Chapter 7

Maddie felt like a pup on a leash. Nana moved so slowly as they made their way up to the park the next morning, it was all Maddie could do not to run in circles around her feet and jump up and down. Hurry! Hurry! Instead, she contented herself with bouncing on her toes a little. Waking up to the sounds of the island, with myriad birds calling and relatively few cars stirring, had been invigorating. The morning air was moist and cool, heavy with the scent of pine and earth, and Nana’s guava juice was just as watered down and tasteless as ever. Maddie had enjoyed her overnight immensely and was looking forward to today’s agenda even more. Nana had insisted they wait a suitable amount of time for the old men to take up their customary stations, but now the two women were finally headed off to the bench.

Nana smiled slyly at her. “You always were an impatient little thing.”

“I’m not little anymore,” Maddie countered. “One out of two isn’t bad.”

Nana laughed. “You’d better stop that bouncing before we get there. I warned you about that once already.”

“Yes, Nana. I know,” Maddie said affectionately. Her honorary grandmother had been doling out all sorts of unsolicited sage advice, and Maddie had been loving every minute of it. Her own grandmothers were lovely women, but neither were as humorously pragmatic as Nana — and they certainly were never as candid.

They walked past the school again and turned at the corner to walk up the sidewalk across from the park. Maddie smiled as they strolled in front of the art center she remembered and the launderette she and her father used to haul their clothes up to. She was standing in front of it, thinking that the building itself had looked shabbier in her day, when some of the same troublesome thoughts that had plagued her yesterday returned.

Why was it always her father that she pictured herself with? She did come here with her mother, too. She could remember her mother being here. Putting the wash in. Walking with Maddie back to the house. The memories just weren’t as clear.

“Looks better, doesn’t it?” Nana asked, catching up to her. “New owner fixed it up a bit.”

Maddie nodded absently. She and Nana had talked about many people and many things last night, but the one topic that neither of them had broached was Jill Westover, Maddie’s mother. As many questions as Maddie’s newly refreshed memories — or lack thereof — were raising in her mind, the sad truth was, she didn’t want to think about her mother right now. She wanted to enjoy the present.

“Well, there they are,” Nana announced, turning toward the center of the park and gesturing in the direction of the old man bench, which held nearly a dozen occupants. “Now, you let me walk up first and do the talking. And no bouncing!”

Maddie laughed. “I promised, didn’t I?” Her pulse raced as they walked across the grassy lawn. Nana moved unhurriedly on hips that had carried her around the city her entire life and — she was bound and determined — would continue to do so until the day she was buried. Maddie kept half a pace behind, her own long legs needing to stop altogether every now and then to avoid a collision. The men on the bench noticed them at a distance and by the time the women were twenty feet away every man in the group was focused intently upon them.

One of them called out to Nana, speaking to her in a flurry of words that Maddie tried to understand and couldn’t. She frowned to herself with disappointment. “What did he say?” she asked Nana with frustration. “I guess I’ve gotten rusty. I didn’t catch a word of that.”

Nana eyed her strangely. “Just as well,” she mumbled. She lifted her head and called something back, the result of which was an embarrassed look on the face of the man who had spoken and peals of laughter from everyone else.

Maddie, who had been forced to stop walking again, planted her hands on her hips with annoyance. “Now what did you say?” she asked. “I should be able to understand you, for God’s sake! It hasn’t been that long.”

Nana looked up at her with a mischievous smile. “Not if I don’t want you to.”

Maddie’s lips twisted. She hated not being able to understand. The official language of all Hawaii was English, of course. It was spoken everywhere, it was written everywhere, everyone understood it. But there was a second language unique to the islands known as Hawaiian Pidgin, which was reserved for casual conversation. It had come about during the plantation days when the different groups of laborers, all of whom were in the process of learning English, wanted to communicate with each other ASAP. Pidgin became a middle ground, a simplified form of English peppered with words from other languages — whatever vocabulary worked.

Maddie’s classmates had all spoken “standard” English to her and to their teachers, but outside of class they dropped into Pidgin. Maddie had resolved immediately to learn it and join them, but she found that her efforts were not appreciated.

Haole girls don’t talk Pidgin! Kai had informed her sternly.

Says who? she had demanded.

Says everybody!

Why not?

Because… I don’t know. They just don’t. Kai had looked mildly disturbed then, Maddie remembered. Probably because he knew his argument was shaky.

I don’t have to speak it! she had countered, seeing her opening and pushing it. I just want to understand it. Can’t you teach me? I won’t tell anybody. I promise. Please, Kai?

