The Descendants (23 page)

THE SECURITY LINE
is longer than it should be. Still, most of the people in line seem content, which is irritating. There’s nothing worse than being angry and seeing tranquil faces all around you. Security is checking everyone’s bags, even though we’re just going inter-island.

“I swear they do this just to feel like real security, which isn’t really something to aspire to,” Alex says.

Thank God my daughter isn’t a happy person. We watch a man rifle through the bag of the woman ahead of us. Her hair is crispy and white, and her back is rounded with a bump the size of a hard hat. The man shakes a package, then puts it back in her bag.
It could have been a grenade,
I want to say.
If you’re going to check, then check.

Four boys right in front of us are being asked where their shoes are.

“We knew we had to take ’em off,” one says. “So we never went wear any.”

“Never wore any,” Scottie says. The boys look back at her. They all have shark’s-tooth necklaces around their necks, and their stomachs are stout and hard. One carries a ukulele and has a tribal tattoo entwined around his right leg. Another wears a tank top that reveals the entire side of his torso, a black nipple, and a wild bushel of armpit hair. I look back at Scottie, pretending I don’t know who she is.

“You need shoes,” the security woman says.

“Why?” the shortest boy of the group says. Security pulls a fish out of his cooler. It’s black and its fat lips are parted, a gelatinous eye wide open. It looks appalled. The woman picks up the fish by its tail, and the three boys look on proudly.

“Gross,” Scottie says.

Alex takes Scottie by the sleeve and pulls her back and says something to her. “Nice catch,” Sid says and all the boys nod. Another security officer comes to the table and waves me forward. I don’t have much in my carry-on, just my wallet and some work in a binder. He looks at what’s on top, then moves on to the girls, and I do all I can to keep myself quiet.
If I had a bomb,
I want to say,
wouldn’t I do a better job of hiding it?
He skips Scottie’s bag and checks Alex’s with more thoroughness than he used with mine. He pulls out a pack of Marlboro Reds.

Scottie gasps and looks at me, her eyes wide open like the fish’s. “Are you going to spank her?”

The security guard looks at me and hesitates, then hands me the cigarettes.

I hand them back to him. “She’s an adult,” I say to him, but for Scottie to hear. “She makes her own choices.”

With a sort of reverence, Scottie looks at the cigarettes being placed back in her sister’s bag, and as we walk out to the gate, I sense something has shifted. Alex walks beside me and Scottie walks behind her, not saying a word. “Were those your cigarettes?” Scottie asks Sid.

“No,” he says. He pats his pocket. “Mine are here.”

She looks at me, almost angry that I’m not reprimanding her sister.

“Get over it, Scottie,” Alex says.

DURING THE FLIGHT,
Scottie is quiet and Alex reads magazines about dangerously thin actresses. Scottie writes in a notebook. They sit on either side of me like wings. Sid is across the aisle. I look over and see him studying the laminated safety card with great concentration. The flight attendant passes out cartons of guava juice. The barefoot boys miraculously made it onto the plane; I can hear one of them playing the ukulele. My mind is blank. I feel I need a game plan, but I can’t seem to think of one other than:
Find him.

Scottie is writing down something with purpose.

Alex looks out the window, seeming defeated. I nudge her. “What if the doctor’s wrong?” she asks. “What if she’s okay and she’ll wake up?”

“Even if,” I say, “she’d be—” I try to think of a good word. “She’d be broken.”

“I know,” Alex says. “I get it.”

I look out the window at Kauai, its steep cliffs and sharp coast. I usually look forward to coming here. There are two-lane roads and one-lane bridges and long, deserted beaches. Everything moves at a slow, slack pace, and I hope to mimic the island’s ease. I wonder what he’s doing right now. If he’s waiting to cross a bridge, if he’s in a hotel boardroom or having a business lunch, if he’s relaxing on the beach. I wonder if he knows what I look like, if he’s been in my bedroom and has seen pictures of me on the dresser. I’m going to change this man’s life.

As we descend, I glance over at Scottie’s paper to see what she’s working on that has consumed her so. I read:
I will not make fun of big Hawaiians. I will not make fun of big Hawaiians.
This promise fills the page. I look over at Alex and gesture to Scottie.

“What?” Alex says. “I handled it.”

SCOTTIE WATCHES FOR
our bags with Sid, and I ask Alex what Scottie thinks we’re doing on Kauai.

“I told her we’re looking for a friend of Mom’s.”

I look around the airport. I keep thinking I’ll see Brian or at least someone I know. It’s hard to go anywhere here without running into someone you know; you can’t get lost on an island. I wonder if we should move, head for the hills of Arkansas or some ridiculous place.

Sure enough, I hear, “Yo, Matt King!” and cringe, recognizing the voice of one of my cousins. I don’t know which one. I don’t even know all of their names—they all look the same, like chestnut horses. I turn to see Ralph, aka Boom—God knows what that’s supposed to mean. All of the cousins have nicknames with mysterious origins that imply something rowdy or nautical. Ralph is wearing an outfit almost identical to mine: khakis and a Reyn’s Spooner, rubber slippers and a briefcase, the briefcase proving he has some responsibilities in the world. I don’t know what he does. I don’t know what any of them do. To their credit, the cousins are not greedy or gaudy or ostentatious. Their sole purpose in life is to have fun. They Jet Ski, motocross, surf, paddle, run triathlons, rent islands in Tahiti. Indeed, some of the most powerful people in Hawaii look like bums or stuntmen. I think of our bloodline’s progression. Our missionary ancestors came to the islands and told the Hawaiians to put on some clothes, work hard, and stop hula dancing. They make some business deals on the way, buying an island for ten grand, or marrying a princess and inheriting her land, and now their descendants don’t work. They have stripped down to running shorts or bikinis and play beach volleyball and take up hula dancing.

