Chapter 9 Hawaii (9) Hula dancing is all about enthusiasm...
The budgie shoveled the remaining pile of glitter toward itself a few times, saying, "Okay, this is mine."
It shifted its paws, trying to hide the huge ring under its wing when the kitten wasn't looking.
"I can't give you this."
After a while, he snatched the sapphire ring back, put it in the bag along with the other two items, and quickly jumped back to Mrs. Mailer's quiet courtyard.
The old lady was sitting in a wicker chair weaving a blanket. Her condition had been relatively stable these past two days, and she was able to pick up the weaving work that she hadn't finished before. Kara was also in a good mood, humming a little tune as she cleaned up the water glass she had just used to take her medicine in the kitchen.
"Meow--"
With a plastic bag bigger than her body around her neck, Chichi ran over to the old lady, nuzzled her ankle with her head, and then brought out the treasure she had carefully found to present to the human.
The old lady bent down and suspiciously squeezed the empty bag, only to find the treasure the kitten had brought her lying at her feet.
The clean wooden floor gleamed with a faint light.
Mrs. Mailer slowly picked up the plastic ring in the middle, held it up to her eyes, and the sunlight reflected a shimmering blue halo that fell on her aged face.
A barely perceptible smile spread across Mrs. Mailer's eyes. She glanced at the brooch and butterfly clasp on the table and realized that these were gifts from the kitten.
She put down the sapphire ring, cradled the kitten on her lap, and her eyes softened with warmth: "My little darling..."
"I only gave you some water, and you're so kind to me. Thank you."
A pure warmth flowed from my palm into the kitten's head, and its tail slowly rose, emitting a pleasant purr.
She can sense human kindness and emotional shifts, which is also the source of energy that makes the kitten feel great.
"How can he be so smart? He's even smarter than Emily and Lucas."
Mrs. Mailer lovingly stroked the kitten's head and kissed the tip of its fluffy ear.
"Kara".
Mrs. Mailer finally called him by the right name this time, and the people in the kitchen were still a little confused.
Kara poked her head out and asked tentatively, "Are you calling me?"
"Dear Kara, please prepare some delicious food for my feline guest as a thank you for such a wonderful gift."
I finally received a small portion of beef that had been stripped of its seasonings.
It was even cut into small, edible pieces by humans using scissors, and as usual, there was a small dish of water next to it.
The kitten was still happily munching on tender, juicy beef chunks when the familiar creaking sound of the neighbor's gate rang out again.
Richie, still with a stern face, strode over.
The plate that was served this time was very large, and the masterpiece was several mahi-mahi fish that were grilled to perfection, with no more charred edges or unpleasant burnt taste.
It's easy to imagine that the other person went through a lot of culinary practice before serving it, perhaps like a kitten choosing a gift.
Pick out the most perfect ones from a pile of defective products.
“Rich,” Mrs. Mailer said, not letting him put the plates on the fence this time, “come in and have some afternoon tea if you’re not busy now.”
"This time you can pronounce my name correctly."
The old man muttered something under his breath and hummed twice as he strode over from the center of the yard.
Seeing the familiar markings on the kitten, his brows furrowed naturally, and he glared at it coldly: "How could you let a stray cat in like that? This ungrateful thing, even after being fed, still wanders into your room."
"I just forgot to close the window. Last time I came home, I saw her jump out of my room. I don't know if she pooped all over the place."
"......"
Chichi almost choked on a bite of beef, unsure whether to spit it out or swallow it.
Feeling ashamed for trespassing into the other party's house, she stopped eating the rest of the beef, lowered her tail, and slunk away under Mrs. Mailer's legs, afraid that the grumpy old man would turn his anger on her again.
"Don't say that, Richie."
Mrs. Mailer, like a child who had just received a toy, showed him the three trinkets she had played with, her expression quite pleased.
"Look, these are all gifts from her."
"If she had any conscience, she should have caught some fish and brought them to you! You can't eat this broken plastic anyway."
Without any hesitation, Richie took the cup from Kara's hand and tilted his head back to drink it, only to be scalded by the hot tea and rendered speechless, unable to utter any more complaints.
"Serves him right."
1221 Chao Laotou lielie lielie.
Chichi bravely spoke up to refute, "Mrs. Mailer is already tired of eating fish every day."
1221 joined her side: "Exactly."
“The things our cats give are beautiful and fun. Grandma likes them more than fish. You should learn how to give gifts that touch people’s hearts.”
As if echoing the kitten's meows, Mrs. Mailer smiled and stroked her tail.
"I really like everything you gave me. Thank you for coming to keep me company. I feel much better now."
"Is it good enough to perform at the hula festival?"
After downing a glass of cold water, Richie finally saved his tongue: "I heard there's a prize for the first place performance at this year's hula festival."
"I'm too old to dance anymore," Mrs. Mailer shook her head repeatedly. "If only Keona were here, she loved to dance when she was little."
Something occurred to her, and she asked the person standing next to her, "Are your parents and younger siblings doing well? Do you still send them money every month?"
Kara paused for a moment, wondering why the other person had suddenly brought this up: "They're doing fine."
She has many children, and there are many expenses related to tuition and living costs, but with the support of her parents and herself, they manage to get by.
"How about Carla tries hula dancing?" Mrs. Mailer said. "She can use the prize money to buy herself some pretty clothes."
Just as he was about to break down and say that he was uncoordinated, he saw a rare look of expectation in the old lady's eyes.
Like Richie, the straightforward caregiver swallowed back his discouraging words: "I'll think about it."
"Oh, it's rare to see someone think that way."
Mrs. Mailer smiled and said, "When I was your age, I loved to join in the fun, participating in all sorts of hula dance competitions and beauty pageants... Oh, right, I need to make you a nice hula skirt."
"...Mrs. Mailer."
Kara was utterly despondent: "I haven't worn a skirt in a long time, let alone a grass skirt."
“I remember there are materials for making grass skirts in the storeroom... and add seashells, and I guarantee I'll make you the most beautiful grass skirt ever, even more beautiful than Geona’s back then.”
Kara felt as if her feet were tangled in seaweed, being dragged little by little into the abyss called the "Hula Festival".
She opened her mouth, the words "I was just saying it casually" swirling in her throat before she finally swallowed them back.
With her shoulders slightly slumped, the caregiver, who usually dressed simply and didn't even wear accessories, resignedly said, "Don't overdo it..."
"How could that be an exaggeration? Hula dancing is all about being enthusiastic and passionate."
Mrs. Mailer corrected him with a cheerful laugh, as if she could already see him spinning on the stage.
Richie, standing to the side, scoffed, clearly finding the scene utterly absurd.
However, Mrs. Mailer's laughter seemed to have somewhat tempered his usual fiery temper.
Sunlight filtered through the palm leaves, illuminating everyone's faces, as they eagerly awaited the hula festival.
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