Dragons Awakening

Before dinner, skinny girl departed with another student, heading to the Hawaiian Volcano Observatory. Most of the ash had been blown over the Pacific to the east with prevailing winds. Heavy lava flows remained, clogged by shards of rock blown from the eastern rift in the earlier eruption. A geologist student’s dream. Akolo cooked chicken and rice for dinner and then chased it around his plate with a fork. Turmoil gnawing in his stomach made eating impossible.

His father forked a slice of pineapple. Akolo didn’t remember his dad eating more than ten bites of food in weeks. Usually he drank his dinner. Tonight, no bottles of liquor or a single beer in sight. Facts, figures and updated news feeds kept him engaged in the present. The screeching grind of Akolo’s chair as he pushed away from the table finally drew his father’s attention away from the computer screen.

“I can wash the dishes,” he said.

Akolo shook his head. “It’s fine, Dad. I know you’d rather catch the newest data on the eruptions.”

“You cooked, I clean. House rules.”

Akolo gaped at his father. House rules nothing. That was his mother’s rule. Two hard-working scientists couldn’t be bound by long-extinct gender roles. Dividing household responsibilities made perfect sense - to a logical mind.

In the silence following his father’s statement, Akolo heard the echo of his mother’s voice. Sometimes the distinctive lines of her face danced along the edge of his memory. BOther times, he struggled to imagine more than a fuzzy image. But her voice waited on his shoulder to insert wisdom and guidance. Unfortunately, she didn’t always speak when he needed her - like now.

Akolo stalled his move to clear the dishes, staring at his father, who remained seated. The computer sucked him in, the wealth of new information distracting. Akolo’s mind itched to know what the nearly constant geological activity meant. With a sigh, he piled the silverware and cups on top of the plates and carried them to the sink.

It wasn’t much of a kitchen. The sink was in the middle of the solitary bank of cupboards lining the only wall without a window or door. No space here for an automatic dishwasher, so most days Akolo claimed the title. Akolo the haole surfer and dishwasher. Impressive.

In a few minutes, the small pile of dishes drained on the counter beside him. Akolo swished water in the sink, rinsing away the suds and grains of rice clinging to the stainless steel. The splashing liquid soothed his nerves. For the first time since coming to Hawaii, he saw a way to get his dad back. If only he could convince him to take the job in Italy.

After drying his hands, Akolo sat across the table from his father. He inhaled deeply, squelching the flurry of doubts circling in the back of his mind. Surf’s up. Time to ride.

His father, glasses midway down his nose, looked scholarly, and the sight bolstered Akolo’s confidence. The avalanche of data pushed his father into a scientific mindset, which was ideal. In order to convince his father to accept the job, Akolo needed to appeal to the logic of the choice. What scientist didn’t live by rules of logic?

“Dad.” Akolo leaned forward, elbows on the table.

His father’s lips moved. He spoke into the microphone, transferring information into a spreadsheet. Before dinner, he had gushed about creating it to analyze the data from Kilauea.

“The aftershock of the eruption was 6.2 on the Richter scale,” he mumbled. “Alaska recorded a pre-eruption shake of similar magnitude, as well as one at 6.5 afterward.”

“I was in the water during the eruption,” Akolo said.

His father glanced up. He removed his glasses and leaned back in his chair. Akolo had his attention. He swallowed and took a deep breath.

“The surf went flat.”

“Flat?” His father rubbed his forehead. “You mean one wave lost its height.”

“No, Dad. I mean I could have been in the middle of a lake. No surf at all.”

His father stood to his feet, pacing and mumbling. Akolo waited. He figured the strange surf activity was important. His dad’s intensity pressed the chicken in his stomach against his lungs.

His father sat, pursed lips. “Can you describe the moments before and after?”

“I will.” Akolo cleared his throat. “But I need to talk to you about something first.”

“This eruption is defying established norms, Oho. Not much you could say would be more important than the fading surf.”

Oho. How long had it been since his father had used that nickname? His mother had called Akolo by that name forever, but he couldn’t remember anyone using it since her death. The twinge he’d been ignoring in his heart stabbed with renewed vigor.

“Dad, you’re like your old self today.”

“It’s this eruption.”

“I know. The new information appeals to your inner scientist. You haven’t had much of a challenge for a few years.” Akolo leaned back, rubbing his sweaty palms over his thighs. “I don’t want it to stop.”

“You want the eruptions to keep coming?”

“If it means you stay like this, then yes.”

His father folded his glasses, dropping them beside the computer. His fingernails tapped a steady rhythm on the table.

