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Chapter 5 The Radio Flyer


The Radio Flyer



Author's Note: Some of the story is told in a simplified Hawaiian Pidgin dialect. The original broken pidgin english would be too hard for readers to understand.

Uilani’s ( POV )

Like any typical party, which I can tell you we’ve hosted just as many as we attended one. It was tradition here in Hawaii. Every occasion was celebrated and made a big deal out of. First birthdays, anniversaries, weddings, graduations. You name it... we've done it. It’s just a part of life on these islands where there are more land mass than buildings or homes.

This party I was attending was very special.

I flew back to the island of Hawaii for my parent’s surprise 55th wedding anniversary.

When they finally arrived at the hall, it was a great memory. They didn't know it at first. But, when their eyes adjusted to the huge 20 X 20 photos of them and the huge anniversary sign that hung behind the entertainment stage. You should of seen the expression on their faces ... it was Priceless.

As hosts there were guest that needed to be thanked. I did my rounds and expressed my appreciation for their attendance. Normally, I was the shy one... the one who tried desperately to hide in the shadows.

Trying to keep myself in the back cowering in the darkest areas where lighting didn't exist.

Especially, when my brothers were on stage performing. There was no chance in hell, I wanted to be called up to do a hula number. Hawaii’s traditional hula, they'd put me on the spot. I’d flush red every time and the feeling was overwhelming. To be quite frank it happened a lot.

That night, I didn’t have enough liquid courage to volunteer my services to get in front of 300 guests... if you can relate. Out of all the sisters I had been the more faithful explorer in that tradition. Even found myself flying off to Kagoshima, Japan for it.

How did I get there? Easy... a friend and I thought it be great to look for a job. Well... I already had one, but she desperately needed one. We found an add in the newspaper that said:

Professional Polynesian Dancers Needed for Japan, if interested call XXX-XXX-XXXX or auditions will be M-F 8-4 at Kapiolani Park.

Whoa... that was on Oahu...

Convincing my father was easy. He fell for it... and anything for our culture he jumped on board immediately. He paid for our flights and gave us spending money. We showed up at Kapiolani park, introduced ourselves to the Tahitian man in charge named Teri’i Rua. His french accent was a nice sound to the ears. He instructed us to jump in line and follow the motions with the other ladies practice to the songs. There was Hula-kahiko and auana, Tahitian- ōte’a, aparima, ahuroa, Samoan and Maori. By the end of the day... the instructor knew my friend brookie and I were professionals and picked up the dances quite easily. We were hired and that was that.

"What the hell are you thinking about?" my cousin Norma asked with intrigue. A full can of beer in hand.

"Just remembering Japan." I said, the memory faded quickly out of my thoughts.

Then here it came another family memory. Norma had been there from the beginning. We were both five or six at the time when spooky decided to do the Séance.

"Cousin... you remember the Mililani Street house?" she asked, her question had drawn a crowd from family members who were near enough to hear her.

These weirdos loved shit like this. Because one, my sister's and I would always share them. One of our favorite shows and movies to watch was... well go figure. "Horror, Thriller." you'd think we'd hate it from experience. Not us... us idiots we lived for that shit.

Dumbasses...

"Are we talking about spooky stories." my nieces, Vohn, Lilly, Hualani and Haunani jumped in. Their eyes alighted with glee. I admit my family wasn't normal. They got off on this type of shit.

I gave a nod... looking at Norma, the girls huddled around us. Like team players do when they are discussing strategy moves.

Everyone, waiting for the gossip. Mandi, Bobbie-Lou, Manu and Kahealani my other nieces knew it would be a good story. They joined us as well, extending the circle.

"Cousin... you remember the Mililani Street house?" Norma asked, with a serious look.

I just nodded, meaning a yes.

"Cousin... do you remember the radio flyer?" she questioned, with a confused look. I glanced at her appearance. She was always well put together from her clothes to her hair and light make-up.

"No... What radio flyer?" I admitted, trying to figure out what she meant by it.

"Cousin... no tell me you no remember the damn babies radio flyer?" she was now determined, looking at me in disbelief.

"I don't remember... what the hell happened?"

"Yeah... what. What happened?" the group of young girls chirped in excitement. Like knowing wouldn't add fear in their memory of our conversation.

They loved knowing our childhood stories... often times they'd beg us to repeat those scary ass fuck incidents.

Told you... they're not normal.

"You no remember we heard the bike downstairs. So we went downstairs thinking that the John was riding his bike?" she paused for a split second to take a sip of her beer.

"But when we got there the bike was going around and around the pool table by itself?" her eyes were wide like saucers at the memory. She looked at me with a questionable look.

"No... I don't remember." I answered, trying to search my memory bank associated with the damn red radio flyer bicycle.

For the life of me I didn't remember that at all. They say sometimes when you witness something traumatizing you can dissociate your memory from it. That was the only thing I could come up with.

"You fucking kidding me cousin. How can you not remember that?" she was irritated with me it was written all over her face.

The young pack of girls were mumbling outbursts of expressions. Some were rubbing their arms from getting goosebumps.

I couldn't help it. You'd think I would have remembered this. It was very much lighter memory than all the other spooky shit I've witnessed.

Till this day... I can't remember it.



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