(Based on characters in The Lightning in the Collied Night and The Loss of What Is Past)
SPOILER ALERT: There are spoilers below for both The Lightning in the Collied Night and The Loss of What Is Past.
24 December 2071
Yinuo sat on the large sofa with her eyes shut. She tried to tune out the voices of her friends chattering away noisily and happily around her. As her thoughts drifted, she remembered a voice from 10 years ago:
I need to go across the street really quick, sweetie. I’ll be right back.
Her eyes squeezed closed more tightly as a single teardrop ran down her right cheek. She opened her eyes and looked up as she felt a hand touch her left arm.
“Are you okay?” Charlie said softly, concern evident on his face.
“Uh, yeah, she’ll be right,” Yinuo replied, quickly whisking away the tear as she looked at her friend. “I was just taking a breather.”
He sat down next to her. “No worries. It’s getting to be quite the shivoo, isn’t it?” He surveyed the family room of the townhome in Miranda where he, Yinuo, and several of their school mates were having a Christmas get-together, then looked again at Yinuo. “What do you say we go outside and get some air?”
She smiled slightly and nodded once. “I’d like that.” She felt her phone vibrate against her thigh. She glanced at it and saw Dad on caller ID. Not again, she thought as she pocketed the phone.
They got up from the sofa, went over to the sliding patio door, and stepped outside into the warm summer evening. Stars, planets, and a waxing gibbous Moon decorated the clear night sky. Charlie walked onto a small patch of lawn just off the patio. “Should we do some stargazing?”
“Love to,” Yinuo replied as she lay down next to Charlie on the grass, put her hands behind her head, and gazed up at the beautiful display above them. As they talked quietly about school, friends, and life in general, she forgot for those minutes her grief about her mother’s accident and death 10 years earlier.
Charlie was lying on his right side, head propped up with one arm, as he talked with Yinuo. He paused, placed his left hand gently on the side of her head, leaned over, and kissed her—a soft, lingering kiss.
She’d been kissed before, but not like that. The kiss partially soothed the ache in her heart. She wrapped her right arm around Charlie’s waist and returned his kiss, then looked into his eyes. “That was nice,” she said as her lips formed a tranquil smile.
Charlie returned her smile, then kissed her again, more deeply. His hand moved from her head to the nape of her neck, then slipped lower.
“What in bloody hell, Charlie!” she exclaimed as she pushed his hand aside and sat up quickly.
“I’m sorry! I—I thought you—” he stammered as his cheeks turned bright red.
“You thought wrong!” Yinuo declared angrily as she stood up. “Party’s over.” She walked quickly to the patio door and opened it.
“Yinuo, wait! I’m really sorry!” she heard Charlie plead as she stepped into the house and slid the door shut behind her.
* * *
Kapono checked the clock on his phone one more time: 1:36 a.m. He considered trying to call Yinuo again, but decided against it. She hadn’t answered his call from 15 minutes ago, nor any of his other messages and calls that evening. He knew she was at a party with some of her friends, but she didn’t know where she was—she’d turned off the locator service on her phone. I’ve got to talk with her about that, he thought. Actually, he realized, there’s a lot of things I need to talk with her about ….
He leaned back on the living room sofa as he worried about his 16-year-old daughter. Although he was especially concerned about her being out so late that night, he’d been worrying about her for over a year. Her usually cheerful disposition had changed; she’d often seemed sullen and distant. He knew a big reason for the change was the loss of her beloved honorary grandmother, Agueda Pereira, the previous February. Agueda had partially filled the void caused by the tragic death of Yinuo’s mother a decade ago. Anong Wagamese, who was like an uncle to Yinuo, spent as much time with her as he could, taking her camping in nearby national parks and encouraging her scientific pursuits, but Agueda was irreplaceable as an adult female advisor and confidant.
Kapono was also concerned about Yinuo’s declining grades in school. She’d earned straight A’s through ninth grade, but there had been B’s and even a few C’s on her final 10th grade progress report. His concern went beyond his love for his daughter and desire for her happiness. He worried about the impact on history if she didn’t get into the physics program at the University of New South Wales, then go on to earn a PhD in quantum physics at the Australian National University and eventually become United Earth’s chief physicist.
Thus on that night that was so sorrowful for both Kapono and his daughter, he was glad she was with her friends. He knew that in the past couple of years, she’d begun to notice boys. They’d certainly noticed her, with her beautiful “blurry” face like her mother’s. She didn’t have a steady boyfriend, at least not that she’d told him about, and tended to hang out with a small circle of girls and boys.
He looked once more at his phone. But it’s really late. Where IS she? He was about to call the Miranda police station when the front door of the flat opened and Yinuo stepped quickly into the living room.
“Hi Dad,” she said in a perfunctory tone, not looking directly at him.