She could remember exactly how he had looked, then. Why could she remember the look on his face so well, even now? She couldn’t picture her own mother’s face at the launderette, but she could see Kai’s dark eyes as clear as day, studying her, sympathizing with her, weighing his options, considering the risk to himself in aggravating his friends, yet feeling for her predicament, perhaps even wanting to make her happy, just because…

Yeah, okay, fine. But you have to just listen and don’t go around trying to act like—

I won’t! I swear!

Maddie smiled. Then and now. “You give it your best shot, Nana,” she said teasingly. “I’m an island girl again. And I intend to get back in practice.”

They reached the old men and Nana stopped short, causing Maddie to nearly trip over her.

“I’ve brought an old friend of yours,” Nana announced, even as Maddie struggled to regain her balance, feeling like an idiot. “Someone who used to live here when she was a child. Any guesses who this might be?”

The old men studied her, and Maddie studied them back. Her eyes lighted on Mr. Li immediately, and she smiled broadly. The Chinese great-grandfather had looked a hundred when she knew him; he looked a hundred now. Had he added another “great” to his title? The eyes that squinted back at her were cloudy, and she realized that he couldn’t see her, and perhaps not much else. “Aloha, Mr. Li,” she called. His face wrinkled with concentration, and the man next to him, whom Maddie recognized as Mr. Kalaw, whispered something into his ear. The kindly Filipino man had aged considerably, and Maddie felt a twang of fear as she noted his sunken cheeks and shriveled limbs. Would he know her? “Aloha, Mr. Kalaw,” she added softly.

Her eyes surveyed the rest of the men, all of whom stared at her practically without blinking, until one of them pulled hastily to his feet. “Akage no Maddie chan!” he called out in amazement.

Maddie grinned, her heart leaping with joy. She recognized the phrase. It was Japanese for Maddie who has red hair. “Yes, it’s me!” she acknowledged. “Maddie Westover. Aloha, Mr. Hiraga! Mr. Puyat. Mr. Yokota…”

The men burst into an explosion of Pidgin, which Maddie tried in vain to follow. Only after several moments of chaos did the men oblige her by switching into standard speech.

“Maddie, child,” Mr. Kalaw said, rising slowly and extending his hand. “Is it really you? After all this time? How old are you?”

“I’m twenty-five,” Maddie replied, stepping forward. She extended her own hand and he pressed it gently in both of his.

“You are bigger now,” he said matter-of-factly.

“Yes,” Maddie agreed. “But I still need money.”

Mr. Kalaw’s shrunken lips drew up at the corners. He leaned down and spoke in Pidgin into Mr. Li’s ear, after which both men laughed aloud. Mr. Li then answered back in a mumbled Pidgin even Mr. Kalaw seemed to have a hard time hearing. But after a moment he nodded and raised his head back to Maddie with a smirk.

“Mr. Li says he can’t chew popcorn anymore. But he’ll lick off the butter and salt.”

Maddie cracked up laughing. As she looked into Mr. Li’s unseeing eyes, tears sprang into the corners of her own. He did remember her. They both did!

So many afternoons Maddie had come to the park for much the same reason the old men did — she was bored and looking for conversation. Or, as they put it, to “talk story.” They seemed to find her amusing, as she did them, and although at first she couldn’t understand their words with each other, over time she came to understand far more of their conversation than they suspected, which made her time at the bench all the more entertaining. Many of the children came to chat and beg for quarters, as was the custom of bored and broke children everywhere, but whereas most came and went, Maddie was far more likely to stay a while, bringing a book to read or simply hanging out on the grassy lawn nearby. She begged her fair share of quarters too, running across the street with glee to purchase something chocolate from one of the markets. There was rarely any spare money around her house for such things, and she was always craving chocolate. She did feel a certain compunction about the begging, however; and so whenever her father gave her money to spend on a weekend matinee at the movie theater, she made a point of sharing. She would buy a giant box of popcorn and then take it, untouched, straight to the old man bench, where old Mr. Li, especially, would be waiting. He loved popcorn. Every time a new movie would come out, he would tease Maddie about looking forward to his treat. As far as she could remember, she had never disappointed him.

“I can’t tell you how good it is to see you again,” Maddie said, bending down and speaking loudly enough that Mr. Li could hear her. “All of you,” she repeated, straightening.

Some of the men began to talk among themselves, and Maddie got the idea that several of them didn’t remember her, and others were trying to jog their memories. She saw a hand held three feet off the ground (she had never been that short!) and then she heard — or thought she heard — something Pidgin which meant “wife of Westover.”

She jumped as Nana barked out a command in a tone that brooked no dissent. The words weren’t clear to Maddie, but she could perceive the gist. Don’t talk about that! Do you hear me?

