three good words

It was a warm Saturday morning when Carol Jones knocked on the door of Hugh’s Corner 75. She just flew in from Hawaii and took a cab. Now she was standing in a narrow street, trying to follow the directions her sister Liz had given her over the phone. ‘It’s between Ocean Park and Sea Drive. Just take a cab, the driver should know,’ but the driver did not know.

Liz had never been on the accurate side of things. When she broke off college in her junior year to marry Seth Hayne, all she told Carol and their parents was that Seth came from Chicago and was the sweetest man on earth. She never mentioned he was already an attorney in one of the leading law-firms, and came from what was called old money. Now, ten years later, Liz was Miss Jones again, and all Liz had told Carol so far was that their lifestyles had diverged. Liz liked to use words like that when she didn’t want to tell you anything.

Carol finally found the 75, walked up the stairs and knocked on the door. No answer. She looked at her watch, it said nine thirty five. She tried again.

*

‘That’s not Red’s boy.’

Saturday afternoon, late, the sky was overcast. There was a haze on the sand in front of Hugh’s Corner 75. Liz Jones was standing with her back against the balcony, smoking, a cup of coffee on the railing next to her.

In the morning, she had opened her front door groggily to incessant knocking. Carol, her sister, stood before her with an overnight bag and a sleeping baby in her arms. She looked exhausted. There had been a brief exchange, nothing important. Liz had pulled out the couch in the spare bedroom and watched her sister and the baby sleep for a while before going back to bed. Now, she was wide awake, wearing her usual frayed shorts and white shirt, waiting for her painted toe nails to dry. Carol was in the kitchen, mashing some bananas for the baby. The baby was only in diapers, sitting on a blanket a step away from Liz’ feet, playing with a toy. Liz had never been the motherly type. She liked watching mothers, and sometimes envied the satisfied laughter of their children, but the moment one started screaming she knew why she’d been careful all these years.

‘What?’ Carol asked, still stirring the mashed bananas in the bowl. She looked haunted in a way, as if she’d seen several ghosts at once. Her dark hair hung in loose curls all the way to her shoulders, making her face look thinner than it actually was. Her eyes were wide, a lighter blue than Liz’, and a little too bright. Liz remembered how readily Carol used to smile, how her face had beamed when she got accepted, and so could head to Berkeley. And how dreamy her voice became when she talked about Red, the often-proclaimed Love Of Her Life. Red, that was Stuart Montgomery, nicknamed Red due to his flaming red hair. He was a History professor who decide midway through his tenure-track that life was too short to waste in between books and classrooms, quit his job and moved to Hawaii. Carol, not exactly his best student, but his most enthusiastic, followed him in a moment of rashness, found him in a cottage on Maui and decided she’d found Heaven.

Liz had smiled when Carol sent her a picture of Red and herself a few weeks later. They were on the beach near their little house, sitting on the sand, Red holding a bottle of beer and smiling at Carol who was adjusting the spangle in his hair. They looked happy, and Liz had felt envious. She never regretted leaving college, but marrying Seth Hayne had proven to be less of the Heaven she had thought it would be. The first two years had been wonderful, but then they bought the House near the Lake, and Seth lost all interest. He held her hand, and kissed her good-morning and good-night, but that was all she ever got. He worked all day and half the night, and was always busy on weekends – if not with work, then with making the House a perfect Nest, as he always called it. And so she didn’t complain. How could she, if he was working his hind legs off to make her life comfortable. He felt guilty enough for having plucked her out of her college life and fairly plunged her into the real world of marriage and responsibilities.

In any case, by the time Carol’s photograph of bliss fluttered into her mailbox, Liz and Seth had already been married seven years. Five of which were long and lonely, though she had a nice life, a perfect life, full of dinners, parties, friends and holiday trips to Europe and Maine. That was her life two years ago. Now she was divorced, living in a small apartment between Ocean Park and Sea Drive, trying to come to terms with the fact that all the while, Seth had not been straight. He had never been, he simply saw her as a fantastic alibi, one his whole family would accept without question. She was ‘steady’ he said, and ‘sensible.’ After the shock and the tears, after the humiliation, Liz had hated him most for that.

‘K.J. no, don’t do that,’ Liz heard Carol say.
‘Why K. J. actually?’ she asked, watching Carol sit down cross-legged on the blanket before lifting the baby onto her lap.
‘Kahoku Jones,’ Carol replied, feeding the baby.
‘Kahoku? You’re kidding.’
‘No. It’s actually Kahoku Manaki Jones, but that’s too long. K.J. suits just fine, don’t you think?’

It was how she said it, defeated. Liz just looked at her sister and wondered what had happened. Carol looked crushed, as if a part of her, a large part, had broken to pieces. And yet, she was very gentle with the baby, absolutely loving, cooing and cajoling, praising the little thing’s success in eating well. Kahoku Manaki Jones. Liz exhaled. She was right. K.J. suited just fine.

‘Is there a meaning to those names?’ Liz asked.
‘Would you mind not smoking while he’s here?’ Carol asked instead.

