The Tattoo (29 page)

I saw the Pathfinder approach. Before Claudia even made a complete stop, I opened the door and jumped in. “Let’s go,” I said.

She looked at the smashed cars. I looked at her. “Let’s go,” I said again.

She turned the Pathfinder around and drove towards Ka‘a‘awa.

I didn’t even go into the house. I grabbed my wetsuit and diving gear from the garage and walked toward the beach. I felt Claudia grab my arm. She was saying something, but I wasn’t listening. I pulled my arm out of her grasp and marched toward the sand. She was screaming and following me.

When I reached the shore, I took off my clothes and put on my wetsuit.The entire time Claudia was yelling at me. Ignoring her, I put on my mask. When the fog built up in the glass, I couldn’t see her either. While I was putting on my fins, I felt her hitting the top of my head. I felt for my dive light, bang stick and spear. I think she took it as a threat. I didn’t feel her hitting me anymore. It pissed me off that she thought I would actually spear her or something, that she thought I was like Koa. Before putting the snorkel in my mouth, I yelled, “Get back in da fuckin’ house and leave me da fuck alone!”

Before I could hear her response, I quickly slipped into the black water and slithered out toward the horizon.

The water was freezing. The rain dirtied the water, so visibility was bad. I swam over the spot where my father had thrown me in years before. Without even looking for fish, I swam out in the sand fog toward Chinaman’s Hat. It was a long swim, but I kept heading out.The tide was high, so the reef in front of Chinaman’s Hat was easily deep enough to swim over. I kept my head down and kicked hard. I shined the light ahead of me. The water was cold and dirty so I couldn’t really see too far in front of me. I didn’t have enough room in my head to worry about it. All I could really see was the image of Kahala’s dead body held up by the seat belt. All I could really feel was hatred for Koa. I kept telling myself that his killing and my killing were different from each other. My body shook because I feared they were not.

By the time I reached the island, I was blowing hard through the snorkel. I took a deep breath and swam behind the island. I tried to look for fish there, hoping the hunt would clear my head. Every time I dove and stuck my head under a deep crevice and saw a fish camouflaged by the dirty water, I hesitated. I was letting fish go left and right. I was making myself even angrier. I stuck my head out of the surface of the water and spit out the snorkel. I shined my light toward the horizon, which was so dark and far away that I couldn’t see it. I turned around and shined the light towards Chinaman’s Hat. I looked at the massive head and watched the surf crash into the rocks on the back of the island. There was no sand on this side, only a rocky surface. I turned back around, not knowing which direction to go. Suddenly I felt a cramp hit my foot. Reaching for my foot, I dropped my spear. I put the light in my mouth and grabbed my foot with both hands. Bending my toes back, I began to sink. As my head sank below the surface, I held my breath and closed my eyes.

I felt something bump me and my eyes shot open.The light fell out of my mouth, but I caught it with my hand. I shined the light away from me while I spun in circles. I squinted my eyes, trying to see beyond the dirty water. I felt the strong current drag me closer and closer to Chinaman’s Hat. Just as I turned toward the island, I saw the tiger shark gliding out of the darkness. It was the biggest I had ever seen. As it neared, I frantically kicked away from it without turning my back. I saw the bubbles rise from my kicking fins. Through the bubbles, I saw the head of the shark grow bigger and bigger. Suddenly, I felt like giving up. I almost hoped for the shark to reach me and bite me in half. I reached down to the leg of my wetsuit to make it stop kicking. Instead of feeling my leg, I felt the bang stick strapped on my thigh.

I banged the shit out of it. I slammed the stick on its gills and watched as pieces of the shark exploded on the other side of it. It looked like twenty pounds of its flesh had disintegrated from its body. The clouds of blood spread and dirtied the water even more. Like a smoking airplane crashing with wings not big enough to glide, the shark began its decent into the darkness. Its body shook uncontrollably as it disappeared from the shining of my light. With the bang stick in my hand, I kicked my way back to shore.

When I reached Kualoa Beach Park, I ripped off my mask and threw the bang stick and light on the sand. My lungs felt like they were about to explode. I dropped down in the sand. It had stopped raining. I listened to my heavy breathing. I heard the wind blow against the palm trees behind me. I looked toward the ocean and saw the white wash creep upon the sand. I listened and wept as the water hit the sand, making each grain smaller and smaller.

I didn’t get back home until about four in the morning. Through the entire walk, I had wondered whether Claudia was still at the house. I didn’t think so. I didn’t think I would be. If she were home, I knew I’d give everything for her. I knew we’d fly to the mainland that morning if that was what she wanted. I had had enough of the Windward side. While walking along the side of Kam Highway, I knew I should’ve been running, but after the swim, after the entire night, I could no longer run. My legs wobbled with each step I took. I hoped she was home because if she was not, it meant she’d gone back to Mama-san, and if she went back, I didn’t know whether I would chase her. I didn’t feel like I could kill or run any longer. When I reached the house, I was surprised to see the living room light was still on. When I heard the screaming, I rushed toward the light.

The place was trashed. The television was turned over, its face of glass shattered. Shards of glass were spread over the carpet. A lamp was also on the floor. The shade was off and the bright bulb momentarily blinded me. I looked at the sofa and saw two suitcases full of clothes open as pieces of Claudia’s clothes hung from the edges. My fatigue instantly faded as I saw Claudia, lying in front of the glass case, with my father standing above her with both fists clenched.

“What da fuck is goin’ on?”

