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Quote by Kaui Hart Hemmings

“Do you guys have sunscreen?” I ask. “No,” Scottie says. “Do we have water?” “Did you bring any?” Alex asks. “No,” I say. Alex pops her head up. “Did you bring snacks for us?” “We can walk to town.” How do mothers manage to bring everything a child could need?”

Quote by Kaui Hart Hemmings

Book:The Descendants
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The Descendants

The story follows a man who must come to terms with his wife's death and the complexities of his family relationships. more

Author

Kaui Hart Hemmings
Kaui Hart Hemmings

Kaui Hart Hemmings is a talented writer born in 1975. Her works are renowned for their profound character development and engaging storytelling. more

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“TIA OR TARA has stopped applying makeup to my wife’s face and is looking at Scottie with disapproval. The light is hitting this woman’s face, giving me an opportunity to see that she should perhaps be working on her own makeup. Her coloring is similar to a manila envelope. There are specks of white in her eyebrows, and her concealer is not concealing. I can tell my daughter doesn’t know what to do with this woman’s critical look. “What?” Scottie asks. “I don’t want any makeup.” She looks at me for protection, and it’s heartbreaking. All the women who model with Joanie have this inane urge to make over my daughter with the notion that they’re helping her somehow. She’s not as pretty as her older sister or her mother, and these other models think that slapping on some rouge will somehow make her feel better about her facial fate. They’re like missionaries. Mascara thumpers. “I was just going to say that I think your mother was enjoying the view,” Tia or Tara says. “It’s so pretty outside. You should let the light in.” My daughter looks at the curtain. Her little mouth is open. Her hand reaches for a tumbleweed of hair. “Listen here, T. Her mother was not enjoying the view. Her mother is in a coma. And she’s not supposed to be in bright light.” “My name is not T,” she says. “My name is Allison.” “Okay, then, Ali. Don’t confuse my daughter, please.” “I’m turning into a remarkable young lady,” Scottie says. “Damn straight.” My heart feels like one of Scottie’s clogs clomping down the hall. I don’t know why I became so angry.”

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Book:The Descendants
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“I see Dr. Johnston at the end of the hall, walking toward us. He stops talking to the other doctors and gestures for me to wait. He holds up his hand: Stop. His face is eager yet unsmiling. I look in the other direction then back at him. His steps quicken, and I squint, for some reason pretending I don’t recognize him. And I think: What if I’m wrong? What if Joanie doesn’t make it out of this? “Scottie,” I say. “This way.” I walk in the other direction, away from Dr. Johnston, and she turns and follows me. “Walk quickly,” I tell her. “Why?” “It’s a game. Let’s race. Walk fast. Run.”She takes off, her backpack jiggling on her back, and I follow her, walking quickly then breaking into a slow jog, and because Dr. Johnston is my friend’s dad and was a friend of my father’s, I feel like I’m fourteen again, running from the patriarchs.”

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Book:The Descendants
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“We get in and I start the car. “Are you going to be good to Lani?” I ask. I think of Tommy Cook, a pale boy with psoriasis; we used to tie him to a chair with bungee cords and put him in the middle of the road, then hide. Few cars would actually come down Rainbow Drive, but when they did, it always surprised me that the drivers would slow their vehicles and swerve around the chair. None of them ever got out of their cars to help Tommy; it was as though they were in on the prank. I don’t know how Tommy managed to let us catch him more than once. Maybe he liked the attention. “I’ll try,” Scottie says. “But it’s hard. She has this face that you just want to hit.” “I know what you mean,” I say, thinking of Tommy, but realize I’m not supposed to empathize. “What does that mean?” I ask. “The kind of face that you want to hit. Where did you get that?” Sometimes I wonder if Scottie knows what she’s saying or if it’s something she recites, like those kids who memorize the Declaration of Independence. “It’s something Mom said about Danielle.” “I see.” Joanie has carried her juvenile meanness into her adult life. She sends unflattering pictures of her ex-friends to the Advertiser to put in their society pages. She always has some sort of drama in her life, some friend I’m not supposed to speak to or invite to our barbecues, and then I hear her on the phone gossiping about the latest scandal in an outraged and thrilled voice. “You are going to die,” I’ll hear her say. “Oh my God, you will just die.” Is this where Scottie gets it? By watching her mother use cruelty as a source of entertainment? I feel almost proud that I have made these deductions without the blogs and without Esther, and I’m eager to tell Joanie about all of this, to prove that I was capable without her.”

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Book:The Descendants
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“Stop it, Barry,” Joanie said. “Get ahold of yourself. This is just how we work.” I agreed. When she told Shelley I was useless, I heard the smile in her voice and knew she was pretending to be irritated. Really, she wouldn’t know what to do without my uselessness, just as I wouldn’t know what to do without her complaints. I take it back. It’s not that we don’t treat each other well; it’s just that we’re comfortable enough to know that sarcasm and aloofness keep us afloat, and we never have to watch where we step. “You are both so cold,” Barry said that night.”

