"Tonight, of course. I want to be high in the air and look at the city
lights. I've never been to the Top of the I. Come on, Joe . . . You can
tell me stories about the ancient old days. I will wear a skirt. We'll
be normal for a couple of hours."
"A long stretch," Joe said, but then he felt bad. "Why not? O.K." They
agreed to meet at 6:30. He ironed a pair of pants and an aloha shirt,
mumbling to himself about what a pain in the ass it was, but by the
time he stepped off the elevator he was feeling better; it was nice to
be liked.
Joe was overly punctual and used to waiting for women. He forgave them;
it was a genetic condition associated with the willingness to walk
slowly in front of onrushing traffic and also--somehow--with the
inability to have money ready at checkout counters. Alison was waiting
for him.
"You're supposed to be late," he said. She smiled prettily. She was
wearing a teal colored silk tunic over a chino skirt. Her hair was
brushed back; a small opal swung from each ear; something glittered
around her eyes. "You look terrific."
"Thank you." They sat at a table with a view of the mountains. "I don't
drink much," she said as he ordered a Glenlivet and water. "I do know
about Glenlivet. I'm Scots and Swedish."
"Single malt--wonderful stuff," he said.
"I'll have a glass of Chardonnay. So, Joe, tell me about when you used
to live here."
"I was married and Kate, our daughter, was young. I've been married
twice." Alison did not appear surprised. "Sally and I were happy to be
out of Woodstock."
"Woodstock, the Woodstock?"
"Yes, a small town. It was so great to be in Honolulu where we didn't
know anyone. My feet didn't feel the pavement for a year. But we had a
hard time. Food stamps and all that, even welfare for a while. Things
settled down when I started driving a Charley's cab and Sally cleaned
houses. Cleaning houses isn't bad work--cash--anybody gives you a hard
time you just go somewhere else. Here's looking at you." They touched
glasses.
"Sally had a couple of steady gigs where she liked the people and knew
what she was supposed to do every week." His mind was moving back.
"Some amazing things did happen . . . "
"Oh, good," Alison said.
"One afternoon I went over to Kahala to pick up Sally at a cleaning
job. She was disturbed. Sally was a sweetheart, but she didn't talk
much; after six years of marriage I knew I had to ask if I wanted to
know what was going on.
"She described a scene between her boss, heiress to the Cannon towel
fortune, and her boss's daughter. The daughter told her mother that a
nice man had come into her room during the night, had sat on her bed
and talked to her. The mother explained that dreams sometimes seemed
real. The daughter said that it wasn't a dream. They argued. There were
tears, and the daughter ran upstairs."