Violet candy brought back memories of high school, when the popular girls who let me hang out with them would place a Violet candy on their tongues to mask the odor of Thunderbird sparkling wine.
It never worked; they were always caught. Whenever I had money from my allowance or a paycheck from my job, I'd buy a couple of boxes of the candy to keep in my pocket when the girls needed it. I paid for their lunches, shopping, and the movies. Of course, I wasn't getting anything out of it, except for the privilege of being seen with them in public, them holding my hand, giving me pecks on the cheek just to make all my awkward friends jealous.They told me that being sweet and caring also made me safe to be around because I wasn't trying to paw at them every second. Their boyfriends didn't like the idea, but what did they have to worry about? They were older, taller, and more muscular than I was. Those guys each had their own cars and part-time jobs. I was just a short, skinny, lanky nobody. However, the girls grew accustomed to me and enjoyed having me around.
One day, during my creative writing class, I asked to be excused to go to the bathroom.
"Don't take all day, Kealoha," Mrs. Waipā droned.
It would hurt me when she said that, as if I were some truant delinquent who preferred hanging out in the bathroom rather than being in her class. I loved creative writing, and I always got an A. It was like she didn't even see me. Years later, when I ran into Mrs. Waipā at the old John Dominis restaurant, she told me she was no longer Waipā, but had reverted to her maiden name, Perry. She was happier and more bubbly than she had been in high school. Turns out she was going through a lengthy divorce while she was teaching our class. She was bitter and took it out on everyone. She apologized and wished me well.
On one of those days when I needed to take a hall pass to the bathroom, Mrs. Waipā groaned, "Just take the rest of the period off already, Kealoha. You're wasting your time in my class."
"I do good work, Mrs. Waipā, and I always turn in my papers on time," I retorted.
She ignored me and lay her head on her desk as if she'd just given up on everything. That's when I saw the framed picture of her and her husband on her desk, and I understood. My creative writing teacher was a blonde-haired haole woman married to a dark-skinned Hawaiian man, like me. That's when I gave her a wide berth. After that, I made sure to go to the bathroom before going to her class.
"I'll be quick," I muttered.
I was so determined not to dawdle and get right back to class that I completely missed the three boyfriends of the three popular girls for whom this story is about. What I mean by missed is that they were standing two on the left and one on the right of the door as soon as I walked in. There was Satele Satele, Mandy Inman's boyfriend; Andrew Pacheco, Lisa French's boyfriend; and last but not least, Guy Tumalip, Rose Alcantara's boyfriend.
Satele, Andrew, and Guy beat the shit out of me. Well, really, it was one punch each. Guy kicked me in the stomach for good measure. They warned me to stop hanging out with their girlfriends because it was making them look bad, as if they had no control over their women. I obliged, of course, and limped back to class and sat there bleeding and all beat to hell. That's when Mrs. Waipā woke up from her divorce fugue and took me to the health room. The health nurses and the principal asked me who beat me up like that, but I refused to say.
I skipped lunch and went around the back of the school after the bell rang for the last period. When the school emptied, my '69 Dodge Dart and I peeled out, leaving a trail of smoke and the three popular girls behind. I nursed my wounds at Leeward Drive-Inn, gingerly eating my fries and cheeseburger, and sipping slowly from my cup of Coke.
Later, I went home and took a shower. The hot water didn't help relieve the throbbing pain; it made it worse. Waking up the following day for school, my parents saw the result of my beating as I sat at the table eating my Raisin Bran. My mom and dad sat there in a low, deadly tone. "Who did that?"
"Three guys from school who didn't want me hanging out with their girlfriends," I mused.
"Wait, what?" My dad said.
"Their girlfriends?" My mom half shrieked.
"Mandy, Lisa, and Rose," I confirmed. "We all hang out together, go everywhere, do everything."
Pride filled my dad's chest, and he sat upright and snickered, "Everything, huh?"
"Nathan!" My mom hissed. "So, these three guys are jealous over that, and they beat you up because of it?"
"Yeah, the three girls said they feel safe with me because I'm not all handsy, like their boyfriends are," I explained. "Satele, Andrew, and Guy are seniors. They're on the football team."
"You mean Satele, Pacheco, and Tumalip?" My dad was trying to confirm so he could understand the story correctly. "Those three guys are getting scouted by the NFL, and you stole their girlfriends? You're a crazy man!" My dad came over and slapped me on the back. I winced in pain.
"Not stolen," I replied. "Just hanging out."
"I don't like it," my mom said. "I'm going to see about pressing charges!"
~
As I said, I was aware of the situation I was in. I was the safety net —the little brother type —for the three most popular girls in high school. Nothing was ever going to happen between me and any one of them, but in exchange, I got to bask in their beauty and treat them a lot financially better than their dipshit boyfriends ever could.
