The Tattoo (11 page)

I thought about the sword on the ride home, thought about how it was kept in a glass case. I realized the purpose of the glass wasn’t to keep people from touching it. Fragile glass was the wrong material for that purpose. Glass was used for display purposes. The Hideyoshis wanted people to see it in all its glory, especially family. It represented strength and danger, it was to be passed down from father to son. This prideful display was also bait. They wanted the sons to gaze at it, long to hold it, desire it enough to break the glass, unsheathe it, and wield it. Not for defense; defense, how silly, but for offense.

While the truck neared the house, I thought about that night when my father caught me and Koa with the sword. I realized that he wasn’t angered because I took the sword out, or let it be taken out. He was enraged because I’d used the sword to butcher a dead animal when I should have known that the sword was only meant to be used on live humans. My temptation was pure, but my action was blasphemy. After thinking about it, I knew the glass display was a mistake, and that my father would pay for it, as would the entire Hideyoshi ancestry. I knew that if it ever became mine, and I still had the strength, I would conceal it.

When we got home, nothing happened. He told me to get to bed. He was tired. I waited until his bedroom light was off, then I walked outside and looked at the heavy bag hanging from a wooden beam in the garage. For the first time I noticed how old it had gotten. I saw stains that I had never seen before, I saw tiny threads sticking out at the seams. It was weathered from the salt air, beige from the canvas material absorbing highway exhaust and time. I hit it with my bare hand and it felt soft.

I walked back into the house and found myself standing in front of the glass case. How easy it would be to blast my hand right through the glass and grab the sword. I concentrated on the katana, like I always did, then found myself looking at the short sword, the one the samurai used for seppuku, the one they used to gut themselves in ceremonial suicide. I opened the case and grabbed the katana first. I unsheathed it and examined the blade. I noticed a small speck of dried blood on it. The long sword felt good in my hands, light and easy. I replaced the sheath and put the sword back. I grabbed the much smaller one. For some reason it felt heavier. I took off the sheath. Suddenly my stomach turned and I felt an urge to throw up. I quickly put the smaller one back and closed the case. Standing there, I felt myself shiver. After it passed, I walked back to my room and closed the door. I didn’t sleep that night.

So a month
before I graduated, I planned to get out. I had decided I’d had enough of the Windward side, and I wanted to try town out. The problem was I didn’t know how I was going to do this. Sure, I had a couple of thousand dollars hidden in my room from selling coke. Like an idiot, it amazed me how much more money I was making when I stopped using. I figured I could go to Kapiolani Community College or something. U.H. was out because I’d never bothered to apply. But tuition would cost money, and if I were really going to leave, I’d have to start paying rent and stuff. I figured I could get a job, but the thought of the kind of job I would end up getting depressed me. High school diploma, no experience. I’d probably end up washing dishes at some low-grade restaurant. I thought about selling drugs, but that felt unsavory, too. The last brush I’d had with the law had spooked me, and besides, all of my connections, my customers, were on the Windward side.

For a while, I felt stuck, and I just tried to take my mind off it. I’d enjoy surfing and diving with Koa once a week. As we came closer and closer to graduation, I didn’t see him very often. It was cool, though, I liked Kahala, cool chick, fine. I tried to talk about my situation with him once or twice, but he just kept telling me I should stay on this side. He’d say, “Why da fuck you like move town for? Only get townies and haoles on dat side. Stay dis side wit da boys. Everybody know you dis side. Da chicks dig you, in fact Kahala like set you up wit Cheryl. Fuck, she mean. You should rush.”

He was right, Cheryl was fine. But I was tired of just about everything on the Windward side. For the first time I examined my life and saw the obvious. This place was no good for me. So, knowing that, I figured it would be easy to leave, but it wasn’t. It was tempting to stay because he was right, all I knew was on the Windward side. It’s hard to leave home no matter how fucked up home is. Home is your comfort zone. It’s the place where you can walk the street with your head up. It’s where you’re somebody, it’s where all the things that you hate and love exist together. Once your roots dig deep within the hard soil and wrap themselves around underground rocks, they are difficult to unearth.

