Aue, page 20
Just a black eye. From a punch. Uncle Stu quietly punched my aunty Kat right in her eye and I slept through it. Like a person would if they lived in an apartment and they were in the bottom one or middle somewhere, so they didn’t hear a storm outside.
I hated him.
When I thought I was starting to hate Taukiri that wasn’t hate. It was just an angry feeling. This was hate.
I was supposed to pack my bags for the camping trip with Tom Aiken and Beth, but Aunty Kat was shuffling around in her pyjamas with a black eye and I didn’t think it would be a good idea for me to leave her alone. Because I did love her. And I didn’t want her to wonder if I did.
‘Morning, Aunty,’ I said then.
‘Mōrena Ari. You’re invited to go camping with Tom Aiken and Beth. I’m making you cookies to take. A recipe your mum gave me.’
Aunty Kat had never brought up my mum without me bringing her up first.
‘Should I help?’
‘That’d be nice. Get some choccie chips out the pantry would you?’
I found the packet and gave them to Aunty Kat.
‘Would you get your muscles on this job a minute, Ari?’
She handed me the bowl and wooden spoon, I started mixing really hard. I could smell the smell butter and sugar made together.
‘Your mum made these for you, huh?’
I kept mixing. Didn’t answer.
‘We don’t have to talk about her. I’m sorry I haven’t asked you how you’re feeling. How are you feeling?’
‘I don’t know. How do you feel about having a black eye, Aunty Kat?’
‘Shit.’
‘Me too,’ I said. ‘Mum baked these for me.’ I stirred the cookie mixture. Then I felt brave again. ‘Why did Uncle Stu give you a black eye, Aunty Kat?’
‘Because he’s an arsehole, love. That’s why.’
‘He is an a-hole. Aunty Kat, could you come with us?’
‘Where?’
‘Camping.’
‘Uncle Stu might need help.’
‘But he’s an a-hole, he should just do it himself.’
Tom Aiken’s truck pulled up.
‘Shit,’ Aunty Kat said. ‘Didn’t even get them in the oven.’
‘Come with us, Aunty. Please.’
And I saw for the first time that my sadness was a little bit magic.
‘Okay,’ she said, sliding the cookie tray into the oven.
Aunty Kat told Tom Aiken and Beth to come inside and sit at the table while the cookies baked and she packed. First, she made Tom Aiken a coffee.
‘What happened, Kat?’ Tom Aiken asked.
‘Stu. One of his moods.’
Tom Aiken folded his arms. Beth and I stayed really still, the way we often did when we wanted adults to carry on talking and knew they wouldn’t if they remembered we were in the room.
‘Why do you put up with it?’
‘I don’t know. Why do people do all sorts of things?’
‘I mean after what happened.’
‘Come on, though, Tommy, that’s different. Stu’s no mobster. He’s just a grump.’
‘You’re kidding yourself – he’s a redneck, a self-entitled, can’t-keep-his hands-or-his-ugly-thoughts-to-himself prick. If Toko were here …’
Aunty Kat slapped her hand down on the table.
‘He’s not though. Everyone left, didn’t they, Tommy? My own mum and dad, said, “Oh, Gore Bay is just up the road, Kat – we’ll see you all the time.” But do I see them all the time? No. And Jade walked away and Tauk left, and sure it’s for the best, but does anyone want to stay here? No.’
I wondered who Jade was and Beth looked like she had at her house just before, secretly watching Django. Mouth wide open, like she could eat a whole big bowl of popcorn.
Jade and Toko
They were married in a small weathered church beside the sea. On Monday they came to Colleen and Hēnare’s house under the mountain to tell them they were getting married, and on Saturday morning they woke as husband and wife. A bun already in the oven.
The small church was full with whānau. Tommy walked Jade down the aisle. Aroha and Kat stood opposite their brother and held flowers. Colleen and Hēnare sat in the front row. All Jade saw was Toko.
They hadn’t left the boat for a long time and everyone asked Toko where he’d been. He said he’d been busy and now he was getting married.
‘We don’t even know her,’ people said.
And they gossiped about Jade’s round belly and the thin line Colleen made with her lips.
