Let me worry about the things that are in this house.
You sit back and listen, so you'll understand. This place wasn't always like this. At one time, it was a thriving, living domicile beyond its capacity to hold more people than intended, but there was a purpose for it. The house was laying a foundation to live in the memories of all who had a room under its roof at one time or another. It would be the heart of their dreams or the safe place when times were hard. The safe kind of safe place to be during holidays, birthdays, anniversaries, and funerals. It's the sort of home that great authors write about, like How Green Was My Valley by Richard Llewellyn. Growing up in this house, something began to happen under its shingled roof that no one realized. One day, while we were all in school, and my father and brothers were at work, my mother took a walk to the store down the street. She could have driven, but she couldn't see the point of wasting gas to go less than half a minute down the road. She was like that about certain things.While on her jaunt to Masa's Convenience, she happened by two surveyors who were done with their work and were now making their way to the little store. Masa greeted my mother with every kindness, but when the two surveyors walked in behind her, Mr. Masa yelled at them to get out. In fact, he came from behind and marched them out the door. Yelling at them about surveying the very place where they intended to break down his 100-year-old store, to make way for a condo.
"Mr. Masa," the one surveyor pleaded. "You know me, I'm Randall Akana. I came here all the time during school. You know my folks, too!"
"Yeah," Mr. Masa bellowed. "I wonder what your folks would say if they saw you now, helping to bulldoze my store!"
After the rucus, my mother followed the surveyors outside and asked them what they wanted to purchase. She'd get it for them. All they wanted was two drinks and two of Mr. Masa's famous PB&J sandwiches. They waited while she went back in, and sure enough, she emerged with her groceries, along with their drinks and sandwiches. "Let us at least pay you back," Randall insisted.
"It's fine," my mom replied. "This isn't going to break my wallet."
"Listen, I'm Randall Akana, and this is Trevor Kumagai." Randall placed his hand over his heart. "We're also tree trimmers and yard workers, so if you and your husband ever need those services, let us know."
My mother laughed at the offer because of how sincere it was. "I'm Lorelle. Don't work too hard and have a nice day."
Randall and Trevor parted company with my mother and got into their company vehicle. As they drove up the road to 6th Avenue, they saw my mother walking. Randall pulled up alongside her. "Lorelle, do you need a ride?"
"I'm fine, don't worry about me," she reassured them.
"Ok then," Randall smiled. "Thanks again!"
***
Later that year, my mother and I stood in line at the Jamba Juice. We had just come from my Judo practice, and I was really dehydrated. Randall happened to be there and quickly made it a point to come up and say hello. "Good to see you again!" He waved.
My mother nodded and returned the acknowledgment. "Hello Randall. This is my son Inea, he's just come from his Judo class."
"Nice to meet you!" He waved again, then departed.
"That man is Randall," my mother explained. "Mr. Masa was mean to him the other day."
"How come?" I asked.
"That man works for the company that's going to demolish Mr. Masa's store and build something else on top of it," she said.
"Oh wow," our order came up and my mother went to get it. We sat for a little while I enjoyed my Jamba and my mother had her acai bowl. I droned on about Judo class, my friends, and those who were mean for no reason. My mother was always attentive when I shared about things transpiring in my pre-teen world.
"Did you ever hear the story about the man who spent his life chasing a horrible sea-monster?" She asked me.
"Um, no," I replied.
"There was this sea captain who lost all of his men to a horrible sea monster that took all of them, killed them. The sea captain spent the rest of his life chasing this sea monster. Whenever he was close to catching the sea monster, they'd do battle, but somehow the sea monster always escaped. Then, finally, one day, the captain caught the monster with a special fishing net made from the hair of a thousand mermaids. You see, the mermaids liked the sea captain because he was so handsome, so they decided to help him. The captain sailed into the port of Portugal with the sea monster in his net, and when the people saw how horrible and fearsome the monster was, they shuddered with fright. The captain assured the people they were safe and that they had nothing to worry about. A big celebration was held, and it lasted for months. However, as time went on, people became irritated with the sea captain because all he did was drink and tell the same story about how he caught the horrible sea monster. The monster itself didn't appear to be horrible and fearsome anymore. In fact, it looked sad and tearful, as if it no longer had a purpose as a horrific sea monster. One day, the people who lived in the port of Portugal ran into the bar where the sea captain was recounting his story of how he finally captured the horrible sea monster for the hundredth time.
"It's gone!" They exclaimed to the sea captain. "It's gone! The sea monster has escaped! "It's gone!"
