The Descendants Quotes

“That's how you know you love someone, I guess, when you can't experience anything without wishing the other person were there to see it, too.”
― Kaui Hart Hemmings, The Descendants

“Why is it so hard to articulate love yet so easy to express disappointment?”
― Kaui Hart Hemmings, The Descendants

“I'm sorry," I say. "I didn't give you everything you wanted. I wasn't everything you wanted. You were everything I wanted.”
― Kaui Hart Hemmings, The Descendants

“We walk until there aren't more houses, all the way to the part of the beach where the current makes the waves come in then rush back out so that the two waves clash, water casting up like a geyser. We watch that for a while and then Scottie says, "I wish Mom was here." I'm thinking the exact same thought. That's how you know you love someone, I guess, when you can't experience anything without wishing the other person were there to see it, too. Every day I kept track of anecdotes, occurrences, and gossip, bullet-pointing the news in my head and even rehearsing my stories before telling them to Joanie in bed at night.”
― Kaui Hart Hemmings, The Descendants

“Because feeling love does make you feel superior. Until you find out you aren't loved back.”
― Kaui Hart Hemmings, The Descendants

“Fuck', I think. What a beautiful word. If I could say only one thing for the rest of my life, that would be it.”
― Kaui Hart Hemmings, The Descendants

“I bet in big cities you can walk down the street scrowling and no one will ask you what's wrong or encourage you to smile, but everyone here has the attitude that we're lucky to live in Hawaii; paradise reigns supreme. I think paradise can go fuck itself.”
― Kaui Hart Hemmings, The Descendants

“I'll never be ready. Yet at the same time, you always want to reach the end. You can't fly to a destination and linger in the air. I want to reach the end of this thing, and I feel terrible about it.”
― Kaui Hart Hemmings, The Descendants

“Get used to it. She'll be there for the rest of your life. She'll be there on birthdays, at Christmastime, when you get your period, when you graduate, have sex, when you marry, have children, when you die. She'll be there and she won't be there.”
― Kaui Hart Hemmings, The Descendants

“I don't ask what Alex sees in him because I'm afraid my disapproval will make her latch on to him even more. That's how it works. I'll have to pretend he doesn't bother me and that I don't want to drown him in the bay.”
― Kaui Hart Hemmings, The Descendants

“Perhaps I did nothing because I don't have enough fear to be a good parent.”
― Kaui Hart Hemmings, The Descendants

“I like the way men cry. They're efficient.”
― Kaui Hart Hemmings, The Descendants

“A sea of red lights, and I slow down. My job now is to gather everyone together and tell them we have to let her go. I won't tell anyone over the phone, because I didn't like hearing the news from the doctor that way. I have maybe a week to handle the arrangements, as the doctor said, but the arrangements are overwhelming. How do I learn how to run a family? How do I say goodbye to someone I love so much that I've forgotten just how much I love her?”
― Kaui Hart Hemmings, The Descendants

“I drift off for a while. I don't know how long, but when I open my eyes, the Oscars are still on and Alex tells me that Sid has gone and this makes me a little sad. Whatever the four of us had is over. He is my daughter's boyfriend now, and I am a father. A widower. No pot, no cigarettes, no sleeping over. They'll have to find inventive ways to conduct their business, most likely in uncomfortable places, just like the rest of them. I let him and my old ways go. We all let him go, as well as who we were before this, and now it's really just the three of us. I glance over at the girls, taking a good look at what's left.”
― Kaui Hart Hemmings, The Descendants

“I lean down so that my face is right in front of hers and whisper, ‘He doesn’t love you. I love you.”
― Kaui Hart Hemmings, The Descendants

“My God,” she says. “I feel like I’ve gone through a car wash.”

I laugh, or force myself to, because it’s not something I’d normally laugh at.

“What about you?” she says to Scottie. “How did you make out?”

“I’m a boy,” Scottie says. “Look at me.”

Sand has gotten into the bottom of her suit, creating a huge bulge. She scratches at the bulge. “I’m going to go to work now,” she says. I think she’s impersonating me and that Mrs. Speer is getting an unrealistic, humiliating glimpse.

“Scottie,” I say. “Take that out.”

“It must be fun to have girls,” Mrs. Speer says.

She looks at the ocean, and I see that she’s looking at Alex sunbathing on the floating raft. Sid leans over Alex and puts his mouth to hers. She raises a hand to his head, and for a moment I forget it’s my daughter out there and think of how long it has been since I’ve been kissed or kissed like that.

“Or maybe you have your hands full,” Mrs. Speer says.

“No, no,” I say. “It’s great,” and it is, I suppose, though I feel like I’ve just acquired them and don’t know yet. “They’ve been together for ages.” I gesture to Alex and Sid. I don’t understand if they’re a couple or if this is how all kids in high school act these days.

