O+F Part 19

He awoke the next morning at 4 a.m., out of synch from jet lag. Half an hour later he gave up trying to get back to sleep. He dressed and walked toward the shopping mall, stopping at a Tops Restaurant busy with cab drivers, early risers, and night owls winding down. He had half a papaya, served with a piece of lemon. Delicious. Eggs came with two scoops of rice. Eggs and rice? Not bad. Full daylight came as he finished a second cup of coffee and looked at his map.

Alewa Heights was on the other side of the city. He could find a bus that would get him close, no doubt, but it was early to be visiting.

Should he call? No. That was too much of a commitment. He wanted to walk to the address and see how he felt when he got there, leaving open the chance for a last-minute escape.

He decided to wait a day. Look up Kenso Nakano tomorrow, he told himself. He walked back to the hotel by a different route and fell asleep easily.

Later that morning, he walked to Tops again and on to the Ala Moana Shopping Center. Acres of parking lot surrounded two decks of stores--mainland chains and local names. There were fountains and sculptures, a mix of tourists and islanders, and, at one end, a j.a.panese department store named, "Shirokya." He spent an hour in Shirokya admiring the packaging and design, listening to j.a.panese music, and feeling proud of the evident care taken with details. _If you're going to do something, do it well._

He crossed Ala Moana Boulevard to the yacht harbor where rows of large sailboats were moored behind a stone breakwater. "Salty boats," he said to a guy who was smoking at the end of a long dock.

"Better be. It's a mile deep right out there." He looked down at Oliver, amused. Oliver was evidently too short for the Pacific.

He spent the rest of the day poking around Waikiki and considering his visit to Kenso Nakano. The next morning, he caught a bus to the other side of the city.

He walked up Alewa Drive in bright sunshine, enjoying the view of the city and the ocean which grew in immensity as he climbed. The higher he got, the more vast the ocean became and the smaller the island, until he began to sense that he was standing on a happy accident, a green miracle in a marine world. The planes taking off from the airport below him looked puny. It was an added pleasure to turn away from the Pacific to the street, to the plumeria, the bougainvillea, and the different shades of green. Doves called. There was little traffic.

The street bent higher around a switchback curve. A pickup was parked in front of a wall and a gate which bore the number Oliver was seeking.

Two heavyset men wearing shorts, T-shirts, and baseball caps were easing a boulder from the truck bed onto an impromptu ramp of two-by-sixes. A woman with trim graying hair and tanned cheeks watched.

The planks sagged ominously.

"She hold?"

"Plenty strong."

"d.a.m.n--stuck. Excuse me, Mrs. Nakano."

"I've heard worse," she said. Oliver approached and braced one shoulder against the rock.

"What is this?" one man said. "Who you?"

"Superman," Oliver said.

"You shrunk." There was a cracking noise from one of the planks. "Watch it!" The other man got both hands under one edge of the boulder, bent his knees, and heaved. The boulder rocked and began to slide down the planks. They bowed farther but held as the three of them guided the boulder to the street.

"One good moss-rock, Mrs. Nakano. Kind of small, though."

"I know you guys like a challenge," she said.

"Where you want it?"

She pointed through the gate.

"We better do it. This start down the road, it end up in somebody's living room." They walked the boulder through the gate and to one end of a flower bed. It took three of them to move it without using crowbars; Oliver helped until it was in place.

"Hard to find a good moss-rock these days," Mrs. Nakano said. "How about a soda?"

"Too early for anything else," one said. "Sure."

"Thank you so much for helping," she said to Oliver. "Are you thirsty?"

"Yes. I was looking for you. I think. Actually, I'm looking for Muni Nakano who has a brother--Ken?"

"Oh," she said. "Muni is my brother-in-law."

"My name is Oliver, Oliver Prescott."

"How do you do, Oliver. This is Jimmy. This is Kapono." The others nodded, and she went inside.

"Superman without a license--serious offense," Jimmy said.

"Batman worse," Kapono said.

"Still--he pretty strong for a midget."

Oliver grinned and brushed the dirt off his hands. There were times to keep your mouth shut. Mrs. Nakano returned and handed out cans of Pepsi. "This was good of you guys." She turned to Oliver. "I'm sorry.

Ken is on a trip. Can I help you?"

"Oh." Oliver thought. "I need to find Muni."

"Ken will be back the day after tomorrow. He is coming in tomorrow night--late."

"I'll call on the phone, then, the day after tomorrow? Maybe around nine in the morning?"

"That will be fine."

"Thanks," Oliver said. He drained his soda and gave the can back to Mrs. Nakano. "Good," he said. He waved and started out the gate.

"You want a ride down the hill?" Jimmy asked.

"No need," Oliver said.

"He fly," Kapono said.

When Oliver got back to Waikiki, he had lunch at the banyan bar and thought about what had happened. Mrs. Nakano was nice. The moss-rock delivery duo had been most respectful. The house was in an upscale neighborhood. Ken Nakano was well established, for sure. You couldn't tell much from the house; like the other houses near it, the side facing the street was simple, almost anonymous. What was individual was out of sight. He was glad that he hadn't given Mrs. Nakano his middle name. Who knows what Jimmy and Kapono would have thought? They were pretty sharp.

The following day, he took TheBus around most of the island. That's what it said in big letters on the side: "TheBus." Mountains three thousand feet high separated the leeward and windward sides. The windward side was cooler, breezier, and less touristy. Steep sharp ridges radiated out to a coastal plain. Deep valleys disappeared into mysterious shade, wilder than he would have thought, so close to a city. TheBus returned across a central highland between two mountain groups. They pa.s.sed a pineapple plantation, long rows of spiky bushes in red dirt, and a military base, Schofield Barracks. Pearl Harbor spread out before them--large, calm, and silver, warships moored at docks, small boats moving about. Then they were back in traffic, back in the city. He got out at the shopping center and walked to Waikiki.

It had been cloudy most of the day. The wind had begun to blow hard.

Gusts caught the hair of young women and whipped ebony parabolas three feet over their heads. The women turned their heads like wild mustangs, laughing--counterpoint to their Asian composure and perfect make-up.

This is it, Oliver thought. I could die right here. I'll never see anything more beautiful.

He ate dinner in a Thai restaurant. His waitress was another knockout.

Across the room, someone who looked like Gomer Pyle was eating and joking. It _was_ Gomer Pyle--Jim Nabors. Wilt. Gomer. Gorgeous women.

Oliver began to feel that this was the way things should be, that it was his due. He was Oliver. He had family on Alewa Heights, he was sure of it. Tomorrow would tell.

At nine the next morning, Oliver called the Nakano's number.