In retirement, I begin every day with coffee and cigarettes, while I take on the New York Times crossword puzzle, challenging it to kick my ass. Often it wins, but on those days when I’m the one doing the kicking, I’ll drink another cup of coffee and smoke a few more cigarettes to celebrate my victory.
I do the crossword puzzle in honor of my longtime friend whose retirement days always began the same way, although in his case, he not only finished every puzzle, but kept a daily log of his completion times in order to see if he could keep besting the speed at which he finished.
Up until he passed away three years ago, I would do the puzzle a few times a week. Once he died, however, I decided, in memory of him, to take up the mantle and have at the beast every day.
A few weeks ago, while staggering through the toughest challenge, the Sunday puzzle, my cell phone rang. The screen said ‘unknown number,’ which for me means send it straight to voicemail. If it’s important, there’ll be a message. This time, there was.
* * *
Back in my undergraduate days, one of my favorite classes was the 20th-century British novel. One of the reasons I enjoyed that class so much was that a young woman from Texas serendipitously sat down beside me on the first day of class.
A stunning blonde, she immediately attracted my interest. I’ve always been shy when it comes to striking up conversations with women. This problem has irritatingly prevented me from speaking to many women I’d have wished to. On this rare occasion, though, the barrier evaporated immediately. Leaning over, she said, “Are you an English major?”
Her accent was mellifluously southern, and I was instantly energized. Ever the brilliant conversationalist, I said something along the lines of, “Ah, I, uh, yes.”
The smile, on top of the accent, cemented the fact that I was now deeply in love.
“I’m Daphne,” she said, extending her hand.
I reached for it in slow, shaky motion. “Chris,” I said.
“I’m really looking forward to this class. I love the book choices. I always go to the bookstore to check out the reading before I register for a course. This one looks great.”
I smiled. “I, ah, I choose my classes that way, too.”
At the end of class, as we stood to go, Daphne said, “I’ll see you on Wednesday.”
“Ah, I, uh, yes.”
Again, that smile.
Wednesday, not believing that I would have the great fortune of actually having her sit next to me again, I was monumentally surprised and pleased that she came in and plopped down beside me.
From that day on we would have brief conversations before class, and, as fate would have it, the conversations became longer and longer, evolving into lunches, sometimes extended, at the campus center.
Daphne’s accent came from Texas. Her father was stationed at Hickam. A military “brat,” she’d traveled the world leading up to Hawai‘i. After graduating from Radford High here, she was at U.H. Mānoa, an English major.
Fate. I could not believe this was happening to me. But it was, and it felt week by week as if it were meant to be.
The second hurdle for me, once I find myself finally able to communicate coherently with a woman, is asking her out. True to form, although I’d wanted to do so since day one, I could never bring myself to ask.
Desperation set in. But steel myself as best I could, I couldn’t get the words out.
Now or never, I thought, after we’d turned in our final exam blue books.
“Ah, Daphne, would you like to go out to dinner sometime?” I asked. I couldn’t believe I’d done it.
That smile again, but this time it was a bit different. Less sun, more rain.
“Oh, Chris,” she said. “I wish you’d asked me sooner. My dad’s being reassigned. I’m moving back to Texas.”
Of course. Fate. As in fatal.
I never saw Daphne again. In the flesh. I’ve seen, and continue to see her face, from time to time. I always picture that slightly sad smile.
* * *
Abandoning my laptop, I listened to the voicemail message.
“Hi, Lanning, I don’t know if you’d remember me, but this is Daphne Dearborn. We were in a 20th-century English novel course at U.H. “I came across your author’s page on Amazon, and, well, it’s great that you list your contact information in all your books. I’ve enjoyed reading all of them. Anyway, I’m passing through town, and I was wondering if you’d like to get together for dinner?”
I called her back right away. Yes, of course I remembered her. I was so glad she’d gotten in touch. Dinner tomorrow night at the Moana Hotel? Definitely.
