My Kind of Town
>> Queen's Medical Center The Honolulu Soap Co.:
Sunday digestHolding her daughter Lily's hand, Grace Ah Sun whispered into her unconscious son Lance's ear. He twitched, a vague smile forming on his lips. "He can hear me, Lily! He's going to be OK!"
The baby of the family, Lance had fallen and hit the back of his head on a concrete curb during the hate crimes bill rally at the Capitol, and had been in a coma ever since. It was, Lance had confided to Lily beforehand, going to be his big coming out, his first public admission that he was gay.
She leaned down, whispered in his ear. "Hey, Lance, it's me, Lil. I love you."
Lance made an indecipherable sound, but to Lily and Grace it sounded like "yes!"
Leaning to kiss Lance's cheek, Lily smelled the unmistakable scent of eucalyptus, ginger and sea brine. Yes, Ho'ola, goddess of life, had been here.
Lily hugged her mother, each smelling the the scent of the goddess on the other.
"What did she say?" Lily said.
"That Akua had sent her."
Just like Lily's tutuwahine had taught her. The One God has many helpers, many facets, many faces, not to mention many surprises.
"Ho'ola told me that she was giving her blessing to me and Quinn," Lily said and waited for an explosion from one of her parents, or both.
"So be it." Who can argue with a goddess?
Which left her father. But Sheets Ah Sun had slipped back into his own private hell. He was paralyzed by what he had seen in Waimanalo earlier today, remembering what had happened at that same spot 27 years before, fearful of what it all meant.
Behind them, Lance moaned softly.
"Shouldn't we call a doctor or somebody?" Lily said.
"Of course" Grace said. She'd been so happy about Lance appearing to come out of a coma after Ho'ola's visit, she'd forgotten about that.
"Tell you what, Mom, I'll let them know at the nurse's station on my way to visit Quinn. But I'll see you later."
Even the name of the nephew he hadn't seen in 21 years could not rouse Sheets Ah Sun from his darkness.
>> Sgt. Mits Ah Sun had been shot at several time, but in his 30 years with HPD he'd never actually been hit. There were some close calls, like the night in his early days when he was on foot patrol in Chinatown. Mits was trying to peacefully break up a dice game on River Street, when someone slipped a .22 pistol from a pocket and fired a shot that knocked Mits' hat off his head.
And now his son Quinn who had followed him into the department lay here with a gunshot wound to the thigh. All Mits knew was that it happened at the home of Quinn's cousin Lily. And that made the situation worse. Lily was the daughter of Mit's brother Sheets. Somehow, Quinn and Lily had reunited. Nothing good could come from that.
"Son, you're a grown man, but I'm still your father. And to me, you getting shot at her house, well, it seems like a bad omen. A very bad omen."
Quinn frowned. To him, it seemed like a very good omen.
>> Lily stopped at the ICU nursing station and told the duty nurse about about Lance. The nurse in turn excitedly paged a doctor.
"Thanks," Lily said, heading for the elevators. The doors opened and she stepped in.
"Hello again." It was Ho'ola, goddess of life. "I forgot to mention one thing.
"You must make a decision. You can love Quinn. But..."
"But what? ..."
"There will be no children."
Somewhere deep inside Lily ached to have Quinn's children.
"There's no way at all?"
"If for some reason you and Quinn aren't really first cousins..."
>> Mits and his brother Sheets had grown up close. Sheets -- Shitsuro on his birth certificate -- was 14 months older than Mitsuro. Their parents worked hard at their Harborview Market in Pearl City, and so Sheets and Mits were raised with the plantation ethics of their grandparents. You work hard. You do anything for your family.
And that, really, is why the brothers were no longer talking. Because Mits had "done anything" for Sheets. Later, they decided it was better if it appeared there was rift between them. At the very least, neither would ever slip up and make a reference to that night in Waimanalo 21 years ago. They had communicated secretly over the years. So Mits knew when Sheets' youngest son Lance was born. Lance, who lay in a coma, his niece Lily had said last night.
Mits ought to visit Lance, he thought. Surely just a quick hello couldn't do anything to free the secret the brothers Ah Sun had carried for 21 years.
>> Kids are so easy to twist around, Quinn was thinking. That's why he'd all but forgotten his cousin Lily. They'd grown up practically as siblings, their families living just a block apart in Pearl City. And then Uncle Sheets and Auntie Grace packed up and moved Lily and her younger brother Laird to Kailua.
And then the years go by and your reality is what it is, and as a kid you don't question it, not even the part about your father having been wronged somehow by his brother. But now that fate had reunited Quinn and Lily, he had lots of questions. And, damnit, he was going to get some answers.
Quinn heard a knock on the door and expected a nurse. The painkiller they'd given him was wearing off and he was increasingly aware of the fire in his wounded thigh. He was looking forward to another pill, not just to kill the pain, but also because of the incredible dreams they gave him.
The door opened and what Quinn saw was way better than a pill. It was a very tall, very brown, very beautiful woman. A very naked woman.
God, these pills were good, even when you're awake.
Don Chapman is editor of MidWeek.
His serialized novel runs daily in the Star-Bulletin
with weekly summaries on Sunday.
He can be emailed at dchapman@midweek.com