by PJ Vye
“What did Carrie do to you?”
“She’s the one who stole all the money from the refuge three years ago.”
“Refuge?”
“Where I worked in Samoa.”
“Do you think she still has the money?”
Sunny shrugged and put down her phone, the excitement diminishing. “Probably not.”
There were things he needed to say, but couldn’t find the words. But he couldn’t afford to wait until later. Atali was asleep and things needed to be settled before they landed in Apia.
He opened his mouth, but the wrong sentence came out. “I subscribed to your YouTube channel.”
“Really?”
“The songs are good.”
“I sense a ‘but’ coming.”
“No, really. They’re good. Obviously, you’ve found a niche market. And you said you live off this income?”
“Enough to buy off kidnappers, at least.”
She didn’t sound resentful but he wore the guilt just the same. “Do you ever write music for the violin?”
“I’ve barely touched my violin since Atali was born. I don’t know why I bothered to keep it.”
“Did Laurence ever hear you play?” Mataio didn’t want to know the answer, but asked it all the same. A vision of her playing the instrument, an expression of pure serenity across her face flashed behind his eyes. He’d never known such peace as the time he watched and listened to Sunny playing her violin.
“Not even once.”
He disguised his relief. “You ever thought about writing music for the violin?”
She laughed. “I write foolish songs for kids. I’m not a composer.”
“I’ve never heard anyone express themselves through an instrument like you can.”
“There’s enough going on in the world right now. No-one wants to listen to a has-been violinist.”
“I would.” The words fell out of his mouth before he could stop them. She looked up but he didn’t meet her eyes. “Why did you break up with Laurence?”
She took a long sip of wine, leaned her head against the headrest and closed her eyes. “I don’t want to talk about Laurence with you, Mataio.”
Mataio dug deep for the kind of distance he’d used for most of his life. He needed to deliver the news without feeling the consequence. He steeled himself and said the words quickly. “When we get to Apia, I’ll be catching a ferry to Savai’i.”
She didn’t respond but he knew she must have heard him.
He continued. “I’ll send money when I can, to help pay for Atali. But I won’t see her. You have to keep her away. You understand?”
She turned her head slowly and opened her eyes. “I said I don’t want to talk about it now.”
“We have to talk about it now. Junior has a farm near Lotofaga-uta. I think it’s better if you move there with him. The soil there is good and once the food shortages hit Samoa, you’ll be able to grow enough to live on.”
“You’ve got my life all sorted out, have you?”
“Yes.”
“What will you do?”
“I’ll do another residence at Tuasivi hospital on Savai’i.”
“On the other island?”
“Yes.”
She made a big deal of rolling her eyes. “You want to do this now?” She spoke in short, clipped syllables. “Okay. Let’s do this now.”
He braced himself.
“People don’t change,” argued Sunny. “Look at Kimbo. He’ll always be a crook and a lowlife. Doesn’t matter how much time he spends in prison trying to rehabilitate, he’ll never change.”
“I agree.”
“And your father. Look at him. He never changed.”
Mataio didn’t mention the last time he’d seen his father. The man was all Zen-like and peaceful. “Exactly,” he lied.
“And you’ll never change.”
“I wish I could.”
“But you can’t because you’re exactly the person you were as a teenager. As a young adult. As a doctor. As a prisoner. As a felon.”
Her point seemed to be made. Why did he think she had more to say?
“You’re the same person you always were,” she reiterated.
“I’ll never change.”
“A violent, aggressive, self-serving, selfish, unpredictable man with no regard for human suffering. Practically a psychopath.”
Okay. Now she was going too far. “Sunny—”
“No. I get it,” she snapped. “Why would I want a man like that in our lives? You’re right. You should get as far away from us as possible.”
“I’m serious.”
“So am I. I can’t protect myself or Atali against someone like that.”
“I just thought, when you broke up with Laurence, it might have been because you thought…”
“You thought I wanted to be with you instead?” She gave a cheerless laugh. “Oh no, why would I? I’m not crazy. I want a man who can stand beside me, protect us from what’s to come, help provide a stable home, be a family, a father, an example. I don’t want to be with a psychopath.”
“I’m not a psychopath. Can you stop using that word?”
“Sure. What should I call you then? A murderer?”
Her voice escalated and she got a stare from the person across the aisle. She returned to a clipped whisper. “I didn’t break up with Laurence because of you.”
“So why?”
“Because I don’t love him.”
“Why not?”
“Can you choose who you love?”
“No,” he said.
“If you could choose who you love, who would it be?”
Finally, he met her tight gaze. “I’d choose no-one.”
“Isn’t that what you’ve already done?”
“I wish I had a choice.”
“You do.”
“I don’t.”
She took a deep breath and waited until she’d exhaled before continuing. “If you’re so dangerous, why did you manage to not hurt anyone or lose control for twenty years?”
“You don’t understand,” he said.
“Oh, I understand. I just don’t get why you won’t listen to anyone’s opinions but your own.”
“If you understand everything so well, then explain it to me.”
“You’re impossible, Mataio.”
