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Chapter 1
ALEK
Leaning into the eyepiece, I adjust focus until the scene sharpens. Across the road, laid out like a tray of jewels, is my childhood playground. An aquamarine sea, emerald manstra leaves, diamonds shimmering on the water. Once in awhile at sunset, ruby and amethyst streaks appear in the sky. Always a drop the mic moment on the fading light.
Baby Beach. A wide strip of sand is visible road to shore, and it is bordered by prolific white plumerias. Still standing guard, is the old Banyan tree’s tangled web of branches and hanging roots. This view has barely changed from the day I left the island. Twenty years has not withered its affect. Sometimes, I see it in dreams.
Today’s crowd is mostly locals. Surfing lessons. Kids wobble their way upright, on gentle waves seeming much bigger than they are. I see a bikinied sun worshiper in the foreground flip over to get her backside’s daily fry. Fortunate timing. Next to her, a toddler sleeps under an umbrella. Beyond them, two neighbor boys on boogie boards catch a wave and get lost in the foam. They reemerge laughing and ride all the way in, until knuckles scrape shore. I feel the sensation.
We used to be those boys. Noa, Makani, and I spent three quarters of our time in the ocean and the other quarter thinking about being there. Whenever Mom would say we had to get out, there would be as much pushback as we could get away with. One time out of twenty it would work. ‘Just ten more minutes’ would turn to twenty, and they were golden. Those sunlit days pop up often.
In my line of sight a wet dog runs by, left to right, leash trailing in the sand. A few beats later, his portly manservant gives slow chase. Why he wears a look of surprise, is a mystery. It has happened twice in the week we have been here. Past is prologue, guy.
I move the spotting scope, angling on the blurred figure on the far right. Refocus. There she is sitting alone, arms tight around legs drawn close. Fully dressed. Baggy sweatpants and that favorite hoodie on a seventy-eight degree day. Sunglasses hide the angle of her gaze. Always watching what others do, like an audience member watches a movie. Apart.
It looks like she is in Witness Protection. At the very least, like she has never been to the beach. Wanting to fade into the background has made her stand out. My heart has been aching a little lately. I don’t know how to make my own daughter happy. Didn’t see that coming after years of being best buds. Batman and Robin. Jody liked to call us that. It seems a million years ago, instead of eight.
Being front and center in paradise does not seem to be bringing Alana the joy it always has. The scenery doesn’t do it for her anymore, or the cool vibe. Not the friendly people. What happened over the last year? It feels unfamiliar to the guy who always prided himself on being in tune with his child. I’m the understanding protector, not the unengaged absentee parent. But a quietness has descended on her at thirteen. And a withdrawal. There is a sense of her rejecting every source of happiness, before it has a chance to settle.
Hope the all-girls private school agrees with her. Builds her confidence. Gave her a choice and she picked wisely. Thirty thousand a year. I’m still in shock. But I’m able to swing it and her grades gave her the option. It should mold a smart, independent, college bound woman. Everything Jody dreamed of for our child. Then, every penny will be worth it.
It’s all a crapshoot really. Lately I have lost some confidence. I feel my influence slipping. It is happening. I don’t think Alana sees me in the same way. I used to be the oracle. The one with all the answers. Now she isn’t asking the questions. Tutu Nani is her favorite person, so maybe she will have influence. We have the whole summer.
Behind me, I hear the unmistakable rhythm of human and canine steps, hall to kitchen. The company of the silver gray Weimaraner is pretty much a constant. They have a routine, like all couples do. He plops on the kitchen floor, she gets a coffee mug out of the squeaky cupboard. Then the metal lid of the treat jar sounds, and the hand grabbing a biscuit.
“Good boy, my Kanaka.”
The strong jaw chomps once on the treat and it is gone before it can be tasted.
“Alekanekelo, what are you looking for?”
Her lyrical voice is deceptively delicate. Underneath the lilt lies the strength of a mother warrior.
Without looking up, I answer. “This is the first time she’s gone by herself. I want to see what she does.”
“If you don’t give her a little rope, she will make one of her own. Let her have a taste of independence. She is becoming a woman.”
“She’s thirteen. For another month.”
“That’s when it happens.”
I lift my head and meet her expressive brown eyes.
“I’mnotready.”
“I suggest you get ready.” She smiles. “Puberty waits for no one.”
All I have to offer is a sigh.
“You boys never wanted me to say anything about your bodies. Of course that didn’t stop me.”
“I remember,” I say, screwing up my face.
“Don’t be silly. It is a parents’ job. Uncomfortable or not.”
“I know, Mom. You forget I have been doing this for awhile. When she got her period last year, I did good handling that.”
“Another thing. You had a few new freedoms at Alana’s age. Maybe it is time to loosen the grip. Slowly.”