Mrs. Speer looks at me curiously, as if she’s about to say something, but she doesn’t.

“And boys.” I gesture to her little dorks. “They must keep you busy.”

“They’re a handful. But they’re at such a fun age. It’s such a joy.”

She gazes out at her boys. Her expression does little to convince me that they’re such a joy. I wonder how many times parents have these dull conversations with one another and how much they must hide. They’re so goddamn hyper, I’d do anything to inject them with a horse tranquilizer. They keep insisting that I watch what they can do, but I truly don’t give a fuck. How hard is it to jump off a diving board?

My girls are messed up, I want to say. One talks dirty to her own reflection. Did you do that when you were growing up?

“Your girls seem great, too,” she says. “How old are they?”

“Ten and eighteen. And yours?”

“Ten and twelve.”

“Oh,” I say. “Great.”

“Your younger one sure is funny,” she says. “I mean, not funny. I meant entertaining.”

“Oh, yeah. That’s Scottie. She’s a riot.”
― Kaui Hart Hemmings, The Descendants

“We don’t treat each other very well, I suppose. Even from the start. It was as though we had the seven-year itch the day we met. The day she went into a coma, I heard her telling her friend Shelley that I was useless, that I leave my socks hanging on every doorknob in the house. At weddings we roll our eyes at the burgeoning love around us, the vows that we know will morph into new kinds of promises: I vow not to kiss you when you’re trying to read. I will tolerate you in sickness and ignore you in health. I promise to let you watch that stupid news show about celebrities, since you’re so disenchanted with your own life.

Joanie and I were urged by her brother, Barry, to subject ourselves to counseling as a decent couple would. Barry is a man of the couch, a believer in weekly therapy, affirmations, and pulse points. Once he tried to show us exercises he’d been doing in session with his girlfriend. We were instructed to trade reasons, abstract or specific, why we stayed with each other. I started off by saying that Joanie would get drunk and pretend I was someone else and do this neat thing with her tongue. Joanie said tax breaks. Barry cried. Openly. His second wife had recently left him for someone who understood that a man didn’t do volunteer work.”
― Kaui Hart Hemmings, The Descendants

“We walk up the sandy slope toward the dining terrace. I see Troy sitting at a table with some people I know. I look at Scottie to see if she sees him, and she is giving him the middle finger. The dining terrace gasps, but I realize it’s because of the sunset and the green flash. We missed it. The flash flashed. The sun is gone, and the sky is pink. I reach to grab the offending hand, but instead, I correct her gesture.

“Here, Scottie. Don’t let that finger stand by itself like that. Bring up the other fingers just a little bit. There you go. That’s the cool way to do it.”

Troy stares at us and smiles a bit. He’s completely confused.

“All right, that’s enough.” I suddenly feel sorry for Troy. He must feel awful.”
― Kaui Hart Hemmings, The Descendants

“I hope she can’t tell that I’m appraising her and that I’m completely worried by what I see. She’s excitable and strange. She’s ten. What do people do during the day when they’re ten? She runs her fingers along the window and mumbles, “This could give me bird flu,” and then she forms a circle around her mouth with her hand and makes trumpet noises. She’s nuts. Who knows what’s going on in that head of hers, and speaking of her head, she most definitely could use a haircut or a brushing. There are small tumbleweeds of hair resting on the top of her head. Where does she get haircuts? I wonder. Has she ever had one before? She scratches her scalp, then looks at her nails. She wears a shirt that says I’M NOT THAT KIND OF GIRL. BUT I CAN BE! I’m grateful that she isn’t too pretty, but I realize this could change.”
― Kaui Hart Hemmings, The Descendants

“The sun is shining, mynah birds are chattering, palm trees are swaying, so what. I'm in the hospital and I'm healthy. My heart is beating as it should. My brain is firing off messages that are loud and clear. My wife is on the upright hospital bed, positioned the way people sleep on airplanes, her body stiff, head cocked to the side. Her hands on her lap.”
― Kaui Hart Hemmings, The Descendants

“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?”
― Kaui Hart Hemmings, The Descendants

“I look in the jewelry box where Joanie found the drugs. She showed me a miniature Ziploc bag filled with a clear, hard rock.

“What is this?” I said. I never did drugs, so I had no idea. Heroin? Cocaine? Crack? Ice? “What is this?” I screamed at Alex, who screamed back, “It’s not like I shoot it!”

A plastic ballerina pops up and slowly twirls to a tinkling song whose sound is discordant and deformed. The pink satin liner is dirty, and other than a black pearl necklace, the box holds only rusty paper clips and rubber bands noosed with Alex’s dark hair. I see a note stuck to the mirror and pick up the jewelry box and move the ballerina aside. She twirls against my finger. The note says, I wouldn’t hide them in the same place twice.

