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My Kind of Town Don Chapman |
Mutant pigs’ tails?
>> Kaneohe
The fateful call to Bodhicita Guzman came after she, Kamasami Khan and the second Lama Jey Tsong Khapa returned from their run. More precisely, after they ran four hard, hilly miles at Ho'omaluhia and then Khan and Bodhicita, in Khan's red Ram 1500, paced the young lama another five miles back to Khan's hillside home.
"Altitude training," Khan had muttered as they passed Benjamin Parker Elementary, explaining how the super-fit ultimate macho alpha male had nearly been run into the ground by a skinny 18 year old.
"Good try, Khan," said Bodhicita, a serious runner who was awed by his fleetness. "No doubt that helps, living up in the Himalayas for 16 years. But it's more than that. He doesn't just run, he strides, he floats. It's almost like a meditation. But don't take it personal," Jey wasn't competing, it's not his nature."
But as the lama's eternal consort, Bodhicita could take pride in him, and doing so gave her pleasure. Yet it wasn't about pleasure, was it? It was about pursuing her own Buddhahood and loving her living Buddha.
The living Buddha who, when he'd showered and changed into HIC blue camouflage surf shorts and white "All Gabby, All The Time Radio" T-shirt, came upstairs and saw Khan and Bodhicita out on the lanai, where iced Darjeeling and a platter of red grapes and sliced melons awaited, and where a cell phone was ringing. Khan and Bodhicita, as they seemed so often to do, were disagreeing. This time, for a change, Khan seemed to be winning.
"You disappear on Fon Du, he'll have his Te-Wu buddies scraping the island for you! Dammit, Bodhicita, answer the phone!
"Hello (Go away) ... Hey, babe (yikes, gangrene's setting in) ... Yeah, I just got your messages (ignoring you is so easy) ... My freaking battery died, can you believe it? (and you'd better) ... Tonight? (how 'bout the 12th of never) ... Massage? You know how I feel about that (I had a choice, oral surgery) ... OK, see you later (you sucker of mutant pigs tails) ... Take care, babe (get hit by a bus, please please please)."
She angrily punched the off button -- a solid right jab -- and started to cry. "Oh Jey, I don't want to, but Khan's right, it's the best thing I can do for you now.
He took her hands in one of his, wiped away her tears with the other, a hand so beautiful the skin was almost translucent. "We are eternal," he said. She heard gongs and bells.
"BTW, Bodhicita, before you go," Khan said with a wink, handed her a clear vial. "I have a little something for you to give Fon Du. It should make your job somewhat, ah, softer."
Khan had a heart, Bodhicita knew, just showed it in funny ways. "Thanks."
Jey wiped away her last tear and she was gone.
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Don Chapman is editor of MidWeek. His serialized novel runs daily in the Star-Bulletin. He can be e-mailed at dchapman@midweek.com