Chapter 10: Then, Koa
Koa finds a mystery sparked by an image
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WILD GIRL
THEN:
Ella and Koa ate a tasty fish and rice dinner with a shared cob of corn as a treat. Afterward, Ella put the Parenting magazine away and brought out some of their favorites: People, Vanity Fair, National Geographic, a dog-eared copy of The Week.
“Manny picks these up topside from a doctor’s office that would throw them away,” Ella said. “He knows you like them too.”
“That’s nice,” Koa said, because Ella wanted her to think so.
Her friend hadn’t wanted to talk about being pregnant, or what had led to the bruises on her arms. Ella dealt with her life by staying in the smaller, happy moments; Koa understood that.
They leafed through the magazines and discussed the pictures and articles while listening to Ella’s music. She liked pop, and had a collection of CDs she played on a plug-in boombox.
But soon her friend was yawning. “Being pregnant makes me tired. I need to go to bed. You can take extra time in the bath tonight if you want.”
“Sounds good.”
After Ella went to bed, Koa enjoyed a long bath. Washing in the hot water with a bar of scented soap loosened the dirty-looking dye embedded in Koa’s elbows and behind her knees.
Suddenly disgusted with the stain, she rubbed more soap into the washcloth and scrubbed herself thoroughly. She shampooed her hair over and over.
Afterward, toweling off, she squinted into the brightly-lit mirror. Her eyes, light brown with green dots, never changed—but after this thorough cleaning, her skin was tan but lighter than Ella’s by several shades. In the areas hidden from sun, Koa was pale as a frog’s belly; as were so many haole people in the magazines.
Koa had been dying her hair for so long she wasn’t sure what color it really was. But after more than a month without the dye and repeated washings, the long strands she combed out were light brown streaked with caramel, her favorite candy.
“My hair’s not so bad,” she whispered. “I’m sorry, Mama. I wanted to see what I really looked like at least once. I’ll put the dye back on when I’m home.”
But would she? She wasn’t sure. Maybe it wasn’t necessary. She didn’t know anymore.
Koa dressed in clothes Ella had left out for her while the washer dealt with her dirty ones. She slid into the soft bed with its clean sheets that smelled of chemicals. She adjusted the windows so they were open as wide as possible.
The sounds of the forest and nature were similar to those at Koa’s shack but more muted, maybe because of the glass and wall insulation.
Koa generally slept well here: a full belly, being clean, and soft bed linens all helped her rest deeply. But not tonight. The baby on the cover of Parenting magazine floated in her mind when she shut her eyes.
That baby was white and soft as an uncooked marshmallow. Its eyes were the sky blue of the satin pillow it sat on, a creature from another world.
Manny and Ella’s baby wouldn’t look like that. They were both brown-skinned with dark eyes and black hair. Maybe it would have Ella’s dimples. For sure, their baby would be adorable. Too bad a child made Ella more vulnerable and tied to Manny.
Ella would have an even harder time getting away and making some kind of life for herself—and it would have to be topside. Her friend couldn’t live off the land alone in the Valley. She’d never be happy in a shack like Koa’s, living the way Koa did. And raising a baby out there? Even with Koa’s help it could be dangerous if the baby got sick.
And Manny would come after them. He’d find Koa’s place eventually. He’d never let his wife and child leave.
Koa sighed. Her friend had made a choice; they’d have to figure it out as they went.
What was it about that blue-eyed baby in the picture? Koa needed to see it again.
She slid out of bed and crossed the room. She always left the door ajar so she’d wake if Manny somehow came home during the night.
Ella’s door was similarly ajar. Koa was able to slip in and cross the room to the bedside table with the cabinet underneath where Ella stored the magazines.
Her friend’s back was turned. She breathed softly, deeply, a slight mound lit by moonlight coming through a crack in blackout curtains.
Koa eased the cabinet door open, reached inside, and pulled out the stack of magazines. The ones they’d looked at tonight were still in the living room, so the one she was after was bound to be on top somewhere.
Koa sneaked back out, and this time, closed Ella’s door so light wouldn’t awaken her friend.
She took the magazines back to the guest room, shut the door, and turned on the lamp. Doing that was such a luxury that Koa moved the lamp’s switch back and forth a few times, watching illumination bloom on and off, marveling—then left the bulb on and spread the magazines out on the bed.
Koa leafed through the Parents magazine, looking for the baby on the cover. The only reference to it was a tiny thumbnail with a photo credit on the inside page.
The baby on the ice blue pillow was only meant to be eye catching—and caught her eye, it had.
As Koa scanned the photos in the magazine, an impression lit up her brain.
Lying on something firm but soft, watching shapes move around overhead.
Tinkling sounds around.
She wanted to touch the shapes.
The arms she saw when she reached up were pale with forearms so chubby that there was a roll on them. They were marshmallow white, like the skin of the baby on the cover.
Koa couldn’t make the hands do what she wanted. She kicked her feet in frustration and let out a yell.
What was this story going on in her mind? A dream? Koa closed the magazine, turned off the lamp, and shut her eyes to concentrate.
A face appeared above.
Smiling mouth, eyes as blue as the baby’s in the photo.
Blonde hair around that face shone like the silky strands in the corncob
Ella had given Koa to husk that evening.
Koa squeezed her eyes tighter, concentrating.
The plump pinkish-white baby hand she’d seen before reached out, grasping a handful of the woman’s hair. She felt the hair in her hand; the woman’s hair felt good.
Koa rubbed her fingers together, reflexively, remembering.
The woman gazing down at her laughed. The sound lit Koa’s whole being. She kicked her legs with excitement, joy suffusing. Gurgling sounds came from her mouth.The woman laughed more, lifting her up and cuddling her.
Now Koa’s face was against the woman’s neck and it felt good.
The smells were good too—sweet milk.
Clean laundry.
The woman swayed and murmured, singing, holding her close.
Koa relaxed against steady warmth and strong arms, going limp.
The dream ended.
Longing filled Koa, welling up from some capped inner spring. Her head had begun to ache, a steady pounding throb. She opened her eyes, glanced down at her hand, where the fingers were still rubbing against each other trying to feel the woman’s phantom hair.
How could she so deeply know a face she’d never seen before, even to the way the woman’s hair looked with sun on it? How was she able to feel it in her fingers, smell it against the woman’s neck?
Was what Koa had just experienced a dream? Or was it—a memory?
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