Despite the heat of the argument, he held himself together without any effort. He spoke calmly and quietly. “When I broke ‘The Rules’, to be with you, I broke the seal on my anger.”
“So, lock it up again,” she said.
“I don’t have the strength.”
“What you’re saying is, if you have nothing to love, you’ll have nothing to lose control over?”
“Yes.”
“That’s so backwards.”
“My father loved my mother,” he said, desperate for her understanding. “He loved her enough to hold it together to marry her. I doubt he imagined he’d ever hurt her when he made those vows. It comes on slowly and gradually. You won’t even notice until it’s too late. You know it’s true. You’ve lived it with Judd.”
He knew he had her. She couldn’t argue with that.
“It’s been a long day, Mataio. Can we continue with your self-destructive analysis later on?”
He hadn’t expected anger. He’d expected sadness and arguments. Now he didn’t quite know where they stood.
“And just to be clear,” she continued. “You’re not the boss of me. You don’t decide our future. I do. Especially if you’re not even planning to be part of this family.”
“You’re right. I’m sorry. I don’t get a say in your life or Atali’s life. Don’t you see? We actually want the same thing.”
She shook her head and leaned back in the seat, putting headphones in her ears.
He spent the rest of the flight in silence, staring out the window at the darkness.
Chapter Forty-Three
A month after arriving in Samoa, Mataio still couldn’t
walk down the street of Apia without noticing everything just the way a tourist would. Though he looked like he belonged, he felt like a foreigner. He could mostly recognise the language, having spent years at his aunt and uncle’s home, but he was slow to understand, and people didn’t really get his accent.
The smell of the food markets, the colour of the ocean, the heat. He was born for this heat. He realised he’d spent a lifetime feeling cold. Now, the heat spread through him like a permanent warm bath.
He waited outside the office of Head of Emergencies at the hospital, Tupua Tamasese Meaol, trying not to check his watch too many times. Dr. Toafitu Tamasese was yet to return from his rounds and Mataio had quickly learned the pace of Apia was far different to any other place he’d been. This, combined with the upheaval in the western world, made it difficult to get documents processed or approvals met. There were no jobs for him at the twenty-bed hospital in Tuasivi on Savai’i Island so he’d returned to Apia and had been given the all-clear to practice at the larger hospital, provided he repeat his residency and passed the interview.
Dr. Tamasese appeared wearing blue hospital scrubs and runners, traditional tattoos across his arms, and although he couldn’t see them, Mataio assumed his back and legs. He’d watched them perform the tattoo ceremony under the trees in Apia when he arrived—he’d only ever heard about it before. His Uncle Akamu had similar markings. It was a painful rite of passage that involved etching ink manually into the skin using a small bone comb with sharp teeth that punctured the skin. The subject’s closest male relatives would gather and hold him down as the tattooist worked. Only the strongest of men could endure the pain. Dr. Tamasese must receive respect from his patients with those markings.
“Dr. Tamasese.”
“Dr. Brinn.” Mataio hadn’t been addressed as ‘doctor’ for a long time, and the use of it now didn’t go unnoticed. “Thank you for the opportunity.”
“I have a few concerns.”
Mataio kept his face impassive. He hadn’t really considered what he’d do if he couldn’t work here. Become a farmer? Build houses? There wasn’t anything he wanted to do but practice medicine. “Go ahead.”
“The fall out of C2HO. As you know, it’s not had much of an impact here. Most people can’t afford it, and those that can, don’t want it.”
“That’s true.”
The doctor shifted in his seat, no doubt working up to his next question. Mataio waited for the inevitable interrogation about La’ei’s death.
“You’re not planning on inventing anything else while you’re here, are you?”
Mataio managed to hide his surprise. “No, Doctor. I only did it to save my cousin.”
“Yes. Tell me, have you been in contact with your family since you arrived?”
How could he explain without sounding like a ‘psychopath’, as Sunny had labelled him? “It’s a difficult situation.”
“Sure. But I’m not interested in having you work here unless you’ve resolved your family issues. We model harmony and family values here, and we can’t have people knowing you’re estranged from your own family.”
“It’s better for them if I keep a distance.”
“Is it better for them? In what way?”
“Safer.”
“I’m sure you can understand my point here, Doctor. If you’re a risk to your own family, then you’re a risk to everyone.” He signed the document in front of him and handed it to Mataio. “Sort out your issues with your family, make an appointment to see Dr. Patua and get this signed by him, then I’ll see you back here and we can discuss your position.”
The men shook hands and Mataio wandered back onto the street, vaguely wondering if he might have to be a farmer after all.
Chapter Forty-Four
Coconut trees lined the hills and roadside for miles before the taxi driver turned toward Junior’s driveway. Mataio had heard so much about the place—Junior had kept in contact since Mataio had been released from prison. Junior had been quick to forgive, unlike his parents.
Despite the regular updates, this was his first visit. Not that he hadn’t wanted to come sooner. But Sunny and Atali lived there now, in a dwelling further back on the hill, and he had kept away, for their sake.