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Book:The Descendants
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“What are we talking about?” Alex says. “This is fucking nonsense.” The couple ahead of us turns slightly. “What are you looking at?” Alex says to them. I don’t bother to reprimand her, because really, what are they looking at? I slow my pace and Alex punches Scottie in the arm. “Ow!” Scottie screams. “Alex! Why are we still on this pattern?” “Hit her back, Dad,” Scottie yells. Alex grabs Scottie’s neck. “You’re hurting me,” Scottie says. “That’s kind of the point,” Alex says. I grab both children by the arm and pull them down to the sand. Sid covers his mouth with his hand and bends over, laughing silently. “‘What do you love about Mom?’” Alex says, mimicking her sister. “Shut up, already. And stop babying her.” I sit down between them and don’t say a word. Sid sits next to Alex. “Easy, tiger,” he says. I look at the waves crashing down on the sand. A few women walk by and give me this knowing look, as though a father with his kids is such a precious sight. It takes so little to be revered as a father. I can tell the girls are waiting for me to say something, but what can I say that hasn’t been said? I’ve shouted, I’ve reasoned, I’ve even spanked. Nothing works. “What do you love about Mom, Scottie?” I ask, glaring at Alex. She takes a moment to think. “Lots of stuff. She’s not old and ugly, like most moms.” “What about you, Alex?” “Why are we doing this?” she asks. “How did we get here in the first place?” “Swimming with the sharks,” I say. “Scottie wanted to swim with sharks.” “You can do that,” Sid says. “I read about it in the hotel.” “She’s not afraid of anything,” Alex says. She’s wrong, and besides, I think this is a statement and not something that Alex truly loves. “Let’s get back,” I say. I stand up and wipe the sand off of me. I look at our hotel on the cliff, pink from the sunset. The girls’ expressions when I told them about their mom made me feel so alone. They won’t ever understand me the way Joanie does. They won’t know her the way I do. I miss her despite the fact that she envisioned the rest of her life without me. I look at my daughters, utter mysteries, and for a brief moment I have a sick feeling that I don’t want to be alone in the world with these two girls. I’m relieved they haven’t asked me what it is I love about them.”

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Book:The Descendants
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“There’s something different about her. I realize it’s her breasts—they’re huge. I see that she’s stuffed her bikini top with wet balls of sand. “What is that?” I say. “Scottie. Your suit.” She shields her eyes with her hand and looks down at her chest. “Beach boobs,” she says. “Take that out of there,” I say. “Alex. Why’d you let her do that?” Alex is on her stomach, with the straps of her top untied. She lifts her head toward Scottie. “I didn’t know. Take them out, stupid.” Sid lifts his head. “Honestly,” he says, “big boobs look kind of fatty.” “As Bebe says, boobs suck,” Alex says, “and Sid’s full of shit. He loves big boobs.” “Who’s Bebe?” Scottie lets the sand fall out of her top. “Character from South Park,” Sid says. “And I love small boobs, too, Alex. I’m an equal-opportunity employer.”

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Book:The Descendants
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“Reina sounds awesome,” Sid says. “I’m digging her more and more.” “Were you there?” I ask. “Have you seen one of these movies?” “No,” Scottie says. “Scottie,” Alex says, kicking Sid in the ribs. “Reina is a fuckedup ho bag, and you need to stay away from her. I’ve already told you that. Do you want to end up like me?” “Yes,” Scottie says. “I mean the earlier me, when I was yelling at Mom.” “No,” Scottie says. “Well, Reina is going to be a crackhead, and she’s going to get used. She’s a twat. Say it.” “Twat,” Scottie says. She gets up and runs across the room, saying, “Twat twat twat twat twat.” “Holy shit,” Sid says. “This is some messed-up parenting. Isn’t it?” Alex shrugs. “Maybe. I guess we’ll see.” “I don’t get it,” I say. “I don’t know what to do. These things she does, they keep happening.” “It will go away,” Alex says. “Will it? I mean, look at how you kids talk. In front of me, especially. It’s like you don’t respect authority.” The kids stare at the television. I tell them to get out. I’m going to bed.”

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Book:The Descendants
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“Hey,” he says. I feel foolish for being out of breath and standing over him. The moonlight cuts a line down my chest. “Hey,” I say. “Checking on me?” “I couldn’t sleep. Scottie. She’s in the bathroom.” I stop talking. “Yeah?” he says and sits up. “She’s playacting.” I don’t know how to say it. I don’t need to say it. “She’s kissing the mirror.” “Oh,” he says. “I used to do some messed-up things as a kid. Still do.” I feel wide awake, which always makes me angry in the middle of the night. I’m useless without sleep. I can’t get myself to go back to my own room. I sit on the end of the bed by his feet. “I’m worried about my daughters,” I say. “I’m worried there’s something wrong with them.” Sid rubs his eyes. “Forget it,” I say. “Sorry for waking you up.” “It’s going to get worse,” he says. “After your wife dies.” He holds the blanket up to his chin.”

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Book:The Descendants
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