My Kind of Town
>> Queen's Medical Center The trick with omens
HPD Sgt. Mits Ah Sun lifted his hand to knock on the door, took a deep breath. In his 30 years with the department, he'd opened a few doors ready for anything, not knowing exactly what he was going to find. This was kind of like that, but quite different too. This wouldn't require barreling in with his old Smith & Wesson .44 drawn.
Twenty-one years since he'd seen his older brother Sheets and his wife Grace, 21 years since that night in Waimanalo, after which the brothers invented a feud as cover. Money, they had each explained to their families when they vowed they would never again under any circumstances have any dealings whatsodamnever with the other side of the Ah Sun clan.
But now that their sons were both hospitalized here at Queen's, it seemed like an omen. Mits, raised Buddhist, believed in omens. Ah, but the trick with omens, he knew, is not in recognizing them, but in understanding their meaning and the direction in which they point you.
So far it had pointed him here to the ICU, where his right hand hung in mid-air, not quite ready yet to knock on the room of his nephew Lance, who was born the year after Mits and Sheets quit talking. And not quite ready to risk reconciliation.
But if not now, then when? Yes, this omen had pointed him here. If it wasn't time to end the feud, they could at least call a cease-fire. Mits knocked on the door tentatively once, then a little harder, heard "Come in." Grace's voice -- she's still Sheets' spokesman, Mits thought. He took a deep breath, opened the door. And what he saw made his heart sink.
>> Nurse Nina Ramones may have been disgusted by the woman lying in bed with her cousin, patient Quinn Ah Sun. And she may have been a little jealous too. But Nina was a professional and could put those feelings aside, just as she'd done for the past year during the separation and divorce from Keone. She was getting so good at putting feelings aside, she might as well have been a guy!
"It looks like we're due again," she said. For another round of painkiller. Nina didn't need to look at patient Ah Sun's chart to know that. She could tell by the slight grimace on his face. Nina handed him a paper cup containing a pill, poured a cup of water, watched him swallow it. She glanced at her watch. "You'll feel better in a few minutes."
Quinn thanked her as she left, and when the door was closed Lily kissed Quinn's lips softly.
"Mmmm, Lily," he said and kissed her back, but then pulled away. "We have to talk, and quick, before this pill kicks in."
What's this world coming to? Women putting aside emotions and men wanting to talk?
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