Not wanting to make any kind of a bad impression I could prevent, I stopped smoking several hours before our dinner rendezvous. After showering, I brushed my teeth extra hard and gargled Listerine for a good five minutes, then headed out for what I knew would be a memorable night.
We met in the hotel lobby. There was no mistaking which woman she was. Still a beauty. I was relieved she was alone. If she’d shown up with a husband, I’d have shot myself.
After we’d been seated and ordered drinks, we launched into a conversation that felt like we were old friends. It was as if no time had elapsed since the last time we’d talked.
Daphne was a retired English professor. I told her that I, too, had earned my Ph.D. in English, but that I’d worked most of my career as a counselor at U.H.
“Are you married?” she asked.
“Well, ah, no. I never found a woman who could put up with me,” I joked. “And you?”
“My husband passed away twelve years ago. After that, I retired. My grandchildren have been a blessing. The joy of my life. Always have been. But my husband’s death was almost like a kind of amputation. We’d been together for so many years, you know, and I hadn’t been able to fill that void. I thought maybe seeing more of the world would help me move on.”
That wistful smile.
You know, a good human being would feel nothing but sympathy at this point. And while I did feel some sorrow for her, the light of bright optimism sprang up. I wondered about the possibility.
Of course, I asked, “And has traveling helped?”
“Well, ah, a little. Little by little. I’m headed for Australia. It’s my last continent.”
“You, too? Me, too. And I loved Antarctica. How about you?”
“I was there last year. I found it stunning. It’s one of those sights, you know, that unendingly vast icescape . . . You really know how tiny you are in relationship to nature, to everything.”
“I know what you mean. It’s one of those rare glimpses of what eternity must be, must mean.”
“Yes.”
I said, “For a few years, I thought I might not make it to Australia. I’d planned this elaborate trip, visiting a bunch of cities, but then the pandemic hit, and I only made it over there a couple months ago.”
“Where all did you go?” she asked.
“Just Sydney. I went for a week. Just to check it off the list, you know? But I absolutely loved it. I definitely want to go back. Whereabouts are you going?”
“Lots of places,” she said. “Sydney, Canberra, Melbourne, Adelaide, Perth, Alice Springs.”
Just then I heard someone call my name. I turned and saw that an old high school friend of mine, Robert Kaiama, and his wife were being seated several tables away.
Robert, still practicing, is a big-time lawyer in Honolulu. A protégé of Senator Daniel Inouye, he went on to serve in the state senate. He went back to law, was appointed a federal prosecutor by Clinton, then a federal judge by Obama. After the administration change, he’d gone back into law.
Robert came over to shake hands. I introduced him to Daphne, then asked him what he was up to these days.
“Same old, same old, Chris.”
“Right,” I said, shaking my head. “Same old, same old amazing stuff.”
He laughed. “Well, since you mention it, I’m here for a pretty important dinner meeting.”
I was right. It was amazing stuff. He was having dinner with a Mr. Hideo Kansai, president and C.E.O. of Kansai Steel in Japan. One of the biggest steel producers, Kansai had been seriously angered by the current administration’s tariff policy. Robert had been asked to try and broker a conciliatory deal with Mr. Kansai.
“Yikes,” I said. “They asked for help from a Democrat?”
“I know, right? What are the chances?”
After Robert went back to his wife, I explained Robert’s history to Daphne.
“Oh my,” she said. “With all that behind him, it doesn’t surprise me that he was asked to help.”
At that moment, I saw Robert stand up and head over to meet a very distinguished-looking gentleman. With his bearing, I could have believed he was the Emperor of Japan.
“He certainly does have the aura of an important man,” Daphne said.
“Uh-huh,” I said, and then we jumped back into our conversation.
Daphne had been a Shakespeare scholar.
“My hero,” I said. “Whenever I write, I think of him and think how I’m not him.”
She laughed. “Is anyone?”
Daphne waved her hand in front of her face. I didn’t understand. Then she did it again.
“Oh my, Lord” she said. “Does Hawai‘i still allow smoking in places like this?”
