21. Akemi
Akemi
On opening day, Akemi was up before dawn.
The morning was cool and misty as she walked up Paradise Road towards the café. A steady stream of cars moved past her – some just cruising, but many rushing up the road at breakneck speeds, hurrying to whatever jobs they had found outside of their sleepy little town.
When she finally made it to their fledgling coffee shop, the sun was just peeking up over the neighborhood rooftops, corrugated tin painted green and red and blue.
Noah had painted the rust-spotted roof of the café sunshine yellow, and they’d used the same color for the trim around the doors and windows. The walls were as white as a movie star’s smile, a startling difference from the dingy, peeling paint that had camouflaged it just a few weeks before.
It was a beautiful little house, but it looked like just that: a house. There wasn’t even a sign marking it as a café.
Kekoa was making them a custom wooden sign, and she trusted him to come through… but even so, it felt like they needed something more.
Akemi went inside and found the a-frame blackboard that they would use to advertise daily specials and the like. The surface was pristine: a blank canvas. Akemi grabbed the chalkboard markers and got to work.
It was a callback to her early twenties, those years that she had spent working in cafés and hostels all around the world, back before her travel blog brought in enough money to actually fund her travels.
The drawing and calligraphy soothed her, and she fell into an almost meditative state, like a creative trance.
Her mind wandered to days soon to come, when she and her son could sink into art projects together… and all the way back to her childhood, when she and her sisters had covered the driveway in chalk drawings.
Finally, she was done. The words Grand Opening crossed the board in bright, sweeping letters. Below that, she had drawn a cup of coffee and written Come see our playroom! She drew wavy lines of steam coming up from the mug, and then she capped her final marker.
Done.
Akemi stood and stretched her aching back, then walked a few paces down the sidewalk and turned back to survey her work.
It was a good sign, but would anyone come?
She was proud of what they had built. Mothers and toddlers would love the space… if they could just get them through the door.
They had gone all around town earlier that week, putting up fliers with the date of their grand opening. Oakley had even driven down to Pahoa and up to Hilo in order to spread the word.
But would anyone come down their sleepy little side street?
It wasn’t like opening a café in a big city, where thousands of people walked past every day. Here, people had to actually come seek them out. Would they?
A big truck rumbled up to the curb, and a hand popped out the open window in a loose local shaka.
“Hey sis!” Kekoa jumped out of the truck and clapped her on the back. “Nice sign! I didn’t know you could draw.”
“I am a woman of many hidden talents,” she said with a bow and a flourish.
Then she straightened up and poked his belly – and winced. It was like poking a tree.
“Where’s our sign?” she demanded.
“I’ve got you.” He went to the truck bed and pulled aside a tarp, revealing their new sign with a flourish.
Keiki Café.
It was a gorgeous wooden sign, hand carved and stained two different colors so that the words leapt out even from a distance. It was also a perfect match for the Paradise Books sign next door, giving the neighboring businesses a cohesive, cozy vibe.
Oakley had pushed back on the name. She’d wanted something more upscale, more trendy. But Akemi had stood firm.
Keiki was the local word for kids – and from its first inception, Akemi had known that was what she wanted to call the space that she was creating. It was a common word, used by everybody – but every time she saw it, she heard her dad’s voice in her head, warm and deep.
“Well?” Kekoa asked.
“It’s perfect.”
“Let’s get in up there, then.”
Kekoa was so tall that he didn’t even need a ladder. He just hefted the huge piece of wood in two hands and hung it neatly on the hooks that he had placed a few days before.
“Now it looks like a coffee shop,” Akemi approved.
“Then how about a coffee?”
“Coming right up.”
Just as she was handing Kekoa his cappuccino, Oakley came through the door with a precarious tower of bright pink pastry boxes.
“Those signs look great, guys!”
“Thanks.” Akemi eyed the boxes as Oakley set them down. Sitting there on the counter, they towered as tall as Kekoa. “Are those all for today?”
“Well, sure! It’s opening day! If anything sells out too quick, or doesn’t sell out completely, that gives us data for future orders.”
“If you say so.” Akemi looked around. “Where are the girls?”
A shadow passed over her face. “They’re in Waimea.”
“Right. Duh.” Akemi gave her an apologetic smile. “I can never keep track of weekends and weekdays. They’re all the same to me.”
“Where’s Kaleo?” Oakley asked.
“He was still asleep when I left. Anne’s going to bring him over in a little bit.”
“Malasadas!” Kekoa said, pulling a pastry out of one of the boxes. It was fried golden brown and sparkling with sugar. He bit into it with the enthusiasm of a kid.
“Is it good?” Akemi asked.
“Oh yeah,” he mumbled, still chewing. “Broke da mouth.”
“They’re the same ones we used to get with Dad,” Oakley said. “They haven’t changed a bit since we were kids.”
Akemi blinked rapidly. “You drove all the way up the coast?”
“No. That old shack is still open, but the business expanded. They make everything at a bakery down in Hilo now. I picked them up myself today, but they’ll deliver once we figure out our regular order.”
“That’s brilliant, Oakley. Thank you.”
“Excuse me?” A timorous voice made them all look towards the door. “Are you open?”
