yelling. I don’t know what I could possibly do to make this all stop and get us back to the airport to catch the last flight so I can be back on Oahu to gather all the loved ones and tell them this is it. Joanie, our fighter, has lost.
It’s Scottie who gets them to quiet down. “Alex,” she says. “Mom’s going to come home.”
Alex looks at me to see if this is true, and I look up. It’s a beautiful night. Without the city lights of Oahu, the stars invade the sky. “No,” I say. “That’s not true.”
“What’s happening, then? She’s gotten better or something?” Alex leans against the golf club and smirks.
“I’m going to bring you home,” I say. “She’s not all right.”
“Fuck Mom,” Alex says. She takes a few purposeful strides, then launches her golf club into the night. We all look up and around, but no one sees where it goes.
WHEN WE GET home, Scottie walks from the garage to her room without saying a word. I carry Alex. She is so heavy, her limbs seemingly drenched. I strain to get her to her room. I could stop and let her sleep on the sofa in the den, but I want her to sleep in her old bed, which used to be my bed, and part of me enjoys carrying her, the way she’s curled into my chest like a baby.
I slip off her shoes and pull the covers over her. She looks like Joanie. I watch her sleep for a while. What has happened? This sentence seems to be on rotation in my head. I leave her room without closing the shutters. Tomorrow the sun will rise over the Ko’olaus, and the light will smack her in the face.
14
I TRY TO give Alex space and time to apologize for her behavior of her own accord. We’re in the kitchen, and she’s drinking a Coke and eating cereal that looks like large rabbit pellets.
“How are you feeling?” I ask.
She shrugs and chews and then lifts the bowl to her mouth.
“Does Mom let you have soda at breakfast?”
“She never saw me eat breakfast.”
“Where’s Scottie?” I ask.
She shrugs again.
“Well, nice to see you, Alex. Welcome home.”
She lifts her spoon and circles it in the air, then gets up and puts her dish in the sink.
“Put it in the dishwasher,” I say.
She walks out of the room, and I go to the sink to rinse her bowl and load it in the dishwasher. She reappears, talking to someone on her cell phone. She carries sunglasses, a book, a towel, and another Coke.
“Alex,” I say. “I’d like to talk to you.”
“I’m going swimming,” she says.
“Fine, then I’ll go swimming, too.”
“Fine,” she says.
In the pool, she bobs from foot to foot. She tilts her head back, then wrings her hair out. I dive in, aiming for a big splash, and when I surface, she looks at the water with disgust. The water is cold, and clouds block the sun. On the way to the other side, I swim through fallen leaves from the mango tree and the cinnamon-colored bodies of termites.
“Sid’s coming over,” she says.
“Who’s Sid?”
“My friend. You’ll meet him. I just called him and he’s coming over.”
“What friend? From HPA?”
“No, he’s from here. My class at Punahou. I’ve known him for ages.”
“Oh,” I say. “Okay.”
“He’s got some issues. He’ll probably stay over, and he’ll be around a lot for me, since all this shit is happening.”
“Well,” I say. “You have it all figured out. Where does he live?”
“Kailua,” she says.
“And would I know his parents?”
“No.” She locks eyes with me.
“Looking forward to meeting him,” I say.
We hear banging on the sliding door that leads out to the pool. Scottie runs out on the brick patio wearing a black negligee. She has dabs of white cream all over her skinny body. She takes a picture of Alex.
“What the fuck,” Alex yells. “Get out of my underwear!”
“Don’t yell at her like that,” I say.
“Well, she’s wearing my fucking underwear.”
“So what, Alex? In the scheme of things, is it really that big a
It’s Scottie who gets them to quiet down. “Alex,” she says. “Mom’s going to come home.”
Alex looks at me to see if this is true, and I look up. It’s a beautiful night. Without the city lights of Oahu, the stars invade the sky. “No,” I say. “That’s not true.”
“What’s happening, then? She’s gotten better or something?” Alex leans against the golf club and smirks.
“I’m going to bring you home,” I say. “She’s not all right.”
“Fuck Mom,” Alex says. She takes a few purposeful strides, then launches her golf club into the night. We all look up and around, but no one sees where it goes.
WHEN WE GET home, Scottie walks from the garage to her room without saying a word. I carry Alex. She is so heavy, her limbs seemingly drenched. I strain to get her to her room. I could stop and let her sleep on the sofa in the den, but I want her to sleep in her old bed, which used to be my bed, and part of me enjoys carrying her, the way she’s curled into my chest like a baby.
I slip off her shoes and pull the covers over her. She looks like Joanie. I watch her sleep for a while. What has happened? This sentence seems to be on rotation in my head. I leave her room without closing the shutters. Tomorrow the sun will rise over the Ko’olaus, and the light will smack her in the face.
14
I TRY TO give Alex space and time to apologize for her behavior of her own accord. We’re in the kitchen, and she’s drinking a Coke and eating cereal that looks like large rabbit pellets.
“How are you feeling?” I ask.
She shrugs and chews and then lifts the bowl to her mouth.
“Does Mom let you have soda at breakfast?”
“She never saw me eat breakfast.”
“Where’s Scottie?” I ask.
She shrugs again.
“Well, nice to see you, Alex. Welcome home.”
She lifts her spoon and circles it in the air, then gets up and puts her dish in the sink.
“Put it in the dishwasher,” I say.
She walks out of the room, and I go to the sink to rinse her bowl and load it in the dishwasher. She reappears, talking to someone on her cell phone. She carries sunglasses, a book, a towel, and another Coke.
“Alex,” I say. “I’d like to talk to you.”
“I’m going swimming,” she says.
“Fine, then I’ll go swimming, too.”
“Fine,” she says.
In the pool, she bobs from foot to foot. She tilts her head back, then wrings her hair out. I dive in, aiming for a big splash, and when I surface, she looks at the water with disgust. The water is cold, and clouds block the sun. On the way to the other side, I swim through fallen leaves from the mango tree and the cinnamon-colored bodies of termites.
“Sid’s coming over,” she says.
“Who’s Sid?”
“My friend. You’ll meet him. I just called him and he’s coming over.”
“What friend? From HPA?”
“No, he’s from here. My class at Punahou. I’ve known him for ages.”
“Oh,” I say. “Okay.”
“He’s got some issues. He’ll probably stay over, and he’ll be around a lot for me, since all this shit is happening.”
“Well,” I say. “You have it all figured out. Where does he live?”
“Kailua,” she says.
“And would I know his parents?”
“No.” She locks eyes with me.
“Looking forward to meeting him,” I say.
We hear banging on the sliding door that leads out to the pool. Scottie runs out on the brick patio wearing a black negligee. She has dabs of white cream all over her skinny body. She takes a picture of Alex.
“What the fuck,” Alex yells. “Get out of my underwear!”
“Don’t yell at her like that,” I say.
“Well, she’s wearing my fucking underwear.”
“So what, Alex? In the scheme of things, is it really that big a
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