by PJ Vye
“Detective Ronson,” said Mataio, trying not to draw attention to the envelope pressing against his shirt.
“You’re a difficult man to catch,” said the detective. “Why don’t you carry a phone like the rest of the developed world?”
“Is that an official question?” Mataio moved slightly from the footpath, unsure where to stand or how long the detective intended to keep him. He checked his watch.
“Where you off to?”
“My aunts. I need to go. Will this take long? Maybe we could catch-up back at the house?” The detective shook his head and the small movement irritated Mataio. The balance of power between the men didn’t normally bother him. Today it did.
“I didn’t contact you at your aunt’s house for a reason. We need to have a private conversation.”
Mataio took a breath and moved closer to the building beside them to let a group of people pass them on the footpath. The coolness of his arm against the brick wall felt better than the heat that rose in his neck.
“Okay. Go ahead.”
The detective looked up and down the footpath, seeming to evaluate the privacy of a public thoroughfare, then joined Mataio against the wall. “Tell me about the spot you used to meet La’ei? In Treefall Valley.”
The detective must have new information and Mataio had to lean a little harder against the brick wall. No-one but him and La’ei knew about the spot. So how did the detective know?
Their secret spot was hidden in the reserve by his aunt’s house by bush and boulders. There were no tracks, no pathway, no signs. No-one would stumble upon it unless they knew where to look.
Back when Mataio had first moved in with Tulula, him and La’ei spent hours exploring the parks and reserves in the Frankston area. Left with too much time for long periods during summer holidays, they’d fallen upon the spot, privately nestled between thick shrubs and tree high boulders.
They knew it was special. They would’ve been lost had it not been for the trail of discarded Christmas lolly wrappers they’d left behind as they explored. Like Hansel and Gretel, they’d retraced their steps and arrived home, scratched and dirty—reprimanded for being late and told not to be gone so long again—but determined to go back the next day.
They used a knife and pencil and marked trees and rocks to make a more permanent trail. The best deterrent for unwelcome visitors was the crawl through prickly blackberries that led to the sacred space. They were convinced they were the only two people in the world that had ever set foot there.
That first summer, they’d swept the floor with branches and made stick houses for shade. The birds drowned out traffic noise and it felt like a second home. It was a thirty-minute walk to Aunt’s house and they both swore to never tell another person about it for fear it would be taken away.
As they got older, they’d taken food and stored it, and would talk for hours about how their life might look when they turned eighteen. What job they’d have, where they’d live, where they’d travel to.
The council eventually built a running track through the reserve, and although it didn’t go near their spot, it increased the number of joggers and dog walkers, so they’d mostly sneak there at night, using a covered flashlight.
As far as Mataio knew, no-one but him and La’ei had ever been there.
Had La’ei told her boyfriend about it? A knot of betrayal formed in his throat as he thought about Michael Fui in their sacred space. Did she take him there for sex? Is that where she got pregnant?
There was no point lying about it now, but the idea of going back there made Mataio’s hands sweat. He wiped them on his pants.
“We had a spot, yes. Did Fui tell you?”
“Point is, why didn’t you tell us?”
“She wasn’t there. I checked. Didn’t seem any point telling you.”
“That wasn’t for you to decide.”
Mataio gave an apathetic shrug he didn’t feel.
Ronson stared him down, clearly unhappy with his response. “I could have you charged for withholding information.”
“I was fifteen years old.”
Ronson’s chin moved outwards so that his top lip disappeared. He moved it backwards and forwards for a minute and then said, “We want to do a search of the area. You’ll need to show us where it is.”
Mataio closed his eyes against the memory of the last time he was there. “I’m not sure I remember. I haven’t been there in twenty years.”
“I think you’ll manage.”
“Why not get Fui to take you. He’s the one telling the story.”
“Fui said he knew you had one. He didn’t know where it was.”
Mataio wondered if that were true or not. “I’ve got to check on my cousin first. How about you pick me up later on this afternoon?”
“I’ll drive you home and wait,” said Ronson, and unlocked the car. “Get in.”
Mataio knew he could find the spot. Even after twenty years, he’d find it. What he couldn’t be sure of, was what a forensic search team might find.
Thirty-Seven
SUNNY
Sunny checked her phone again. Still no replies to her texts for help from her friends. Admittedly, it was the middle of the night there. But still, she was in a crisis.
Tulula had gone to the supermarket and Mataio hadn’t yet returned so she wandered back and forth down the corridor, turning over the events in her head like a lunatic.
She tried to think about something else.
She tried to remember how heartbroken and hurt she’d felt just a few weeks ago when she’d made the decision to leave Judd. How she couldn’t imagine her life away from him. And now, here she was, barely giving him another thought, fixated on a man who treated her, maybe even worse than the man she’d just been with.
Mataio was emotionally unavailable. She didn’t need her friends to tell her that. He had no experience with relationships and no understanding of what her needs might be. Should she stand up and say his behaviour wasn’t good enough? Or was that unreasonable? They’d made no promises to each other. They weren’t dating. Why should she expect more?