My father looked toward me. His face was the angriest I had ever seen.“She tried fo’ fuckin’ leave when you wasn’t home. I told her fo’ wait, but she neva like listen. I fuckin’ told her wait. Den she went tell me ‘fuck you’ and called me one fuckin’ Jap. I no give a fuck who you are, you call me one Jap, I goin’ fuckin’ whack you.”

I ran toward them and shoved my father away from Claude. I bent down and turned her on her back. Tears streaked out of her eyes. She was holding her stomach. Her eyes closed tightly, like she suddenly felt intense pain. I looked up at my father and said, “Call one fuckin’ ambulance!”

I looked back down at Claude. She yelled, “Get the fuck away from me!”

“It’s me Claude, it’s Ken. Don’t worry.”

“Get the fuck away from me!”

I looked to see where my father was. He put down the phone. “She shouldn’t have called me one fuckin’ Jap.”

After Claude screamed, “Get the fuck away from me!” one more time, I stood up and stepped toward my father. I looked down at his face and said, “You are a fuckin’ Jap.”

“You dumb fuckin’ kid,” he said. “I was killing fuckas befo’ you was even born.” Then he hit me. My legs were still wobbly from all the running, swimming and walking I had done the entire night. I couldn’t hold myself up. I felt my legs take three frantic steps back until I felt my heel hit Claudia’s body. I tripped and fell through the glass case. After I had landed, I glanced at my hands and arms. Both were streaked with blood. I looked down at Claudia on the floor holding her stomach. Pieces of glass surrounded her. She looked like a swordtail whose fish bowl had been dropped on the ground. My father stepped toward me with that crazy, angry look on his face. He looked magnificent. The hatred pumped through my body, but instead of transforming to rage, my hate turned into something cold. I felt behind me and touched the hilt of the fallen katana. I looked up at my father and smiled. His expression didn’t change. I felt my arm pull the blade of the katana from its sheath. My father’s face flinched as I jumped at him with the naked blade. For a moment I saw a brilliant light. A light so intense that it should have blinded me. But it didn’t. I stared right into it. When the light vanished, nothing was left but darkness.

It was the
longest session yet. Ken seemed to speak slower during this session, not wanting the story to end. Cal had spent the overtime touching up. The signs of sunlight somehow crept through the cement walls and steel door. Darkness slowly evaporated as a dull light bloomed slowly in the cell. Soon the guards would buzz the doors and notify the prisoners that it was time for breakfast. Cal was neither hungry nor tired.
He sat in back of the now silent Ken, looking at the finished tattoo.

Ken got up and stretched. He turned around and shook Cal’s hand. “Thanks.”

Cal knew the blinding hatred which had brought Ken here. For years he had recognized the cutting of his throat as a kind of penance, a punishment for what he had done to his wife and kids, but now he missed his voice. He wanted to ask Ken questions, he wanted to tell Ken his story, but most of all he wanted to say, “Hey, even though I’m white, I know your story because it’s so much like mine.”

Cal felt the scar on his throat. Ken put his hand on Cal’s shoulder. “Must be tough not being able to talk.”

Cal nodded. “Did you like the story?” Ken asked.

Cal nodded again. “Why?” Ken asked.

Cal put his index finger on Ken’s chest. Then he put his other index on his own. Cal moved both fingers away then put them together. He kept both fingers side by side for a few seconds, then extended his arms while the fingers stayed parallel to each other.

Ken smiled. “Either you’re proposing marriage or you’re trying to tell me that you lived a similar life.”

Cal put up two fingers. Ken laughed.“Number two, thank God.”

Cal smiled. Ken sat down against the wall. “Well, let me get a little philosophical with you, then. I guess when I think of me, Koa, my father — hell all of the boys, and think about how we grew up, it occurs to me that people are like things being built. I mean, I don’t know what they build in places like Beverly Hills, lawyers, doctors, who knows, but I do know what’s being built on the Windward side. Bombs are being built. We’re like old-time artisans down there, passing down our bomb-making skills from generation to generation. Only, it’s not that simple because as we make these bombs we are almost arbitrarily rationed a certain amount of each ingredient. Like take Koa. Uncle James and Aunty Kanani wanted to make a weak bomb out of him but they were given a ton of gunpowder and a short fuse. Me, I think I came with less powder and more fuse, but unfortunately my father was a master bomb builder. The army taught him, I guess. Hell, Claudia, she was like one of those crazy bomb squad people trying to defuse the booby trap. Luckily, when I exploded, she took a step back. My father took it, though. It’s the tragic life of a bomb-maker or bomb-defuser, you’ve got a good chance of blowing yourself away.”

Ken walked to his box of books. He picked up his copy of Native Son and Invisible Man. “You see,” he said, “books like this, they show problems and try to explain why. I don’t know why. I can say race, but it’s not that simple, especially in Hawai‘i. It’s not just black and white, it’s Hawaiian, haole, Japanese, Chinese, Korean, Filipino, Samoan, Vietnamese. I could go on and on. Hell, look at you, you’re white, but you went through the same kind of shit. I think of Koa, he’s Hawaiian, and even though his people got the total fuck-over, that’s not the only reason why he blew up. Me, the Japanee? Fuck, I don’t know. All I know is that I’m part-son, part-lover, part-killer, part-Japanese, and part of some DNA strand named Kenji Hideyoshi. It’s funny, I think about race and sometimes feel that it would be a lot easier if we were actually that different from each other. I ain’t here because of race, I’m here because I’m human. But I’m an individual, too. And as Ken Hideyoshi, all I can do is get the fuck out of here, accept what I am, and make sure I never come back. No matter what happens, though, I live with the comfort that Claude and the kid will be o.k. It keeps me going.”