Hibiscus (8/?)
anonymous
August 13 2009, 14:32:44 UTC
“Was she ok, papa? She had to be, because I’m here, so she didn’t die then…”
“Lani, she was fine. Up and about after about a week. Stubborn woman, your mother was.”
“Just like me?”
“…Yes, just like you.”
---1958---
Between the war and 1958, Alfred visited Okalani a few more times. He’d had other problems. Another war, a cold war, was starting, a red scare was spreading, and for a brief time, he’d forgotten about the problems in Hawaii. There was a tsunami in 1946. He saw her again then, and chose to ignore how ill she was looking, how the wounds caused by the wave didn’t seem to heal properly, how tired she was.
He saw her in 1957, when they opened the telephone line between the mainland and the islands. He called her a lot.
In 1958, she came to see him. It was the only time she was on the mainland.
Talks had begun about Hawaii becoming an official state. It wasn’t the first time this had happened. The people had voted to become a state around 1950, the first successful vote. They waited to do anything, they had another vote, and things had been heating up since 1956.
Maybe she knew her time was running out, and that she needed somebody to take over her islands.
Maybe she loved Alfred, and wanted to leave him something after she was gone.
Maybe there wasn’t any reason.
He showed her around his house, his capital. He took her out to dinner. He took her home, for ‘coffee’.
They kissed, slow and soft, moving to unknown territory fast. She was amazing. She was beautiful. She was his, completely his, just for that moment, where there was no politics, no controversy or war or suffering, when there was just Alfred and Okalani.
Or maybe, he was hers. Maybe he would always be hers.
Hands fumbled and caressed, and her soft voice, her whispers of love in a language he would never understand haunting him as he clung to her and moved and when there was nothing left, nothing but that final rush of pleasure, he saw nothing but white.
White and hibiscus petals, bright and yellow, floating through space and time slowly, melting into the darkness.
She left a few days later. She kissed him goodbye and went back to the islands.
She called a few months later, and told him she was pregnant.
“Lani, she was fine. Up and about after about a week. Stubborn woman, your mother was.”
“Just like me?”
“…Yes, just like you.”
---1958---
Between the war and 1958, Alfred visited Okalani a few more times. He’d had other problems. Another war, a cold war, was starting, a red scare was spreading, and for a brief time, he’d forgotten about the problems in Hawaii.
There was a tsunami in 1946. He saw her again then, and chose to ignore how ill she was looking, how the wounds caused by the wave didn’t seem to heal properly, how tired she was.
He saw her in 1957, when they opened the telephone line between the mainland and the islands. He called her a lot.
In 1958, she came to see him. It was the only time she was on the mainland.
Talks had begun about Hawaii becoming an official state. It wasn’t the first time this had happened. The people had voted to become a state around 1950, the first successful vote. They waited to do anything, they had another vote, and things had been heating up since 1956.
Maybe she knew her time was running out, and that she needed somebody to take over her islands.
Maybe she loved Alfred, and wanted to leave him something after she was gone.
Maybe there wasn’t any reason.
He showed her around his house, his capital. He took her out to dinner. He took her home, for ‘coffee’.
They kissed, slow and soft, moving to unknown territory fast.
She was amazing.
She was beautiful.
She was his, completely his, just for that moment, where there was no politics, no controversy or war or suffering, when there was just Alfred and Okalani.
Or maybe, he was hers. Maybe he would always be hers.
Hands fumbled and caressed, and her soft voice, her whispers of love in a language he would never understand haunting him as he clung to her and moved and when there was nothing left, nothing but that final rush of pleasure, he saw nothing but white.
White and hibiscus petals, bright and yellow, floating through space and time slowly, melting into the darkness.
She left a few days later. She kissed him goodbye and went back to the islands.
She called a few months later, and told him she was pregnant.
They both knew at that moment they were doomed.
“Papa, what happened after that? Papa…?”
Reply
Leave a comment