The Ohana (28 page)

“Mom?”

Her mother suddenly looked so small and defeated. Knowing it must have been difficult for her to admit what she had just said, Susan knelt in front of Mary and hugged her. “It’s hard to believe.” Susan could feel the tension go out of her body as her shoulders slumped in relief.

Mary leaned back and took Susan’s hands in her own. “That your mother is human and has made mistakes?”

“I guess it’s hard to live up to your child’s expectations.” Susan stood.

“Yes, it is.” Mary rose from the bed.

Susan looked her in the eye. “Did Jackie’s father break your heart?”

Mary put her hands on Susan’s shoulders. “No, he didn’t break my heart. We both knew what we were doing. And, I don’t hate
haoles
. I just think our worlds are too far apart.” She kissed Susan on the cheek. “Remember, I worked for them.”

“That was a long time ago. Your generation lives too much in the past.”

“Actually, we try very hard to forget the past. The memories are difficult. And every day little things happen to remind us nothing much has changed.”

Susan always thought of her as just her mother. She had always been there for them with an uncritical ear and boundless love. She never forced her opinions on them, although she made suggestions. But, a part of her mother was shrouded in secrecy. Susan never once thought of who the beautiful young girl she had seen in yellowed, torn pictures really was.

“Dad doesn’t think that way,” Susan said. “Dad just hates.

“Your father doesn’t know how to articulate what he feels.” Her mother sighed. “It’s an Oriental thing.”

“I don’t know how the two of you ever fell in love and got married. You’re so different. He’s prejudiced and stubborn.”

“When I first met your father, he was the one of the few people who showed Jackie and me kindness. I was kamikaze.” Mary looked away as if she were looking into the past. “Your father made me laugh. Don’t blame him too much for what has happened since.”

Susan shifted her feet. She loved her father, but she could never, ever understand why her mother put up with his gambling, drinking, and lack of ambition. As far back as she could remember her mother had been the principal breadwinner, slaving in the restaurant, only to see her father gamble the money away.

“I have to go. Is that what you wanted to talk to me about? Jimmy and Steve?”

“Your dad thinks one of them is your boyfriend.”

“Well, he’s right.” Susan folded her arms. “Are you going to tell him?”

“If you want him to know, you should tell him.”

“No. He’ll go crazy.”

“What do you plan to do? Continue sneaking around?” Mary cupped Susan’s chin in her hand and tried to make her look into her eyes.

"The eyes are the windows of a person’s soul," her mother often said, "if you want to know the truth about someone, look in their eyes."

So Susan looked her straight in the eye. “Yes.”

“I’m sure he already knows the truth,” Mary dropped her hand to her side. “I think he’s just afraid of admitting it to himself.”

“Sure, because then he would have to disown me like he promised he would a million times.”

“Out of curiosity, which one is it?” her mother asked.

“It’s Jimmy.”

“Oh,” she said. “Somehow I thought it would be Steve.”

Susan knew by his Kahala Avenue address Steve wasn’t poor. But she didn’t dream he lived on an estate.

“Steve, old buddy, you’ve been holding out on us.” Jimmy slapped him on the back. “Susan and I thought you were a poor college student living in Makiki and all along you’re a rich kid. Why didn’t you say something? I would have made you treat us all the time.”

Steve laughed. “Maybe that’s why.”

Susan’s eyes swept over the flawlessly executed Hawaiian-styled home. The main house was a curious blend of Island architecture heavily influenced by its Asian cousins. The U-shaped home opened up to magnificent Japanese gardens. The focal point was a giant banyan, its leafy arms spread wide over the beautifully manicured grounds. Tiki torches burned strategically, giving the estate a festive look. The gently rolling lawn dotted with coconut trees flowed into the glittering ocean.

Susan was intimidated. The house was so “un-Steve.”

“Steve, aren’t you going to introduce me to your friends?” The question came from a deep, husky voice with an uncertain accent.

Steve slouched and jammed his hands into his pockets, “Uh, sure, Dad. This is Susan and Jimmy. Meet my father, Sean.”

“Glad to meet you.” Sean kissed Susan on the cheek and shook Jimmy’s hand.

Susan was impressed. There wasn’t a movie star who had anything on him. Even his voice was sexy. Here was a man a woman of any age could fall for. He was sophisticated and the epitome of masculinity.

“I hope you'll enjoy the party.” Sean put his arm around Steve’s shoulder. “My wife and I encourage Steve to bring his friends around but I guess young people are not interested in being around old people.”

A pained look crossed Steve’s face and he looked away.

Sean removed his arm. “Why don’t you introduce your friends to your mother?”

“Yes sir.” Steve shifted his feet

“She’s over there by the bar,” Sean said with a smile. Then he nodded toward Jimmy and Susan. “Nice meeting you two.”

As his father walked away, Steve sighed. “Sorry, but we have a command performance before the Dragon Lady.”

Having met Steve’s father, Susan was unprepared for his mother.

