We've seen her the last couple of mornings, leaning against a truck, her coffee cup, its purple handle braided, balanced on the edge of the bed, a cigarette in her hand, looking toward the mountains. She says she's on rehab and wants to get back to work. "Environmental specialist," she tells me, which means "housekeeper." Hurt her back leaning over to wipe a low table. Hadn't liked office work; too many people in too small a space. She stays with her family here, and also with her mother-in-law on Okana Place (her mother-in-law is named Susan, her dog Lily). I tell her a friend of mine wrote a book about the sumo wrestler murdered on Okana Road, and the drug issues in the area. Her daughter knew the wrestler's girlfriend, who really had a hard time after he died. Drugs. I recommend my friend's book, _Big Happiness_, and tell her my mother-in-law was guardian ad litem at the house in front of which he was killed. It's a small island, you know.
"That's my president," she says, when the inevitable comes up. "I voted for him twice," she says, clearly not happy with her choice. Didn't like Biden either, thought he was a puppet, but now her friends say, "did you hear what Trump did today?" and they groan. I mention that Title III has been cut (which benefits native Hawaiians) and she said yes, he's going after all the minorities and that's all we are in Hawai`i. She's Chinese-Hawaiian-German, and no one in her family is "pure blood" anything. It's not even been a year . . .
Her kids ask her how they can survive in Hawai`i. She tells them to go to Molokai, where the family has land. But what would they do there? they ask. Her nieces and nephews aren't political; they're just trying to make it here. But they seem content.
She's nearly finished her cigarette and her coffee. She wishes Lilith and me a good walk. Just the first trip around the parking lot, I say. Gotta have another coffee before we do our long one.
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