Bleary-eyed and unbalanced by the whiskey, the sea captain jumped to his feet and exclaimed, "Bugger all to hell! How many dead?!!"
"None!" The people replied. "The monster must have chewed through its bindings and escaped!"
Without another word, the sea captain ran to the port where he saw the net made of mermaid hair lying slack on the side of his ship. Without a crew, the captain prepared the ship to sail out to sea, where he would chase after the horrible sea monster yet again. He waved at the people at the port of Portugal.
"Thank you," he waved, smiled, and cried. "You've returned my purpose!"
"Off he went, chasing the horrible sea creature, the end." My mother concluded.
"Wait," I asked. "Why did the sea captain thank the people at the port of Portugal?"
"When the sea captain saw the fish net made from mermaid hair lying slack on the side of the ship, he knew that the people in the port of Portugal must have asked the mermaids to let the sea monster go, because that net of mermaid hair is magical. Nothing can cut it, so once the sea monster was in it, it was never going to escape." She said. "Once the sea captain caught the monster, he no longer had a purpose because he'd spent his entire life chasing that monster. So, the people of the port of Portugal restored his purpose. Which is why he thanked them."
"Wow," I said. "That's a cool story."
"What is the purpose of your being in that Judo class?" My mother asked me.
"Because I wanted to learn about honor and integrity," I answered.
"But now, you're worried about who is, or is not, your friend in Judo. Like the sea captain, you lost your purpose." She said.
It hit me hard when she said that. I had nothing to say because she was right. "I'm sorry, Mom."
"Your father and I have to save money to pay for your Judo class and your Gi. Should we take you out of Judo, then?" She used that tone of voice that mothers use without raising their voice.
"No, Mom," I replied. "I know my purpose."
***
My father, Dustin fell sick later that year and his illness proved to be fatal. It was a hereditary condition where all the men in his family died in their late 30s or early 40s of a heart attack. At 43 years of age, my father's time had come. Luckily, he went in his sleep. Without going through the details, you can imagine the amount of grief that lived in our house during that time and thereafter. My older sister came back and moved in with us to be close to our mother and help her out with whatever she might need. As grief goes, my mother dealt with it in the way that all widows do. She honored my father's memory and never stopped loving him. This is the part of the story you are here for, so please listen and don't interrupt.
Randall Akana began to show up, here and there at first, but then more frequently, like for dinner or at an outing that was supposed to include my mother, my sister Tara, and me. I was older then, and so it was alright if I brought this question to my mother.
"Why is Randall around all the time?"
"Randall is someone I'm seeing," she replied.
"The guy who broke down Mr. Masa's store? What, now he's here to break up our family? Were you seeing him when Dad was still alive?" I went too far. I know. My mother knew too, which is why she jumped out of her chair and slapped me across my 26-year-old face.
"I'm your mother, no matter what, you don't ever talk to me that way," that's all she said.
"Idiot," Tara shook her head at me.
Randall never moved in with us, but he was in the house more than I cared to see him. So, I moved out on my own. I got a nice place in Manoa and minded my own business and didn't go to the house unless I had to. Little did I know that the reason Randall never moved in was that every time the subject was broached while he was in our house, something strange always happened. Things would fall off the shelves, fires would start and stop, or the electricity would go out. One time, a loud pop was heard in the driveway. It turned out that two of Randall's tires burst.
I don't know if Randall's family ever accepted my mother, because I was never around to find out. But they must have because Tara went on a couple of trips with my mom, Randall, and his family to Vegas, New York, and Disneyland. Whatever.
When my mother passed, the house went to Randall, which means Tara and I were out. Smart guy, Randall, got my mother to will the house to him. Because Randall was Randall, he was going to tear the house down in defiance of the otherworldly force in the house that didn't like him. Try as he might, the house wouldn't let him tear it down. Nothing worked, and believe me, Randall tried everything. Bulldozers, wreckers, and every piece of equipment would not function. Randall tried burning the house down, but it did nothing. Demolition charges, short-circuited. I couldn't tell you how many times Randall got hurt the second he stepped on the property. Finally, he gave up and signed the house over to me and Tara.
"She's all yours," he said in the attorney's office.
"You think my father was ever gonna let you have any piece of our house, after everything you tried to do?" I told him.
"Your father's gone, I don't know what you're talking about," he sneered.
"You think it's a coincidence that the house gets all wonky when you're around, or that you kept getting hurt while you tried to demolish our home? THAT'S my father telling you to go fuck yourself!" The attorneys had to separate me and Tara from Randall, but I think we got our point across.
The house was going to go back to its old self, thriving, living, always open. After all, that was its purpose.
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