The woman standing before them had broad-shoulders and the lean, muscular body of a runner. Her dyed-red hair looked like a sprayed helmet around her square face. The skin on her face looked like it had been pulled too tight by a plastic surgeon. She wore a green velvet muumuu which highlighted her one good feature, her eyes.

As Susan approached, Katherine’s eyes rested on Susan.

“So I finally get to meet your best friends.” Katherine put a bejeweled hand out first to Susan, then to Jimmy. “How charming. Steve told me everything about you.”

Behind her, Steve shook his head in denial.

A little smile played on Susan’s lips.

“I can assure you, he told us nothing about you.” Jimmy leaned over and stage-whispered in Katherine’s ear. “He’s very secretive … a man of mystery.”

Katherine tossed her head back and laughed. “And you’re the future pilot who is going to win the hearts of all the stewardesses.”

Jimmy bowed. “At your service.”

“Jimmy has Susan,” Steve said, keeping his eyes on Susan’s. “He doesn’t need anyone else.”

Jimmy put his arm around Susan’s waist. “My heart is true to Sue.”

“Very clever.” Steve picked a Mai Tai from a tray held by a caterer.

Mai Tai’s were offered to the rest of the group. Susan took a glass of water.

“A toast.” Jimmy raised his glass. “To your safe return.” The two men linked arms and drank. “You’re like a brother to me, Steve.”

Susan stepped forward and put her arms around both of them. “I love you guys.” Susan blinked back her tears. Although she was pro-war, things were different now. The war was intensely personal. One of her very best friends could actually die there.

Katherine cleared her throat. “I don’t understand what makes young men sign up to fight in a foreign country. I didn’t understand it when Steve’s father insisted on fighting Germans. I don’t understand it any better now.”

“The problem with you, Mother, is nothing beyond your world exists.” Steve reached over and placed his empty glass on a passing waiter’s tray.

“It’s a stupid war anyhow.” Katherine continued to sip her drink.

“Do you see dire plots in this war too?” A husky voice said from behind her.

Katherine swiveled around to face Sean. “It doesn’t make sense why my son wants to put his life in danger in some third world country,” Katherine complained.

“Mother …” Steve ran his fingers through his soon-to-be-shorn hair.

Sean looked at his son. “Steve needs to find his own way in the world.”

“He might get killed.” Katherine held her ice-cold glass to her forehead as she whispered the thought.

“He knows. But a man must make his own choices.”

Katherine wept.

The intimate moment made Susan uncomfortable. She was relieved when Sean waved them away.

The Three Musketeers spent their last night together on the beach in front of Steve’s house smoking grass and gazing at the starlit sky.

“There’s something I’ve always wanted to do here.” Steve sucked hard on the joint.

“What?” Susan asked as Steve passed the roach to her.

“Go skinny dipping.” Steve smiled.

“So then let’s do it!” Jimmy jumped up and began stripping. “Come on, Sue.”

Susan’s eyes widened.

“Last one in is a rotten egg!” Jimmy pulled her to her feet.

Steve was already undressed and running into the water. Susan hesitated, then pulled off her clothes and joined them. They splashed and played until they were exhausted. Then they crawled out onto the cool white sand. They sat enjoying the sound of the surf. The trade winds made goose pimples on their damp bodies. Susan pulled a towel over her even though their attitude toward each other was curiously sexless, yet intimate. No one felt embarrassed.

Steve leaned back on his elbows and gazed at the crescent moon. “I love both of you.”

No one embarrassed him by commenting.

Susan thought it was the most perfect moment in her life.

Vietnam: March 16, 1968

Steve lay on his belly and peered through the heavy brush, his rifle cocked and ready. Someone once said war was hell. He should have listened. What a way to learn how trying to do the right thing could end up being the biggest mistake in his life. It could even get him killed. But the worst part of it was he was now officially a killer.

The 11th Brigade—Charlie Company—had suffered heavy casualties during the Tet Offensive. Everyone was angry and discouraged. A stranger had died in Steve’s arms. The blood and gore was mind-numbing. His emotions crawled into a part of his brain that kept his mind safe from the madness.

Bob the Butcher patrolled one of the villages with him two weeks ago and he had seen first-hand how he got the name. Trigger-happy Bob wore his victim’s ears around his neck. As they cut through the jungle side by side, the brush crackled to the right of them. Steve saw a flash of blue dart through the trees. It was a small boy.

Without hesitation, Bob raised his rifle and shot the child.

Shocked, Steve swore. “He was just a kid!”

Bob put down his rifle. “He was Cong.”

“You don’t know that,” Steve cried out in frustration.

"One of my buddies was killed by a young boy who threw a grenade at him. There are no boys out here. Only Cong." Bob walked over to the body, his rifle slung on his shoulder. He kicked the boy over with his foot.

Steve was horrified. The boy looked no more than ten-years old.

Bob leaned down and cut off the boy’s ears.

Steve hung his head and refused to talk to Bob all the way back to camp.

