doing great. Ono’s taking the catamaran to Honolulu so they can live aboard while they keep tabs on the babies. They’ll be gone for another week or two.”

  “Honey,” Steve said. “That’s the most pathetic tap dance I’ve heard since a skeezy guy I met at the bar tried to tell me he’d pinched my wallet because he couldn’t believe I was as old as everyone said and he wanted to check my driver’s license.”

  “As if you ever gave your true birth date to the DMV,” I said.

  “Well, as everyone knows, a little Wite-out is all you need to turn back the hands of time.”

  A few beats of silence went by. Steve made the turn onto the Hana Highway.

  “I’m still waiting,” he said.

  “Can you be more specific?” I said. “I’ve been gone for more than a week and a ton of stuff has happened.”

  “You know, of all the people I’ve ever known, you’ve always been the most upfront with me. Why are you making me wrench this out of you like an impacted molar?”

  “Maybe because I’m not so sure myself about what’s happened.”

  “Start at the beginning,” he said.

  And so I told him. I began with my uncertainty about ever getting married, after learning of my own parents’ sordid history. Then, I recounted tales of the many times Hatch and I had argued, or stonewalled each other, or viewed the world from such contrasting perspectives that it left me breathless. Finally, I brought up our most recent squabble.

  I said, “He wants to move to Los Angeles.”

  “Why?”

  “To further his career. He says he’ll be promoted to officer a lot faster in a bigger department.”