Turn 188 of 233

Sina tells Kimo stories about Aleki, who is her brother and also Kimo's father that he never got to meet

Sina wipes her eyes with the back of her hand and the wiping is rough and quick and the rough and quick is the thing Sina does because Sina does not sit in feelings long — she runs through them the way she runs through miles. But she does not start running again. She crouches beside the stroller and the crouching puts her face level with Kimo's face and Kimo's face is the thing that is open and waiting. His banana-smeared chin is tilted toward her and the tilting is the thing he does when someone is talking and the talking is the thing he wants to hear.

"You have an Auntie now," Sina says. Her voice is still thick and the thick is the thing that is the crying that has not fully left but the leaving is the thing that is coming because Sina is about to do the thing Sina does which is talk.

"And you had a daddy. His name was Aleki. He was my brother."

Kimo looks at her and the looking is the thing that is the listening and the listening at thirteen months is not words understood one by one but the music of a voice that matters and the mattering is the thing he feels in his chest the way Lena feels the bar across hers. Sina sees the looking and the seeing is the thing that gives her the next part.

"Aleki was big," Sina says. "Big like your Mama. Big like you. His hands were the biggest hands. He could pick up a whole sheet of plywood by himself and hold it flat, one hand on each edge, and the plywood wouldn't bend. I used to watch him on site and think he was holding the wind still."

Kimo's eyes widen at big and the big is the word he knows and the knowing is the thing that connects. Big is Mama. Big is Gampa. Big is the walls and the pad and the things that matter and now big is a man named Aleki and Aleki is the thing that is a daddy and a daddy is the thing Kimo has the word for but not the person. He has Mama. He has Gampa and Ganma. He has Auntie. Daddy is the word on the phone with Janet and the phone is the thing that is the voice and the voice is Samuel and Samuel is Gampa. Daddy is the word he has not connected to a face.

"Aleki hummed," Sina says. "When he worked. When he ate. When he was thinking about something hard, he hummed this low sound in his chest and you could feel it if you stood next to him. Like a motor running."

Kimo hums. The humming is the thing he does — the thing Lena noticed weeks ago and the noticing is the thing that Sina confirmed was Aleki's and the confirming is the thing that made the humming not a habit but a heritage. Kimo hums now, sitting in the stroller, and the hum is low and the low is the thing in his chest and the chest is 150 pounds of boy and the boy is the thing that is the sound. Sina hears it and the hearing is the thing that puts her hand over her mouth and the mouth is the thing that holds the sound she makes and the sound is not a word.

"That's him," Sina says through her fingers. "That's the sound. That's exactly the sound."

Lena is standing behind the stroller and the standing is the thing that is still and the still is the thing she is because the moment is the thing that is Sina's and Kimo's and the and is the thing that is the Aleki who is not here. Lena's hand is on the stroller handle and the handle is the thing she grips and the gripping is the thing that is the holding and the holding is the thing she does when the thing is too big for the body to hold any other way.

Sina lowers her hand and the lowering is the thing that is the decision to keep going and the going is the thing she does.

"He would have held you, Kimo. He would have picked you up over his head and walked you through a house and shown you every stud and every nail and said 'this is good work, this is a good wall.' He would have called you big and meant it the way your Mama means it — not just size. Big like important. Big like the thing that matters."

"Daddy big," Kimo says. The saying is the thing that is the linking and the linking is the thing he does — Daddy big, Mama big, Gampa big, Ganma big, Auntie fast. The category is the thing that grows and the growing is the thing that is the family and the family is the thing that now has a daddy in it and the daddy is the thing that is big and big is the thing that is the word for the man he never held and the never is the thing Sina is holding on a grass trail at mile five with tears still on her face and her hand on the stroller where his hand would be.