This was when Koa told me how both B.Y.U. and U.H. had offered him football scholarships even though he hadn’t played his senior year. He told me, “No sense, unless you can turn pro.” I knew why he’d turned down B.Y.U. — Koa would never live in the mainland. But his rejection of U.H. seemed odd. That’s when it hit me that Kahala was probably pregnant.

The thought of having a kid, even back then, scared the shit out of me. What the hell could I give a kid? My wisdom? What a laugh. My Hideyoshi legacy? Even worse. What if I turned out to like my father? Even if I didn’t, me having a kid, where else would I take it? It would end up in Ka‘a‘awa. Fathers are usually not good about taking in their pregnant daughters, and they hate the thought of a younger man, the same one who they imagined raped their daughter, coming in and taking over. So we’d probably be in Ka‘a‘awa — me, my father, and its mother, all sitting there looking at the swords in the glass case, all probably staring at them, waiting for another to make the first move. I figured a couple of us would race for the katana to kill the rest, the other would rush toward the short sword wanting to kill themselves first. Fuck that, I wouldn’t have it. I was probably the only guy in Castle High who religiously used condoms. The fucking irony of all of this is that with age, I got more stupid. Because all of this shit ended up happening, and that’s why I am where I am today.

But back then, it would never have happened to me. Throughout high school I had only three girlfriends, and none of the relationships lasted for over two months. I was too busy being an asshole to make anything work. Besides, deep down inside I never wanted it to work, anyway. It’s an inevitable conclusion — the more you fuck, the more likely you’ll end up with kids. I’d seen it all around me, the results of teenage pregnancy.

Hell, no, I used to think, it’s not for me. The thought gave me a shovel powerful enough to dig up and sever my own roots. At school, I’d ignore Cheryl, not even wanting to look at her, knowing that I might succumb. She and Kahala were best friends, both grew up together in Ahuimanu, the hills of the suburban upper middle class. Ahuimanu sits right outside of Kahaluu, on the border between Kaneohe and Kahaluu, by the Valley of the Temples graveyard, you know, where they put Ferdinand Marcos’ corpse on ice. They were both beautiful. Kahala was taller, thinner, with the body of a sprite, Cheryl was shorter, thicker, more voluptuous. Kahala was Hawaiian-Chinese-haole, her bone structure Chinese, her dark features Hawaiian, and her green eyes haole. Her dad was an architect or something. Cheryl was
hapa
, Japanese-haole, beautiful light-brown hair, and hazel eyes. I think her dad was an attorney. Man, I wanted her, and I thought she was crazy for wanting me, thinking her dad would sue me on sight. Kahala’s dad must’ve been overjoyed at the sight of Koa. Fucking rich chicks, what were they thinking?

So Koa and I graduated, walked together, and decided that we would throw a graduation party at his house on graduation night. We wanted the party to end all parties. Uncle James bought ten kegs of beer, made the
imu
for the pig, put up the tent, and rented the tables and chairs. Aunty Kanani cooked the food, along with Koa’s other aunties, the basics: chicken long rice, squid luau, cake noodles with char siu and vegetables, sushi, macaroni salad,
lomi
salmon, and
lumpia
. Koa’s uncles brought sashimi and
poke
, cut from the
aku
and
ahi
they caught themselves. Others brought poi or bottles of Popov Vodka, Quervo Gold, Bacardi Rum, and Chivas Regal. Even my father contributed, though he hated going to social events. He gathered the coolers for water and punch. He even dropped a net into the ocean, bringing from the Bay mullet,
awa‘awa
, and
papio
. He steamed mullet, pounded the
awa‘awa
into fish cake, and fried the
papio
. The party mood was contagious and, as I stood in the sun, waiting to get my diploma, I couldn’t wait to step down and head to Koa’s house to tap the first keg.

