by PJ Vye
“His videos are still up on TikTok,” she laughed. “Kimbo’s a moron.”
“Another example of how you don’t need me. Or anyone. You’re good at this whole ‘life’ thing. Look at you now, saving all these kids and this refuge. Giving them the security they need to survive.”
She steeled herself against his compliment and waited. He was obviously going somewhere with this.
“I don’t even know what words to use,” he said, and moved closer to the fence, his hands either side of his face on the wire. “Sunny, I have loved you from the first moment you came into my life. Probably before then. Probably when I first heard that violin through the ceiling.” He opened his mouth to continue but no more words came.
They stared at each other. Sunny found herself unable to move. She’d prepared for this moment, in case he ever found his way to her. She’d imagined it so many times, replaying it in her mind, over and over, the melody of his words a beautiful daydream for so many years.
He loved her. He always had. She’d known it all along. On some level, there’d never been any doubt. Even in the worst of times, when he’d left her alone in the bed, when he’d walked away after meeting Atali, when he’d encouraged her to marry Laurence, she’d known he loved her. When every single piece of evidence suggested otherwise, she’d known.
“What’s changed?” she asked eventually.
“I thought I needed to control everything. I realised I don’t.”
Her brain whirled and she couldn’t settle on a single thing to say. In the end, the words tumbled out without permission. “I can’t turn it back on like a switch.”
He nodded, and took a step back from the fence, the hurt finding its way to his eyes.
As if on cue, Atali ran toward them. “Daddy, Daddy,” she cried. Atali flung herself at the fence and held Mataio’s fingers through the wire.
As Mataio let go of his daughter’s fingers and made his way to the gate to reach her, Atali followed him along the fence line, skipping and chatting as if life had always been this way.
Sunny watched from a distance as he lifted Atali, his eyes closed as her arms circled his neck. Atali kissed his cheeks, his eyes, his nose and Sunny stood transfixed. In this moment, she could see his naked truth. His vulnerability and his rawness. She saw it all. His sweetness, his servitude and his spirit. They’d always been there. Even when she’d seen glimpses of his anger and frustration, they’d been born of a deep sense of protectiveness and self-sacrifice.
She also knew she had to protect herself now. He had such power to hurt her, and she didn’t trust him. Not yet. He needed to earn her love and respect. There’d be no throwing herself into a relationship with him, even though her every instinct wanted to. He was dangerous. Not in the way he thought he was dangerous, but in the same way someone who’d never driven a car before was dangerous. In his inexperience and uncertainty, he could do some serious damage to her sense of self.
She’d lied when she said she couldn’t turn on her affection like a switch. All reason slipped away when she was with him. The blocks of self-preservation she’d built threatened to topple at a single glance. She’d have to work hard to keep her guard up. She craved him like an addict might.
Sunny moved toward them, a warmth permeating through her, seeing them together.
“Let’s work on being parents together first,” she said to Mataio. “And see how we go from there.”
He nodded his agreement, and Atali buried her face in his neck. Mataio turned away from Sunny, but not before she saw tears falling down his cheeks.
Chapter Forty-Eight
Mataio was more nervous about this date than he had been sitting his residency exams in Samoan instead of English.
He dropped by the hospital to check in on a patient, then drove out to Junior’s house. Atali was playing with her cousin Kaloe and fussing over baby Kaiki like he was a doll. Atali was too busy to say goodbye to them both as they left the house.
Sunny wore a pale yellow sundress that clung to her waist, a halter neck swimming suit tied around her neck.
“Don’t forget protection, kids,” called Junior from the doorway.
Poe smacked him on the arm.
“What?” he whined. “I meant sun protection. It’s hot outside.”
Poe shook her head and Junior grabbed her around her middle and pressed a kiss onto her throat.
Mataio had to turn away from their domestic happiness to pull himself together. For a man who’d spent his life refusing to give into emotion, the floodgates were well and truly open now and he seemed to feel everything ten times more than the average man. He sometimes wondered whether he ate enough salt to replenish the amount he cried in tears. It was the simple things–Atali putting her hand in his, a Samoan sunset, or a smile when he made Sunny laugh.
He held the car door open for Sunny and closed it once she’d settled inside. They didn’t talk much as he began the drive to To Sua.
For six months he’d shared custody of Atali. He took his days with his daughter seriously, never allowing the strains of the hospital to interfere with their time together. They’d do her lessons in the morning, then they’d explore the beaches in the afternoon. While he cooked their dinner, he would listen to her practice the violin. It sounded nothing like the way her mother played, but Sunny assured him it was normal for a beginner to sound screechy. And she’d been right. Over time, he could hear the improvement as Atali progressed through the songs. At night they read together.
Sometimes Atali would ask him tough questions. Did he have to clean up sick people’s puke at the hospital? Why was his skin colour different to Junior’s? What happened to his own mummy? What was jail like? Did he want to sleep at her house? Atali had a definite opinion on what she wanted and how things should be, and she didn’t understand why her mum and dad lived separately. Mataio answered most things but avoided questions that involved him and Sunny. At six years old, Atali was still young enough to be distracted.
