Shimura Trouble

3

WHEN I FLY for work with Michael’s group, OCI, it’s usually in business class. I’ve become accustomed to free drinks and semi-decent food and kind attentions from flight attendants. But this time the flight was economy, and the rear cabin where my father and I sat was freezing cold. I demanded extra blankets, but there was only one, so I gave it to my father. Not even the wine was free, so I asked for guava juice. My father took one as well.

“Just wait till we can make our own fresh guava juice in Hawaii,” I told my father. “Not to mention that passion fruit and mangoes are going to be in season.”

“I don’t believe you packed a juicer,” my father said.

He was right. I’d packed many things, but not the giant juicer that sat in state in our San Francisco kitchen. “The townhouse is supposed to be fully furnished, and that means kitchen utensils. If there isn’t a mechanical juicer, maybe I can buy a wooden hand tool.”

“I don’t need pampering,” my father said. “I hear that everything in Hawaii is expensive. Canned juice is fine.”

“But not as rich in fiber and anti-oxidants,” I pointed out.

“Are you going to talk about health the whole trip?” my father grumped at me. “If so, I want those headphones of yours. I see the flight magazine lists a channel for traditional Japanese music.”

“Here.” I handed over my noise-reducing headphones and showed him how to turn them on. After a few seconds, a look of wonder spread over his face.

“These are very nice.” My father sighed, then closed his eyes and leaned his head against the window.

The Bose headphones had been given to me by Michael, a gift before my last trip to Japan. I paid $5 to rent cheapies from the flight attendant and plugged into the same Japanese station that my father was listening to. Then I buried myself in a mystery set in 1940s Hawaii, The Mamo Murders , which kept my attention all the way until we landed.

MY FATHER SURVIVED the flight without a second stroke, but I practically had my own upon arrival in Honolulu. I’d advised Uncle Hiroshi and my cousin Tom, who were scheduled to arrive four hours earlier, to get their baggage, have a snack, and meet us at our gate. But nobody was there, and my calls to Tom’s cell phone went unanswered. Had they made it after all? I finally learned that there was a separate terminal for flights to and from Japan. Adding to the confusion, all passengers-Japanese or not-collected baggage in a third terminal a shuttle-bus ride away.

“Uncle Hiroshi and Tom might never find us,” I fretted as my father and I sat sandwiched together in the steamy little bus. “I had no idea this airport had so many terminals! It wasn’t like this the last time I was here.”

“Oh, I’m sure we’ll hear from them.” My father seemed relaxed and happy as we shuffled off the hot bus and joined a massive wave going into a building, and then down an escalator to a series of baggage carousels. My father called out, waving, and then I too saw Uncle Hiroshi, short and solid like my father, in a green polo shirt and khakis, and my cousin Tom, taller and handsome in his crisp blue jeans and a yellow polo. Hanging from their necks were leis made of what looked like huge, shiny black nuts, plus red carnations and purple orchids. When my father, uncle and cousin met, all bowed-an underwhelming reaction for brothers who’d not been together for three years, but one that was completely in keeping with family tradition. Greetings were exchanged in Japanese, and I looked around for Edwin Shimura. He must have already met Hiroshi and Tom, since they were wearing leis, but where was he now?

“You must be very tired, waiting for us,” I said to my uncle in Japanese, because he wasn’t much of an English speaker.

“Not at all,” Hiroshi demurred. “We have been visiting with Edwin-san. He’s just gone off briefly to check on the rental car.”

“That’s nice of him,” I said. “By the way, does he speak Japanese?”

“Yes,” Tom replied. “But it’s a strange Japanese.”

“It’s a bit like the way peasants speak,” Hiroshi explained. “I mean inaka Japanese, from the nineteenth-century countryside. At times, I thought I was hearing a film.”

I laughed and said, “Well, the countryside is where most of the original Japanese emigrants to Hawaii have their roots. Perhaps the Japanese language in Hawaii has retained this bit of old Japan.”

Not Japanese personal style, though. Five minutes later, Edwin Shimura bustled into the terminal, two more leis outstretched toward us-a jumble of pink, red, purple and white flowers in one hand, yellow carnations and black seed pods in the other. Everything about him seemed as loud as the flowers, from his orange and red floral patterned aloha shirt to his shouted welcome.

“Aloha, irasshaimase! Welcome! So happy to meet you guys!” He plopped the lei over my head and then crushed me into a hug that smelled of orchids, perspiration and cologne. He bowed to my father, bestowed him with the lei, and said warmly, “At last. My cousin, I thrilled to meet you.”

Cousin Edwin was speaking the Hawaii-style English I remembered from my school trip. It was softer than mainland American English, with extended vowel sounds, and ds that sounded like soft ts, and plenty of dropped prepositions. I could understand him perfectly, but I wasn’t sure how the others were faring.

“How was the flight?” Edwin asked, grinning as if he anticipated a rapturous reply.

“It was fine,” I answered for both my father and myself. “Thank you for staying to meet us. I know you must have been waiting for a while.”

“No sweat,” said Edwin, whose forehead told me otherwise. “I chance going to the car rental and get a better car for you this whole trip.”

“The sedan with GPS that I reserved was not available,” Tom said in his impeccable English. “So Edwin-san did some research and found there was a car available at one of his friend’s lots.”

“I used to work in travel, so I have lots of friends working in and near the airport. I got you guys a minivan with a handheld GPS! And of course, a minivan has much more room than a full-size sedan. I figured you’d have lots of luggage, once I heard you were bringing a daughter along!”

I was sorely tempted to snap at him, but instead I walked off to the luggage carousel, which had finally creaked into action.

“Ojisan, you stay with the others. I’ll help Rei-chan,” Tom said to my father. As we waited at the carousel together, he asked, “What do you think of him?”

“I haven’t known him long enough to make a judgment,” I answered carefully. “But you’ve been together a few hours. What’s your opinion?”

“I’m concerned about the change in car companies,” Tom said. “I think they might have given us an upgrade since the car we reserved was gone, if we had stayed to talk. Uncle Edwin insisted on our leaving the place, because he said that his friend’s rental car agency would have the car we wanted. The minivan we’ve got is $5 more expensive than the car we reserved at Hertz.”

“Well, I’m sorry about the change, but $5 more isn’t that bad, at last minute. Though I guess I’m a little worried, since Edwin did all this re-arranging before I arrived, that I’m not going to be permitted as the third driver of that car…”

“It’s five dollars more per day,” Tom said. “And we’re here for a month, which means $150 more. And as far as your driving goes, the agency owner said that he listed you, providing that you telephone him with driver’s license information. And there was an extra three dollars a day to allow you to drive!

“At least the doctor refused to let Dad drive,” I said. “If we had to add him on to the contract, we might as well buy a car, instead of rent one.”

“And don’t expect much comfort,” Tom said. “It’s not so clean, and it makes loud noises. I don’t mean to be rude, but…”

I stared at my Uncle Edwin, who was having an animated conversation with my father. What a jerk! As I was watching him, Edwin suddenly looked past my father and met my gaze.

His mouth still formed a smile, but he looked as if he sensed what I was thinking. This was not a comfortable situation at all.