E ku an aka paia
Chants and ancient whispers dance through my mind, loudest among them all the prophecy of the arrival of King Kamehameha. So many forces have led me to be here: Uncle Akoni; the sheriff and Grandpa, once partners; finding a van with gasoline; a mountaintop guru who can wield a slide rule and a radio-telescope array. The timing of my trip to O`ahu to change up my meds is itself an amazing thing. I don’t know whether it is fate or chance or God or gods. But I feel the mystery in the air.
That which is above will come down
That which is below will rise up
The islands shall unite
The walls shall stand firm.
There is no fear or doubt. No shame. No denial or regret. No choice. There is only acceptance—and a sense of honor.
I will never again run from who I am, or from where I belong.
I throw my medical bracelet and my remaining pills into the green waters to meld with the life-delivering flesh of my Hawaiian ancestors, and I prepare to fight for my family, for my islands, and for my world.
We stand among the radio telescopes, very near the highest peak of Mauna Kea. The sun is low on the horizon, bathing the mountaintop and the puffy clouds below in a fiery orange befitting the end of the world. Soon the heavens will be given over to the night, in its velvety gown, dazzling with sequins and pearls and emerald-green flower brooches. I can feel the cold seeping into my bones. But soon I will reach out and touch the stars.
“Are we really going to do this?” Dad asks. He and I are sitting on the tailgate of Buzz’s old truck, parked at the center of the array. “Have these things here for the rest of our lives? No more computers? Internet? Phones?”
“We’ll grow old together,” I say.
“I’d give everything for that.”
“It’s not for life, though. Years? I mean, we need enough time for people to box up the world’s nuclear material. Stuff it all underground, in that Yucca Mountain place in Nevada or something. Then I can send the Orchids away.”
“Piece of cake,” Dad says. “We’ll just send instructions to every nuclear nation by carrier pigeon.”
“We’ll think of a way.”
Buzz yells. “Looks like we’re ready.” He dashes between a tight-knit grid of garage-sized satellite dishes as if he were a Hawaiian honeycreeper pollinating giant flowers. The roar of several gas generators penetrates the stillness.
Buzz huffs and puffs into view. He studies me kindly, attaches makeshift electrodes to my head. “We have about twenty minutes before your dad and I have to adjust all the dishes. I imagine we’ll be adjusting the orientation all night, though. Don’t worry if it takes a while.”
“You all set, Lei? I’m right here.” Dad holds my hand.
I smile and pop open my can of diet soda.
“I’m right here to keep you safe.”
I kiss him on the forehead. “I know.”
I turn east, opposite the sunset, and cross my legs. The sky above the carpet of clouds is pink and orange and red. No hint of green. But I trust Buzz, and I trust my father, and I trust myself. Dad braces me. I close my eyes and drink.
Leilani. I am Leilani. I am with you.
I go toward the depths. It is time for the long fastness now.
Return to the shores. Rest here. Remain with me. Stay with the sweetness until it has finished flowing.
The hotness is sweet. I like the hotness. But I need the long fastness. I need to leave.
No. You don’t. Stay.
Stay.
I yearn for the depths and the long fastness to the other shores.
No. You don’t. You only want to do that because it’s what you’ve always done. What the one who gave you always did. Stay. There is purpose in staying. We need you to take up all the hotness until it is gone.
I do what is always done. Yes. It is good.
You like the shores. You want the sweetness. It is best for the young one. It is better here than in the deep. Best for the young one. To feed. To feed. Feed the young one.
The depths are good. The long fastness must begin. Yes, I like the shores. The other shores. I am almost free enough of the current to begin.
No. We need you. Stay.
Hello? Leilani? Where did you go? Please.
It is time to begin.
There you are.
I can feel the fastness building. Soon we will rush.
I am Leilani. I will return to the shore that I just left. The one I gave needs the hotness. I want the depths, but I want to do the good thing more. The good thing is to stay.
I need to go. The long fastness is best.
I need to stay. It is best for the one I gave. I am safe here. I will stay. Here the young one grows strong. Strongest young one of them all. We will stay. It is just a moment. Just a moment until the sweetness is used up. Then we will go. The depths are not good. Not without the strength. The others will take the one I have given. I must protect the one from harm. We are safe here for now. We will stay. The others will come and steal this sweetness. I must protect the sweetness. I must use it. The sweetness is good and it will keep me safe it will keep the one I gave safe it is the good thing to do yes I want to go but I want to stay too I want to stay more than I want to go it is just a short time I will stay for a short time more and then go for the other shore and enjoy the fastness later.
I want to stay. It is safer to stay and grow strong and protect the one that I gave and do the fastness later.
Yes. To stay is good. I want to stay and make myself and the one that I gave stronger. That way the long fastness will be even more pleasant and the one that I gave will have an advantage over all the other new ones and the sweetness is too sweet to let go especially now when I am weak from the giving and the one I gave is still weak and I want to stay not long just until all the oozing is spent and then I can go I want to stay for now and enjoy the sweetness which is hard to find I like these shores the surf the seafoam rocks me the one that I gave will be with me and we will be together for longer and it is good it is good to stay it is what I want to do it is what I yearn to do it is good and the sweetness is good and I am very satisfied.
I yearn for the seafoam of the shores where I gave the new one. I yearn for the hotness sweetness and we will stay here until we are strong and safe and all the sweetness is gone.
I am Leilani. We are Leilani. We will stay. It is our purpose now. We are one. We are ali`i nui. We are the guardians of the shores and the surf and the islands and all the mysteries that dwell within. We hunger for the rumbling of rock, the creeping swirl of orange light. We have dreamt of these shores. We were born here, but we slipped away. Now we have reached the shallows, at long last, guided across the endless waters by ancient stars. These islands and their sacred tides call us forth.
We are home.
We are Leilani. Spellbound, we blossom.
We are Leilani. Spellbound, we blossom.
CHAPTER 32
Hilo has always been dark at night—dimly lit to assist the observatories in their endless safaris through the skies—but it was never this dark. Squares of candlelight seeping through kitchen windows hint that the town remains home to tens of thousands of people, but the streets seem deserted on this green, moonless night.