More recently, Sunny would meet them and they’d do something together. The beach, the markets, a church service, the playground. Every time got easier, and they looked more and more like a family together.
Today was the first time in ages he’d spent any time with Sunny alone. She’d been careful and distant and he’d been patient. He followed her rules, keeping his hands and his mind to himself, with every second spent with Sunny a beautiful torture. He looked for an excuse to be close. So many times, he wanted to reach out and touch her hand, or kiss her hair. He’d instigated so many family hugs, he wondered if Atali thought of him as a human teddy bear.
Sunny never gave any indication she wanted anything more.
Until last week.
She’d walked him out to the car after they put Atali to bed. It had been a difficult visit. Atali wanted to wear her new shoes to the beach. He’d explained her new shoes would be ruined but she refused to take them off. Sunny made coffee, and they sat and drank it while the child screamed, scratched and flailed. Atali slapped Sunny on the legs and Mataio picked her up and put her in her room. She ran straight out and Mataio repeated the action. The cycle continued over and over until Sunny, at her wit’s end, walked out of the house and left him alone with the screaming child. He picked up a guitar and began to sing Ta'oto taia lo'u Au. He ignored Atali’s screams and kicks and eventually, tired from the ordeal, she came and sat beside him with a huff. He continued to play and when Sunny returned, Atali was learning how to play a chord on the guitar.
Atali had lifted her head and said, “Sorry, Mummy.” Mataio’s heart had been full—he hadn’t asked her to apologise. She did it all on her own.
As Sunny walked him to the car later that night, she’d said, “Junior and Poe have offered to have Atali next Saturday.”
At first he’d been taken aback. Next Saturday was his day with Atali. “Oh. So she can’t stay with me?”
“I was thinking, maybe you and I could do something.”
He didn’t under
stand her initially. “Something for Atali?”
“I mean, like a date.”
His heart flipped.
And now it was just them, alone in the car, with only the sound of his heart flipping. Out of control flipping. Like he’d need a defibrillator type flipping. All the song lyrics were right. Love really did affect your heart. It wasn’t just an organ that pumped blood. It pumped desire and despair and longing and hope.
The quietness between them felt unnatural. The energy and attention a six-year-old sapped was remarkable, and without Atali as a distraction, they didn’t quite know what to say to each other. Sunny gazed out her side window like she’d never seen the views before. Every so often she’d adjust the strap on her swim suit, and it took a serious amount of effort for him not to run his finger along the line to smooth it. Or kiss her neck like Junior had just kissed his wife.
To Sua was an ocean trench, a large hole connected to the ocean by an underwater cave. Since the tourists had stopped coming, the opening hours and entrance levy no longer applied, and they walked straight in. It looked like any other piece of land. The only hint that something was different was the circular wooden framing fence, seemingly set in the middle of nowhere.
Mataio placed a food basket and a blanket down under the shade of a frangipani tree. Sunny took off her dress and began to lather sunscreen onto her legs and arms.
“You’ve never been here?” he asked, trying not to watch her actions.
“No, never.”
“My mum used to talk about this place all the time. She promised to take me one day.”
“I’m sorry you never got that chance, Mataio.”
She looked truly sorry. It was the kind of thing they might promise Atali. He hoped he could always keep his promises to his child. The place sounded magical to him and when his mother was killed, it was one of the things he felt most lost about. If an adult could break a promise, what did that mean?
“Would you mind?” She squirted sunscreen into his hand, lifted her hair and turned her back to him. As he wiped the cream along the smoothness of her back, he forgot for a moment what he’d been thinking.
“Why did she like this place so much?” Sunny asked.
“Mum said when you swim in the waters of To Sua, you forget the rest of the world. That the water is so pure it can clean away your past. She said that God made the water clear, so you could see his love. The tropical fish so bright, you could see his beauty. And the bottom so deep, you could see the depth of his righteousness.”
He stopped rubbing her back and she turned.
“I have to tell you something,” said Sunny.
“Go ahead.” In his experience, when someone said they had to tell you something, it was never good.
“Do you want any of this?” She waved the sunscreen but he gestured her offer away.
While he waited for her to continue, he took his t-shirt off, and they made their way toward the opening in the wooden posts.
“I’ve not been here for a reason,” she admitted.
“Why?”
As he asked the question, they arrived at the edge of the hole. It looked exactly how he’d imagined it and exactly like the pictures. A majestic blue circular pond on the verge of spiritual. Words couldn’t describe it. He felt cleansed already, and he hadn’t even made it down the first step.
“I can’t make it down that ladder. I’ve seen photos of this place. And it’s worse than the photos.”
“You’re right,” he admitted. “It is.”
“But I’m happy to watch you. I’ll just stand here at the top and take photos.”
He wasn’t going in without her. “You’re scared?”
“You bet.”
“You’re prepared to miss out on swimming in the coolest, purest, most beautiful hole in the entire world just because you’re scared of the climb down.”
