The Ohana (30 page)

Honolulu: 1972

Jackie Han Myers was blessed with a rich husband who adored her. They lived on the slopes of Diamond Head in a magnificent home that commanded spectacular views of Waikiki, Kapiolani Park, and the Pacific Ocean. Although their home didn’t qualify as one of the mansions of Noela Drive, it was suitably chic and sprawled over almost an acre.

Both her children attended elitist Punahou School. She shopped at the Crest Room, had a condo in Aspen, and lunched at the Outrigger Canoe Club. She knew many society women thought she was a snob. But the truth was she was afraid they would discover she was nothing but a fatherless bastard from blue-collar Kaimuki. She wondered if they knew and gossiped about her past as a centerfold. Her aloofness hid her insecurities.

Jackie confided in her mother-in-law, Meg, who took Jackie under her wing despite her past. She envied the ease in which Meg moved through society. But then, Meg had a clear  advantage. She was from one of the most important families in Hawaii. When she was with the
kamaaina
elite, Jackie felt like a party crasher.

Meg was bathed in mystery. Jackie wondered if it was true she used to be a half-mad recluse. All Meg told her was when her depression hit rock bottom, she started going to church and met Danny. Seven years younger than Meg, he came with a package. Before his sister died, he promised to take care of her children. Gerry, Jackie’s husband, was only ten-years old when he got not only a new father, but a new mother.

“Did you ever want children?” Jackie asked while brunching with Meg on the lanai of the gracious and beautiful Halekulani Hotel on Waikiki beach. The sea wall in front of them provided the most fascinating people watching in town. An obese bottle-blond woman strutted by in a tiny bikini. Jackie wondered if the woman knew how ridiculous she looked.

Meg’s eyes misted over. “Of course.”

“Then why didn’t you?”

“Things happen the way they’re supposed to.”

Jackie broke off a piece of popover. “I don’t believe that. I believe we’re the captains of our fate.”

“What about God and destiny?” Meg asked.

“People make their own destiny,” Jackie replied.

“So you don’t think God is in control of our lives?” Meg sipped her coffee.

“No,” Jackie said.

The waitress came by and Jackie ordered a Mimosa. She knew she was drinking too much. Her days began and ended with a drink. She should have been happy, after all, she had chosen this lifestyle herself.

Instead, Jackie’s life was an elegant disappointment crowded with shopping, ladies luncheons, facials, manicures, bi-weekly visits to hair salons, more shopping, and a very busy social calendar. Somehow, she managed to squeeze her children into her busy schedule, but wasn’t as involved in their lives the way her mother had been.

She realized how amazing her mother had been when rearing her children. How did she balance a full-time job and still have the time to be involved and available to her children? Her mother had no household help. Realizing how much she had taken advantage of her mother in the past made her feel guilty. Jackie had done as little as possible to help her at home. She never gave a thought as to whether or not her mother was happy or tired, for that matter.

Jackie was miserable. Though grateful to her husband whom she kind of sort of loved, she didn’t feel the way she felt with Stefano.

Jackie never stopped thinking of Stefano. True, he had been narcissistic, selfish, and arrogant. But he was also unpredictable, spontaneous, exciting, and magnificent in bed. Just thinking of Stefano aroused her. Would she die without ever feeling passion again? The thought of living without it saddened her. Her body and soul longed for the excitement Stefano had brought into her life. Maybe it wasn't undying love, but she loved him and everything he represented. To make matters worse, she lusted after him.

She drank because when she did, she no longer cared that her body had been dead for years. She wanted to wake-up every morning anticipating the day instead of drinking away the dull ache inside of her.

When the Mimosa was placed on a lace paper doily in front of her, Jackie raised her glass. “Here’s to being mistress of our own universe.”

Honolulu 1972

Susan’s hand paused in mid-air, inches from the massive door in front of her. She turned to Miss Ching, Sean Duffy’s executive secretary.

Miss Ching smiled. “It’s okay, he knows you’re here.”

She knocked.

A commanding voice boomed, “Come in.”

Susan stepped through the doors. Sean Duffy sat behind an enormous desk. The huge paned windows behind him framed the fronds of tall palm trees outside. His smile dazzled her.

Susan thought it strange Steve’s dad was everything Steve and many of their generation professed to despise. Steve used to mockingly call his father a capitalist in pursuit of the great American dollar.

“Good morning, Miss Han. Please have a seat.” Sean gestured to a leather chair and she sat. She wondered if her skirt was too short or her makeup too heavy. Her overall appearance was a dramatic change from the first time he had seen her at Steve’s going-away party.

“Why are you applying for this position?”

“It sounds like a position where I could learn a lot and meet interesting people.” She fiddled with her purse.

He flipped through the resume on his desk. “It says here you majored in psychology.”