This visit was unavoidable now. Dr. Patua, the psychologist Dr. Tamasese had insisted he see, had been very clear. He wouldn’t sign off on the papers until Mataio had met with his cousin and aunt and found some kind of resolution.
Junior appeared out the back door as the car pulled up. Mataio paid the driver and then embraced his cousin. His thinner appearance was barely apparent behind the beaming smile and playful eyes.
“Talofoa, tuagane,” said Junior. Hello, brother.
“Talofoa, tuagane,” replied Mataio. A warmth of familiarity swept through him, the kind that only family can bring. It had been so long since he’d felt something like it without a tsunami of guilt immediately following.
“Come meet my family,” said Junior, and clamped his hand onto Mataio’s shoulder.
He followed his cousin past the house and into the front area that overlooked a forest of coconut trees. A table had been set with food, and a young Samoan woman, pretty and shy, with a baby in her arms and a toddler at her knees, shuffled toward them. Junior took the baby from her and handed him to Mataio.
“This is our son, Kaiki. Your nephew.”
Technically, the child was his cousin, but Mataio appreciated the sentiment.
Junior lifted the girl who must have been barely two years old. Mataio instantly thought of Atali at the same age. What had she been like at two?
“And this is your niece, Kaloe.”
The girl hid her face in Junior’s chest and he tickled to get her laughing.
“And this is my wife, Poe.”
Mataio moved the sleeping baby slightly so he could shake her hand. She must have thought the gesture odd, smiling nervously. Her hand was floppy in his.
“Please, let’s eat,” Poe said in broken English.
The meal was traditional and good. Not quite the same as Tulula’s pork buns, but close enough for Mataio to feel nostalgic. Once the meal cleared and Poe headed inside with the children, the two men took a walk over the farm.
“It was almost entirely covered in coconut trees,” said Junior as they walked. “But with exports potentially drying up over the next few years, we’ve taken the south and east paddocks and planted out taro and bananas so we can be more self-sufficient, should the planet fall apart.”
“What do you think about this mess? You think it’s my fault?”
“What? No. Because if it’s your fault, Taugane, then it’s my fault. You wouldn’t have made the serum if I hadn’t gotten so fat. So, technically, it’s my fault.”
“Well, when you look at it that way…”
Both men smiled. “I like Poe,” said Mataio. “She’s good for you.”
“You think?”
“Punching above your weight, so to speak.”
“Yeah, for sure,” laughed Junior.
“Where’d you meet her?”
“Church. Her parents had her married to the Taulapapa’s down the road, but then I showed up.”
“You’re a lucky man. Look at what you have, JJ. You seem so happy.”
“Who wouldn’t be? It’s like a second chance at life. I’d be dead if not for you.”
“La’ei would be alive if not for me.”
Junior flinched at the words and hesitated. “You can’t know that for sure.”
“I hurt her.”
“Yep, but you didn’t kill her. Fui did. And if they’d found out she was pregnant, they’d have made her marry him, and she’d still probably be dead. He’s the type, you know.” Junior kicked the dirt. “Like your dad was the type.”
Mataio nodded. “Like I’m the type.”
Junior looked up. “What? You’re not the type. Get over yourself. Stop using your father as an excuse for your behaviour. Own it. Be a man.”
“Th
at’s what I’m doing, Tuagane. I’m owning it. Accepting it. Living with it. And making sure no-one else has to live with it.”
“The world’s fucked up right now. We’re all going to need to pull together over this. No-one should have to do it alone. Stop fucking around and marry Sunny before you miss out on getting everything you ever wanted.”
“I don’t deserve her.”
“Maybe not. But you’ll both be miserable if you don’t. And life is short. It can be very short. Let’s live it for La’ei, eh?”
“I can’t.”
“It’s not La’ei’s life for yours, Mataio. Her life is gone. She wouldn’t want you to do that.” Junior picked up a fallen coconut in the grass and tossed it in his hands. “I was always so jealous of your relationship with her, you know? You were the younger brother she really wanted.”
Mataio couldn’t deny he felt closer to La’ei than Junior back then. Junior had been the younger sibling who didn’t really understand them yet. “It was only because we were closer in age.”
“You think you’re the only messed-up cousin?”
“Ioe.” Yes.
Junior threw the coconut against a tree and it snapped loudly. They moved from under the canopy quickly, in case more fell. “I was glad when La’ei disappeared. How’s that for fucked up?”
Mataio didn’t know how to answer.
“You wanna know why?” Junior asked.
Mataio nodded, still unable to speak.
“Because she got all the attention. From you, from Tina, and from Tama. My own mum and dad. With her gone, I thought it might be my turn.”
Mataio recognised the hurt like it was his own. He clasped Junior’s shoulder and they hugged with their heads bowed. “We were all pretty messed up, weren’t we?” acknowledged Mataio.
Junior nodded and pointed to the building on the bend. “Look.”
Her blonde hair stood out, even from this distance. She stared at them, her hands on her hips, and Mataio knew there was no leaving without speaking with her.
“I’ll meet you back at the house,” said Junior and left him.
Mataio realised too late that Junior had been leading him toward Sunny the entire time.
