2
" In the deep, wet tangled, wild jungle where even natives won't go is a mystical, dangerous river. The river's got no name because naming it would make it real, and no one wanted to believe that river be real. They say you get there only inside a dream-but don't you think of it at bedtime, now, 'cause not everyone who goes there be able to leave! That jungle canopy, it so leafy true daylight can never break in the riverbank, it be wet muck thick with creatures that eat you alive if you stay still too long. To miss that fate, you gots to go into the black water. But the water be heavy as hot tar; once you in, it bind you and pull you along, bit by bit, 'til you come to the end of the land, and then over the water goes in a dark, slow cascade, the highest falls in the history of the world ever. There be demons in that cascading water, and snakes, and wraiths that whisper in your ears. They love you, they say. You should give yourself to them, stay with them, become one of them, they say. 'Isn't it good here?' they say. 'No pain, no trouble.' But also no light and no love and no joy and no ground. You tumble and tumble as you fall, and you try and choose, but your mind be topsy-turvy and maybe you can't think so well, and maybe you can't choose right, and maybe you never wake up. " It felt like that," I tell Tootsie, " even after you got me out and Scott moved me to Highland. I couldn't choose. I couldn't shut out the wraiths...But you would say, 'Hang on, sweetie,' and Scottie would say, 'I miss you, Mama,' and Scott would hold me, just hold me and say nothing at all." Tootsie snorts. " Scott was useless the whole while." " Scott was in the river, too. "
4
" My God,” she says. “I feel like I’ve gone through a car wash.”
I laugh, or force myself to, because it’s not something I’d normally laugh at.
“What about you?” she says to Scottie. “How did you make out?”
“I’m a boy,” Scottie says. “Look at me.”
Sand has gotten into the bottom of her suit, creating a huge bulge. She scratches at the bulge. “I’m going to go to work now,” she says. I think she’s impersonating me and that Mrs. Speer is getting an unrealistic, humiliating glimpse.
“Scottie,” I say. “Take that out.”
“It must be fun to have girls,” Mrs. Speer says.
She looks at the ocean, and I see that she’s looking at Alex sunbathing on the floating raft. Sid leans over Alex and puts his mouth to hers. She raises a hand to his head, and for a moment I forget it’s my daughter out there and think of how long it has been since I’ve been kissed or kissed like that.
“Or maybe you have your hands full,” Mrs. Speer says.
“No, no,” I say. “It’s great,” and it is, I suppose, though I feel like I’ve just acquired them and don’t know yet. “They’ve been together for ages.” I gesture to Alex and Sid. I don’t understand if they’re a couple or if this is how all kids in high school act these days.
Mrs. Speer looks at me curiously, as if she’s about to say something, but she doesn’t.
“And boys.” I gesture to her little dorks. “They must keep you busy.”
“They’re a handful. But they’re at such a fun age. It’s such a joy.”
She gazes out at her boys. Her expression does little to convince me that they’re such a joy. I wonder how many times parents have these dull conversations with one another and how much they must hide. They’re so goddamn hyper, I’d do anything to inject them with a horse tranquilizer. They keep insisting that I watch what they can do, but I truly don’t give a fuck. How hard is it to jump off a diving board?
My girls are messed up, I want to say. One talks dirty to her own reflection. Did you do that when you were growing up?
“Your girls seem great, too,” she says. “How old are they?”
“Ten and eighteen. And yours?”
“Ten and twelve.”
“Oh,” I say. “Great.”
“Your younger one sure is funny,” she says. “I mean, not funny. I meant entertaining.”
“Oh, yeah. That’s Scottie. She’s a riot. "
― Kaui Hart Hemmings , The Descendants
6
" I had to ask Scottie what TYVM meant, because now that I’ve narrowed into her activities, I notice she is constantly text-messaging her friends, or at least I hope it’s her friends and not some perv in a bathrobe.
“Thank you very much,” Scottie said, and for some reason, the fact that I didn’t get this made me feel completely besieged. It’s crazy how much fathers are supposed to know these days. I come from the school of thought where a dad’s absence is something to be counted on. Now I see all the men with camouflage diaper bags and babies hanging from their chests like little ship figureheads. When I was a young dad, I remember the girls sort of bothered me as babies, the way everyone raced around to accommodate them. The sight of Alex in her stroller would irritate me at times—she’d hang one of her toddler legs over the rim of the safety bar and slouch down in the seat. Joanie would bring her something and she’d shake her head, then Joanie would try again and again until an offering happened to work and Alex would snatch it from her hands. I’d look at Alex, finally complacent with her snack, convinced there was a grown person in there, fooling us all. Scottie would just point to things and grunt or scream. It felt like I was living with royalty. I told Joanie I’d wait until they were older to really get into them, and they grew and grew behind my back. "
― Kaui Hart Hemmings , The Descendants
8
" You’ve already said that,” Alex says. “Why should I go?”
“You’re the only person I have,” I say. “And I want us all to be together. It will be good for us.”
“Oh, so now I’m back in the picture again.”