Liz just shrugged, pinched out the cigarette and flicked it off onto the pavement below. The small street circled Hugh’s Corner, separating the wood from the sand without blocking the ocean view. There was a tall palm tree to the right of the house, but next to a few haphazard azaleas that was the only greenery in sight. Liz didn’t have any patience for plants.

‘So, is there a meaning?’
‘Kahoku means star. Manaki means wind.’
‘Star Wind Jones,’ Liz said laughed. Carol said nothing.
‘Ok. Sorry.’
‘Don’t worry, we won’t be staying long,’ Carol said, speaking to the baby.

Liz felt a sudden pang of guilt. It was probably why she said, ‘We should go to Disneyland then.’‘He’s too young for that,’ Carol said, finally looking up at Liz. She looked close to tears. The guilt grew thicker, stronger. She’d known something wasn’t right for a while now, but she could never put a finger on it, Carol was always so vague. Then again, she didn’t like phones. She preferred letters, but Liz was a bad letter-writer, she always forgot to answer.

‘We can just walk around and enjoy the view,’ Liz said, picked up her cold coffee and walked back in. She had to get away from that cloud of guilt that was growing thicker, darker, on the balcony. Carol looked like she genuinely needed help, only Liz didn’t know what kind. What was she to give a mother and a child? The baby was a sweet thing with black curls and large dark eyes, but that wasn’t what made Liz watch the little thing for so long. It was his face. It had Maui stamped all over it. He definitely wasn’t Red’s child.

* * *

Someone once asked me where I come from and at first I wanted to say L.A. but then I thought that wasn’t enough. Venice Beach was the next option, but that really wasn’t all that right either. I grew up between Ocean Park and Sea Drive, in a small stretch of apartment buildings that’s Hugh’s Corner. Don’t ask me why it’s Hugh’s Corner, and not Paul’s or Andy’s. It’s Hugh’s Corner, a world of its own.

Ok. So, there’s Ma and Q, Ben, of course, Master An, the wise man, Ray the Monk, the Bernardis, Jamie, Little Miss Tinkerbell, Nova, Mac, Molly and Skip, Cappy, oh my Cappy, Tins in No Ming and Miss Liz. That should be it.

Now, if you knew about me, you’d ask: What about K.J.? And a couple of weeks ago, I’d have said: He left some time back. He’s history. But now with Miss Liz in a coma, I can’t say that anymore.

K.J. and Miss Liz are our neighbors. We, that’s Ma, Q and I, live in Hugh’s Corner 73 and 74. We used to live in the Palisades with my Dad, but after the second time Ma found him in bed with another woman, she filed a divorce and started a new life. No Prince of Bel Air for us. Ma gets alimony, but it’s all put into a trust-fund for Q and myself what with college and all.

 *

There was a time when I believed God existed and miracles could happen. I used to sing in our church just a block away from Marina del Ray. I was a ‘mezzosoprano’ and could hold a note long enough to get a satisfied smile from Pastor Williams. Then Patricia, his wonderful daughter, found me kissing Louis DeJean (tenor) in the backroom, and through her lies and Louis and my own shame, Pat convinced Pastor Williams that we were fornicating under the eyes of God. May I add that Pat had been doing exactly that since Louis moved with his Pa from Dallas. All through our trial in Pastor Williams’ office, I prayed to God that He may exercise his omnipotence and make Pastor Williams understand that Louis and I had only succumbed to the heat of the moment, and only kissed, really, truly, honest to God kissed. He did not. I was expelled from the Choir and Louis cancelled from the next Thanksgiving concert. He stayed on though, as Pat somehow managed to weave the Adam and Eve story into her whole web of lies, which made me the sinner and Louis the victim. What hurt most was that Louis never said anything, he just stopped talking to me as if I had a huge A on my chest.

In any case, by my sixteenth birthday, I’d stopped going to church all together and Ma never said a thing. But this is really about K.J., not me, K.J. who’s got the summer triangle inked under his right ear, what’re they called – oh yeah, Vega, Deneb and Altair. He told me that night, Skip’s birthday barbeque, Miss Liz didn’t mind that he got them. Apparently she said his body was his body, as long as he could deal with the consequences. I wish Ma would say stuff like that.

Anyway, K.J.’s on Maui now. People think he’s surfing, I know he’s looking for his Dad. I don’t know if he’s found him yet, nobody here’s seen or talked to him a really long time, but I have to talk to him now. I just can’t find him. I’ve tried everything save flying over, and I can’t fly over, I don’t have the cash ready and Ma won’t budge. Apparently, I’ve gotta finish school first. Ma always calls college school. I still need to do something though. Miss Liz is in a coma and K.J.’s basically fallen off the face of the earth.

Which is why I’m talking to You, yes, You, up there. Bring him back. Whatever it is, do it. If you’re there, this is your chance. Do something. Now. I’m not gonna pray about it, I’m just sayin’ what needs to be done, so do it. Please. K.J. really needs to come back home now. Like, right now. Not in seven days or forty days or forty years or some weird stuff like that. I mean now, ok? Have him come back home now, really, now, coz Asha Carol’s not about to fly out of India soon and do something about it.

© 2014 threegoodwords