Thelma Suzuki and Roxanne "Kea" Young have been friends long enough that Suzuki can be straight about what she wants.
And on this cool, overcast Tuesday morning, what Suzuki wants is a little more jelly.
"It’s a little dry," says Suzuki, 89, nodding her head at the peanut butter and jelly sandwiches Young has brought her.
Not a problem, Young affirms. Jelly there will be.
Young, 50, has a fine sense for Suzuki’s likes and dislikes. She knew to cut the sleeves off the new hoodie she brought Suzuki when the cold weather rolled in (Suzuki hates sleeves). She knows that Suzuki loves ice cream, hates bananas and has a serious thing about cleanliness.
"She reminds me of my bachan," Young says, "but she’s more feisty."
The two met shortly after Suzuki took up residence in March outside the police substation in Waikiki.
Young, a licensed massage therapist and de facto den mother to the surf spot’s regulars, spotted Suzuki right away.
Still grieving the recent loss of her grandmother, Young found herself drawn to the old woman slumped in the wheelchair.
Eventually the two struck up a conversation, and Young learned all about Suzuki’s early years in Manoa Valley, about her work as a seamstress and about the gentle, caring husband whose death left Suzuki with no home to call her own.
Young also heard about the shoddy care that Suzuki received in a series of adult foster homes. She listened with anger and disgust to accounts of how Suzuki was locked indoors, how she went hungry when operators forgot to feed her and how she was poked and prodded and punched when she resisted doing what she was told.
Suzuki took advantage of an open gate to emancipate herself. After a stint at the Institute for Human Services — a facility whose staff Suzuki adored but whose regimented schedule she could not get used to — Suzuki found her way to Waikiki, and to Young.
Young visits Suzuki two or three times a day, bringing her meals and warm clothes, taking her to the doctor, even taking home her laundry to wash.
On this morning Young arrives with hot coffee, chocolate pancakes, saimin with homemade fish cake, and Suzuki’s favorite PB&Js. She examines Suzuki’s feet for swelling and installs a new set of footrests on her wheelchair.
"I’d like to see her in a nice home where she’s safe and taken care of," Young says.
Suzuki shakes her head.
"No, no," she says. "I don’t trust."
Suzuki chuckles impishly and points a finger at Young.
"She’s my angel."
Reach Michael Tsai at mtsai@staradvertiser.com.