“Yep. It’s taking that first, huge step.”
“Centuries of people have done this and survived.”
“Those people weren’t me,” she said.
“Are you saying you’ll never do it?”
“That’s exactly what I’m saying,” agreed Sunny.
“You want to give up what might be the best experience of your life, because you’re scared you might not get out?”
She turned to him with narrowed eyes. “Are we still talking about the same thing?”
He grinned. She knew exactly what he was talking about. “Which bit scares you the most?”
“The falling.”
“I think you’re strong enough to hold on,” he reassured.
“How do you know?” she asked.
“Because, I know. Everyone knows.”
“Oh my God. I’ll climb down these steps just so you’ll stop with the analogy.”
“Then my work here is done.”
Mataio began the vertical descent first, and Sunny followed, matching every step with his. He took his time, staying close and ready to grab her given the slightest miss. But she was tougher than she’d given herself credit for. The lower they got the more slippery the rungs became, but she didn’t falter. He hoped it was because, when she looked down, all she could see was Mataio and not the enormous cavern below.
When her feet hit the flat surface of the jetty she gave a jump. “I made it.”
“Yes, you did.”
“I knew I would,” she bragged, tossing her hair and pouting.
He laughed out loud and, without thinking, grabbed her around the middle like he would with Atali when she teased him that way. He kissed the top of her head and, realising his mistake, released her.
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to…”
She ignored his stammers and dived head first into the water. He watched her glide under the surface, as fish darted in all directions. He couldn’t help but think his mother was watching them right now, and he felt the not uncommon onset of tears. He dived in the opposite direction to avoid Sunny seeing them and misinterpreting.
They didn’t speak for a long time. Both explored, touching the cave edges, sitting on the rocks, trying to catch the thousands of tiny fish.
“Thank you for bringing me here,” said Sunny, floating on her back, the sun reflecting off her belly.
“Thank you for sharing this with me.” Mataio floated on his back as well, following the sun as it moved across the sky.
They came together eventually, treading water side by side to keep themselves afloat, both careful not to touch.
“Are you happy?” he asked.
“To be honest, I’m worried the climb up will be harder than the climb down. You may have to piggy-back me.”
“What made you change your mind?”
“To climb down here with you?”
“No. To come on a date. Just the two of us?”
“What makes you think I changed my mind?” Her teeth chattered slightly and she wrapped her arms around herself, keeping afloat with just her leg movements.
Mataio’s heart banged away again in his chest. He needed answers.
She rubbed her arms. “I’m cold.”
“You want to go back up?”
“Yes. But I don’t want this to end. Everything your mother said was true. This place is magic. God is here.”
“Are you happy, with the way things are? Between us?”
He stopped paddling so he didn’t miss her answer, but then began to sink and had to paddle again.
“That’s a difficult question.”
“Why?” he breathed.
“What answer are you looking for?”
“I want to know if you feel the same way I do,” he said, each word a tortured whisper.
“I don’t know how you feel,” she whispered back.
That was a good point. Had he told her? He’d been so worried about giving her space and time to adjust, that he’d forgotten maybe the most essential part. Communication. “Do you want me to tell you?”
She nodded, shivering. He wanted to hold her, make her wa
rm, but he had things to say and he needed to see her face as he said them. And judging from his own electrified skin, he also suspected the shivering wasn’t entirely from the cold.
“Sunny, I ache for you. Every day. When I look into Atali’s eyes, I see you. When she tips her head to laugh the way you do, my insides bleed. I miss you, even when I’m with you, because I can’t hold you. Like right now.”
They both kept paddling, their faces close. Her hesitation made his heart twist cruelly. He was invested now. He had to make sure there could be no doubt in her mind.
“I’ve never known love like yours,” continued Mataio. “Every time I walked away, it was because of how much I wanted you. I know it’s backwards and crazy and stupid, but that’s just the way I thought.” His body drifted closer to hers like the water magnetised them. He could feel the heat of her breath. “I don’t think that way anymore.”
Sunny dipped under the water, then back out again, her hair pulled back from her face.
Every empty second tormented him.
“Do you remember the day you confessed in that television interview?” she asked, eventually.
“Like it’s been tattooed by an ink master in my brain.”
“And they took you away in handcuffs?” she asked.
Her face was impossible to read. “Yes.” He wanted to apologise, but the words seemed so insignificant.
“It broke me,” she said.
He waited.
“I’ve been broken before. I knew I could find my way back. And I did.”
A pair of curious yellow tropical fish with black faces swam between them, and she hesitated. Once they’d glided past, she continued. “The point is, we heal our broken bits. We grow back stronger every time.”
She stopped paddling and her body sunk lower in the water. He did the same and they fell together, their limbs wrapping around each other like eels, with an inexplicable force of their own.
He touched his lips to hers, their faces just above the water line.
She let him kiss her for a moment, then pushed him slightly away to look into his face. “Are you strong enough yet?”
“Yes,” he answered, knowing, for the first time, that it was true.
