At 61 years of age, death feels as if it is more imminent.
Swollen ankle, easily winded, can't eat particular foods anymore. Whereas, in your youth, when sugar was your fuel, it is now your enemy and the potential for your demise. My state of being is like the Australian outback, where everything, internally and externally, wants to kill you. As I write this, I can tell you that my body has made me aware of how foolish I've been and that better care must be taken of it. Especially since we've received fantastic news, I believe this urgency concerning my health is a sign that if the longevity of this spiritual path is to be had, then the body must follow likewise. With that in mind, here is a story.*
Esyla Montalbo has the potential for many things, academically, athletically, musically, and theatrically. Unfortunately, Esyla was surrounded by jealousy because of her unfiltered confidence. Many in her school tried to bully her online and in person. It was frustrating for them that it did not bother Esyla because she had a great sense of herself, knowing who she was and what path she was bound to take. When they pushed too hard, Esyla pushed back harder. First was Emma Cachola who lived off Renton Road. She was the queen of her clique because she was the only one who had her own car and thus had to pick everyone else up to go to school. Confident to the point of being insufferable, Emma's friends were surprised at how quiet she was when picking each of them up. The four could not help but notice the large band-aid on her right pointer finger.
"It's nothing," she growled at them. "Just shut the fuck up, and order my food when we get to Diner's,"
Unknown to them was that Esyla showed up at her house unannounced, walking straight to her bedroom and locking the door, where she picked Emma up over her head and slammed her to the floor. Holding her knee on the back of Emma's head, Esyla took a pair of plyers from her jeans and used them to tear Emma's fingernail from her pointer. "You fuck with me again, and it's gonna be your teeth, and then your fucking nipples next," taking in a breath to scream, Esyla stuck her whole fist in Emma's mouth. "Fucking scream some more and I'll make you choke to death!" She hissed. "You just fucking lay there and take it, you fucking bitch."
When the others saw Esyla later that morning, they all walked straight toward her to try and bully her as usual, but Emma went the other way. Her friends were confused and, in only a second, turned their backs on Esyla, never seeing that she removed a handful of ribs she cut from a giant ti-leaf. She whipped them with it, slicing their skin on their arms, legs, and face. She was merciless, brutal, and unforgiving.
Tanner Blythe was a part local haole, part Hawaiian kid who ended up on the football team because it was what his father wanted. In Tanner, his father, Matt, taught his son everything wrong about football, especially how women should be treated. Of course, Matt could never preach this sermon to his son while his wife was present because she'd kick his ass. Esyla became Matt's target for a free, lust-filled fix, and when Tanner pushed too hard, Esyla pushed harder. The transition between the fourth and fifth periods was mayhem because of how crowded the hallways were as everyone rushed to get to their next class. Tanner took advantage of this and pushed Esyla into Mr. Young's science class, as it was during this period that he taught fencing. Esyla didn't resist as Tanner moved the dormant bunsen burners aside, making space for Esyla as he placed her flat on her back on the table. He began undoing his belt and pushed his jeans down past his behind. Esyla urgently stopped him, "Wait, I like doing it in a closet. It's just a kinky thing I have,"
"What?" Tanner was surprised. "For real?"
"Yeah," Esyla slid off the table and headed to the broom closet. "Let's go in there,"
Soon, the two occupied the claustrophobic space where Tanner dropped his jeans, and Esyla held him with both hands, alternating as she caressed him left and right. He was about to let loose, and she felt it coming, so she stopped him. "Hold on, hold on, hold on," she squeezed him tight. "I left my bag on the table; I have to get a condom,"
"Cheesus Christmas! Hurry the fuck up!" Tanner shrieked.
Esyla quietly shut the door behind her, promising to return. Two minutes passed, then five, nearly ten. Tanner finally walked out of the closet, stroking himself, "What the fuck? How long am I supposed to wait?"