Ralph slaps my back. He grins and nods repeatedly. He looks at Alex and I know he has forgotten her name. She walks away from us to Sid. I almost tug her back so I won’t be alone with Ralph.

“You’re looking tan,” I say.

He keeps grinning and says, “All right.” I know that the tan has been sprayed on. “Are you here to talk to some of the cousins?” he asks. “Make sure they’re happy with your choice?”

“No,” I say. “Tell you the truth, I want to make a decision without being influenced by the majority.”

“Right,” he says and looks confused. “How’s Joanie?”

“She’s the same,” I say.

“She’s a strong lady,” Ralph says.

“Yes,” I say. “She’s strong.”

We both feign interest in the circling luggage.

“I saw her a few months ago,” he says. “Right before…She looked good, too.” He stares into the distance. He slaps my back. “She’ll be fine.”

“I know,” I say, wanting to escape from this conversation, but then I see an opportunity. “Hey, is your car here?”

“Yeah,” he says. “You need a ride? Princeville?”

“That would be great.”

I see Sid carrying all of our bags. His eyes are bloodshot. The pot has made him mute. Am I supposed to confront him about smoking pot in my house? Is Alex doing it? Or do I just let it go? Sail away out of my care. Let it all go. Easy.

“You okay?” I ask Sid.

“What?”

“Are you all right, I said.”

“Yeah,” Sid says. “Just thinking about some things.”

We follow Ralph to the parking lot. I force my shoulders down and take a deep breath. I watch my family walking ahead of me. They look normal from the back. They look good.

RALPH HAS A
Jeep Wrangler, which thrills Scottie and even Alex to a barely perceptible extent. Sid’s hair flies up, making him look as though he’s being electrocuted. It’s the most uncomfortable car I have ever been in. Even as we drive down smooth and flat roads, I feel as though we’re out of control.

“I’m starving,” Scottie yells from the back, and then I hear, “Ow,” and I wonder if Alex has hit her. I don’t want to know.

“I notice you have a Ducati shirt on.” Ralph looks in the rearview mirror at Alex. “Do you know how to ride?”

“Yes,” Alex says. “My mom taught me.”

“What?” he yells over the wind.

“Yes!” Alex yells.

“Did your mom teach you? Or this guy?” He punches my arm, and I look at the spot where his fist touched me.

“My mom,” Alex says.

Joanie rode a Ducati. It surprises me that Alex is wearing the shirt. “Where did you see Joanie?” I ask Ralph. It would be so embarrassing if everyone knew about her lover but me. Her lover. Jesus.

“I saw her at the last shareholders’ meeting,” Ralph says.

“Joanie?”

“Yeah. Remember?”

“Oh, sure,” I say, having no idea what he’s talking about. “I remember.” I imagine her jumping on a flight, going to a shareholders’ meeting, then coming right back in time to pick up Scottie. That makes no sense.

“You’re lucky you have someone that fired up speaking on your behalf.”

“Right,” I say.

“I’m hungry!” Scottie yells again.

Ralph careens off the main road and into Kapaa, then drives into the parking lot of the fish market. The gravel crunches loudly under his tires, and when he stops, we all fall forward then back. I give Alex money to get some poke to tide us over. Sid gets out of the car and Scottie follows. He raises his arms over his head and bends to the right and Scottie looks at his stomach.

When they walk toward the store, I ask, “So, what did she say? At the meeting?”

“Oh, she was saying how it was ridiculous not to accept Holitzer’s offer. He had a solid plan and he was going to open up so many opportunities for Kauai and so on. And as the largest shareholder and last direct descendant, you’d appreciate everyone’s support because it was going to happen with or without our consent. That’s what she said. It kind of pissed people off. I don’t know about Holitzer, though. He isn’t the highest bidder. Don’t we want to go with highest bid? Doesn’t that make sense?”

“She liked his plan.” I look at Ralph, hoping for more clues. “She liked that he’d lease some land to the conservancy. And with the rest, he’s just selling off and subdividing, right?”

“And redeveloping when leases expire.”

“Sure,” I say. Her actions don’t make sense. All the buyers’ plans are pretty much the same. Everyone’s going to bring in new businesses, develop the land, develop homes, then sell the land and the homes. Why would she sneak off to a meeting behind my back? Why would she bully my cousins?

“I want to work with you guys, Ralph. You know that, don’t you? I know I have a big vote, but I’m not here to make people angry.”

“I’m heading to Princeville!” Ralph says.

“That’s right,” I say. He’s like a child.

“No way!”

I nod, not really knowing how to respond, but then I see that he’s talking into one of those little headpiece phones, and I feel immensely foolish. The girls come out of the shop with cartons of poke and plastic forks. Sid carries a few candy bars and about five small bags of chips. We continue on, driving past a few of my ancestors’ homes that have been turned into museums. I point them out to the girls. They’ve seen them before but look anyway. Ralph slows as we pass the estate, the tropical gardens, the tourists riding in carriages pulled by Clydesdale horses.

“It used to be a sugar plantation,” Scottie says.

“That’s right,” I say. I look at the house, thinking it strange that the ancient inhabitants have somehow shaped the lives of people they never met or even considered. Am I shaping the life of a bunch of people who haven’t been born?