Toko and Jade were happy to get back to the boat, as husband and wife, away from the people.
For the honeymoon Toko didn’t fish for a few days. They only got out of bed to cook and skinny dip.
Toko would tease her. He’d swim underneath the Felicity to the other side, and Jade would scream at him to stop playing games.
‘Get your black arse out here! Stop being an arsehole!’ and then he’d swim back under the boat, grab her feet – she’d squeal and kick – and pull her to him, against his tā moko, the curling black inky wave tattooed across his chest and down his arm. She traced it with her finger, and asked what it meant, and he told her it meant he was a warrior who would die an old man. That they’d make so many babies, who would grow up to be as strong as she was.
She laughed, ‘Don’t lie.’
‘No lies, my tattooist knew I would meet you. Look here you are,’ and he pointed to a shape that could have been a tiny bird flying towards the curl of Tangaroa. Toko grinned.
‘Good,’ she said, ‘that’s good.’
Above the wheelhouse they watched the sun set.
Toko played his guitar and sang. Sometimes a Māori waiata. Jade’s favourite was a love song: ‘Akoako o te Rangi’.
‘Play it again,’ she’d say.
He would.
‘What does it mean?’ she asked her smart husband.
‘A Pākehā wrote it to be translated into te reo, so it’s tragic.’
‘Just tell me what it means, smart-arse.’
‘It means that after I saw you, fell in love with you, and you left me, I crept under a tree stricken with love, and I wept for you, woman.’
‘And then what happened?’
‘I was alone forever.’
‘Then?’
‘Music came to me and said, “Awake, Toko, there is no darkness love cannot light.”’
‘So what did you do?’
‘I stopped weeping for you. Went and got me another woman.’
She slapped him. ‘After that?’
‘You mean after the next couple or three?’
‘Yeah, Romeo, after them.’
‘Well after them, I needed a challenge, so I came hunting for you. Drove night and day for you. And I took you for mine. My challenge to make you a decent woman.’
‘What’ll you do with me when I’m decent then?’
‘Oh, you’ll never be decent. I’ll make sure of it.’
And she stripped off all her clothes and leapt into the sea. Felt magic then, like a mermaid.
Toko’s sister, Aroha, visited her on the boat.
Aroha was like her brother. Beautiful and sensible and smart. She was making her way in a Pākehā world, Jade thought. And she would help them bring their baby into the Pākehā world. Jade felt so safe with her, with her opinions, and her knowledge and her mana.
They took walks along the coast together, because it was good for the baby, Aroha said. They talked as they went.
Aroha once said: ‘Kat’s got this cute boyfriend.’
‘Does she? I want to see her, sometime. Bring her to visit.’
Aroha laughed. ‘Okay. Sure. Good luck with that. Hard to get that one to commit to anything.’
But Aroha did bring Kat for dinner on the boat, and Jade made a fuss. She was very pregnant by then, due any day.
Toko left them to it, no room for four on this boat, he said. He went to the Craypot to play pool with Tommy.
Kat arrived, the riot of the lot, taking nothing serious, free and easy, barely eighteen. She was wearing a pink halter-neck top that showed off her cleavage, and skin-tight pale blue jeans. Her hair was silky and ran straight down her back, almost to her bum. She wore eyeliner and blush and smelled like a pharmacy.
Aroha brought bubbles and orange juice and Jade had made a smoked-fish pie. Kat brought a box of beer. They crammed together in the tiny wheelhouse. Jade had to sit in the skipper’s seat, Kat and Aroha sat on crates.
Jade turned over a banana box for the plate of cheese and crackers.
Aroha popped the cork and poured the drinks. Orange juice for Jade, bubbles for the sisters. And they made a cheers for finally being together and Kat sculled hers, ‘Cheee-hooo,’ she howled, ‘Now that’s what I’m talking about. Pop that baby out, Jade, then we can all go out and par-tay.’
Aroha poured her baby sister an orange juice, ‘It’ll be a while.’
Kat didn’t pick up the juice, took a beer from her box, cracked one.‘Meeting my girls later. Ain’t gonna drink juice, that’s for damn sure.’
