Between the Devil and the Deep Blue Sea | Adam and Hokulani
Port Alfred had all the quaint angles one would expect in any older American town. It looked clean and timeless, especially in the bright yellow sun. Along Main Street was the library, the pizza joint, the hardware store, Sunflower Health Food, the music store, and the bookshop. The one cafe was owned by the same Italian family who ran the pizza place, so it was the genuine thing. On nice days, a person could sit outside at on of the round tables and drink Italian joe, and watch beautiful Dante as he steamed milk, and feel a little bit classy.
Nothing really happened in the sleepy little seaside town, nor were the residents easily impressed. No amount of money, fame, or title earned one deference. Everyone was treated the same from the poorest to the richest and there seemed to be no prejudice against religion or any other preferences. But it seemed like she was noticed when she hopped off the bus in a cloud of dust. She did not look like any of the others, most of them tourists in their middle ages and pastels and sun-visors, talking animatedly with one another.
No, she was in torn jeans that rode low on her curved hips and boots that had clearly seen better days. The strap of a guitar case was over one shoulder and the duffle bag she was holding was set on the ground by her feet momentarily as she reached into a back pocket and retireved a cumpled pack of Marlboro Red’s. The filtered end went between sculpted, inviting lips and she lit the cancer stick with a scratched Zippo. The pack and lighter were returned to the back pocket and after a drag, she lifted the duffle once more.
Neither short nor tall, her hair was wild, a mass of silk as dark as a raven’s wing. The wild tangle didn’t seem to bother her, even when a passing breeze blew stray locks across her face, a face that was arresting, with curved russet eyes that held shadows and secrets. The bus terminal wasn’t all that big, so it was easy enough for her to find an employee after her smoke, where, like a good citizen, she smothered the remains in the tall ashtray provided.
The middle aged man who looked over the rumpled paper with the address she need arched a thick brow but gave her directions nonetheless. She stored out of town then, boots meeting dirt rather than asphalt after a while. A little over a half a mile later, she reached her destination. She stood on the unpaved single lane road, another cancer stick between her lips. The smoke was nearly smothered by the thick salt of the sea in the air. Behind her was a length of wild grass and flowers before the cliff dropped down to the sea and waves.
In front of her, at the end of a short driveway, was a small one bedroom cottage. It was ivy covered and red bricked. Or used to be red; the bricks were faded or chipped or both. The path was overgrown with shrubs and bushes and weeds. Shrubbery that was taller than she was. As she got closer, she saw that at least the windows seemed to be intact, the ones she could see at least. She did not have much time to inspect more as a horn sounded and she turned.
The small older car parked and a gentleman on the older side of middle age got out wearing a suit and carrying a briefcase. “Ms. Hewahewa?” He questioned, smoothing his tie despite the fact that his salt and pepper hair was windblown from his drive out of town.
"Hokulani Hewahewa. That’s me. You’re Mister Fromer?" Before he could request to see ID, she had her wallet out. When he gave a satisfied nod, she slipped back into her pocket, opposite her smokes.
He laid his briefcase on the hood of his car and flipped it open to pull out a manila envelope and handed it to her. He spoke as she flipped through it. “Everything is in order. All I need is your signature in a few places.” He paused. “Elizabeth never really mentioned having family until she changed her will.”
Hoku bent over the hood, using his pen to scribble on dotted lines. “Yeah, I’ve never really met my father’s side of the family. I didn’t even know about her until the letter came.”
When the documents were all signed, she was handed her copies and the deed to the lot and the key. The lawyer assured her that everything would go smoothly, and if she had any questions, not to hesitate to call.
Then he was gone and she was left with the broken down cottage as her new home.
