What does it take to operate a Manapua truck?
What it takes is not the question. The question is, what will it take for Myles Cordero to stay out of trouble once and for all? The manapua truck was his last chance to save his family, his finances, and himself from being thrown in jail. His last chance at redemption was at culinary school, where he was paid to attend school and graduate. Unfortunately, Myles had not yet learned how to temper his impatience. Neither did he agree with the bullying from the instructor, Grant Iverson, who was still bitter that he was once the toast of the town, until he was shut down business-wise and personally because of a line cook who committed suicide. That line cook was a young local boy named Scott Delapina, whose father was the county commissioner. Grant's relentless focus on Scott being the fault for everything, from undercooked chicken, even though he had nothing to do with it, to the simple fact that Scott breathed the same air as he did, was too much. One late afternoon, while prepping for dinner, Scott walked into the kitchen and slit his wrists in front of Grant and the whole crew."It's Grant's fault," Scott said while the blood seeped out from his wrists. "This is all Grant's fault."
Now, here he was, an instructor at a school for culinary arts, bitter and humiliated at his lot in life. His narcissism would not let him admit fault; instead, it led him to single out one student and heap his own faults upon that hapless victim. Unfortunately for Grant, Myles Cordero was the wrong choice for his personal whipping boy. On the day when Grant went too far with Myles by grabbing a chunk of his hair and dragging him across the floor to a gas stove, Myles hadn't realized he was being bullied. He just assumed it was Grant's way of teaching, like his old Japanese karate instructor from when he was little. But when Grant grabbed his hair and pulled him along, Myles reacted by grabbing Grant around the waist and lifting him off the floor. Before Grant could figure out what was going on, Myles had already dropped Grant on his head, knocking him out cold.
Taking into account that many of Grant Iverson's past students corroborated Myles's story regarding years of bullying, the court Judge let Myles off with the understanding that he had to make something legitimate of himself; otherwise, jail would be his next destination. After obtaining business, health, and food safety permits, Myles and his manapua truck were in full swing. His money came from staging near high schools in the morning and late afternoon. Lunch time is when he parked on Mililani Street when the business offices broke for a meal. On the weekends, he made his money in the Pearl City and Mililani neighborhoods. Myle's wife, Leeanne, handled the money and the bills from home. It was a well-oiled machine, and life was easier and less stressful than before. Sure, some customers were demanding, and children had a tendency to be overexcited and loud, but that's what comes with operating a manapua truck. That hadn't bothered Myles at all. In fact, he loved the smiles on the little ones' faces when their parents walked up to his manapua truck with them. That's what made the job worth it.
One afternoon, Myles decided to drive through the Palolo neighborhood to see if it was a place where he could park his truck and sell his manapua. There were a few schools, a district park, and a few churches. He stopped briefly at the gas station on 10th Avenue and then proceeded up toward the Hawaiian immersion school. The trees along the way provided a canopy of shade, where Myle stopped for a bit to rest while chewing on a manapua and sipping from a can of Coke. A short second later, a massive garbage truck parked in front of him, and a massive tree trimmer truck parked behind him, literally dwarfing him between them. While taking that short break, Myles heard a loud conversation between two women coming toward him. Two friends or sisters, perhaps, taking a morning walk. He gave it no attention, except when the two women walked past his passenger side window.
"It's the only way I can spend time with my son," the woman said with a bit of emotion in her voice. "His father is never going to divorce his wife, so during lunch is the only time I get to see him, like this. Bringing him his lunch."
"And the guy's wife doesn't know?" The other woman's voice was one of shock.
"I let his father worry about that," the first woman's voice was cavalier now. "As long as I get to see my son, that's all that matters."
Myles watched as the two women walked past. He saw them stop at the top of the entrance to the immersion school, where one woman held on to a clear plastic bag that held a bento meal with a drink. In a second, what must have been a teacher walked up with a little Hawaiian boy at her side. Dark skin, dark wavy hair, thick eyebrows, big, thoughtful brown eyes, and a shy demeanor. The woman handed the little boy his lunch and gave him a hug. The teacher and the boy offered their thanks and then returned down the driveway to the school. The two women stood there for a while longer, obviously watching the boy walk away. They both turned to leave, their eyes clouded with tears, their noses red. They crossed in front of the tree-trimming truck and reappeared on the crosswalk opposite where Myles had parked. He glanced their way, not paying attention at first, but the second glance is what gave it away. It was Leeane, walking with her friend Shirleen, who were both crying, and as they always did, they wore the same workout outfits, but what were they doing all the way here in Palolo? Shirleen was their neighbor; they lived right off of School Street near the museum. In a second, everything clicked. Leeanne was the mother of the boy she'd brought lunch to. Or was it Shirleen who was the mother? They were already walking past his truck when the conversation took place. Which one of them was the mother?
~
Leeane's car was at the municipal park. They were halfway there, and the two were waiting for the light to change at the intersection of Kiwila and Palolo Avenue. Once they had the right of way, they proceeded through the crosswalk.
"This whole time you've been married to Myles, and he never knew you had a kid from another man, let alone from the principal of your son's school?" Shirleen shook her head in disbelief.
"When I had the baby, it was understood that the baby was going to be given up for adoption. I never called Myles when I was giving birth. I called him after and lied that the baby was born deformed and dead, and that they took it away. I don't even know the boy's name. All I know is that Brad and his wife couldn't conceive, and so he lied too. He and his wife thought that they were adopting my son, when in fact, Brad adopted his own son. Myles can never know this!" Leeanne heaved tears as she walked.
Speeding up Kiwila Street at a dangerous clip was the manapua truck. With all the momentum and weight pushing it forward, the snack truck went around the line of cars and plowed right into Leeanne and Shirleen. Applying the brakes after the impact didn't help. The manapua truck barreled into the parking garage door after the intersection, sending wood splinters everywhere. Nothing that could be identified as a recognizable human body was left of the two women. Myles didn't die right away from the impact. That would happen on the way to the hospital. Since Myles couldn't figure out which one of the two women was the mother of that boy, he figured they both had to die.
The ghost story in this little tale happens at the immersion school. Two strange-looking women in workout clothes are standing at the top of the driveway, one holding on to someone's lunch in their hands.
The problem is, they're mangled, twisted, and bloody from what's left of their heads to their toes.
@credit mapquest
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