Jade went to her galley and brought over the fish pie. Aroha told her to sit. She’d get the plates and forks.
‘No pie for me. Eating’s cheating,’ Kat said, and took a scull of her beer.
Jade asked, ‘Still got that cute boyfriend, Kat?’
‘Hell no, he was such a wet blanket.’
‘Eye on anyone?’
‘Well …’
Jade cut a piece of pie for her and one for Aroha.
‘Tell us then,’ she said.
‘I already know what you gonna say, but try keep an open mind, all right?’
‘Just tell us,’ Aroha said.
‘Stu.’
‘What, as in Stuart Johnson?’
‘Yes, Stuart Johnson. He’s been making the moves. It’s so sweet. He’s well-off now he has his dad’s farm. Says he’s got so much money that if I marry him I’ll never need to work. Can stay at home making him lovely dinners and painting my nails. Go lunching with my girls.’ Kat laughed then, really laughed. ‘I mean he was totally joking, like flirting, full on, you know. “If I had you. God, if I had you,” he said to me. And shit, when he said that, well I went bloody weak at the knees. Never happened to me before. I mean no one has ever spoken to me so, so … what’s the word?’
Jade offered: ‘Brazen.’
‘Yes! Brazen. Wicked flirt. It’s fucken lovely.’
Aroha ate a forkful of pie. She chewed slowly, swallowed, took a sip of bubbles. ‘Told Toko?’
‘Hell no. And you bloody better not either. He’ll ruin it.’
‘I don’t know, Kat. I mean, I have no real reason to dislike Stu – just I think it’s pretty wrong of him to be after you. He was Toko’s friend.’
‘So what? They’re not anymore.’
‘And why’s that?’
‘Well, mostly because Toko is up himself.’
‘Is that what Stu said? About your brother? And you’re okay with that?’
Kat changed the subject. ‘Jack? How’s he then?’
‘Great.’
‘Course,’ Kat said. ‘He always is.’
After Aroha and Jade had eaten dinner and Kat had downed six beers, she had to get going. ‘Time to go get my mack on with my girls,’ she laughed, then sliced a piece from the round of camembert, put it on a cracker, chucked it all in her mouth. Chewing she said, ‘Better line my stomach. Ha! Craypot gonna crank tonight.’
‘Was cool to see you,’ Jade said.
‘Yep, sure was,’ Kat said. ‘I’ll visit again when pēpē’s here.’
After Kat left, Jade asked Aroha. ‘Should we tell Toko?’
‘No, she’ll be over it before we know it. If we upset Toko he’ll make a fuss and Kat will get stubborn. Want Stu more. He’s harmless enough, I guess. Just a bit of a dickhead.’ She cut herself some cheese. ‘She’ll find out.’
The next morning Jade discovers a light pink stain in her underpants.
The contractions peak at midnight. And the pain comes so good. So deep and deserved. She is in the galley when her waters break on the floor. She gets disinfectant and a mop and cleans up her mess.
On the bed, Toko sits at the head so she can hold him. She has his arms in her grip and she claws into them and cries, ‘Oh my god.’
Toko tries to get up.
‘I’ll get Aroha, now,’ he says but she holds him, almost pins him to the bed.
‘No,’ she says.
‘But the pain?’
‘It’s okay. It’s okay.’ But she’s swept up in the thundering current of another contraction, and she screams and she wants him to just sit and let her hold him, but he can’t. He climbs out from under her.
‘We need Aroha,’ he says.
‘Fine. Get her. Go get your sister, Toko. She’ll do it for us. She’ll do it better.’
‘What’s your problem?’
Where’s her cocky Toko? Her man who can do everything, needs no one, maybe not even her. ‘Just go,’ she says.
She wishes that their baby is born while he is out getting Aroha, then he’ll be sorry.
While he’s gone she must hold herself steady. Hold herself steady against three long, hard, punching contractions. And those contractions make her feel sorely abandoned.
When she sees Aroha running up the dock to the gangway, a bag in her hand, her hair back tight, wearing a cotton shirt and pale green pants, and Toko following with a gas canister, Jade wants to lock the door and hoist anchor, but she has no energy. Maybe tomorrow, she thinks.