Satele would be killed in a head-on car accident right after graduation.
Andrew was the last draft pick for the New Orleans Saints in the NFL. He'd gotten so used to being the high school star that he couldn't handle being at the bottom and working his way back up to the top. He returned home to put his head and life together in the off-season. In 1983, he jumped off the roof of the Westin Ilikai Hotel and landed in the circular driveway, nearly missing an elderly couple from Wisconsin.
Guy worked as a delivery driver for Easy Appliance for the rest of his life. He and Rose broke up after high school when he discovered she'd been accepted at UCLA.
I accepted that I'd never see or hear from Mandy, Lisa, and Rose again. We might see each other here and there in school, but never acknowledge each other's existence. During Mrs. Waipā's creative writing class, she complained that her students were submitting written assignments that were pure fluff, lacking significance or substance.
"It's shit," she whispered harshly. "It's shit! Stop giving me shit for writing!"
She threw her piece of chalk down on the holder and stomped off to her desk. From that moment until graduation at the end of the year, I kept my head down while the cuts and bruises healed. I didn't get any shit from Satele and the gang. The three girls continued to live in their own bubble, but without their human safety net. They graduated by the skin of their asses. So, after graduation, while everyone congratulated the graduates, I walked past the three of them with my parents and my newly acquired female friend, who worked at the LCC library. She was a regular at the Wave Waikiki when she wasn't stacking books. A complete, half-naked punk rock girl - she dressed like it, too. Did Mandy, Lisa, and Rose react? I dunno. It wasn't my problem anymore.
~
Ten years later, as I understand it (I never went), the class reunion was held at the Hawaiian Regent Hotel in Waikiki—now the Marriott. Everyone is looking to see how others have changed or have not. Primarily, everyone has already determined with whom they might get together on that night, or thereafter. Mandy, Lisa, and Rose were there with a swarm of men around them. Dancing, drinking, and more dancing were the indulgences until it was time to go off into the night, wherever that was. By 1 a.m., Mandy, Lisa, and Rose found themselves sitting at the old Likelike Drive-Inn, gabbing over cheeseburgers and French fries, laughing and giggling over things that happened in high school.
"Didn't we feel bad, though, about Nathan Kealoha?" Lisa whined while chomping on a handful of fries. "I mean, Satele, they acted on their own, but we could have at least gone to check that Nathan was alright, you know?"
"I don't know what we were afraid of," Rose agreed. "We had our boys pussy whipped."
Mandy swirled her ice and soda in her glass. "Satele used to beat me all the time. After those three kicked Nathan's ass, he told me everything, and then he slapped me around to make sure I got the message. I'm more guilty than all of you."
"We're all guilty," Rose said. "We all could have done something then, but didn't."
"I did," Lisa piped in. "Well, I kinda did."
Mandy looked at Lisa with surprise. "You mean you went and apologized?"
"Yes, I went to his house to apologize, and we slept together," Lisa said quietly. "I had to show him how, but that was my way of making it up to him. After that, it was pretending like he didn't exist."
"Oh fuck," Mandy exhaled. "I did too, right after graduation, when Satele was killed in the car accident."
Rose remained calm and reserved. Listening intently.
"Nathan was always safe, and I could always trust him," Mandy continued. "I needed to talk to someone, and the next thing I knew, I was at Nathan's place, and it just happened."
"On the same bed where he and I did it?" Lisa demanded.
"On the couch, while his parents were upstairs sleeping," Mandy said sheepishly.
"I was at Guy's house when I showed him my acceptance letter from UCLA," Rose began. "He broke up with me right then and made me walk home. It was already late, so I called Nathan and asked if he could give me a ride so I wouldn't wake my parents. We parked outside my house and discussed everything that had happened. I cried because I felt so bad that we didn't do anything about it."
"And the two of you fucked in his car, in front of your house?" Mandy confirmed that she already knew the answer.
"We didn't," Rose told them. "He said thank you and that it meant a lot to him. He gave me a hug, and he went home."
"So, you're saying that Mandy and I are the only two whore bags here?" Lisa wasn't happy.
"It turned out that Nathan was accepted at UCLA, too," Rose said. "That's where we connected. We got married right out of college, and we've been together ever since."
Lisa and Mandy were speechless and shifting uncomfortably in their seats. "He's an English professor at UCLA, but we make it a point to come home for as many holidays as possible," Rose paused, and laughed to herself. "Nathan told me everything, so don't worry about it. It was years ago, you whore bags."
Rose cackled, laughing to herself, leaving Mandy and Lisa to moan at her, "You're such a fucking bitch! Stop laughing! Fuck you!"