With all smokers, I don’t know how it is, but I’m kind of immune to the smell. “What?” I said. “Is someone smoking?”
Daphne nodded in the direction of Robert’s table. “Mr. Kansai.”
Turning, I saw that the distinguished Mr. Kansai had lit up.
“No,” I said, trying to sound as offended as I could. “We most certainly do not allow smoking in places like this.”
Although to tell the truth, now that I saw Kansai enjoying his cigarette, I wanted to have one, too.
At that moment, a waiter came over to Robert’s table. I couldn’t hear exactly what he said, but I knew the gist of it.
Emperor Kansai gave the waiter a withering look, and Robert stood up. Gently steering the waiter away from the table by the elbow, he said something that caused the waiter to give a slight bow and then walk away.
The Kansai then produced a gold case from his inside coat pocket and proceeded to light up again.
“Oh my Lord,” said Daphne, “I think I’m going to be sick.” Definitely, she did not appear well at all.
Pissed, I stood up and marched over to Robert’s table.
“Excuse me, Mr. Kansai?” I said with not a little heat.
He gazed up at me. Light glinted off his gold-rimmed glasses. The expression on his face was a blend of surprise and something else. Surprise, I’m sure, because I knew his name, but that “something else” reeked of the self-assuredness of someone believing himself so important that everyone would know his name.
This ratcheted my anger.
“Hey!” I said. “I don’t know what you think you can do when you’re in Japan, but here in America, smoking in places like this isn’t allowed, okay? So put that cigarette out. Right now!”
Everyone in the area, maybe in the whole place, was instantly focused on me.
All this time, Robert had been staring at me, his mouth agape. Now his head dropped so low, I thought it might hit the table. But I didn’t care. In fact, if he’d stood up, taken me by the elbow and said something to me, I probably would have gone off on him as well.
Someone tapped me on the shoulder. I turned to see a very stern-looking man giving me a very laser-like glare.
It was the manager. “Sir, please return to your table.”
“Return to my table!” I shouted. “Hey, everybody in this place knows there’s no smoking allowed. Tell this guy to knock it off!”
“Sir, if you don’t calm down and return to your table, I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”
This, I could not believe. I turned to Daphne. She was maybe the one person who wasn’t looking at me. Bent over with her napkin to her mouth, it appeared she might be throwing up.
“Fuck it,” I said to the manager, and hurried back to her.
I placed my hand on her shoulder. “Daphne, are you all right?”
She obviously wasn’t and stood up. Well, not upright. Slightly stooped over, she pulled the napkin from her mouth.
“I’m so sorry, Chris, but I have to go right now.”
She turned and bolted for the stairs to the exit.
I hurried after her. “Daphne, wait up!”
Following her out to Kalākaua Avenue, I caught up to her just as she bent over and threw up.
“Where are you staying, Daphne? Let me help you get to your hotel. Are you staying here?”
“Yes. I’ve already checked out. I have a flight tonight.” She threw up again.
“What? Where’s your luggage?”
“My bag’s at the front desk. Could you please get it for me?” She fumbled in her purse. “Here’s the ticket.”
I took it from her and went back inside the hotel. By the time I returned, Daphne had a cab waiting.
“Thank you so much, Chris. I’m so sorry about this.”
I would have offered her a ride. I would even have jumped in the cab with her. But before I could say or do anything, she dove in.
She held up her hand as the cab took off.
All the way home I cursed Kansai, I cursed our current administration and the tariffs, but most of all, I cursed cigarettes.
Although that optimism still flickered, it was fizzling fast. I didn’t have any of Daphne’s contact information.
Slamming through my front door, the first thing I did was grab a beer from the refrigerator. The second thing I did was head out to my lānai and stare at the pack of cigarettes sitting there, pull one out, and light up.
Would I ever hear from Daphne again? Of course, I would. Yes, I would, wouldn’t I?
In the distance, a plane took off into the night. I stamped out my cigarette and lit up another. Shaking my head, I blew a long stream of smoke into the darkness.
Lanning Lee 