Page 113 of Hawaii Can Suck It

His laugh hits me hard. It’s the first genuinely joyful sound I’ve heard all day.

Cam gives me a subtle nod—we’re ready.

“Thank you for welcoming us into your home,” she says, her tone taking on a quality I’ve never heard—direct and intimate without being intrusive. “Can you tell us about Paradise Burger Hut? Kai said it was special to the community.”

At the mention of their restaurant, Pono’s expression transforms, as if someone switched on a light inside him. “It was our life’s work. Started with my father’s recipes fifteen years ago. Nothing fancy—just good food made with aloha.”

“The best burgers on the island,” Hina adds, pride momentarily eclipsing the exhaustion in her voice. “That’s not only us saying it—we won ‘Best of Maui’ five years running.”

“And the most insane milkshakes,” Keoni interjects. “We’d make these monster creations with, like, whole slices of cake on top. People would take pictures before they even tasted them.”

“Social media was good advertising,” Pono nods. “Tourists would come in with photos on their phones, saying ‘I want this exact shake.’”

“It was more than a restaurant,” Hina says softly. “It was where the community gathered. First dates, marriage proposals, baby luaus…”

“Our employees were family,” Pono adds. “Some had been with us since opening day.”

Cam nods encouragingly. “And it was also your home?”

“We lived above the restaurant,” Hina confirms. “Everything we owned was in that building.”

“Now it’s all gone,” Pono says, the light in his eyes dimming. “Fifteen years of our lives. Up in smoke in less than an hour.”

The air in the room thickens, heavy with loss and memory. Nalani hugs her turtle tighter. Cam lets the silence breathe—a technique I’ve never mastered. On my channel, silence is the enemy. Dead air means lost interest, viewers scrolling away. I fill every second with jokes, commentary, action. But Cam knows to pause, giving the moment the weight it deserves.

I find myself holding my breath, not wanting to disturb the magic.

“We had twenty minutes to evacuate,” Hina continues finally. “The smoke was already so thick, we could barely see. What do you grab when your whole life is on fire?”

“I took the cash box and our wedding album,” Pono says.

“I grabbed the kids’ birth certificates and baby books,” Hina adds.

“I got my PlayStation and external hard drive,” Keoni admits, looking slightly embarrassed.

“I brought Wiggles,” Nalani speaks for the first time, her voice small but clear as she holds up the turtle.

The simplicity of their answers hollows me out. Twenty minutes to decide what matters. Twenty minutes to grab the fragments of a life you’re leaving behind.

What would I save if my life was on fire? My YouTube awards? My phone? My fucking DareWare merchandise?

“What’s been the most challenging part of rebuilding?” Cam asks, her focus steady even as I’m having an existential crisis two feet away.

“The waiting,” Pono says without hesitation. “Insurance claims in processing limbo. FEMA applications. Building permits. The whole system’s backlogged; everyone’s overwhelmed.”

“And while we wait, life keeps happening,” Hina adds. “The kids need school supplies. The car needs repairs. We must pay rent while we are trying to rebuild.”

“Do you know when you’ll be able to start reconstruction?” Cam asks.

Pono and Hina trade a silent exchange, thick with unspoken truths.

“We’re still deciding if we should,” Pono says carefully, his voice low. “The land’s still there, but restoration costs are astronomical. Insurance covers only about forty percent. Taking out loans means debt we might never escape, especially if…”

“If what?” Cam prompts gently.

“If the tourists don’t come back,” Hina finishes. “If we’re the only people who rebuild. A restaurant needs a community to survive.”

“What about your employees?” I catch myself asking, unable to stay quiet. “Are they waiting for you to reopen?”

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