“Mama, look at me. I’m Daniel Abe, Mariko’s son.” He tried to sort out what Mama was saying. “Mama, do you remember my mother, Mariko? We used to come and visit you when I was a boy. She always brought you the sticky rice wrapped in banana leaves that you liked.”

Mama looked at him, her eyes searching his. “Why did you leave your family? I told Koji it wasn’t right. You should have gone home, eh,” she said, becoming more agitated.

“Who should have gone home?” Daniel asked. But even as the words left his lips, the pieces came together and the realization hit him straight in the gut. She was talking about his father.

“Always such a good-looking boy,” Mama Natua mumbled. “Too busy chasing trouble to know how lucky you were, yeah.”

Daniel sat listening. He couldn’t be certain if Mama was talking about an incident that had really occurred, or if it was a confused memory from the past. Uncle Koji would have told him if his father had returned. Daniel wanted to probe further, but he needed Mama to calm down and focus so he could examine her as thoroughly as possible.

Her gaze drifted away from him.

Daniel had to pull her back. “Mama, do you remember when Wilson, Mano, and I were boys and down at the beach near Reeds Bay? It was early in the morning, just after the New Year, and you were collecting shells for your leis.” He looked directly into her eyes, reaching down into his bag and retrieving his stethoscope. “You knew right away we were up to no good,” he continued. “Wilson had gotten hold of a string of firecrackers and we had this grand plan of setting them off and scaring up some sand crabs.” He slowly placed the chest piece against the neckline of her muumuu, lowering it slowly as he talked, having captured her attention. “When you saw what we were up to, you came running down the beach and put an end to our pranks.”

Mama Natua flashed him a smile.

“Can you take a big breath for me? Breathe in and out?” he asked.

Surprisingly, she did as he asked without putting up a fight.

“You were up to no good, yeah,” Mama Natua repeated.

“We were,” he said, and laughed. He took out a tongue depressor. “Can you open wide for me?”

She did, her breath warm and sour.

“You made Wilson give you our entire string of firecrackers. I thought he was going to actually cry that day,” Daniel said. “Do you remember what you gave him in return?”

Mama remained quiet.