The next day Steve saw Bob sitting with some of his buddies showing off his gory new acquisition while smoking pot laced with heroin. Ted, a kid from Milwaukee, noticed Steve and nudged Bob. Everyone in the group turned and stared. Someone said something Steven couldn't hear and everyone laughed. Walking away from the sound of derision, Steve asked to be taken off all patrols with Bob. His request was granted.

“If it had been a girl, she would've been raped first,” Jerry from Indiana said. “I saw Bob and some of his buddies rape a girl who was maybe twelve-years old before they killed her.”

The story made Steve physically ill. “I feel like I’m stuck in a bad dream with a bunch of insane people. Tell me, what do you think the Butcher and the rest of his guys were like back home?”

“Who knows? Probably punks and bullies. I know they smoke pot mixed with heroin. So maybe they’re just crazy.” Jerry shook his head, “All I know is I shouldn’t have flunked Science. Uncle Sam didn’t wait for me to make it up.”

Before Steve could reply, Lt. William Calley, their commanding officer, a college dropout like himself, walked up to him. “Come with me, Duffy. The village of My Lai is just ahead. We’re going on a search and destroy mission.”

Steve rose. “Have there been any reports of gunfire coming out of the village, sir?”

Lt. Calley didn’t answer. Taking one last drag from his cigarette, he ground it out under his boot. With a sideways glance, he motioned for Steve to follow.

Steve saw his unit fanned along the countryside, moving in eerie silence in the sunlight, their rifles ready, their steel bayonets glinting. The Butcher was the point man. His cronies followed behind.

The villagers stopped their activities as soon as the Butcher and his unit stepped into the village. Butcher Bob turned his head. His bloodshot, glassy eyes met the lieutenant’s. As Jerry said, Bob and his group were high most of the time. Steve saw Lt. Calley nod.

Even from the distance, Steve could see the whites of Bob’s teeth gleaming against his sunburned skin when he smiled. Bob raised his left arm and sliced the air with his hand. With a whoop, Bob and his men began gunning down the villagers. People either fell or scattered. A slim young girl ran toward the rice paddies. Several soldiers bounded after her. Even from a distance, Steve could see them tearing off her clothes before raping and sodomizing her. He started toward them, but Lt. Calley put his hand out and stopped him. Steve’s eyes were glued to the macabre scene. After the soldiers were done, they laughed and let the bleeding and naked girl run from them. One of the soldiers put a bullet in the screaming girl.

It was a scene from hell.

Steve’s heart pounded; tears filled his eyes. Why didn’t Lt. Calley stop the slaughter? Instead, Lt. Calley motioned for him to keep moving. As they walked through the village, white-haired people fell to their knees, bowing to them with their heads touching the ground. Steve saw them bayoneted, shot, or clubbed right where they knelt. Hundreds of men, women, and little children were massacred. He couldn’t stop crying.

Steve’s insides rumbled. He fought down his vomit when he saw soldiers tear the shirts from their victims and carve “C Company” on their chests with knives. The crazed weapons of destruction, his fellow soldiers, were taxi drivers, students, fathers, sons, and musicians back home. Caught up in the killing frenzy, their faces were etched in hatred, their eyes enflamed with madness, as they entered a place where humanity ceased to exist. The more blood spilled, the crazier they seemed to get. Some of them ran around grinning, their bayonets dripping with blood, their uniforms soaked a deep scarlet.

Bob cut off a villager's ears then beheaded him. Grinning maniacally, he placed his grisly trophy on a stake.

Lt. Calley halted in front of a group of villagers some of his men had rounded up. The Vietnamese dropped to their knees and wrung their hands. Hysterical women cried as their children clung to them.

“Shoot them,” Lt. Calley ordered with dead calm.

“No sir, they’re unarmed,” Steve took a step backward. “For God’s sake, Lieutenant, they’re begging for their lives,”

“Are you disobeying a direct order, soldier?” Lt. Calley’s jaw tightened. His soulless eyes fixed on the screaming crowd.

“Yes sir,” Steve threw down his rifle.

“What about you, soldier?” Lt. Calley said to the soldier on the other side of him.

The soldier shrugged. “Whatever you say sir,” the soldier jammed his rifle butt into his shoulder and aimed. As if he thought better of it, he hesitated.

“Shoot them! That’s an order,” Lt. Calley and the soldier mowed down the villagers.

When the smoke cleared the air, bodies were piled haphazardly in numerous heaps. Lt. Calley and the other gunner walked through the bodies, shooting anyone who moved.

Steve picked up his rifle and ran. In the midst of the chaos, he saw other shocked soldiers fleeing the massacre. He passed a soldier on his knees, his face lifted to the sky. Tears streaked his grimy face and his hands were lifted, palms up, in supplication.

The soldier cried out, “Oh God, my God, forgive us for our sins.”

The prayer tore at Steve’s heart. He stopped and fell to his knees next to the soldier and asked the God he barely knew to stop the slaughter.

The next day, he wrote to Susan.