I let out a short breath through my nose. Good one, Alex. I close the jewelry box and shake my head, missing her tremendously. I wish she never went back to boarding school, and I don’t understand her sudden change of plans. What did they fight about? What could have been so bad?”
― Kaui Hart Hemmings, The Descendants

“Say goodbye to your mom.”

Scottie pauses, then keeps going.

“Scottie.”

“Bye!” she yells.

I grab her arm. I could yell at her for wanting to leave, but I don’t. She pulls her arm out of my grasp. I look up to see if anyone is watching us, because I don’t think you’re supposed to aggressively hold children these days. Gone are the days of spanking, threats, and sugar. Now there are therapy, antidepressants, and Splenda.”
― Kaui Hart Hemmings, The Descendants

“We need to get home and put some ointments and ice on the stings. Vinegar will make it worse, so if you thought Giraffe Boy could pee on you, you’re shit out of luck.”

She agrees as if prepared for this—the punishment, the medication, the swelling, the pain that hurts her now and the pain that will hurt her later. She seems okay with my disapproval. She’s gotten her story, after all, and she’s beginning to see how much easier physical pain is to tolerate than emotional pain. I’m unhappy that she’s learning this at such a young age.

“The hospital will have ointments and ice,” she says.”
― Kaui Hart Hemmings, The Descendants

“Scott still stares at Sid, then turns to Alice and hands her the Scotch. “We’re going to go see Joanie today,” he says.

Alice grins. “And Chachi?” she asks.

Sid bursts out laughing and Scott turns back to him, then places a hand on his shoulder, which makes me fear for his life. “You be quiet, son,” Scott says. “I could kill you with this hand. This hand has been places.”

I shake my head and look at both Sid and Alex.

Scott lifts his hand off Sid’s shoulder and turns again to his wife. “No, Alice. Our Joanie. Our daughter. We’re going to give her anything she wants.” He glares at me. “Think about what she would want, Alice. We’re going to get it for her and bring it to her. Bring it right to her bed.”

“Joanie and Chachi,” Alice chants. “Joanie and Chachi!”

“Shut up, Alice!” Scott yells.

Alice looks at Scott as though he just said “Cheese.” She clasps her hands together and smiles, staying in the pose for a few seconds. He looks at her face and squints. “Sorry, old gal,” he says. “You go ahead and say whatever you want.”

“It was funny,” Sid says. “All I was doing was laughing. She has a good sense of humor. That’s all. Maybe she knows she’s being funny. I think she does.”

“I’m going to hit you,” Scott says. His arms hang alongside him, the muscles flexed, veins big like milk-shake straws. I know he’s going to hit Sid because that’s what he does. I’ve seen him hit Barry. I, too, have been hit by Scott after I beat him and his buddies at a game of poker. His hands are in fists, and I can see his knobby old-man knuckles, the many liver spots almost joining to become one big discoloration, like a burn. Then he pops his fist up toward Sid, a movement like a snake rearing its head and lunging forth. I see Sid start to bring his arm up to block his face, but then he brings it down and clutches his thigh. It’s almost as if he decided not to protect himself. The end result is a punch in his right eye, a screaming older daughter, a frightened younger daughter, a father trying to calm many people at once, and a mother-in-law cheering wildly as though we have all done something truly amazing.”
― Kaui Hart Hemmings, The Descendants

“I wouldn’t know what to do with daughters,' he says. 'Exchange them for sons?'

'But then I could wind up with something like you.'

'I’m not so bad,' he says. 'I’m smart.'

'You’re about a hundred miles away from the town of Smart, my friend.'

'You’re mistaken, counselor,' he says. 'I’m smart, I can take care of myself. I’m an awesome tennis player, a keen observer of life around me. I’m a good cook. I always have weed.'

'I’m sure your parents are proud.'

'It’s possible.' He looks at his knees and I wonder if I’ve offended him.”
― Kaui Hart Hemmings, The Descendants

“You’ve already said that,” Alex says. “Why should I go?”

“You’re the only person I have,” I say. “And I want us all to be together. It will be good for us.”

“Oh, so now I’m back in the picture again.”

“Alex. Something bigger than you is occurring right now. I’m sorry about your unhappy childhood.”

She glares at me in that special way of hers and Joanie’s that makes me feel worthless and foul-smelling.

“So we’ll tell Scottie we’re going on a vacation while Mom is in the hospital?”

“It’s for a day or two,” I say. “Scottie’s been in the hospital every day for almost a month now. She needs a break. It’s not good for her. I’d like you to be in charge of answering any questions she may have. She looks up to you. She’ll hang on whatever you say.”