The same ill-at-ease feeling that had bothered Maddie at the launderette resurfaced. Is that really what Nana had said? Or was Maddie just imagining it? Regardless, why had she spent so many idle hours here, hanging with the old men, when her own house and her own mother were just a few blocks away?

Maddie’s head snapped up. One of the men had mentioned Kai.

“No, no,” Nana replied. “She hasn’t even seen Kai yet. But she’s going back to Maui today, so I’m sure they’ll run into each other again soon.”

More unintelligible Pidgin followed. The men all laughed merrily, and Maddie sighed. She had a feeling she knew that joke.

“Tell us, Maddie!” Mr. Kalaw said pleadingly. “Tell us where you’ve been all these years! What have you been doing?”

Maddie looked out at the faces of the men, all of whom — with the predictable exception of grouchy old Mr. Puyat — were now smiling at her. Mr. Yokota rose and gestured for everyone to scoot around and make room on the bench for her and Nana. The women sat, and Maddie started talking.

Nearly an hour later, after Maddie’s creatively edited recap of her life had been well received and the men had reciprocated by sharing their own family highlights, Nana rose from the bench and announced that it was time to move on. Maddie departed with a light heart, knowing that this time “See you again soon!” was a promise she was fully capable of keeping.

“Oh, Nana,” she gushed as they walked through the thick grove of Cook Island pines that filled the far half of the park opposite the school, “I’m so excited to be living so close! The ferry’s not cheap, but I should be able to afford to come over at least once a month now.”

Nana smiled at her. “Well, you save your money for the ferry, then. You know you can stay with me anytime.”

“Thank you,” Maddie replied sincerely. Nana was walking slower than ever. The long period of inactivity on the hard bench seemed to have taken its toll. Maddie slowed her own steps further and studied the sights. The restaurants on this side were both still open, although the Tanigawa had changed its name, and the buildings all had a fresh coat of paint and colorful landscaping. The little store where she and Kai had once rented videos was now an art gallery with beautiful paintings in its windows, and the front of the old theater had been completely renovated. Maddie smiled. It was good to see the historic structures being taken care of. God forbid anyone should ever turn such a charismatic piece of history into generica.

“What was it they asked about Kai?” she inquired, trying to sound matter-of-fact. In reality, she had been forcing herself to wait at least five minutes before asking the question. She could have sworn she heard a certain Korean word in the same sentence whose meaning one did not easily forget.

Nana waved the question away. “Oh, one of the men was just confused. They saw you with me and thought you were Kai’s wife from the mainland.”

Maddie’s heart came to a full stop. Then it started again. “Kai is married?”

Nana made a face at her. “No, of course he isn’t married. Did I say that? Somebody said you were Kai’s friend before — how do I know? They’re old.”

“It’s just that I thought I heard—” Maddie sensed she was treading on delicate territory. Then again, there was nothing delicate about Nana. “I mean, what were they laughing about?”

Nana rolled her eyes. “They’re men. What else do they have to think about?”

Maddie decided not to pursue it. But she could not shake the feeling that both Nana and Malaya had some problem or other with Maddie’s getting in touch with Kai again. And since she might not see either one of them again before she went back to Maui…

“Nana,” she asked. “Is there some reason you think I shouldn’t go see Kai when I get back to Maui? I mean, just to say hello?”

Nana’s face flickered with discomfort. “No,” she said evenly. “I’m sure Kai would love to see you. He was always very fond of you. Here we are.” She stopped walking. “The cultural center is in the old administration building, where the court used to be.”

Maddie exhaled a frustrated breath. Whatever the issue was, she would not be getting any explanation out of Nana. At least not today. She looked around. “The post office is gone,” she commented, remembering a small building that used to stand beneath their feet. Then she looked across the street to where Nana pointed. The long, low building looked just as it always had, rather like a camp headquarters.

Nana chuckled. “You have been gone a while. Well, if you don’t mind, child, I’ll leave you here. I need to get to the market, and you’ll want to spend some time at the center. Malaya worked so hard to get it up and running. All the volunteers did. She’s bound to quiz you all about it next time you drop by. If I were you, I wouldn’t miss a single exhibit.”

“I won’t,” Maddie agreed. She reached out and hugged Nana gratefully. “Thank you again, so much,” she gushed, her eyes moistening. “I will be back in no more than three weeks. I promise. I’ll get those ferry tickets if I have to eat nothing but peanut butter and ramen the entire time.”

“You do that,” Nana replied, her own dark eyes watering. “I’ll save you some shrimp.”