Chapter 40
Chapter Forty
T he next night, I’m the nervous one as we make our way back to Dumb-Ax Throwing. And no, it’s not just because that’s where Kimo and I got kidnapped, although that certainly doesn’t help.
“We’re erasing the bad memories and making some new ones,” Kimo reminds me as he pulls me through the door. “Besides, you gotta meet Akona.”
Akona is the owner of Dumb-Ax Throwing, and is apparently an old school friend of Kimo’s. Even though the warehouse is much more crowded at night—filled with groups of friends and couples on date nights–-Akona comes right around the counter to greet us, throwing his arms around Kimo like they’re long-lost brothers. “Pono!”
Pono? That’s new. I look at Kimo, wondering if he’ll give me an explanation for the nickname, but he just gives me an embarrassed shrug. Huh. Interesting.
“And you must be Matilda.” Akona pulls me into a big, tight hug. If it weren’t already obvious that he’s Kimo’s old friend, I’d know it from that embrace. He’s just like Kimo, hugging everyone like they’re family.
“Nice to meet you,” I manage, though it’s mostly muffled into his shirtfront.
After a bone-crushing moment, I’m finally released. Akona shakes his head at me. “I am so sorry about what happened here. That employee has been fired, of course, and he’s being prosecuted for accessory to kidnapping.” Then he winks at Kimo, all seriousness dissipating. “But looks like it turned out pretty good for you, huh, hoaaloha?”
Kimo just grins at me, wrapping an arm around my shoulders and pulling me close. “Yeah, she’s a babe, huh? Smart, too. And tough as nails.”
I flush, not liking all of this attention on me. “And what about Kimo? I hear you’re the guy who can give me all the dirt on him.”
“Oh, yeah.” Akona doubles over laughing, then corrects himself, punching Kimo affectionately on the arm. “Nah, this here’s a real one. That’s why we all called him Pono back at school.”
There’s that word again. “Because it’s short for his last name?” I guess.
“Yeah, that. And it means...” He looks to Kimo, searching for the right words. “Righteousness? Harmony? Someone or something that’s right with the world, I guess.” Akona claps Kimo’s shoulder. “That’s this guy. He’s a good one.”
I’ve never seen Kimo look so embarrassed. It might be the sweetest thing I’ve ever seen. For a moment, he avoids eye contact, but then he finally looks over at me and I grin, needling him just a little bit. “Pono. That sounds about right to me.”
Kimo grabs me in an affectionate headlock, peppering my face with kisses that I only pretend to squirm away from. “You all set up for us?” he asks Akona.
“Yeah, brah. I got you in a private booth in the back. I’ll let you know when the others show up.” Akona reaches out to shake my hand enthusiastically. “Matilda, it was very nice to meet you...”
Kimo leads me to the back booth, which is separated from the others and has been roped off for some privacy. We’ll still be able to throw axes here, but there’s also a table that’s reserved just for us, along with a menu for food.
“Do you remember what they like?” Kimo asks, looking it over. “We can order some stuff ahead. Have it ready.”
I try to scan the menu, but my eyes don’t really register anything as my mind races over what’s about to happen. Maybe they’ll yell at me. Maybe they won’t show up. I’d deserve either response. My palms are sweaty, making the menu slippery, and I hope Kimo doesn’t notice how badly my hands are shaking. “They’re pretty easygoing. I don’t think they’ll care too much one way or the other.”
“Hey.” Kimo pries the menu from my hands and sets it back on the table, then takes my face in his hands. “It’s gonna be okay. If they’re assholes, we’ll throw an ax at them and make a quick escape. I’m a millionaire. We’ll totally get away with it.”
I do my best to smile, but I know it won’t come to that. They won’t be assholes. What they will be is...much more complicated than that.
Then I spot them, being led toward us through the crowd by Akona. I instinctively grip Kimo’s hand, which is still holding the side of my face. “They’re here.”
Brian and Connie—my adoptive parents.
* * *
The first few minutes are awkward—the kind of awkward that even Kimo can’t totally diffuse, despite his best efforts. Ten minutes later, he and Brian have decided to meet for a beer at an Irish pub sometime, since Brian took a DNA test and found out he’s thirty-two percent Irish and Kimo is apparently sixteen percent Irish, go figure.
Despite this, and aside from the usual perfunctory greetings, Brian and Connie haven’t said much to me directly. To be fair, I haven’t said much to them, either, because I just don’t know what to say. And they’re probably afraid if they pay me too much attention, I might suddenly become a flight risk. I guess I can’t blame them for that. Before today, it’d been almost eight years since the last time I saw them in person. Despite some inevitable aging—more gray hairs and lines around the eyes—they look the same. Both are white and in their sixties, Brian with thinning brown hair and glasses, his pants a little too high, and his shirt tucked in a little too tight in a way I used to find annoying when I was a teenager but now find endearing. Connie’s hair has gone full gray, but her round face makes her look younger than her years.
“I admire the work you’re doing in Hawai’i,” Connie tells Kimo after a moment. “I read that piece about you in The Atlantic .”
Kimo nods his appreciation. “Thank you. There’s still a long way to go, but at least it’s a start.”
“What work are you doing in Hawai’i?” I ask, confused. I’ve always taken Kimo for being a gentleman of leisure, aside from hanging out with his kids and learning all the words to ’80s power ballads.