Akolo took a deep breath. His dad was listening. It was now or never.

“I think we should go to Naples.” A rush of words in a single breath. His father’s cool gray stare riveted to his. “Uncle Oke says the university will cover travel costs. Vesuvius is at the center of the volcanic world, you’ve said so yourself.” Akolo clenched the edges of his chair. “They’ll have access to data from all over the world. Using your spreadsheet you’ll find patterns.”

His father’s eyes shifted, staring past him into the darkened living area.

“The scientists there know you’re the person who can decipher the mysterious code from within the data pool.”

“Vesuvius is the center of it,” his father said, voice as far away as his gaze.

“EUSCVO is also a seismic center, so they’ll have earthquake data. You can run comparisons.” Akolo’s eye twitched. Time to lay the cards on the table. If this last piece didn’t sway his father, nothing would. “It’s the perfect way to prove your hypothesis once and for all.”

His father’s head snapped up. The stern stare made Akolo’s churning stomach ice over. “The hypothesis? You think I care about that after all these years? After what it cost me?”

Dread clawed its way through Akolo’s gut and chest. So much for thinking he knew how to convince his father to take this assignment. Italy faded with each pulse in his neck. His breath guttered until he consciously instructed his lungs to breathe.

“I don’t understand why you gave it up, Dad. No one does.”

“It’s no one’s business.” He shoved away from the table. The chair slammed against the wall, rattling the glass in the window.

Akolo stood up, too. He had to get his dad away from here. Before it was too late. The drinking and sadistic co-eds had nearly destroyed him already. Where is your wisdom, Mom? Silence greeted his question. If he was on his own, he would find a way.

“What about me, Dad? Could you take this assignment for me?”

“What does it have to do with you, son?”

Science is in our blood. That’s what his mother offered during his moment of greatest need.

Akolo swallowed. “Everything. All this increased activity makes me think…” He gripped the sides of his board shorts. “I feel like Mom would want us to prove the hypothesis.”

Pain crinkled his father’s eyes. A muscle leapt in his jaw. Mentioning his mother had been a risk, and it appeared the gambit failed. But he couldn’t let it drop.

“We can work on it together, Dad.” He gripped his father’s forearm. “It’s what I want.”

A long pause when gray eyes searched green ones. “Not much surfing in Naples, is there?”

Surfing had kept Akolo sane. Was he really going to give it up?

Another swallow before his dry throat uttered, “That doesn’t matter.”

“Doesn’t matter? Most of your days are spent surfing and suddenly you’re more interested in volcanoes.” His eyes narrowed to slits.

“It’s a job, Dad. A way to get out of the house. Away from-” But Akolo couldn’t speak the horror aloud. Away from those girls and the sound of your muffled cries. Saying it would make it real. He didn’t want to see his father’s shame when he realized the secret hidden behind his closed bedroom doors was out in the open. A secret that had nothing to do with sex and everything to do with punishment. As if his mother’s death had been his father’s fault. How can a virus be blamed on a person?

His father’s Adam’s apple bobbed. The hum of the refrigerator filled the silence. “You know my weakness for drink.”

Oh, yes. His other vice. Less destructive? Maybe. But Akolo would save him from both of those evils.

“We’ll be so busy with research and analyzing data, there won’t be time for drinking.”

A grim smile twisted his father’s lips.“You realize all they drink in Italy is wine, right?”

“It’s watered down. You can’t even tell it’s alcoholic.” All of it will be far away from you, Dad. I’ll make sure of it.

His father rubbed his hand over his forehead.When had that refrigerator gotten as loud as a roaring surf?

“I can’t be trusted. This is too important.” His father’s voice crackled. “It should be someone more dedicated.”

Akolo blinked his stinging eyes. And kept blinking them. Until the fanning action made the burning disappear. Would the guilt sideline his father forever? Not anymore. Getting his dad away from this place was the only way to save him. For the first time since coming to Hawaii, Akolo fanned the flame of hope. He couldn’t give up and let it die. Let his father die.

“We can do it together, Dad. Do this for me.”

They stared at each other. Father and son. Akolo stood eye to eye with him. Man to man. He held his breath. Please. Please. Please. It became an unending chant.

“I’ll call Oke.”

Akolo wilted into the chair, legs rubbery and head spinning. His days of hanging loose, fighting to fit in and teaching surf lessons to tourists had just blown out to sea. None of that even mattered. His dad needed him. Akolo had to pull his father out of the pit of despair.

Otherwise, what remained of his family was doomed.

“Take care of your dad,” his mother whispered.

I will. I promise.