“Yes.”

He looked up. “Why aren’t you pursuing your field?”

“To be honest, Psychology is not my idea of what I want to do with the rest of my life. Unfortunately, I arbitrarily picked it as my major. By the time I figured out I didn't want a career as a psychologist, I was close to getting a degree and didn’t want to be in college any longer.”

“So you want to be a secretary?” He raised his eyebrows.

“No, I don’t,” she admitted.

He put the resume down. “Then why are you here?”

“Mr. Duffy, there’re no jobs out there. I know. I’ve looked. I’ve pounded the pavements. Everywhere I go, the first question the interviewers ask is if I can type and take shorthand. So I learned. It was either that or work as a waitress or stewardess. At least if I work as an executive secretary I'd learn the business firsthand. It could lead to better opportunities. I can’t think of a better place to be than right next to the boss. That’s why I applied for this job.”

“Well …” He sat back in his seat, his fingertips touching to form a steeple. “At least you’re honest. I have a good feeling about you.” His eyes crinkled when he smiled.

Susan felt some of the tension drain away.

“You’re hired. God help both of us.”

Susan stared. She didn’t really expect to get the job, having never worked as a secretary before.

“May will show you the ropes. Can you start Monday?”

“Yes.”

“Very good. I’m sure we’ll get along just fine.” He picked up a pen and twirled it in his fingers. “By the way, are you related to Mary Han?”

“She’s my mother.”

He put down his pen. “Then you’re Jackie’s sister. I must have met you at the wedding.”

“There were five hundred people there, Mr. Duffy.” She didn’t know most of the guests at the wedding. Besides, Han was a common Korean name. Now that he mentioned it, though, she thought she might have heard Jackie or her mother mention Sean Duffy’s connection to the Myers.

“Why didn’t you tell me that when you walked in?” Sean interrupted her thoughts.

“I didn’t think about it.” It was true. When she first made her appointment, she hoped he wouldn’t connect her to Steve. She never thought about her sister.

“It worked out anyway.” Sean stroked his chin with his finger. “See you Monday.”

“Thank you.” Susan got up to leave.

Sean picked up his pen and played with it again. “I look forward to working with you.”

“Same here.”

May Ching proved to be a gold mine of information. As Sean’s secretary, she was privy to the most private aspects of his life. It was her first introduction to the role of “office wife.”

“Mrs. Duffy is difficult. And although she’s younger than Mr. Duffy, she sure doesn’t look it.” May sighed. “We call her the queen.”

“What about his kids?” Susan asked.

“Patrick’s the oldest—handsome like his old man, but with his mother’s uptight personality. He disapproves of everything. Unfortunately, you’ll see him around a lot.” May rolled her eyes. “He’s Vice-President of the Hawaiian Islands Bank. If you ask me, it was connections. He’s not as smart as he thinks he is.” May winked.

Susan didn’t say anything. She found out more if she remained silent.

“Patrick and his blonde, stuck-up wife make a beautiful couple,” May conceded. “But they’re horrible people. I bet Patrick becomes president and CEO of the bank someday. People like always seem to get ahead.”

“I hear he has another son,” Susan said.

“You mean Steve,” May replied. “I only met him a couple of times. A little spacey and quiet. Him, I like.” May paused. “I don’t know what happened in ‘Nam. After the war he disappeared to Hana, Maui. I never see him anymore. But in my opinion, he’s smarter than Patrick.”

Not wanting to reveal she had been very good friends with Steve, Susan changed the subject. “How’s Mr. Duffy as a boss?”

“Wonderful.” May smiled. “A nice, generous man. Gives full scholarships to all his nieces and nephews in Boston, anything from private schools. college, or technical school. And, he pays for extracurricular lessons like in the arts or theatre. If I weren’t marrying Richard who wants to live in Kauai, I wouldn’t have quit. But I’m thirty-five. I thought I was going to be a spinster. This is my first chance to get married and I’m not getting any younger, you know.”

Susan worried she would never find a husband. She was afraid of ending up an old maid and being left alone. She feared growing old, no longer attractive, and unwanted. She wanted to love and be loved by someone who wanted a house, two cars, kids, and a normal life.

Meanwhile, life at home became increasingly difficult. Her grandmother died and almost everyone was relieved. Grandma had Alzheimer’s. The disease had required twenty-four hour care. Still, her father sunk into a depression after his loss. Susan had always been told her father was a momma’s boy. Her grandmother’s love for her father was so strong, she recognized only him at the end. Grandma left them a small inheritance which her dad used as an excuse to work less and gamble more. He also spent a lot of time in Korean bars, a new phenomenon that mushroomed all over Hawaii.

