Wasa mala you? You know who dat wuz?

Buzzy’s Lounge, a time warp of a cocktail lounge a few minutes away from the old Hilo Airport. Jon, the head bartender, is putting away the bulbous Hurricane, Tropical Itch and Blue Hawaii glasses. We never use these tourist things, no make sense why da boss like put ‘em out everyday. He could almost hear da boss saying this famous line.

“Eh, you nevah know when one flight going cancel and da bus driva going bring da whole bus, full of puka-shell tourists ova hea fo one drink.”

Bolo, Jon’s brother-in-law and bar helper, returns from an extended “cigarette break”.

Braddah, you can close up alone tonight? I gotta go pick up my son, he working up Volcano.

Jon nods in agreement, thinking, I’ve heard this one a few times before.

Jus make sure da CLOSED neon sign stay on.

“Mahalo Braddah Jon, see you tomorrow.”

Jon cleans up, the lights begin to flicker, he looks up at the faded Chinese lanterns, swaying in the rain-spitting wind, a power cut is on its way. Unko Alika, a die-hard regular, comes in for a quick night cap, he gulps the shot down and leaves.

Jon turns last the Chinese-lantern light off. In the darkness of the bar, he notices an old lady, with a full head of wiry white hair, sitting in the “lover’s corner” booth at the far end of the bar. She’s sipping on a —- Blue Hawaii.

Huh? I nevah made that drink. Whea she came from?

He puts down his jacket to walk up to her, as he comes around the corner to the booth, she’s gone. Maybe he’s just tired. Long days truck driving, even longer nights at the bar.

As he bounds down the steps, he hears an old lady’s laugh. He suddenly looks up toward the bar, shakes his head and heads for the car, just dodging a downpour. Bolo calls.

Braddah Jon, I get one flat tiya, I stay stuck on da highway. You can pick up Junya Boy?
Where he working tonight?
Volcano Village. He stay cleaning da post office. He pau around 10.
Volcano Village? Kinda outa my way braddah.
No worry braddah, after you pick him up, da aunty live one block away from you. He can sleep her house tonight.
Eh, you owe me one, Bolo.
Yeah, no sweat braddah, I take care you next week.

“No sweat braddah, I take care you.” Jon shakes his head at Bolo’s famous last words. Wen he going take care of the till? We come up short on cash whenever he works. Tonight was seventy bucks, last time was forty, last week fifty-five.
When do I ask him? I’ll nevah recommend my braddah-in-law again fo one job. Anyway, I think he fooling around on my baby sistah.

The drive was long, the heavy rain fought with the windshield wipers, immediately flooding the windshield each time the wipers struggled across the surface.
Click clack—-click clack—-click clack. The wipers were beginning to falter and quit.

Jon could barely make out the vision of an old person, a woman, standing on the side of the road. Not sheltering from the lashing rain, just casually standing there waiting.
Jon pulled over and rolled his window down. “Where you going aunty?”
No reply. A sudden burst of rain made her invisible.

“Aunty, where you going?” No mo Aunty. She was gone.

A few minutes later, from the rear view mirror, he notices the white-haired lady in the back seat of his car. Her hair and clothes were bone dry. One funny ting. She had one cape made of it leaf, one real, old-fashioned-looking cape. Wuz completely dry.

“Where you going Aunty?” his trembling voice asked.
No reply. He kept driving on to Volcano Village. He saw Junya Boy waiting in the front of the post office. By the time he pulled into the parking lot, aunty had disappeared.

Months later, back at Buzzy’s Lounge. Jon shares his story of that night with Unko Alika.

Wasa mala you? You know who dat wuz?
You joking Unko?
Not joking. You know who dat wuz?
Now I tink I know.
They both went quiet, Unko downed his beer, he reached for the bowl of boiled peanuts.

“I going tell you da rule of da road on dis island. I mean da “real rule”. Dis is fo da next time you see her on da road. If she asks for one ride, pull over and pick her up, if she asks for one cigarette, give her da whole pack, she no need matches…”

From dat day on, every time Jon drives on old Volcano road, he can smell ti leaf in his car. Like get one big pile on da back seat.

Talk story

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