Falling Forward (9 page)

“Sorry, I didn’t have a chance to clean it up. Had a lesson book late today. Barely had time to get changed. Buckle up – we’re gonna have to hurry.” He started the engine and looked over towards me playfully. “You might want to put a helmet on, too.” He laughed. I half-wondered if he was serious as I fastened my seatbelt. Kalani pulled out of the driveway slowly. He peered around carefully, as if to ensure me he was purposefully being cautious and looking for loose bags, or more importantly, loose people.

I took the opportunity to see the real Waikiki. Kalani took the back streets, because traffic was usually terrible this time of day. He skirted through roadways like a seasoned taxi jockey. We came up on a street running parallel to a canal. “You see that canal? That’s the Ala Wai. It looks pretty. But the water is filthy. They drained sewage back in the day into the canal. Now, it’s full of garbage. People up on the hills use the run off for cleaning, and, well, other not so nice things. It tested positive for the kind of bacteria that causes food poisoning, arsenic, lead and mercury. Some haole got pushed in a couple years back and his skin was eaten by bacteria or something. He died in the hospital a couple days later. Even so, people still have canoe races in there. It’s lolo, man. That’s why the boats are so wide – people are scared of falling in!”

I laughed at his expression, although inside I was sad at the realization that mankind had spoiled yet another paradise. I understand that progress has costs associated with it, but we need to get a little better at cleaning up our messes. I asked Kalani where he lived. He told me he shared a small house with someone up on the North Shore, not too far from the shrimp stand where we ran into him yesterday. Kalani smiled. His smiling profile was just as attractive as his full-on face. “Hey, that was some save yesterday. I forgot to tell you, the woman is going to be alright. Everyone at the shrimp stand is calling you
life saver
.”

I smiled. “See? All of us haoles aren’t all bad.”

Kalani sat straight up. “Oh, shit, I just realized I said that!” He put his hands on my shoulders. “I am so sorry, Liv. Damn! It’s just that… it’s like you’re like me, you’re one of us. You’re so Hawaiian. I don’t even think of you as anything else!” He sat back in his seat. “That’s kind of weird, isn’t it?”

I was actually fine with the slur – I didn’t take it personally. I completely understood the atrocities that had occurred on these islands, beginning with Captain Cook in the 1700s. There were very few true-blooded Hawaiians left thanks to the haole invaders. But tensions were still very high between anyone who had dark and light skin, no matter what their ethnic backgrounds were. Michelle had told me about something called Kill Haole Day – supposedly a Hawaiian school tradition, usually on the last day of school, when dark-skinned children would hassle their light-skinned classmates. Most haole parents opt to keep their children home on that day, since the last day of school is usually a waste of time anyway. I was kind of tickled that Kalani considered me to be a real Hawaiian. I decided it might be better if
I blew the whole thing off.

“That was
your
save, my friend. I’m glad you mentioned Carol wasn’t feeling well. You were spot on with those symptoms – quite observant for a layman, I might add.
You
actually were the life saver. I was just doing my job. Besides, it gave me an excuse to leave that awful chicken-catfish, or whatever that was.”

“
Whaaaat
? You don’t like the shrimp stand? That place is awesome! Wait…” he laughed and took a breath. “Don’t tell me you actually ordered
chicken
at a shrimp stand…” I bit my bottom lip in embarrassment. “Oh no, you didn’t. I mean, who does that?” I laughed hysterically. I hoped he didn’t find my laugh annoying. A rather loud cackle slipped out. I nearly choked while trying to hold it in. “You know, you should give it one more try. Let me order for you next time and we’ll see if I can change your mind. I have people there.”

I frowned again. “We’re not going…
there
, for dinner, are we?” I asked, trying frantically to remain positive while obviously conveying my disillusionment. “Because, well, I might need a day or two to digest that.” Besides, that was outside. And muddy. And I had a bright yellow dress on.

He laughed again. “No, no, this is special. Besides, what kind of guide would I be if I took you somewhere you’ve already been? Trust me, Liv.”