What did it matter—as soon as her new passport arrived, she’d be on the next plane to the UK.
But if he wanted more would she stay?
She knew the answer without hesitation. If he wanted her, she would turn her whole life around to be with him. He made her feel beautiful and talented and smart. He also made her feel unwanted and unimportant.
If he’d just come back, talk to her, give her some indication of what he was thinking.
“Who’s there?”
Sunny jumped a little, deep in thought she hadn’t realised she’d wandered close to Junior’s bedroom. “It’s just me, Sunny. Are you okay? Do you need anything? Tulula and Mataio are both out.”
She spoke at the doorway, not daring to look into the darkened room, even though the door was ajar. She could smell disinfectant and coconut.
“What are you doing?”
“Sorry, I was just—.”
“Pacing the corridor. Loudly.”
“Sorry. I’ll leave—”
“Sunny?”
“Yes?”
“Do you want to come in?”
Sunny took a moment to think about it. She’d promised not to go in there. Junior didn’t want her to. “Are you sure?”
“Are you?”
She smiled and entered, her eyes quickly adjusting to the dark. “You’re awake.”
“Can you open the curtains so I can see you properly? I’ve heard a lot about you.”
Sunny continued to smile in the direction of the bed before turning to the window to open the blinds. As the light poured in, she met the man’s eyes who lay on his back, his arms at his side. His eyes followed her as she sat beside him.
“Hello. I’m Sunny.” He lifted one heavy arm and she shook his clammy hand.
“Junior.”
“I’ve heard a lot about you, too.”
“No doubt. Do I live u
p to my reputation?”
Sunny didn’t know how to answer. “It’s hard to tell. I’ll let you know.”
He smiled, and showed a set of perfectly aligned teeth. The skin on his face looked pasty and blotched, his cheeks and chin so puffy it made his forehead look abnormally small. But his smile was genuine.
“How do you feel?” she asked, focusing squarely on that smile.
He pulled absently at a thread in the blanket and spoke with a slight Islander accent. “The same way I feel most days…like an idiot.”
Sunny waited but he didn’t continue. “I don’t understand?” She asked.
Junior’s brown eyes held hers. “Do you remember the last time you had sex?”
Heat spread through Sunny’s face and she covered it with her hand to hide the embarrassment. She couldn’t tell him it was yesterday with his own cousin.
“Sorry, sorry, let me rephrase that. Do you remember the last time you…felt warm beach sand between your toes?”
“Ah—"
“Do you remember the last time you drove a car? Or felt sunshine on your face? Or tied your shoes?”
“Um, I can’t really say. I’d have to think about—”
“You don’t remember because they’re every day, inconsequential things we take for granted because we think we’ll get to do them over and over again. Like climbing a staircase, or grocery shopping or New Year’s Eve fireworks.”
He kept tugging away at the thread with his fingers. “I don’t remember the day I got into this bed for the last time. But it happened. You don’t always know when something is going to be your last. We remember the big things, like last day of high school or last day of work or last day of driving on your learner’s permit. If I’d known twenty-two years ago, when I swam in the ocean at Salego in Samoa before flying home, that I’d never see it again, I would have noticed it more. I would have appreciated it more. I would have said goodbye.”
Sunny had no experience with sick people. Should she reassure him, tell him he’ll get better, even if she didn’t know if it was true? Or should she agree, tell him it sucked, and feel sorry for him. “I hope you get to do all those things, and more, soon.”
“Taio told me you were beautiful. He always liked the blonde-haired white girls. You’re exactly his type.”
“We’re not together.”
“Oh, I know that. Taio isn’t with anyone. He’ll die alone. But I’m surprised he’s resisted you. It’s no wonder he feels…obliged.”
Sunny tried to ignore the sting of his words. She asked quickly, while she had the nerve. “What happened to La’ei?”
“What happened to all of us…La’ei was just the beginning. The story is long.”
“In case you haven’t heard, I’m waiting for a new passport. I’ve got nothing better to do.”
“There are a trillion better things to do than sit in this room listening to me.”
“That may be true, but I can’t think of a single one right now. Spill.”
Junior pushed himself a bit higher into a sitting position and Sunny moved the pillows behind his back and fluffed them. They disappeared into a flat line as he leaned back against them.
“You’d think when someone leaves your life, the only parts of your life it would affect are the bits they were involved in. But it doesn’t work that way. La’ei disappearance changed everything for everyone in ways we couldn’t imagine. It changed us as people. Even now, every decision we make is influenced by her.”
Sunny sat transfixed as Junior went on.
“Six months after she went missing, Dad wanted to move back to Samoa— with Auntie Siiva dead—that’s Mataio’s mother—there was no family keeping us in Australia. But Mum wouldn’t hear it. She couldn’t bear the thought of La’ei coming back and us not being here, in this house. She said she’d give it two years and then she’d join Dad. Once I’d finished school here. Two years came and went, no La’ei and no sign of Mum losing her obsession that La’ei was out there somewhere, finding her way back.
