The Ohana (26 page)

New York: 1965

Stefano told Jackie he was leaving right after Christmas. He gave her a Mercedes and $150,000. Jackie was speechless. She lamented her life was over. For almost three years she had led a fairytale existence, and now, just like that, it was over.

“But, cara,” Stefano said to her as if she were a child. “You knew I couldn’t marry you.”

“But what am I to do?” She felt scared. He’d introduced her to a lifestyle she only dreamed of. Now he was releasing her to an uncertain future. She was accustomed to being taken care of in royal style by Stefano. How could she to go back to her former life? She was paralyzed with fear at the thought of taking care of herself.

“My solicitor rented an apartment for you in New York for a year. It will give you time to decide what you want to do. You are young and beautiful, the possibilities are endless.” He nuzzled her cheek. “You have your entire life to look forward to.”

Jackie wept. “You said you loved me.”

“Of course I love you. You’ve been with me three years, which is a very long time, for me.”

“It’s not so long.” Jackie sniffed, wiping away her tears.

“Ah, but
cara
, my father is very angry with me. He insists I settle down. He’s even picked a bride for me. I have no choice, you see? Either I do this thing, or he takes away my money.”

Jackie was numb. Her life fell apart. For months, she sequestered herself in the apartment Stefano rented for her and did lines of coke at night. When the money began running out, she sold her Mercedes.

Six months in, she read about Stefano’s marriage in the gossip columns. His wife was lovely, she admitted, and also very young.

Jackie’s beauty was all she had left. But fear drove her to lie in bed every night staring at the ceiling wondering how she was supposed to go on after having been tossed aside. What would happen to her when the year was up? What would happen to her when all her possessions were sold and the money spent?

 Panic now owned her. She ran to Valentino’s, Gucci, and Yves St. Laurent and blew thousands of dollars on clothes. Sometimes she lay awake all night, high on coke, mentally counting the rest of her money and fretting about the possibility of being completely broke. She promised herself she would stop spending money and find a job. But her vows were forgotten as soon as she woke up the next morning.

When Stefano called her from Italy two months after his wedding, she was still floundering.

“Ah, cara, I have good news,” he said. “Remember Carlos? The one with the fabulous home in Marbella? He asked about you. He will be in New York in three days and is anxious to see you. You should see him, cara. He is very rich and very generous.”

Jackie felt as if she had been slapped. He is very rich. Did he think she was a whore? A whore who could be bought and sold?

Then she remembered Carlos. He looked older than her father. But he owned the grandest house in Marbella.

She told herself she was going out with him to spite Stefano. The truth was Stefano didn’t care.

The night of her date, she wore an elegant Galanos sheath accessorized with aquamarines the color of the sea dangling from her ears and neck. Her dark, chestnut hair fell in thick waves. No one had to tell her she looked stunning.

After dinner and dancing, Jackie went to bed with Carlos. When it was finally over, she lay beside him like a rag doll listening to him snore. She couldn’t sleep.

When the birds began chirping and the street traffic grew louder, she watched the luminous numbers on the clock go from six, to seven, and finally eight. As the room grew lighter, Carlos looked older. Sticking out of his balding head were tufts of thin white hair. His chin was rough with white stubble and his big-pored, saggy skin was threaded with veins close to the surface. The reddish-purple veins in his nose and his bloated face betrayed his alcoholism. Stefano would probably look like him someday. And, like Carlos, he would probably sleep with a girl young enough to be his daughter.

She slid out of bed and tiptoed to the lavishly appointed bathroom and looked in the mirror. There was make-up smudged under her eyes and her cheeks looked hollow. The disheveled girl staring back at her looked like a cheap hooker. She began to cry.

Carlos didn’t wake until twelve. She had already ordered orange juice, coffee, fruit, and croissants with marmalade. Everything was cold, but Carlos didn’t seem to mind. He poured himself a cup of lukewarm coffee and popped a strawberry in his mouth.

“I’m a generous man. We will draw up contracts so there will be no misunderstanding.” He sipped orange juice. “You must hire your own attorney. Everything is negotiable except one thing. You cannot have other lovers. You will belong to me exclusively.”

 Jackie looked out the window at Central Park feeling like a whore.

Three weeks later, Mary arrived in New York and went straight to the hospital.

“I’m here to see my daughter, Jackie Han,” Mary said to the receptionist. “Could you tell me what room she’s in?”

“Is that H-A-N? Oh yes, the attempted suicide.” The receptionist pushed up her glasses on her nose. “310. The doctor wants to see you first. Let me page him.”

Mary paced in the reception area while fumbling in her purse for breath mints. She was very tired from the red-eye she’d taken. It was a long trip from Honolulu to New York.

“Mrs. Han?” The resident sat down next to her with his clipboard in one hand and a pencil in the other. Despite his tired, red eyes, he looked very young. “Your daughter tried to commit suicide two nights ago. Has she done anything like this before?”

“Never. Can I see her now?” Mary gripped her purse.

“She’s asleep.” The doctor put his pencil in his pocket. “Mrs. Han, are you aware of your daughter’s drug problem?”

Mary’s mouth dropped. “What are you talking about?”

“Your daughter overdosed on cocaine and prescription drugs.”

Mary cried. “No, no, no,” she whispered. “How could this have happened?”

The doctor shook his head. “I see more and more of it in the emergency room. People say cocaine is non-addictive. I wish some of them would spend a week in ER and see how harmless cocaine really is.”

Mary put her hand on her throat. “What can I do?”