‘How’s our mummy?’ Aroha asks, putting the large bag on the bed, then correcting herself, ‘Mummy-to-be.’
‘God,’ Jade says, ‘if I wanted a hospital I would have gone to one.’
‘We’re not taking any risks. I have every scenario covered in this bag. Now, how’s your pain?’
‘Perfect.’
‘And what does that mean? On a scale of one to ten.’
Toko stands back behind his sister. And Jade wants to scream at him.
Instead she sneers, ‘Zero.’
And a contraction is upon her, a slow squeezing burn inside, and fuck it hurts. Oh God it hurts and, oh, this is beautiful, she thinks. Aroha is still standing between her and Toko, and she goes to take Jade’s hand but Jade shakes her off.
‘Help your wife, Toko.’ she says. ‘Come on, stop acting useless.’
By the time Toko gets to Jade the contraction is already falling away, giving out, giving up, and Jade resolves to leave him tomorrow at first light. And she’ll leave with their baby and Toko will never get to see it again because he is a useless son of a bitch.
He needs to know that, so she tells him: ‘Why don’t you just go, Toko? Your sister’s here now. She’ll take care of this now. Off you fuck, boy.’
He seems stunned by her words, her language, the look in her eye.
Jade hears Aroha console him. ‘Don’t listen to her. She’s in pain.’
‘I said zero,’ Jade yells.
‘Go to her, Toko,’ Aroha says.
‘Listen to your sister,’ Jade growls as another contraction begins building a house in her womb, a big house from hot round stones.
He goes to her and he leans close to her and his sweat smells beautiful like it always does and the contraction rises up in her belly, and she squeezes his hand. ‘Huh?’ she says, her own sweat rolling down over her lip, down her chin, onto his arm. ‘Why don’t you just piss off.’ And she takes his elbow. ‘You shouldn’t have bothered coming back.’
He cries now. ‘I’m sorry.’
She screams, from the pain. ‘You should just piss right off forever.’
‘The pain now?’ he says, and he kisses her.
But she can only howl.
Then Aroha tells them it’s time for Jade to push.
Jade shuffles, then stands, she pivots and turns and roils like a cat. Is she going to turn inside out, is everything inside her going to fall out, her heart, her lungs, her tīpuna?
She squats at the end of the bed. Toko stands behind her and starts rubbing her back.
‘No,’ Aroha says. And she nudges him to the bed. ‘Sit,’ she tells him. Then softly, so softly nudges Jade to him. ‘Hold her,’ she instructs. And Jade thinks it’s the best thing she’s done, though it was not in her bag of tricks.
Toko takes Jade under her arms, and she holds his waist and rests her head against his belly. She pushes and he sobs. He sobs and sobs.
‘Oh baby, you’re so brave,’ he says.
But then his sobs grow too loud, too base, and Aroha sounds as if she’s getting bothered by him. She yells, ‘Quiet down, Toko. I can’t think.’
But he can’t. He just doesn’t. And Jade adores him for it.
Then Jade is angry with Aroha, because Toko is crying for her pain, he is sobbing for it, and he is feeling it. And nothing can ever replace that. No bag, no knowledge, no crisp white shirt.
And as Jade heaves their baby into the world, she resolves to never, ever leave her Toko. Not in the morning, not at first light, not with his baby. He’s not a son of a bitch, never could be.
Aroha has their baby in her hands now, and they hear his soft cry and Jade licks a tear from Toko’s face then she struggles up, to her feet, on shaky legs, and she rips her T-shirt off and takes her baby and presses that lovely silken baby to her breast, curls up at the foot of the bed.
Toko nestles behind her. ‘I’m so sorry,’ he says.
‘You should be.’
‘I am.’
‘Sing your family a waiata then.’
Toko sings ‘Akoako o te Rangi’.
Aroha goes to Jade’s galley to boil water.
Taukiri
At Megan’s we ate leftover Chinese food in the lounge. I took a pea from the fried rice and threw it at her. ‘Here, princess.’