“We are now!” Oakley said. “Come on in!”
Their first customer was a slight woman; the toddler perched on her hip was easily half as tall as she was. Just looking at the young mother, Akemi could feel her exhaustion. The circles under her eyes were as dark as bruises.
“Welcome,” Akemi said. The woman was trying to read the menu mounted up behind the counter, but her toddler was squirming and fighting to get down. “Would you like to see our playroom?”
“Sure. Thank you.”
“Come on through.”
Akemi and Oakley traded places; Oakley went behind the counter to load golden malasadas into their display case, and Akemi showed the young mother the bedroom that they had converted into a playroom for toddlers.
Out of everything that they had created, this was the space that Akemi loved the most.
A short wooden door separated the playroom from the main room. Adults could easily see in and out, but the toddlers were contained. Inside, the entire floor was padded. Kekoa’s cousin Lani had painted a gorgeous mural on one wall, all local fish swimming over a coral reef.
Most of the enrichment materials were thrifted. They had a beautiful wooden play kitchen that some local kids had outgrown, an activity wall that Akemi had made with zippers and light switches and other fun things, and a massive pile of foam blocks for building.
Kekoa had constructed a toddler-size table and chairs, and they’d equipped it with big pieces of paper and egg-shaped crayons.
“Wow.” The mother put down her baby, who headed straight for the blocks. “This is amazing.”
“Thank you. I’m Akemi, by the way. What’s your name?”
“Oh, sorry. I’m Bella. And my son’s name is Bodhi.”
“Glad to meet you both. I have a son about the same age as yours.”
“Really?” Bella looked around. “Where is he?”
“Kaleo decided to sleep in today, but my sister will bring him down…” she glanced at the clock on the wall, “any minute now.”
“I wish my baby would sleep in,” Bella said with a weak little grin.
“I can keep an eye on Bodhi for a minute if you’d like to go order.”
“Really?”
“Of course! That’s what we’re here for.”
“O-okay. Thank you.” Bella edged gingerly out of the room, glancing back at Bodhi about once per second like she expected him to start wailing. She kept it up all through the process of ordering food and a drink. Then she settled at a table in view of the playroom.
Oakley delivered a chai latte, and Bella finally started to relax. She took a sip of her drink, and Akemi watched some of the tension melt out of her shoulders.
“Up and running?” asked a new voice from the door. This one Akemi knew. She went to the toddler door and peeked her head out.
“Hi Anne!”
Kaleo cried out and reached for her.
“Somebody missed you,” Anne said.
“Hand him over and get yourself a malasada.”
“If you insist.” Anne grinned and handed Akemi her baby.
Kaleo clung to her for a moment, probably still traumatized that she’d had the temerity to disappear while he slept. Then he realized where they were, and he threw his full weight backwards in an effort to get to the toys as quickly as possible.
Akemi winced as she caught him and placed him carefully on the ground.
“We’ve got to work on you using your words, kid.”
He babbled back at her in a string of sound that contained no discernable words, but his expression seemed to communicate both his opinion of her coldhearted abandonment of him that morning and his delight in being back in his favorite room.
After that short tirade, he ran straight to the play kitchen, where he grabbed a wooden spoon and began banging it against everything in reach with great enthusiasm.
Akemi managed to intervene just before the spoon connected with Bodhi’s head.
“You’re a terror,” she told her son. “You know that?”
He laughed and then attacked her cheek with a sloppy, open-mouthed kiss.
“I love you too.”
Kaleo tried to run away, but Akemi caught him and peppered his face with kisses. His baby giggles rang through the space like music, erasing every bit of Akemi’s exhaustion and frustration.
This was what it was all for. This right here.
By the official opening time, the café was absolutely packed.
Every seat was full, more people stood at the counter, and so many kids tried to come into the playroom that Akemi had to divert all of the older ones out back, where Claire and Jasmine had set up an art table and some other fun activities.
‘ōlena came with her massive son, only two years old and already the size of a kindergartener. Lani was there too, with all three of her kids. Akemi let Rory in with the babies for a while, and she doted on both of her half-brothers.
Akemi snapped a picture of the three of them together and sent it to Lorenzo.
It was late in Italy, but he replied immediately: an effusive message congratulating her on the café. It was a kind gesture, but it left her feeling hollow.
She wanted him there.
She didn’t want a relationship built on text messages and video chats.
She wanted something more.
Never in all of her years of travel had Akemi felt like there was a man-shaped hole in her life.
Kimo’s death had left a gaping hole in their family, of course, but Akemi had never felt bereft for lack of a boyfriend – even when she had a partner who happened to be off in some other country at the time, which was how life often went for digital nomads.
Now her life was fuller than ever – she had Kaleo and her own business and her whole big messy beautiful family – but somehow, for the first time in her life, she felt like something was missing.
Someone was missing.
But the ball was in his court. It was no use wanting something that she had zero control over.
Lorenzo had promised to be back as soon as he could. He had told her over and over again that there was no place he would rather be than in Pualena with his children… and with her.
And whether or not he followed through on all that talk… well, that was out of her hands.
She could only focus on what she could control. And looking around, she realized that everything in her control was a success. She would try her best to be happy with that.
She would choose to be happy with that.