“I recommend treatment. This habit doesn’t miraculously go away. The hospital can steer you to a number of programs.”

Mary struggled to comprehend the enormity of what he said. Her daughter was a drug addict. “Can I see her, please? Even if she is asleep; I promise not to wake her.”

“Sure.” The doctor stood and led her to Jackie’s room. He closed the door behind them to give them privacy.

Feeling helpless and guilty, Mary gazed at Jackie. She looked like an angel. Sitting down in the chair next to her bed, Mary put one hand on her daughter’s and leaned over and kissed her.

Jackie opened her eyes, “Mom?”

Mary squeezed Jackie’s hand.

“I’m sorry to be so much trouble, Mom.” Jackie turned her head to the wall. “I just wanted to end the pain. Have you ever wanted to die?”

“Yes.”

Jackie turned back to her mother with surprise. “Did you try to do what I did?”

“No, I didn’t.” Mary shook her head and kissed Jackie’s hand. “There’s always something or someone worth living for now or in the future. Life is full of thunderstorms but they don’t last. A year from now your life will be completely different. You can’t lose hope because it’s what persuades us to go on.”

“But I don’t feel there’s anything worth living for.” A tear rolled down Jackie’s cheek.

“Stop it!” Mary shook Jackie’s hand. “How can you lie there, with all the exceptional gifts God gave you and whine about your life? There are people worse off than you.”

“I know. The children in China. But right now I can’t think of anything worse than the way I feel. I’m sorry, but that’s just the way it is.”

Mary squeezed her hand again. “You need help.”

“I guess the doctor told you I should go to rehab.” Jackie’s eyes glittered. “I told him cocaine is not addicting, but he won’t listen.”

“It’s you who aren’t listening,” Mary scolded. “I understand it’s scary. But I’m your mother. I’ll help you through it.”

Honolulu: 1966

Mary brought Jackie home after sixty days in an expensive rehab in Arizona. Though her medical insurance plan covered a large chunk of it, it still took most of her savings. But Mary was pleased by the physical and mental changes in Jackie. She didn’t seem quite so fragile.

Financially, Jackie was in bad shape. Mary forced her daughter to sell her expensive jewelry for whatever she could get. Jackie sold almost everything she owned and moved back to Hawaii.

Once home, she met and almost immediately got engaged to a lawyer named Gerry Myers. The whirlwind courtship aroused Mary’s suspicion.

“Do you think knowing someone for two months is enough to make a life-long commitment?” Mary asked one evening as she got ready for a date with Gerry.

Jackie fiddled with her earrings. “Gerry is what every mom wants for her daughter. He’s a lawyer with a house in Waialae Iki. His dad’s the Speaker of the House and his step-mother is the richest woman in Hawaii.” Jackie stood and eyed herself in the mirror, front and back. “So what’s the problem?” She fluffed her hair with both her hands then smoothed her skirt.

“Nothing,” Mary said. “I just think you should give your relationship some time.”

“Why? I know what I want. And obviously so does he.” Jackie grabbed her purse. “I want to bury the past before it buries me.”

Mary shook her head. “Remember the old cliché, money doesn’t buy happiness.”

Jackie tossed her head. “Yeah, but it sure does help the pain.”

“Jackie,” Mary said softly. “I just want you to be happy.”

“Think about how lucky your grandchildren will be.” Jackie threw her mother’s words back at her.

Through the window, Mary watched Jackie slide into Gerry’s Mercedes. It was rumored his father would become Hawaii’s governor as the first Hawaiian-Chinese-German-Portuguese to ever live in Washington Place, the gubernatorial mansion.

Mary turned away from the window. Gerry was a nice man. She only hoped Jackie wasn’t marrying for the wrong reasons.

Sean attended the wedding of Mr. and Mrs. Gerry Myers held on the grounds of the Myers estate in Lanikai. Tiki torches lined the perimeter of elegant, white tents with scalloped edges strung with twinkling lights. Spring flowers burst from the center of each table. Sterling silver bookmarkers in blue felt bags with the word “Tiffany” emblazoned in silver were placed beside each plate. Meg generously underwrote her stepson’s extravagant wedding.

It was a strange evening. Meg stood in the reception line dressed in pale blue chiffon spangled with starry rhinestones with a look of contentment on her face. The twinge of regret Sean first felt when he heard she married lawyer/politician/Hawaiian activist Danny Myers had disappeared. Danny was a good match for her. They were both passionate about their shared beliefs. When he came up to her in the line, he leaned down and kissed her on the cheek. “I’m so happy for you, Meg.”

She squeezed his hand and smiled, “Thank you.” Her hand lingered for just a moment before she turned her attention to Katherine.

The real surprise of the evening was seeing Mary again. She stood next to Meg and Danny wearing an elegant crimson sheath and pearls. Their eyes met while he was shaking Danny’s hand. For a moment, he was transported back to the night of passion they shared. He remembered her incredibly soft skin and the way she traced the bridge of his nose with her fingertip. He could almost hear her soft moans growing to a fevered pitch as their excitement built. He used to wonder what became of her. Now here she was, looking more elegant but no different than what she looked like over twenty years before. When he stood in front of her, he stroked her hand with his thumb to let her know he hadn’t forgotten.

“It’s as if time stood still.” Sean kissed her gently on her cheek. “You look exactly the same as you did over twenty years ago.”

Was it his imagination or did she suddenly become flustered? She removed her hand from his and clasped her hands together. “Thank you. You look remarkable yourself.”