Neil Plakcy - Mahu

“You’d still be a gay security guard or a gay insurance agent. At least as a gay cop, you can do some good. People still like to victimize fa-I mean gays. Look at that guy your brother beat up. Just minding his own business and somebody whales on him. You could do something about that. And that gay teen center in Waikiki. You could go there, help out. Maybe you can make it so it’s not so hard to come out for some kids there.”

I thought a lot about what Akoni said after we hung up. There were good things I could do. I could be an example, raise some consciousness, be a role model for some confused kid. But it would mean sacrificing privacy, letting myself be defined by my sexuality, opening myself up to the kind of conversations like the one I had with the security guard at Lui’s station, who wanted to talk to somebody about his gay nephew. For Christ’s sake, I didn’t want to be gay at all, if I could help it. It made me really uncomfortable to become the poster boy for gay life in Honolulu.

There was just too much to think about, and I had to shut if all off for a while. I surfed, and then I swam until my arms and legs felt like jelly. Then I dragged myself home and read for a while in the afternoon. Eventually I got into my truck and started to drive.

It was as if the truck was on automatic pilot, finding its way out to Wailupe on its own. I turned the volume up on an Uluwehi Guerrero CD, letting the pounding of the ipu hula take over my brain, keep it from thinking. I played with Danny for a while, hide and go seek in the backyard, then racing him down the street until he collapsed happily. After he went to bed, Terri poured us a pair of Fire Rock Pale Ales into two tall Pilsner glasses, and we sat out in the backyard under the stars.

“We’re in the same situation, you know,” she said. “We both have to reinvent our lives. I can’t just be a housewife and mother anymore. I have to do something.”

“If you need some money I can probably give you a loan.”

She laughed. “I don’t need the money. My trust fund isn’t huge, but I could certainly run the house on it. And my parents have already put away money for Danny’s education.” She shook her head. “No, I need to do something more with my life. I’m not sure what. Maybe some volunteer work at first. Or else I could go back to the cosmetics counter at Clark’s.”

A bank of clouds moved in front of the moon and the yard darkened. “You’ve got options,” I said. “Options are good.”

“You have them too. If this job makes you uncomfortable, then don’t take it.”

“Actually I kind of think that’s a reason to take it,” I said. I took a long draw of my beer and thought about what I wanted to say. “These last couple of weeks have been really awful, you know? But at the same time they’ve been exciting. I mean, I remember the summer I was thirteen I was miserable, just lying around the house, sleeping like eighteen hours a day, and my whole body ached, because I was having a growth spurt. I was five foot two when school let out and I was five foot nine when it started again. And it was great. I wasn’t the baby anymore. My basketball improved dramatically. My mother started buying my clothes in the men’s department.”

I had some more beer. “So even though it was miserable, in the end I was better off. Maybe this is just the next step in my growth process.”

“It’s funny how society labels us. You’re a gay man, now, and I’m a widow. And you know, we’re not the same people we were a month ago, before we had these labels. So maybe the labels change as we change. Who knows what they’ll be calling us a year from now.”

“To new labels,” I said, clinking my glass against hers. “And to becoming new people.”

That’s what finally decided me. Just like sharks had to keep moving to stay alive, I thought we all had to keep growing and changing. Sometimes that growth hurts, and sometimes you had to give up things that mattered to you. My father had made sacrifices for me and my brothers, and though I’m sure they hurt him, he made it through. They made him the person he is.

My brothers had sacrificed for me, too. They had stood by me, taken chances and given me, eventually, their unconditional love. Even men like Tico Robles were willing to take the risk that some asshole would beat them up just because they were at a gay bar.

The next morning, Derek was freed on bail and he began to spend most days with his grandfather. Aunt Mei-Mei said that the two of them spent a lot of time together, driving out to Windward Oahu and walking the long stretches of beach there.

Tim Ryan called me at home that night. He congratulated me, and we talked for a couple of minutes about the choice I had to make. “Listen, Kimo, there’s one other thing I wanted to say.” He paused. “I’m sorry I couldn’t be there for you. The whole gay thing has been so hard for me, and I never had anybody who was there to help me through it. Now I realize I could have done that for you, and I missed the chance. I want to work on that. If I can just get a little more comfortable with myself, then maybe I can be there for someone else. I’m just not there yet.”

“I understand. But let’s try and be friends, okay? You’ve still got a long way to go before you’re a real surfer.”

“I’ll work on it.” He laughed. “And I’ll try to let you help.”

We hung up, and I sat back on my bed thinking. It was a lot of future to face, a new job, new relationships with family, friends and coworkers, and then, finally, starting on the search for what my parents had, what my brothers had. There was a saying among women, that you had to kiss a lot of toads before you found your prince, and I hadn’t kissed many toads yet, so I had some catching up to do. Maybe there was a prince out there somewhere waiting for me. At least, I had to believe there was.

I called Lieutenant Sampson the next morning and told him I was ready to come back.