The science class was filled to every seat; Mr. Young stood at the front, writing down the next day's assignment for everyone to copy. Esyla sat at the front, studiously transposing everything from pen to paper. The silent shock and the sight of Tanner Blythe gratifying himself in front of Mr. Young's class as he burst open from the broom closet lasted for only a second before screams of surprise and laughter erupted in the room. Esyla remained silent the whole time, coldly observing Tanner, knowing he'd been caught with his pants down. By the end of the month, Tanner's parents transferred him to Aiea High School.
There is also Ms. Tammy Takuchi. She was one of those young teachers who needed to be liked by her students, and the best way to do that was to become their friends and gain their confidence so they would divulge their deepest, darkest secrets to her. One aspect that made her a trusted adult, in another aspect, she had leverage to hold over them in case she needed to. Ms. Takuchi had it out for Esyla simply because some of her students didn't like her. She made quips and took digs at Eslya, everything from how she dressed to the type of stationary she used to how she tied her shoelaces. None of which bothered Esyla but did appear to bother Ms. Takuchi. One day, Ms. Takuchi pushed too hard by orchestrating a trust circle where everyone fell back and was caught by everyone in the circle, except when it came to Esyla, Ms. Takuchi instructed her class ahead of time not to catch Esyla and let her fall to the floor. She hit hard and had the wind knocked out of her, but Esyla automatically tucked her chin into her chest because of her Judo class, thus protecting her head. Realizing what had happened, Esyla didn't give Ms. Takuchi and her favorites the satisfaction of seeing her cry; instead, she pushed back twice as hard.
Ms. Takuchi made a point to arrive at the school an hour early to park in the far corner of the parking lot and smoke weed in her car. Her supplier was the one boy in her class who was struggling the most, Kyle Okihara. On this particular early morning, as Kyle met his teacher and sold her a bag, she invited him to sit in the car with her and share a smoke. An hour and a half passed before anyone showed up on campus. Who would know? When Ms. Takuchi's car was filled with pakalolo smoke, several cars pulled up out of nowhere. Mainly the school's principal, the police, and Kyle's parents. Esyla was there, too, when the police handed Ms. Takuchi a restraining order on her behalf. Not only was she fired from her job, but she was ruined from every teaching in any school ever again.
The strange conclusion of this story comes on the day of Esyla's death. She was not murdered out of retaliation. She did not commit suicide, nor did she die of some ailment or by natural causes. In the morning, at lunch, and after school, one can find several of the manapua trucks parked out front where students and teachers alike can purchase delicious local delicacies such as char-siu bao, gau-gee, lop-chong, fried noodles, rice cakes, and several selections of soda. The school's principal had spoken to the vendors several times about parking their makeshift lunch wagons too close to the fence because the poles began to bend. One day, after school, after another tongue lashing from Principal Cardoza, the fenders obliged and parked a foot or so away from the school fence. Unfortunately, that distance brought them further out to the street. After purchasing two char-siu bao and fried noodles, Esyla stepped away from the lunch wagon to indulge in her meal. She had no idea she'd stepped onto the road and was hit by a large Dodge Work truck that didn't see her until it was too late. Esyla Montalbo was killed on impact. The entire school was mourning soon after, and her services were well attended to the point that it was standing room only at Mililan Mortuary. She was in her senior year when she was killed. By the time the next school year began in the fall, everyone had started to see her spirit lingering near the lunch truck or on campus, physically assaulting any student or adult who was bullying anyone else. It's a strange tale, but Esyla did well in not putting up with Bullies on campus while she was a student and now, even in the afterlife. More like her are needed, whether flesh or not.
*
There you have it, our strange tale for today. Otherwise, I have yet to eat a thing all day, not because I am not hungry but because I now have to closely monitor my dietary choices. Water to drink from now on or unflavored tea. Foods with not a heavy amount of salt or sugar. Exercise, yes; I'm still determining what that will look like, but I will begin teaching hula again. I am not worried about the sake of my appearance but more so about my possible disappearance from this earthly plane if I don't buckle down, as they say. If I don't, then how will I be able to write these stories for you?
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