AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“That’s not how I remember it. You and Dad were always watching what we did, who we were with. Don’t change history,” I chuckle.
Kanaka pads to my side and stares until I do his bidding. The head scratch commences. He has me trained.
“Morning, boy.”
“It was necessary we watch you boys closely. You three had bad intentions. Alana does not.”
“Bad intentions? What are you talking about?”
Neither can hold a straight face. We both remember clearly.
“Where shall I start? With the marijuana plants? Or maybe the police coming to the door? And let’s not forgetthe older woman caper.”
Her smile contradicts the words. Basically, we were good kids. Basically is a big word that can be stretched.
“I don’t know how you put up with us,” I laugh.
It’s weird how the crap you put your parents through becomes funny family stories. Shit magically turns to sugar.
She raises the carved cane and uses it as an accessory. There is an elegance to the motion.
“Open the slider, and let the scents in. Kanaka wants to visit the birds.”
Sliding back the glass, more than the smell of flowers enters the room. Previously muted, sounds of soft waves breaking, children’s squeals, and a sunbather’s music rises in a summertime soundtrack. The salty air is a given. The dog and I walk out to the terrace of huge potted tropical plants.
Red and orange Bromeliads have center stage. Hibiscus plants fill in between. Kanaka takes his regular spot atop the big faded blue canvas pillow, watching the world through the wrought iron rail. A man walking on the sidewalk below spots his stare and waves.
“Aloha, boy!”
The dog gives a bark in response and stands at the ready for what comes next. A bone sails over the rail, in a perfect, practiced throw. Kanaka catches it but doesn’t eat it right away. He places it on the pillow and stares at it for a few beats. Appreciating the expected gift before gobbling it down. I give the passing guy a wave of thanks.
“Haven’t you missed all this, son?”
At the open door, she leans on the cane and places both hands atop.
“I have. I do. The legs bothering you a lot today?”
There is a pause before she answers. It is a ridiculous question, but I don’t know how to handle the level of daily pain yet. Do I ask every day? Or should I just assume the obvious? Does my question wound more than comfort?
“Nothing out of the ordinary. Don’t worry.”
“Tell me what I can do, because I didn’t realize you were suffering so much, Mom. Noa said it was getting worse, but I didn’t expect this. Last time we were here you weren’t this bad. And you underplay everything. I wish you wouldn’t do that.”
“I’m just getting old, ohana. It happens. Even to hula girls.”
“Seventy-one isnotold. Maybe it’s time for revisiting knee replacement options. I know Mak talked with you about it last year.”
She hates when we shorten our names, and to prove it she does not answer until I correct the error.
“Makani.”
“Not interested in surgery. That is the last time I will say it.”
“Don’t let fear stop you from having a life, Mom. And I am not going to stop wondering why you are…”
“Don’t fight me on this, son. This ismybody.”
I get the “look” that usually shuts further discussion down. Not this time. I try again.
