North Star

29 | autopilot

2011

Kanani could have picked a better time to bring Keali'i over to meet the family than for dinner.

Some weeks were better than others in regard to Dad's health. Not that the cancer had suddenly gone away in a matter of months, but the symptoms constantly changed. Some lessened while others worsened, and then the following week would be vice versa. Trying to make sense of something so senseless was futile, so maybe it wouldn't have mattered if she rescheduled it to another week. Our persistence to pretend as if we didn't have that annoying guest that wouldn't leave only allowed us so much ignorance.

Cancer didn't take a break just because we wanted to have dinner with Kanani's new boyfriend.

I wasn't sure how to describe the change in our household. It was so gradual that it was hard to make comparisons, yet the more I thought about it, the more I realized there was a distinct before and during.

Knowing there would be an after ate me up inside more than I let anyone else know because I had no idea what kind of after our lives would entail. After could mean being in remission and finally feeling like I had my dad back again. After could also mean something I didn't even want to entertain.

Preparation for Keali'i's arrival was a balance between making sure Dad was comfortable and in a good place mentally, as he had slowly started retreating from his social life once the first round of chemo treatments began, while getting the house presentable. Not that we were under any illusion it could ever belong in a home decor magazine. But that was part of the beauty of our home—it looked well lived in.

"You're sure you're feeling okay for this?" I asked him. Most days, there was a conscious effort to change the way I spoke. I had to appear strong for him and not let him hear just how scared I was that he could be taken away from me at any given moment, but that was easier said than done.

"Yeah." He smoothed a hand over my hair. "I'm okay, baby. I'm okay."

Dad lasted fifteen minutes before he excused himself. None of us could hear it from downstairs, but we knew he was throwing up. It happened a lot to him at night.

The worst part was that he didn't just not want help, he actively refused it whenever we tried to offer it. Even something as simple as one of us going upstairs to give him a bottle of water would result in him sending us back downstairs with the water in hand and a boatload of guilt for even suggesting it.

I understood it, to some extent, and I didn't want to blame him for feeling that way, nor did I want to act as if I understood what he was going through because I didn't, but I still hated it. I hated it even more when I realized it was likely to continue getting worse before it got better.

"Sorry," my mom said as she sat back down. "Bronson's stomach hasn't been the best because of the—"

"You don't have to explain," Keali'i quickly interrupted. "I hope he feels better soon."

"Thank you." She flashed him a warm smile, like a candle flickering through a storm. "How are classes going? Do you miss high school?"

"Oh, not in the slightest," Keali'i said, and he and Kanani both laughed. "High school was hell. I'm glad I'm out of there."

"Really?" Mom smiled. "Kanani loved high school. "She won't admit it but I know she misses it, especially since she has to go close to town now."

"It's far enough away," Kanani interjected. If there was one thing she wasn't going to do, it was to allow everyone to talk about her as if she wasn't right there. It was all in jest, but she controlled her own narrative.