Out of curiosity, Susan once went to a Korean bar with a mixed group of friends. The heavily made-up hostesses plied the men with drinks costing double the price found at other bars and served them a fantastic variety of Korean
pupus
, free appetizers the patrons got with the purchase of expensive drinks.

“Ah, Eric, nice to see you big strong man.” A beautiful, slim waitress sat on Susan’s friend Eric’s lap and stroked his face.

“Again?” Susan and her friends giggled.

Eric turned red.

“He smart boy,” the waitress said. “Make a lot of money someday.”

On the next table, Susan saw a well-dressed man with a big belly put several hundred-dollar bills down the front of the dress of a woman sitting on his lap. The woman put her mouth to his ear and he slid a hand under the hem of her dress.

Going to Korean bars in Hawaii was an addiction to some, a ritual to others. It was rumored doctors, lawyers, plumbers, contractors, politicians, and businessmen, guys from every walk of life spent time in this dark world. She understood some of the women even managed to marry important professional men in the community. She heard of lawyers who left their college sweetheart wives for Korean bargirls. Many of the women were said to be experts at stripping a man of all his assets.

It embarrassed Susan to know her father went to these bars. What was more incredible was the fact her mother turned a blind eye to it. Didn’t she care? Did her mother even love her father?

Once, when Susan was nine or ten, she looked through her mother’s old photographs and came upon a picture of a handsome young Japanese man in his army uniform. She took the picture to her mother and asked her who he was. Her mother stared at the picture for what seemed to be a very long time. Susan couldn’t fathom the look on her face. Even now she remembered her mother’s curt answer, “Just someone I knew a long time ago.” Then her mother threw the picture in the trashcan and walked away. Susan picked up the picture and tried to make sense of it. Now an adult, she wondered if the soldier had been the love of her mother’s life.

Did most people have only one great love in their life? Or did most people fall in love multiple times? What kind of person was she? Like all teenagers, she had crushes in high school, but the only man she loved was Jimmy. Maybe. Did she love him? Or was their relationship more about friendship rather than a deeply intense feeling leading to a lifelong commitment? Nowadays it seemed like her generation changed partners like they did jobs. Would she ever feel the way people did in romance novels or was that kind of love fiction too?

She didn’t have a lot of time to think about romantic love because these days her father was constantly on her case. He hated all the
haoles
she dated. How could she tell her own father she didn’t want to be like her mother? She didn’t want to end up waiting hand and foot on a man the rest of her life. She liked having a man who was not only respectful of what she wanted but man enough to wait on her sometimes and found their physical and cultural differences fascinating. Besides, the perverse satisfaction she felt pissing her father off was almost worth tolerating her father’s verbal abuse.

Until the day he called her a whore.

She arrived home early one Saturday morning. It wasn’t the first time she had stayed out all night. Every time she did, she felt guilty and tried not to look her mother or father in the eye for days. But this Saturday was different. The moment she walked in and saw her father’s bloodshot eyes and rumpled clothes, she quickly assessed the danger in the situation. He must have lost money in an all-night poker game. Last night’s cigarettes and booze, combined with lack of sleep, had taken a toll on him.

“Where the hell have you been Miss High and Mighty?” he bellowed.

“You know I was at Deborah’s party,” she said as she tried to walk around him.

He blocked her way. “Who were you with at Deborah’s party?”

“My friends.” She tried to step around him again but failed.

“You were with another
haole
!”

Susan stiffened.
Here it comes
, she braced herself mentally. “Okay Dad, I’m dating a really nice guy who graduated from UCLA. He has a good job in advertising.”

“He’s nothing but a damned
haole
!” her father snapped.

“Can I go now?” Susan asked.

“You got no respect!” Spittle flew out of her father’s mouth, “You kids nowadays don’t care what your parents say or feel. You walk in at eight in the morning like there’s nothing wrong with that.”

“Dad, I’m not a teenager anymore.”

“So, college girl, you think you know more than me?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“No, but you think it. When I was your age, I had responsibilities, a wife and kids. You think going to college makes you smarter than me.” Her father shook his fist at her.

“Why do you always twist everything I say?”

“Now you’re saying I’m a liar?” Her father’s face distorted with anger.

“Of course not!” Susan shook her head.

“You think you’re better than me just because you graduated from college?” Mark took a step toward her.

“Stop it!” Susan covered her ears with her hands. “This conversation is crazy.”

“Oh, so now you’re calling me, your own father, crazy?” Mark pounded his chest.

“Dad …” Susan put her palm out to him.

“What right do you have to call me crazy?” Mark was yelling now. “My own daughter is a
haole
lover. You’re nothing but a whore.”

Susan stood rooted to the ground, frozen with shock. Behind her father, she saw her mother enter the room with her brother. Their eyes were wide and their mouths hung open.