I’m hoping a leadership role, a specific chore, will make Alex act like an adult and treat Scottie well.

“Can you do that?”

She shrugs.

“If you can’t handle things, let me know. I’ll help. I’m here for you.”

Alex laughs. I wonder if there are parents who can say things to their kids like “I love you” or “I’m here for you” without being laughed at. I have to admit it’s a bit uncomfortable. Affection, in general, is unpleasant to me.

“What if Mom doesn’t make it for two days?”

“She will,” I say. “I’ll tell her what we’re doing.”

Alex looks uncomfortable with this idea, that what I’ll say will make her mother want to live. “I’m bringing Sid,” she says. “If he doesn’t come, then I’m not going.”

I’m about to protest, but I see the look in her eyes and know this is yet another battle that I’m bound to lose. Something about this guy is helping her. And Scottie seems to like him. He can keep her distracted. He can work for me.

“Okay,” I say. “Deal.”
― Kaui Hart Hemmings, The Descendants

“I’d like you to come to Kauai with me,” I say. “And Scottie. I think it would be good to get her away from the hospital for a day. We can leave in the morning, find him, and be home tomorrow night. If it takes us a day longer, that’s fine, but we won’t stay more than two nights. That’s our deadline. If we don’t find him, then at least we know we tried.”

“And this will make you feel better somehow?”

“It’s for her,” I say. “Not for him or me.”

“What if he’s a wreck? What if he loses his shit?”

“Then I’ll take care of him.” I imagine Brian Speer wailing on my shoulder. I imagine him and my daughters by Joanie’s bed, her lover and his loud sobs shaming us. “Just so you know, I am angry. I’m not this pure and noble guy. I want to do this for her, but I also want to see who he is. I want to ask him a few things.”

“Just call him. Tell his office it’s an emergency. They’ll have him call you.”

“I want to tell him in person. I haven’t told anyone over the phone, and I don’t want to start now.”

“You told Troy.”

“Troy doesn’t count. I just need to do this. On the phone he can escape. If I see him in person, he’ll have nowhere to go.”

We both look away when our eyes meet. She hasn’t crossed the border into my room. She never does during her nighttime doorway chats.

“Were you guys having trouble?” Alex asks. “Is that why she cheated?”

“I didn’t think we were having trouble,” I say. “I mean, it was the same as always.”

This was the problem, that our marriage was the same as always. Joanie needed bumps. She needed rough terrain. It’s funny that I can get lost in thoughts about her, but when she was right in front of me, I didn’t think much about her at all.

“I wasn’t the best husband,” I say.

Alex looks out the window to avoid my confession. “If we go on this trip, what will we tell Scottie?”

“She’ll think we’re going on a trip of some sort. I want to get her away from here.”
― Kaui Hart Hemmings, The Descendants

“She looks at the Dictaphone in my hand.

“Are you recording this?”

“No, Alex, I was summarizing a deposition.”

“How can you work?”

“How can you see a movie? How can you have a friend over?”

She looks away. Half of the room is bright from my lamp. The other side is dark, the sharp silhouette of the mountain framed by the window running across the room. The image always reminds me of a panoramic picture.”
― Kaui Hart Hemmings, The Descendants

“Your phone’s vibrating,” Scottie says. She takes my cell phone out of her pocket, the phone she has stolen from me to text her friend. She doesn’t even care that she has disobeyed. She doesn’t care that she said “finger-fucked” in front of me. It’s as though I’m not a father.

I don’t recognize the number, so I don’t answer. I like to let people leave messages, and then I’ll call back after I rehearse what to say.

“You never answer your phone,” Scottie says. “What if someone needs help?”

“Then they can leave a message and I’ll call right back.”

Alex takes the phone out of my hands. “Hello?” she says.

“What the—? Do I not exist, girls? Do you realize I’m in charge here?”

Scottie whispers, “Who is it?”

“Oh, no,” Alex says. “This is the right number. This is his assistant…Sharon.”

Scottie opens her mouth, delighted. I’ve always been impressed by Alex’s effortless ability to lie.

“That sounds nice,” Alex says, then punches me lightly on the arm. “Where? Great. And for how long? Okay. Well, thanks. Maybe we’ll peek in on Sunday. Thanks so much. Okay.”

She closes the phone.

“Well?”

“That was a Realtor, Dad, from Brian’s office. She says she’d be happy to show you the house you called about. Well done, Dad. Very clever.”

“Good one, King,” Sid says.

“What about Brian?” I ask. I feel strange talking about this with Joanie in the room. I position myself so that I face away from her.”
― Kaui Hart Hemmings, The Descendants