He stood up, a relieved smile on his face. “Hi, honey! I’m glad you’re home. I was wondering where you were and was getting worried.”
“I was at a party with some friends. I told you that,” she said in the same clipped voice.
“I know you did. But I didn’t know where it was, and it’s too late for someone your age to be out. I’d really appreciate it if you’d turn on the locator on your phone so I can—”
“Bugger off, Dad!” Kapono noticed the anger, and also the pain, in her voice as she hurried past him to her bedroom and slammed the door closed behind her.
Kapono sighed, waited a couple of minutes, then knocked softly on Yinuo’s door. “May I come in?” There was no response, so he slowly opened the door and saw his daughter sitting on her bed, her cheeks streaked with tears. She looked up at him as he stepped into the room.
“I’m sorry, Dad!” she cried. “I don’t know why I said that. I know you were just worried about me.”
Kapono sat down next to her and put his arm around her. “It’s okay, sweetie. I know you didn’t mean it.” He smiled to himself as he thought about how much his daughter had reminded him in that moment in the living room of when he’d first met Lai. “I know how hard it’s been for you all these years without your mom—and especially tonight of all nights.”
“Sometimes I miss her so much, Dad.” She looked at her father. “But, it must be really hard for you, too.”
“It is. And I think I can relate to what you’re going through.”
“Yeah … I know your mum died when you were an ankle biter, too.” She wiped the tears off her cheeks. “How did you ever get through that when you were a kid?”
He smiled reflectively. “Not very well, sometimes. I don’t think I’ve ever told you this, but I got into a lot of trouble when I was a boy, into my teens. I was arrested a few times. I probably would’ve ended up in jail if I hadn’t been a minor.”
Shock replaced the sorrow on Yinuo’s face. “Really? What did you do?”
“Fighting, mostly. And I skipped school a lot … hung out with the wrong people.”
“But, you got through that, right?”
“Yes—in time, with lots of help from my dad, and others.” He remembered the last time he’d been arrested, when he was 14, and what his father Keone had done afterward. He looked into his daughter’s eyes.
“I read once that grief is the price we pay for loving someone like we love your mom, after we lose them. If we love, we grieve. That’s the deal—that’s the pact. Grief and love are forever intertwined. And, like love, grief is non-negotiable. I wish I could tell you that someday you’re going to get over this. But I can’t. The hard truth is, you’re never going to get over it entirely, honey. But you will get through it. Your mother is still with us, in our hearts and memories …” he thought about what Yinuo had said about Lai when he’d told her she’d died, “… and maybe more.” Yinuo nodded as her eyes glistened. “And, I know something that may help you. Do you remember what I told you about ho’oponopono?” Keone had taught his son the ancient Hawaiian practice of reconciliation and forgiveness.
“Yes, most of it. Why?”
“I’d like to teach you more about it. I think it could be a big help to you. It was really helpful to me after I lost my mom … and your mom. What do you think?”
“Yeah, I’d, uh, I’d like that, Dad. When do you want to start?”
Kapono smiled, “Well, not now. I’m pretty tired. I’ll bet you are, too. Tomorrow, or whenever you’re ready.”
“Okay, Dad.” She looked over at Gracie, the stuffed toy koala her mother had purchased for her right before she died, perched atop her dresser, then turned back to her father. “Sometimes, when I’m lying in bed late at night, when it’s quiet and still, when I’m feeling really down … it feels almost like Mum is in the room with me, whispering to me that everything will be all right.”
Yinuo’s words surfaced in Kapono a memory from long ago. “You know … when I was a boy, sometimes I thought when I was lying in bed that I could feel someone holding my hand and telling me everything would be okay, in time.”
Yinuo’s eyes opened wide at her father’s revelation. “Pretty bizarre, huh?”
An enigmatic smile spread slowly on Kapono’s face. “Maybe. But, I think I know what your mother would say about it: ‘There are more things in Heaven and Earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in our philosophy.’”
Yinuo nodded and smiled faintly. “Yeah … she probably would say that, wouldn’t she?”
Kapono kissed his daughter on her forehead. “Goodnight, sweetie. I love you. Sweet dreams.” He stood up.
“I love you, too, Dad. Goodnight.”
After Kapono closed the door behind him, Yinuo wearily got undressed, decided she was too tired to take a shower, turned out the light on her nightstand, and stretched out atop her bedsheet, as it was too warm for blankets. Then she noticed Gracie sitting forlornly on the dresser. She got up, took the toy koala off the dresser, and placed it next to her on her pillow. “Goodnight, Gracie. Happy 10th birthday, luv.”
She closed her eyes in the dark room and breathed slowly and deeply as she listened … and waited.
(Image courtesy Estabrooks Community Hall)