“Alex. Something bigger than you is occurring right now. I’m sorry about your unhappy childhood.”
She glares at me in that special way of hers and Joanie’s that makes me feel worthless and foul-smelling.
“So we’ll tell Scottie we’re going on a vacation while Mom is in the hospital?”
“It’s for a day or two,” I say. “Scottie’s been in the hospital every day for almost a month now. She needs a break. It’s not good for her. I’d like you to be in charge of answering any questions she may have. She looks up to you. She’ll hang on whatever you say.”
I’m hoping a leadership role, a specific chore, will make Alex act like an adult and treat Scottie well.
“Can you do that?”
She shrugs.
“If you can’t handle things, let me know. I’ll help. I’m here for you.”
Alex laughs. I wonder if there are parents who can say things to their kids like “I love you” or “I’m here for you” without being laughed at. I have to admit it’s a bit uncomfortable. Affection, in general, is unpleasant to me.
“What if Mom doesn’t make it for two days?”
“She will,” I say. “I’ll tell her what we’re doing.”
Alex looks uncomfortable with this idea, that what I’ll say will make her mother want to live. “I’m bringing Sid,” she says. “If he doesn’t come, then I’m not going.”
I’m about to protest, but I see the look in her eyes and know this is yet another battle that I’m bound to lose. Something about this guy is helping her. And Scottie seems to like him. He can keep her distracted. He can work for me.
“Okay,” I say. “Deal. "
― Kaui Hart Hemmings , The Descendants
9
" TIA OR TARA has stopped applying makeup to my wife’s face and is looking at Scottie with disapproval. The light is hitting this woman’s face, giving me an opportunity to see that she should perhaps be working on her own makeup. Her coloring is similar to a manila envelope. There are specks of white in her eyebrows, and her concealer is not concealing. I can tell my daughter doesn’t know what to do with this woman’s critical look.
“What?” Scottie asks. “I don’t want any makeup.” She looks at me for protection, and it’s heartbreaking. All the women who model with Joanie have this inane urge to make over my daughter with the notion that they’re helping her somehow. She’s not as pretty as her older sister or her mother, and these other models think that slapping on some rouge will somehow make her feel better about her facial fate. They’re like missionaries. Mascara thumpers.
“I was just going to say that I think your mother was enjoying the view,” Tia or Tara says. “It’s so pretty outside. You should let the light in.”
My daughter looks at the curtain. Her little mouth is open. Her hand reaches for a tumbleweed of hair.
“Listen here, T. Her mother was not enjoying the view. Her mother is in a coma. And she’s not supposed to be in bright light.”
“My name is not T,” she says. “My name is Allison.”
“Okay, then, Ali. Don’t confuse my daughter, please.”
“I’m turning into a remarkable young lady,” Scottie says.
“Damn straight.” My heart feels like one of Scottie’s clogs clomping down the hall. I don’t know why I became so angry. "
― Kaui Hart Hemmings , The Descendants
10
" There’s something different about her. I realize it’s her breasts—they’re huge. I see that she’s stuffed her bikini top with wet balls of sand.
“What is that?” I say. “Scottie. Your suit.”
She shields her eyes with her hand and looks down at her chest. “Beach boobs,” she says.
“Take that out of there,” I say. “Alex. Why’d you let her do that?”
Alex is on her stomach, with the straps of her top untied. She lifts her head toward Scottie. “I didn’t know. Take them out, stupid.”
Sid lifts his head. “Honestly,” he says, “big boobs look kind of fatty.”
“As Bebe says, boobs suck,” Alex says, “and Sid’s full of shit. He loves big boobs.”
“Who’s Bebe?” Scottie lets the sand fall out of her top.
“Character from South Park,” Sid says. “And I love small boobs, too, Alex. I’m an equal-opportunity employer. "
― Kaui Hart Hemmings , The Descendants
11
" Reina sounds awesome,” Sid says. “I’m digging her more and more.”
“Were you there?” I ask. “Have you seen one of these movies?”
“No,” Scottie says.
“Scottie,” Alex says, kicking Sid in the ribs. “Reina is a fuckedup ho bag, and you need to stay away from her. I’ve already told you that. Do you want to end up like me?”
“Yes,” Scottie says.
“I mean the earlier me, when I was yelling at Mom.”
“No,” Scottie says.
“Well, Reina is going to be a crackhead, and she’s going to get used. She’s a twat. Say it.”
“Twat,” Scottie says. She gets up and runs across the room, saying, “Twat twat twat twat twat.”
“Holy shit,” Sid says. “This is some messed-up parenting. Isn’t it?”
Alex shrugs. “Maybe. I guess we’ll see.”
“I don’t get it,” I say. “I don’t know what to do. These things she does, they keep happening.”
“It will go away,” Alex says.
“Will it? I mean, look at how you kids talk. In front of me, especially. It’s like you don’t respect authority.”
The kids stare at the television. I tell them to get out. I’m going to bed. "
― Kaui Hart Hemmings , The Descendants
