Uncle Koji shook his head. “Easier for me, yeah,” he’d said. “I don’t have a big family to feed. Most of the families have their own small gardens and grow their own vegetables, taro, beans, sweet potatoes, and carrots to help keep costs down.”

“We’ll take care of you,” Daniel said. It came from him spontaneously, serious and matter-of-fact.

It was the first time ten-year-old Daniel realized that working at Puli, even running the sugar train, was not the charmed life he had imagined it to be. Uncle Koji had turned away from him. Had he said something wrong? They could take care of him; his mother was the best seamstress in town. Lots of the locals wanted his mother to sew and mend their clothing. He stood there, waiting. When his uncle turned back to him, his eyes were watery.

Later, when Daniel was a teenager and no longer wanted to visit Koji at Puli, his mother had reminded him of how generous Koji had been. “If it wasn’t for your uncle, where would we be now?” she asked him. He didn’t know what made him feel worse, that she was disappointed in him, or that he’d so easily forgotten how much Koji had done for them.

* * *

Daniel started the truck and followed the dirt road that led past the train barn and mill up to Uncle Koji’s cottage, perched at the top of the hill. He never did see where his uncle used to live with his family. Daniel pulled into the driveway of the small cottage as the truck’s brakes squeaked to a stop.

28. A Visitor

28

A Visitor

Koji sat down on his front porch, lit a cigarette, and poured himself a glass of whiskey. A sudden fit of coughing racked through his chest, leaving him helpless but to see it through, eased along with the quick burn of whiskey. He’d just gotten comfortable when the dull crunch of tires along the dirt road made him stop and squint through the screen to see a truck driving up toward his cottage, kicking up a cloud of dust. There were very few visitors who came up to Puli this late in the afternoon, and even fewer who came to see him. Koji wondered if it was one of the Puli managers and stood to get a better look. He didn’t recognize the green truck at first, not until it drove up the slope and he could see OKAWA FISH MARKET in black block letters on the side door just as it turned into his driveway. He was even more surprised to see that it was Daniel driving.