I guess I should have pieced together that this isn’t his normal life, here in Chicago. He’s just here for the court case. Once that’s done...
No. Nope. Not focusing on that tonight . Kimo gives me his patented sheepish look, which I’m starting to realize is a good indicator that he’s done something nice for somebody and doesn’t want anyone to know about it. “Ahh, I’ve bought up quite a bit of property on the Big Island, and I’m working on buying some more.”
That...doesn’t sound like Kimo. He hasn’t even moved out of his old neighborhood—why is he buying up so much real estate?
Connie supplies the rest for me, once it becomes clear that Kimo isn’t going to. “He’s buying back properties from vacation rental companies that have jacked up the price of living there so that locals can’t even afford to buy homes. Then he’s selling back to locals at a loss so they can afford to stay in the same neighborhoods they’ve lived in for years.”
Kimo is studying his beer, looking more embarrassed than I’ve ever seen him. I watch him until, finally, he darts a glance up at me. “Pono,” I tell him, reaching out to squeeze his hand. He grins back at me.
When I look at Connie, she’s smiling at us wistfully, like she’s lost in a memory. She blinks, pulling herself out of it. “I knew as soon as I saw that picture of you with Matilda that you’d be good for her.”
“That picture?” I wince, imagining I know which one she means.
“From Mackinac Island.”
“Oh, God,” I mutter under my breath. Of course—she’s referencing the paparazzi picture from outside the hotel. Somehow I’ve managed to willfully block out of my memory that the image of me in those short shorts and that tight pink T-shirt is plastered all over the internet.
Brian is watching me now, too, looking worried. “Are the stories true? Were you really kidnapped?”
Their concern feels unearned. I don’t know what I’ve done to deserve it. I squirm in my seat. “It was only for a few hours. And it was my first time being kidnapped—Kimo gets kidnapped all the time.”
Connie raises her eyebrows in alarm. “Really?”
“Not all the time,” Kimo hedges, giving me a look.
I give it right back to him. “Has it happened more than once?” He doesn’t say anything. “More than twice?”
“Three times,” he admits finally, “including the time with you.” At the matching expressions of horror on Brian’s and Connie’s faces, he quickly clarifies, “Between ‘stealing’ all that money from those hedge fund brahs and buying up all the rental property I can on the Big Island, I’ve made a few enemies. Mostly it’s just people trying to scare me out of rocking the boat.” He winks at me. “But don’t worry. I don’t scare too easy.”
Despite his attempts to put us all at ease, I do worry. It’s hard to imagine cheerful, personable Kimo having any enemies, but three times is too many times to get kidnapped.
To my surprise, Brian laughs. “I know that must be true, if you’re dating our Matilda.”
The words hang in the air. I stare at Brian in surprise. Connie stares at Brian in surprise. Brian seems to have surprised himself by what just came out of his mouth.
Kimo laughs.
That seems to crack the ice, because soon I’m laughing, too, and Connie and Brian join in. “Are you trying to say I’m difficult?” I attempt to sound offended, but I’m not. I know I am. I just didn’t know I’d ever get Brian and Connie to admit it.
“Determined,” Connie says. “You know what you want, and what you don’t want.”
She’s still smiling, but there’s a hint of pain laced in her expression, too. Brian reaches out to take her hand.
I swallow down what feels like shards of glass. As long as we’re being honest, I might as well say what I should have said a long time ago. “I’m sorry for how I was back then. I thought there was no way you could really want me. You’d probably been hoping for a cute little kid, and instead you got an angry teenager.”
Kimo takes my hand under the table, squeezing it. We’ve talked about this together, but I’ve never said it out loud to my adoptive parents before. Taking in a deep breath, I continue, “You were always nice to me—you didn’t deserve how sullen and moody I was all the time. I guess I didn’t want to get too attached because...I was sure you would change your minds as soon as you got what you really wanted.”
“Oh, honey.” Connie hesitates before reaching out to take my hand. “I won’t lie—it definitely wasn’t what we expected. But it didn’t take us long to fall in love with you. Totally and completely.”
“Braces and acne and all,” Brian adds, gently teasing.
Kimo clears his throat. “I’m gonna need to see pictures of that phase, please. For blackmail purposes.”
“Over my dead body.” I’m not entirely joking, either.
Swallowing, I look back to Connie, who is watching me hopefully. “I know I can’t make up for the past. I know I did everything I could to push you two away. But I was hoping we could be in touch again. More than just texts on birthdays and holidays. I mean, I don’t expect you to treat me like a real daughter?—”
“Matilda,” Connie interrupts, shaking her head at me. “Don’t talk yourself out of it again. You’ll always be as much of our daughter as you want to be. It was always, always , up to you. We’ll be here for you, whenever you need us.”
Brian puts his hand on top of ours, squeezing.
Finding myself unable to speak, I grasp their hands and nod instead. Hopefully that will be enough.
After a moment, Brian clears his throat. “Well, thank God that’s why you brought us here. I thought it was maybe to chop us up with all these axes.”
“That was plan B,” Kimo deadpans. He stands, clapping a hand on Brian’s shoulder. “Come on, Uncle. Let me show you how to throw one of these things...”