As a child, I was sick for a long while. I needed many blood transfusions; the process and recovery made me weak. Fortunately, the nights in Waiʻanae were calm and soothing because of the wind coming in from the ocean.
It should have given me comfort; instead, it made me restless. Often, I would open my double-door windows and sit on the sill. It was large enough to serve as an oversized bench where I could sit, lean back, and enjoy the stars and moon. The permanent shadow on its silvery face looked like a Hawaiian woman seated with her arms beckoning out to someone I could not see. "It's Hina, Mauiʻs mother," I said to myself. "She is waiting for him to go rescue her."Sometimes, the moon frightened me because it felt like people were living there who might be watching me. I could almost feel their thoughts as if they might wonder who the little boy staring up at them was.
I pondered this for many evenings and many days while I lay on a hospital bed, transfusing blood. It made me sick, and I threw up until I became dangerously dehydrated.
The moon's curiosity must have gotten the best of it because they sent an emissary one night. I didnʻt see him immediately because he stood too close to the mock orange hedges in the backyard. However, he stepped out of the abstract shadows and made himself known once I glanced in that direction. He was an older adult dressed in strange robes that looked like those worn in those old Japanese movies. Not like the sort that Samurai or nobility wore, but more ethereal, nearly god-like. His hair and beard were long and white. He smiled and waved at me, "May I join you?"
I nodded, but he said, "You must answer with your voice; otherwise, I cannot climb up," he crooked his to one side and bowed.
"Yes, you may climb up and join me," I answered.
He did the climb in mere seconds and without much effort. "Uh," he exhaled. "What interesting nightclothes you wear?"
"It's my Astro-Boy pajamas, my favorite,"
"Would you like me to teach you a game?" He asked.
"Ok, yes," I nodded, remembering I had to answer. The aged man reached into the hollow of his empty sleeve and removed a sizeable squared stone. It was black, and on its face were carved squares of light and dark. He placed it on the sill between himself and me. From the hollow of his other sleeve, he removed twelve circular pieces of the same kind of rock. Some were lighter; some were darker.
"Moonstones," he affected a dramatic tone. "Every piece is a moonstone; it is magic for one simple game."
"It's checkers," I giggled. "I know how to play checkers,"
"Do you ?" He replied with affected wonder and amazement. "Well, this will be very interesting, will it not?"
For the next several nights, we played, and for the next several days, the blood transfusions became easier to bear. My parents fed me more foods with iron in them, and slowly, I regained my health. Each night, I trounced the old man from the moon, and each night, he lamented his misfortune at not possessing the skills to best a boy-child like myself. We played until the sun peeked just over the horizon, and he would leave, always promising to return the following evening.
"Do you have children and a family where you come from?" I asked.
"Yes," he nodded while trying to focus on which chess piece he would move next. "I have children, and my children have children, and so on, and so on,"
"What does that mean, and so on?" I asked while simultaneously jumping his black checker.
"It means that my children grew up and had their children, and so did their children grow up and have their children as well, and so on," the old man made a circular gesture.
"Donʻt your children miss you so far from your home? Donʻt you want to spend the evenings with them instead of being here with me? Wonʻt they get jealous or mad?" I was genuinely concerned.
"Quite the contrary," he looked up at me with a twinkle in his eyes and smiled. "They are the very ones who encouraged me to continue my return here! Where I come from, I am the checkers' champion! I have been for many eons! My children are excited that someone can finally beat me at checkers!" He leaned in toward me and whispered, "They would like to one day meet you."
~
The next day was tough; my parents told me that I still had to go for transfusions. I was agitated. "Iʻm getting better! Iʻm eating and exercising, and Iʻm not throwing up at all!
"Youʻre still not well," my father said.
"Just a few more appointments," my mother promised.
I stormed off, screaming down the hallway, and slammed my bedroom door behind me. My father kicked the door open and spanked me several times on my buttocks and the back of my thighs. I not only cried out of pain but also out of retaliation. I was not going to the doctor, no matter what they did to me. My mother was murderously furious because now there were deep black and blue bruises all over my backside. I still went to the appointment, but only with my mother. She told my father not to come when we returned home later that afternoon; she refused to talk to him. It went on like that for the rest of the week. My father tried to hug her during the weekend, but my mother pushed him away. "You and your fucking Waiʻanae attitude, you think hitting your son is the way to solve every fucking problem?"
"He pissed me off because of the way he was acting!" My father retaliated.
"Heʻs a hemophiliac, you fucking asshole, or did you forget that? I donʻt how you didnʻt end up killing him, but youʻre lucky you didnʻt; but you know what? I am not taking another chance; the two of us are leaving. I already packed up the car." The argument between the two went on like that for the rest of the afternoon. By the evening, they were fast asleep; I made myself something to eat and retreated to my room. The hour was two when I awoke to something banging on my window: the old man tossing little pebbles on the glass. I opened the double windows, and soon, he began setting up the moonstone checkerboard. "Something is amiss, young Steven; you donʻt seem like yourself."
"My parents have been arguing because of me," I droned quietly.
The old man sat up and regarded me with a look of confusion. "Never have I heard of such a thing. Where I come from, children are a source of joy and happiness; never, never are they a source of arguments," he leaned in closer and asked, "What is this word, argument?"
"It's when two people fight; that's what my parents were doing because I didnʻt want to go to see the doctor," I groaned quietly. "My father hit me on my leg a lot, and it got bruised. My mom didnʻt speak to him for a whole week."
"Steven?"
"Yes?"
"Itʻs time to play, are you prepared?" The old man smiled.
"Yes," I replied.
"This time, let us make it enjoyable. If you beat me at checkers tonight, I will give you the moonrock checkerboard and the pieces, and you can also tell everyone that you bested an actual old man from the moon to get it," he looked me straight in the eyes. He was waiting for the next bit, but it was obviously up to me to continue.
"And if YOU win?"
"If I win, then I will take you to the moon with me, where you can meet my children and the rest of my family. " That didnʻt seem like a loss at all. It seemed like Iʻd win either way.
"What about my mom?"
"Well, she is your protector, of course. Why not?" He stifled his laughter. We hugged, and the game began.
~
On the evening of his birthday, May twenty-six, the body of Steven Pacheco was found lying on an open window sill of his Kaukamana Street home. The nine-year-old boy had hemophilia, and severe bruising was found on the back of his legs and buttocks that the boyʻs mother confirmed as a result of a beating from Steven Pachecoʻs father a few days before. Steven died because of his condition.
No comments:
Post a Comment