~
This was the scenario I had envisioned. It was the one I imagined would happen since I never attended the ten-year class reunion, where Mandy, Lisa, and Rose would have this conversation in my absence. Yeah, there was no sex to be had with Mandy or Lisa, and Rose and I never got married straight out of college. I attended school right here in the 50th state and earned my degree in creative writing. I've since published a few books that have done well enough that I don't have to work. Well, let me correct that. I also have a good friend who is a financial genius, so he helped me invest my money in a few things that did well enough that I don't have to work a regular job.
Five years after our 10th class reunion, the class of 1980 decided to hold another reunion in 1995 to mark 15 years.
I showed up for that one. The location was at the Pearl Country Club. The atmosphere felt like a fine wine allowed to breathe after the cork was popped. The few who approached me shook my hand and introduced themselves, like Guy Tumalip, who had no idea who I was.
"Nathan Kealoha Jr.," he squinted his eyes, reading my name tag. "These guys never put up the pictures from our yearbook this time, so I cannot match the name to the face."
"You, Satele, and Andrew beat me up in the I-Quad bathroom because of Mandy, Lisa, and Rose," I laughed. "It's okay, though; it's in the past. We were kids then, and I never held a grudge about it."
"Oh man," Guy shook his head, and his demeanor changed.
"We were stupid assholes before. I'm sorry that happened, brah. I don't know what to say."
"You don't have to say anything, it's cool," I assured him.
"You heard about Satele and Andrew?" He asked as if I didn't already know.
"Yeah, that was too bad. They were both so young," I nodded.
"The three girls came to the last class reunion, still the same." Guy shook his head. "You never come to that one?"
"No, I was busy. It's a good thing I heard about this class reunion," I patted him on his shoulders and shook his hand." I'm going to look around and see what's what."
"Shoots, shoots," Guy half smiled. "Oh yeah, and Rose and I broke up before she went to school on the mainland. I wanted her to stay home and attend school, but she received a letter from UCLA, and she went. So, yeah, we pau."
"Was it awkward seeing her the last time?" I asked.
"We said hi, but could tell no' mo' nothing. Was Pau already." Guy nodded.
~
I walked around the perimeter of the room, scanning everything and everyone. It's something when you're all grown up and out of high school, and you've broken the bonds of awkward social restrictions and labels imposed on you by others or yourself. You can't believe you lived and died on that hill as a teenager.
When I saw Manday, Lisa, and Rose seated at their private table in the corner, I slowly approached them from the opposite end of the room. As we all were, they were fifteen years older since graduation, but they were still those popular girls who, for a time, let me bask in their spotlight. I got a few double-takes on the way there, or a few points of the finger from someone who remembered me but couldn't quite suss out the details. The three were in their element, conversing in their own atmosphere while simultaneously looking around to see who was watching them. When I reached into my pocket and removed the stick of Violet Candy, I wasn't as buff or better looking than I was in high school.
15 years after graduation, I'm older, taller, and still awkward and gangly. As smooth as you please, I slid the stick of Violet Candy on the table between Mandy and Rose, and I kept walking without stopping once, never looking back to see if they knew what the hell was going on. I was out the door and down the steps, walking to my car. I started up the Road Runner and drove to Anna Miller's for a pot roast dinner.
The place wasn't too crowded for a Saturday, as several other events were happening in Pearl City: the homecoming game, the premiere of Jumanji, and the Obon celebration at all the Japanese temples. The wait staff was friendly enough to give me extra servings of mashed potatoes instead of corn and peas, along with a squeeze of lemon in my cola. There was no triumph to be had here, no redemption, no revenge, no self-immolation like Carrie. It was like going shopping for clothes and not finding anything that fit. The salad featured classic Italian dressing, with shredded carrots on top of the lettuce. The waitress came and set down a refill of Coke and another cup of water.
"Nathan Kealoha?" She said.
"Yes," I confirmed while looking at her name tag. "Saber?"
"I'm Mandy's sister," she laughed. "She never tells anyone she has a sister; it's detrimental to her reputation, whatever that is."
"Sorry to hear that," I replied. "You're right, she never said anything about having any siblings. You were in my math and English classes, and I never put the two together."
"It's shitty how those three abandoned you after Satele beat you up." Saber began. "I told her and her friends to leave you alone, that they were only gonna end up hurting you."
"Thanks," I nodded. "I appreciate that."
"Desserts are on me tonight," she began. "So just pick whatever you want."
"I just came from the 15-year class reunion," I told her. "How come you didn't go?"
"Work," she smirked. "I didn't go to the ten-year one either. My sister spoiled it for me because of how she was in high school, so I never went."
"But you had friends in high school. I used to see you hang out with many people," I reminded her.
"Many people, yeah, but they all went to mainland colleges," Saber sighed. "I just wanted to work a job before I decided what to do in college. Maybe U.H., maybe Leeward, I dunno."