We all begged Mum to return home to Samoa, where she could be cared for, to recover from the trauma, and she agreed. Just another six months. And then just another three months. Dad couldn’t afford to support us here from Samoa, so we relied on Mataio. I got a job packing boxes in Footscray so we could cover the rent. Mataio accepted a scholarship in the city and I was all the company Mum had. I resented Mataio for leaving us. But he changed too.
When La’ei was here, Mataio was always in trouble at school, never studied, stole stuff, only really cared about where the next good time would be. When La’ei left, that all stopped. Mataio became the perfect son, even though Tulula wasn’t even his mother.”
Sunny heard a hint of resentment and raised an eyebrow.
Junior shrugged and smiled lopsidedly. “He made me look bad, you know? Every waking hour he’d be busy being the golden child. School, study, working. Then he left and it was up to me. How do you compete with perfection?”
“Once he got a job in Sydney, the money started coming in. Over time, it was more than we’d ever had. My shitty wage seemed insignificant and I wondered why I was busting my arse for minimum wage while Mataio still got all the glory, despite leaving, despite the fact I stayed with my obsessive mother who wouldn’t let go of a daughter who’d never return.
“Speaking of lasts, if I’d known then what I know now, I would have just gone home to Samoa. She would have followed me. I just didn’t see it at the time.
“I slacked off at work. When you’re feeling like nothing you could ever do will measure up to your cousin, and you’re already carrying around an extra 100kg, life is a little harder to push through.
“Eventually I couldn’t fit inside the forklift cab and they let me go. Which was fine. I could easily live off Mataio—if he was happy to pay, why wouldn’t I let him?
“Without a job to go to, and with a mother who obsessed over me, I let her take care of me. I didn’t think about what I was giving up.
“Becoming too fat to travel on a plane happened in there somewhere—who remembers the day or time. I only know that one day it occurred to me that I couldn’t go home now even if I wanted to, even if Mum agreed to leave this place. I would never see Samoa again unless I lost the weight.
“I tried. I failed. I tried again and again. To be honest, I didn’t really care much about anything. I’d lived with Mum so long with her misery and despair, I’d forgotten there was another option.”
“What’s different now?” Sunny asked.
“Nothing’s different. I’m going to die in this bed. From any number of things. Whatever gets me first. Could be heart failure, renal failure, diabetes, cancer, or my windpipe might just close over and I die from suffocating under the weight of my own throat.”
Sunny stifled a smile. “I don’t know, Junior. I’m sensing some optimism.”
“Really? What gave me away?”
“What does Mataio think?”
“Who knows what that man is thinking. It’s the million-dollar question isn’t it? Mataio only tells you what he thinks you need to know. Even with my body mass, I’m lighter than he is. He’s perpetually weighed down with secrets.”
“What’s he hiding, Junior?”
“Everything. Maybe nothing. It’s impossible to tell.”
“I Googled it. I read La’ei left her shift at KFC and never arrived home. What do you think happened to her?”
“I don’t know. I wish I did.”
“Do you think she’s still alive?”
“I don’t know. I hope so.”
“You think she ran away? Or do you think someone is holding her?”
“I try not to think about it, to be honest. It just screws up your head.”
“Do you think Mataio knows where she is?”
“I hope not. Cause if he does, and he’s not telling us, then he’s an osofa’i. And I’d prefer not to think of him as that.”
“Why does he give away all his money?”
&
nbsp; “Guilty conscience? To be liked? To be a Saint? I’ve no idea.”
“I don’t understand him at all.” Sunny considered telling Junior about the sex. She wanted someone on her side. She desperately needed to talk, to get the words out, to make sense of it all. But Junior had no answers for her, she knew that.
“You want my advice?” he asked.
“Sure, why not?” she answered.
Junior sat up a little higher against the pillows and pushed the hair from his eyes. “When you get your passport, run far away from here and never look back. This family is damned. And it spreads.”
The wretchedness on his face made her heart bleed. Sunny took a long breath and let it out slowly. She thought her life was complicated. “Out of all your lasts, Junior, which do you think about the most?”
He didn’t take long to answer. “The last time I kissed a girl. On the lips.”
“What’s her name?”
“Sonja.”
“And if you make it out of this room, do you think you’ll look her up?”
He laughed bitterly. “I’ll never make it out of this room.”
“So, you’ve kissed your last girl then? Too bad.” Sunny shrugged heavily.
Junior did a double take. “You’re not very uplifting, are you.” he said, more as a statement than a question. “The others keep telling me I’m gonna be fine. Why can’t you just lie to me, like they do?”
“You either want to be well, or you don’t, as far as I can see it. You can sit around and wait for life to decide for you, or you can take charge and make an effort.”
“That’s very easy for you to say. Look at you.” Junior gestured with a heavy arm and let it drop with a thud on the bed.
“I don’t quite know what you mean by that. But I know that success doesn’t happen without effort.”
“Effort doesn’t guarantee success.”
“Effort guarantees progress.”
“Progress won’t keep me alive.”
“We’re all dying, one way or another.”
“One way or another,” he agreed.
“The question is, how do you know your lasts are really your lasts? Who can say for sure?”
