Hawai'i Talks Story [Countryhumans and Statehumans Oneshots]

Hōkū Lele

AN: Dedicated to that one anonymous person who wanted a Stella Oneshot.  She was fun to tap into, but I think I am done writing her for a long while lol. Have fun reading! (The Title means "Skipping Star" AKA a shooting star.

Shit, shit, shit. Stella thought to herself, glancing at a clock she passed. She was going to be late. Again. Second job and she was going to be late again. And she didn't even know where she was going, exactly, just that it was on Beretania Street, wherever the hell that was.

A young dark skinned woman with short curly hair was zoning out at the crosswalk, just standing there and thinking, letting the cars go past and not taking any of the many chances to walk. She also looked like she was from here, so that was a relief. Stella tapped her shoulder, taking a deep breath. "Hi, can you tell me where this is?"

The girl look startled for a second, but she quickly recovered, looking up at Stella with her mouth slightly agape. She kept looking from the dress to Stella's hair to her eyes, before she stuttered out a quiet response "I like your dress."

Stella had to laugh at that, but felt a little bad about scaring the poor thing so badly.

"Thanks. I'm one of the dancers," She pointed to the map. "For this place. First day on the job and I already might get fired if I don't get there in time. You know where it is?"

"Um... " The girl scrunched her nose in thought, and then took a deep breath. "Over three blocks. Turn at Beretania St. I think that's it."

"My deepest thanks to you. I think I ought to give you a flower as a token of my gratitude." Stella smiled, as she handed one of the ones from the bouquet she had. She then bowed extravagantly. "Thank you."

Stella took off in the direction pointed out, and tried to keep herself calm as the minutes ticked ever closer to her being late. Luckily, it wasn't too far, and she made it on time with 3 minutes to spare.

She quickly smoothed out her dress, and took a deep breath. Showtime. But behind her, she heard someone yelling to wait.

Stella looked up at the girl from before, and smiled. The girl's face was bright red, probably from running. Or possibly because that was her natural colour, considering it hadn't changed much at all. "Hello again. Need anything?"

"I've got your wallet!" The girl blurted out, and covered her mouth quickly. She then took a deep breath, and breathed out. "What I mean is, I... I found your wallet. You dropped it."

"Oh, thank you so much!" Stella laughed, and shook her head. "I just keep dropping this."

The girl smiled happily. "Well, good thing I found it and not someone else."

Stella smiled, laughing. "I don't believe I introduced myself. Stella Hopkin."

"Emma Kamealoha." Emma said, her voice still quiet and a bit shaky.

Poor thing looks like she hasn't been outside in weeks. Stella frowned, before glancing back to the clock. "It's only early in the evening. Want to stay for the show?"

Emma's face lit up at that, as she glanced inside the speakeasy, flickering her eyes to Stella's face. She then nodded quickly. "Of course I will!"

Stella laughed, and led her inside, "Now, you know with the whole laws against these establishments nowadays, this gotta keep discrete. Think you can handle it?"

Emma rolled her eyes. "Of course I could. I've been drinking since I was maybe 17."

"What was that, last year?" Stella teased, and Emma went bright red at that.

"No, it was not. I do not look that young... do I?"

"I'm only teasing, Miss Emma. You've got to learn to take a tease." Stella laughed, before glancing at the clock. "I'll be right back. You stay here, and tell them Stella Hopkin said you were allowed back here."

Something about that Emma girl told her she was going to be a fun one.

‿︵‿︵‿︵୨୧ · ୨୧‿︵‿︵‿

April 8th, 1927

Dearest Emma,

I have not written to you since I arrived in California, despite your many sweet letters that I will forever cherish. I am sorry I have not written back, my friend, but the situation wasn't exactly prime at the moment.

As you remember, I left in a hurry seven months ago, and I refused to tell you the reason. The reason was because I was scared of others being right about me. I was scared of being wrong. Seven months was enough time to come to a full term regarding this situation. Enough time to realise that maybe life isn't just the speakeasies and booze and nightlife. I guess being a mother does that to you.

That's right Emma. I have a baby. A baby girl, a product of me and that boy I introduced to you. Anton. I still do not regret my choice of leaving the islands. You know how I struggle with commitment, and while Anton is a great man in his own right, he is not a fatherly type. Nor am I a motherly type, for that matter, but I digress.

I mentioned perhaps being with child, and he reacted very poorly towards it, and I will not endanger someone innocent because of a mistake. My mother, who has been calling me home for year after year, agreed rather reluctantly to house me and my child to be.

She was born in February, on Valentine's Day. She is such a quiet thing, whom I have named Nova. The only thing in the world that makes her look any different than any white baby is her nose and lips, which are a bit wider than my siblings and I had as babes.

As this letter is being written, she is bundled in my lap, napping. She is what my mother calls a half-breed, but to me, she's just plum adorable. I cannot see how someone can look with such disgust upon a child like her, but we can't convince everybody.

According to one popular rumour, my so-called 'husband', whom my parents persistently disapproved of, died back in the islands. Paints me as quite the ill-befallen hero, despite the truth we both know.

A rather nasty one making the rounds is I had her with a beach boy, which very well could have been taken as true, I admit. Luckily for her, she looks almost exactly like me, so speculation of who the father is keeps to a minimum, and few know she is not fully white.

Emma, I will not lie to you about the circumstances. I was on the brink to get rid of little Nova. When she was placed in my arms, a part of me felt angry at her, and almost gave up the poor thing to an orphanage, and pretended she never existed.

I was wrong for that.

I blamed her for the end of my life, and it took so long to finally realise it was not the end of my silly, stupid, extravagant life. It was the start of hers. And even without a father, I will do my best to make sure she grows up right.

Perhaps one day I shall bring her back to the sandy beaches of your home, dearest Emma. Perhaps she may meet you, and if you ever have children of your own.

Like you have always said to me when you would leave, I bid you a hui hou, and I hope to see you once again, someday soon.

Much love,

Stella T. Hopkins