Trust me
. Ugh. I got chills – the nasty kind of chills. That’s the line Richard always used when he was trying to rope in some hapless wealthy retired person in an effort to let him manage his investments. I hated investment brokers. Richard himself admitted he was basically a con artist. People didn’t need financial advisors, but the industry had done a terrific job at convincing brainless people that advisors were not optional. I wanted to trust Kalani. But I had a hard time trusting anyone who asked me to
trust them
. I knew I was going to have to get all those poisonous Richardisms out of my head if I was to survive, and I realized that would take a considerable effort.

Kalani slowed down. On the right side of the street, there was a young boy who looked like he was having trouble with a bicycle. Kalani pulled into a driveway and parked the van. “Hey, is it okay if we stop here for a minute?”

“Yeah, sure,” I responded quickly, wondering what he was up to.

“Cool. Hang here if you want, I should only be a minute or two.” He got out of the truck and walked over to the boy. The boy looked up at Kalani and looked surprised – his eyes opened as large as baseballs. Initially, I thought the boy was scared, but it looked like he knew Kalani. Kalani looked at the bike, and did something with the chain. He came back to the van and opened the toolbox sitting next to the front seat. “Chain fell off,” he told me as he was digging through his toolbox. “Kids don’t have much here, so I try to help when I can.” He smiled as he found a wrench, then walked back and fixed the chain for the boy. The boy smiled from ear to ear as Kalani showed him his bicycle was fixed. The boy gave Kalani a great big hug and then rode off, looking back, still smiling. Kalani came back to the van. He found a rag under his seat and wiped the grease from his hands. I was floored.

“That was really sweet. Do you know that boy?” I asked.

“No, not really. I just try to do the right thing. That’s what made Hawaii so great – we all work together. You never know when you’ll need a little help.” He put the wrench back into the toolbox and the rag back under his seat, then closed his door. “I guess I see that in you too. You could have sat back and ignored that thing with Carol. A lot of people do that. Instead you stepped up. That was good shaka.”

“Good
what
? What is
shata
?”

Kalani laughed hysterically at my mispronunciation. “
Shata
? You don’t know what
shata
is?” He paused to catch his breath. I felt silly. The last thing I wanted was for Kalani to think I was just another haole. I had always been a chameleon – able to change my attitude, disposition, and even my accent at times to blend in to just about any situation. Apparently, this time I had failed miserably. “Really? You don’t know what shata is? Oh, I’m going to have to teach you all about shata. Remind me later, OK?” He laughed again. I didn’t get the joke, but I really wanted to. Kalani’s laugh was cute and redeeming.

We pulled into a hotel called Halekulani' in a busy part of town. The valet greeted me as he opened my door. Kalani hugged the valet as he walked around the far side of the van. They exchanged some dialogue as he took Kalani’s key. Kalani tried to hand him a tip, but the valet waved it away. It almost seemed like Kalani was some sort of local celebrity. Who was this guy? So much to learn. At least celebrities aren’t usually dangerous. Too much to lose. I figured this would be interesting. He walked around to my side, opened my door, and put his arm out. “Shall we?” I carefully stepped down, then placed my arm inside of his and he escorted me up the marble steps. Several curious onlookers watched our every move. Some took pictures with their cell phones. That was weird.

We walked through an open-air lobby with beautiful décor. Well-kept wicker furniture with bright cushions. A gorgeously kept slate floor with quaint seating areas. Everyone who worked there was very well dressed and didn’t hesitate to greet us with what appeared to be a genuinely warm smile. Directly ahead of us was a long open air courtyard with perfectly manicured grass and landscaping, surrounded by the hotel. We walked to the left, passing what looked like some pretty exclusive stores. I noticed there was a wedding ceremony happening towards the end of the courtyard. Behind them was a gorgeous reception room with glass doors leading to the ocean. The Caucasian bride was absolutely stunning, wearing a gorgeous long white beaded dress with an immaculate train. The groom was wearing a white tuxedo with tails. The flower girl was tossing pink and purple flowers in front of the bride. It was simply beautiful. Kalani smiled as we walked by.

