"There is
tourist Hawaii," she said, "and military Hawaii, and everywhere
else--the real Hawaii."
"I'm staying in Waikiki," Oliver said. "I guess that's tourist Hawaii."
"Yes," she said. "But the buses are good. You can get out, go around
the island."
"I will. I'm going to try and look up family I've never met."
"Where do they live?" Oliver had found a listing for Kenso Nakano in a
phone book at the airport.
"Alewa Heights," he said.
She laughed. "Ah--LEV--Ah . . . That's the real Hawaii."
"Look at that!" The plane was banking over a large crater with a grassy
center and steep green sides.
"Diamond Head," she said. She wiped away a tear.
"Diamond Head? I didn't know it was a crater. I never saw a crater
before."
"It nice and green, this time year," she said in a different voice,
intense and musical. The tires jerked and the plane slowed with a rush
of engines. They taxied to the terminal. Passengers unlatched overhead
bins and waited in the aisle for the door to open.
"Goodbye," Oliver said to the woman.
"Aloha," she said, "good luck, huh."
"Aloha," Oliver said, for the first time without irony. The word felt
good in his mouth.
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