Ghosts Next Door

Ghosts Next Door
by Lopaka Kapanui

Oct 3, 2019

100 Ghost Stories Counting Down To Halloween 2019 #30

KĪKANU



Being up there in age, and by that, I mean in our mid-to-late fifties, we start our walks right at sunset. We used to walk the breadth of the mall in Kahala, but after a while, it gets monotonous, and you feel like a rat in a cage.
The trek is from Woodlawn down to Kahaloa and then right on East Manoa. We walk up to the Chinese Cemetary, then loop around the top and come back down and head home. Sometimes, if we still got gas in the tank, we stop for a drink and an early meal at Pho Viet Thien Hong. Tonight we started late because I didnʻt eat before I took my mid-day nap, so I overslept.  She was already waiting on the corner at the intersection, and she was irritable.

"Take so long you, you know how long I was waiting?" She huffed as she walked next to me.

"You know something, Alice, before when you worked at Pennyʻs, you supposed to finish at six; but every time you half-hour late never fails. Not one time, I complain." I reminded her.

"So!" She said incredulously. "This is not the same thing, this is for our health and look how much time we have to live! Nowadays, it is when you have no clue if you gonna die or not!"

"Oh Alice, please, whoʻs gonna die?" I asked her this question knowing that she had no answer. Well, not the answer I expected.

"Richard Wong, when you drop dead all of sudden because you nevah listen to me, hah? No cry to me!" She pointed her finger in my face.

"Of course, I not gonna cry to you because I going be dead!" I growled back.

"Hmmph!" She rolled her eyes. We walked in silence the rest of the way until we got to the Chinese cemetery. The walk uphill to the banyan tree was quite the incline; we took it slow, and I let her put her hand on my shoulder the whole way. After what seemed like an eternity, we were finally standing outside of the massive Banyan tree. We both took a seat on the sidewalk, we were drenched in sweat and shit if I didnʻt forget to bring our water flasks. "Thatʻs how Richard," she shook her head, "we old, we no more water, and now we going die."

"You always so doom and gloom Alice, you always think about the worst, and you say the worst things, you know that, hah?" She didnʻt say anything; for as uptight as she was, her feelings got hurt real easy. She stood up and started her trek back down the cemetery lane without a word. I usually follow behind her, but this time, I just let her go. Maybe its the time she needed to herself. I waited until she was a little past the childrenʻs section of the cemetery before I decided to get up and leave myself. We have been going through these little spats lately because of my being tardy when I donʻt stick to my daily schedule. "You donʻt realize how important time is," she would say. "We canʻt waste a second of it."

Her grave is just across from the trees which stand at the top of the childrenʻs section. I stopped there and apologized. "Iʻm sorry Alice, I sometimes forget because I miss you so much. Thatʻs why Iʻm late. I know these walks are the only time we have together, and it means a lot; it does.."

My poor wife died of a heart attack three years ago when we were on our daily walk. We were almost home when she collapsed at the intersection of Woodlawn and Kahaloa. I havenʻt told that sheʻs dead yet, Iʻm not sure how she will take the news. Instead, I walk with her, and I try to be on time.


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