We turned left at the end of the walkway. To the left was a pool. To the right, there was a bustling entrance to an open-air restaurant on a patio called House Without a Key. I thought about the name for a while as Kalani went to check on our reservation, wondering how someone would come up with such a name. It sounded entirely inviting to someone open minded, like myself. Although upon first glance, the name sounds dangerously like a bordello. If I hadn’t seen it for myself, I might have been worried. Kalani came back quickly, and we were escorted to our table.

Kalani pulled my chair out for me. I thanked him as I took my seat. Apparently, he took his gentleman thing pretty seriously. We were seated directly in front of a small stage, where a musician was busy tuning several guitars. The sun was beginning its slow descent into the calm ocean as the sky began to appear iridescent, with the strange natural phenomenon of twilight further enhancing the illumination of my already fluorescent yellow dress.

“My God, you are gorgeous. It’s like you are glowing in this light, like an angel! May I take a picture of you?” said a random stranger, an older gentleman, with a camera sporting a very large lens. I didn’t know what to think. I looked at Kalani, and he shrugged in approval. “I’m doing a photo shoot for a magazine featuring some of the local spots here in Waikiki, and I’d love to have you on the cover; the both of you, as a matter of fact. Would you mind?” I joined in on Kalani’s shrug. I asked him what we should do – if he wanted us to pose. He told us to look natural, whatever that was. I smiled at Kalani and we both instinctively looked out towards the sunset. The photographer snapped several photographs. He pulled out a small notepad and a pen from his shirt pocket. “Now, um, which Miss Hawaii are you?” He could see my clueless expression. Kalani turned away to cover his snicker. “What year did you get your crown?”

I found out a few moments later that this restaurant features a sunset party hosted by one of several former Miss Hawaiis each night. Apparently, this poor misguided gentleman must have thought I was a former Miss Hawaii. I didn’t have the foggiest clue what he was talking about. “Two thousand and eight, wasn’t it, dear?” said Kalani, as he turned to me and winked. The man and his wife were very excited. I didn’t correct him. We followed through and posed for several pictures in front of the gate leading to a small walkway above the water. I felt a bit guilty misleading this man, but whatever. I really had nothing to lose. Kalani asked if the man would forward the photos to him, and he agreed. I walked around the perimeter for a moment while they exchanged information. Kalani told him the truth, and the photographer didn’t seem to mind at all.

It was easy to see why this location was selected for a photo shoot. The grounds were breathtaking. The ocean breeze and the roar of its waves permeated the background, not that you can see that in a photograph, but it’s not difficult to imagine in the right shot. A large and beautiful Kiawe tree adorns the left side of the stage. The scenery could have been a painting. It probably has been in a painting or two. I’ve heard this place was featured in an old Charlie Chan novel.

For the first time in my life, I felt like a celebrity. I felt special! I smiled for several more photographs taken by other people who had gathered around to see what was happening, secretly hoping someone at home would catch one and show it to Richard. After all, I was apparently Miss Hawaii now. As I came to my senses, I hoped this little white lie wouldn’t snowball into an embarrassing avalanche and affect my reputation at work.

We returned to our table. A waiter came by and asked for our drink order. “Uh… I don’t know. I’m not a big drinker.” He looked towards another table for guidance, and pointed towards their drinks. “Two Mai Tais, I suppose,” said Kalani, as he turned towards me for approval. I nodded in agreement.

“Ah, the house specialty. Right away, Mr. Kaleo,” replied the older Hawaiian waiter. I wondered how he knew Kalani’s last name. He dropped off a bunch of cocktail napkins and basket of what looked to be baked potato chips. I was starving, so I dug right in. Kalani smiled. While munching, I browsed one of their menus. At this point, everything sounded delicious. Kalani interjected.

“Can I make a recommendation, Liv? This place has a gourmet barbeque in the back, over to the left. Mind-blowing ribs, if you’re into that kind of thing.” Ribs sounded terrific, but I remembered I had a bright yellow dress on. One wrong move and the entire South Pacific might know.