Before Koa and I made it to his house, we stayed at the ceremony, receiving leis from family and friends. We let them stack around our necks. The mixing smell of plumeria, ginger, carnation, and
maile
tickled our noses. With each lei came a congratulatory handshake or a proud hug. I started feeling like people were suddenly expecting great things from me, or they were amused by my ignorance while welcoming me to the “real world.” The leis were like a series of nooses, stacked up so high that they rose up to my chin, and I felt my neck sweat under the weight. We had to take pictures and find our friends who also graduated to congratulate them. We wandered endlessly through the sea of faces, trying to make sure that we got to everybody we were supposed to.

Finally I found my father in the crowd, and walked toward him. He was conspicuous, standing there alone, wearing an aloha shirt I hadn’t seen in years. His head was turning to and fro, looking for me. His face wore that signature angry look, the one which never eased, the one that only got sharper as anger rose. When he finally saw me, he straightened out his shirt and coughed into his hand. He had no lei, instead he held out his hand. When I shook it, I felt a piece of cold metal in his palm being passed over to me. I looked at it. It was his Bronze Star from Vietnam. He told me, “No lose ‘um, ah.”

I said, “Thanks, Dad,” and looked at it again before I put it in my pocket. He looked around again. “Okay, congratulations,” he said, “I guess I see you at Koa’s house. Ova dea I give you your odda present.” I said thanks and watched him walk into the crowd.

I pulled the Bronze Star out of my pocket and looked at it again. What the hell kind of grad present is this? I thought. I knew that the medal was important to him, and I was honored to receive it, but I didn’t get what I was supposed to do with it, what it meant. I put it back in my pocket and thought about the other present he said he was going to give me. I didn’t have a clue what it would be. I mean, I didn’t think he had anything I really wanted. So I departed from the futile brainstorm and looked for Koa in the crowd.

When I finally found him, his parents weren’t with him. Instead I saw Kahala holding his hand, and I laughed as I noticed that he wore so many leis that his mouth and nostrils were completely submerged in a sea of stringed flowers. I walked up to them, kissed Kahala on the cheek, and shook Koa’s hand. Aunty Kanani appeared and told us, “Hey, you three, stand togedda so I can take pickcha.” Kahala stood between us and I put my arm around her waist while Koa put his arm around her shoulder. All three of us smiled into the camera. I still have that picture of the three of us.

After the picture was taken, we all decided to ride to Koa’s house together for the party. We looked forward to the celebration, and wanted to get off the campus as soon as possible. We were all happy in the knowledge that we never had to put one foot on it again.

It was a helluva night! Saturated with food, drink, friends, and surprise announcements, it was everything a party is supposed to be. Hundreds of people showed up. They crowded underneath the huge blue tarp Uncle James had put up. It was so big it looked like a wrinkled sky. Some mingled underneath it, while others hid in the unroofed darkness. Cherries glowed from lighted joints. I saw Mike and John smoking and laughed, thinking how far we’d come from the day they threatened me at the bus stop. John was as skinny and dark as ever, tall and emaciated, looking like he hadn’t slept for days. His mustache was still sparse, like the day I had met him. Mike, on the other hand, was a Hardy to John’s Laurel, round to the point where the bottom of his t-shirt failed to touch his jeans. Both didn’t graduate with us. John already had two kids and Mike spent a great deal of his teenage years in Olomana, the boys home. I walked up to them and shook their hands. Mike laughed. “Sorry ah, graduate. You too smart fo’ me.”

The three of us laughed. “So now what?” John said, “I heard you like move town. Why you like be one townie? You should hang wit’ us. Shit, you get ‘um good wit’ Freddie, you set.” He raised his hand and showed me his SYN tattoo, reminding me of that night we all put the needle in our skin.

I laughed and showed him mine. “Look, mine stay all green arready.” We all laughed and walked together to the keg.

After leaving Mike and John, I ran into Freddie. He was talking to one of Koa’s little brothers at the side of the house. Ikaika, the second oldest in the Puana clan, stepped back as I approached Freddie’s back. I put my finger on my mouth, telling Kaika not to say anything, and I slapped a full nelson on Freddie. He began to buck like crazy. Even though I was taller, my feet were off the ground, and he swung around violently until I finally said, “Hey, you mental fucka, calm down, it’s me.”