After the meal, Saber highly recommended the strawberry pie, which was a good choice. I went to the front afterward to settle my bill, and Saber was my cashier. It goes without saying that I left her a generous tip, and after that, she let me know she'd be off in 15 minutes. I sat on the benches outside, waiting for her, and then walked her to her car.
"I was only at the class reunion for an hour, from 7 to 8 p.m. It's 9 now, and the thing doesn't get out until 10. You wanna go? Shock everyone and dance together?" I hope my tempting methods worked.
"Why not?" Saber quickly changed clothes in her car and followed me to the Pearl Country Club.
We danced the entire evening without a break. Eventually, Mandy, Lisa, and Rose saw us from their little nook in the corner. At the night's end, Saber and I walked out the door and were intercepted by the three girls. They said nothing to me, but Mandy whispered something in Saber's ear.
"Whatever," she scoffed and waved Mandy off. Grabbing my hand in hers, the two of us got into our cars and drove back to my place, where we ate popcorn on my couch and watched HBO all night until we fell asleep.
At least that was the scenario in my head when the waitress named Saber brought me my pot roast. She wasn't Mandy's sister. She was just a random waitress trying to make a living. I could tell by her demeanor that she was just doing her job and therefore had no genuine interest in me outside of offering me refills for water and Coke. "What dessert would you recommend?" I asked her.
Without a word, she reached into her apron, removed a dessert menu, and placed it on the table before me. Pointing to the picture of the strawberry pie, she said, "That's what's hot, tonight and every night."
She was off, taking other orders and trying to get through the evening.. I sat close enough to the front to hear a voice exclaim, "Ugh, I didn't know he was here. Let's go eat Zippy's or something, or maybe Shiro's!"
It was Mandy, Lisa, and Rose. They turned and walked out, but not before Lisa removed the stick of Violet Candy from her purse and whipped it at my head. "Fucking creep!"
Everyone gasped as the candy packet hit my head and made an audible pop. I sat there red-faced and embarrassed. Saber, the waitress, came out of nowhere and followed the three girls outside.
Short of kicking the shit out of the three of them, she called them every name in the book and then had management ban them from the property. "I hated those fucking bitches in school, and I hate them now. Twats."
When she brought me my check later, she leaned closer and said, "You're Nathan, right?"
"Yeah," I nodded.
"Everyone in school saw it coming. Did you know that?" She asked.
"You mean, getting my ass kicked?" I confirmed.
"That, and the fact that you didn't mean shit to them. They fucking discarded you like trash. Everybody knew that. They saw it. Everybody except you," she gently poked her finger into my shoulder.
"Yeah, when you're mired in shit, you tend not to smell it so much," I agreed. "That candy Lisa threw at me? I got them that all the time so they could hide the smell of alcohol and cigarettes. For sentimental reasons, I left it on their table at the class reunion."
"It was only sentimental to you," she mused. "Did you say class reunion?"
"It's happening right now at the Pearl Country Club," I pointed in the general direction up Ka'anohi Street. "That's where I just came from. I didn't stay long."
"Andrew Pacheco was my brother," Saber began. "After the Saints cut him and Andrew came home, Lisa wanted nothing to do with him since she wouldn't be a wealthy football player's wife. He was already dealing with a lot of shit, but Lisa breaking up with him is what pushed him over the edge."
"Sorry to hear that." I meant it when I said it, but I resisted the urge to put my hand on her shoulder.
"Choose better friends next time," she gently pushed me.
~
In 2000, Mandy was arrested after it was discovered that she had embezzled funds from a non-profit organization and deposited them into her personal bank account. This was sloppy work. She should have created a dummy account or at least an offshore one. She was sentenced to thirty years in a women's facility.
Lisa, who had been a whore for whatever sugar daddy she could find, was diagnosed with cervical cancer. Her main sugar daddy was a wealthy haole executive who was married to an even richer woman whose father was a well-known Mormon leader. When the executive's wife found out about the whole affair, the money for Lisa's cancer treatment dried up, and Lisa died within a year.
Rose was another story. For all of her self-righteous posturing and pontificating, she became a victim of the local mah-jong games in Chinatown when big dollars were at stake. Worse, was the fact that the young players revived the practice of smoking opium. Poor Rose lost everything: her husband, her children, her house, and her business. She withered down to nothing but a pale shadow of her former self. She was found dead and grey one rainy day in the back of an alley off of Maunakea Street.
On that quiet, uneventful night at a local eatery in Pearl Ridge in 1995, I met a friend whom I had never known existed in high school, because I was drunk on a perceived popularity manufactured by three beautiful girls who really saw me as a charity case. The part I mentioned is not a hopeful imagining I cooked up because of my affluent yet lonely life. It was nice to have a friend. Especially a female one, with no complications —just conversations and observations, with no judgments. Well, some judgments, but nothing harsh.
'
Loved it
ReplyDelete