Behind the Hood (Behind the Lives)

by Hansen, Marita A.

  Nike stuck the can under his seat and went over to her. He knew she was working herself up, and wanted to calm her down before she brought on an asthma attack.

  A doctor in blue scrubs came out of the corridor. He had a young face that contrasted with his short grey hair. He smiled at Nike’s mother. “The surgery went well. No vital organs were hit. We’d like to keep Maia in for a few days, and as long as all goes well, she should make a full recovery in a few weeks. A counsellor will be assigned—”

  Rory stood up. “Why does she need a counsellor? You said she’d be fine. I’m not paying for a quack.”

  Nike couldn’t believe his stepdad’s nerve. As if Rory paid for jack.

  “Sir, it won’t cost you a cent,” the doctor said. “The country has free healthcare.”

  “I still don’t want Maia seeing no quack. I don’t trust them after...” He glanced at Nike’s mother with a strained expression.

  Nike felt his anger quickly dissolve. He now realised why his stepdad was getting uptight, and he couldn’t blame him. A counsellor at Claydon High had upset his mother, telling her she was a bad parent because Maia skipped school. If that wasn’t bad enough, the prick reported her to Child Welfare. For three weeks, she worried whether they were going to take Maia away from her. In the end she received a letter stating that the case was closed, and a list of counsellors that could “help Maia with her emotional problems.”

  “She will be assigned a qualified professional,” the doctor said. “With these sorts of injuries the psychological wound also needs to be looked at. Quite often they are harder to heal.”

  Nike patted Rory’s arm. “The counsellors here are fine. I had one when I wuz stabbed, and she helped me.”

  Rory’s gaze shifted from the doctor to Nike. “I just want Maia to be alright.”

  His mother gave Rory a hug. “I know you do, love.”

  “Can we see her?” Rory asked the doctor.

  “She’s sleeping at the moment, but you can still go in,” the doctor replied. “A nurse will take you through.” He indicated towards the reception desk, then excused himself and left.

  Nike called out to Jess. “Babe, we’re gonna see Maia. You comin’?”

  She shook her head. “Jakey’s just fallen asleep. I’ll pop in before we leave.”

  Nike nodded, and followed the others to the desk. A nurse in a lavender uniform directed them to his sister’s bedside. Maia was lying on her side asleep and covered with a blanket, the steady beating of her heart displayed on the monitor next to her bed.

  Nike had been dreading that something like this would happen. Ever since their dad had moved to Australia a few months back, Maia had been acting up. His mother had asked him to have a talk with her. He’d tried, but all Maia did was shrug and grin like she thought everything was funny.

  His mother wiped her eyes. “I should’ve taken her to that party,” she whispered.

  Both Nike and Rory went to put an arm around her shoulder.

  Rory moved his hand down to her waist. “No, love, you did the right thing. If she’d just listened, and stayed home, this wouldn’t have happened.”

  Nike frowned. “She shouldn’t have snuck out, but it’s still Tama’s fault. After I leave I’m gonna—”

  His mother looked up. “Please don’t go after him, Son.”

  “But—”

  “No buts, Nike!”

  Her gaze fell to Maia. His sister continued to sleep, undisturbed by his mother’s sudden outburst.

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to shout.” She turned to Nike with a worried expression. “But I know what you’re thinking, and your family needs you here, not in jail. Please promise me that you won’t go after him.”

  Nike knew he couldn’t do that. He gazed down at his sister. For her sake he needed to take care of Tama. And quick.

  4

  Janice

  “Bye, love.” “Bye, babe.” “Bye, Mum.”

  All the men she loved had eventually said, “Bye.” Gareth, Seth, now Tama. Janice wanted to weep. She couldn’t do without her boy. He looked after her and helped out with Caitlin. He was also her only link to her dead husband. God, she’d loved his father. The police came then too; told her Gareth had been killed by a drunk driver who’d driven down the wrong side of the motorway.

  The men in blue also came for her second husband. Seth had struck Jason Beadle, a neighbour from across the street. Jason died from that one punch. Manslaughter they said before locking Seth away. But it wasn’t his fault. Seth was protecting his family. Jason had called her a nutter, and had threatened to get Caitlin taken away.

  Now the cops wanted Tama.

  “Ma’am ... Did you hear me?”

  “What?” She looked at the male and female officers standing on the other side of the coffee table. Hadn’t they left? She was sure they’d left.

  Her gaze shifted to the large scar underneath the policeman’s chin. She remembered him. Hated him. He was the officer who’d taken Seth away.

  “Please, Ma’am, we need to know where your son is.”

  Janice pressed her lips together.

  The man sighed and looked at his partner. Janice’s attention shifted to Tivo. Her spirit guide was standing next to the butch-looking policewoman, his gaunt face framed by long black hair. Tama would constantly question her about Tivo, often asking why he was American Indian, and that it would make more sense if she had “made” him Maori. But she couldn’t change Tivo’s nationality. He was real.

  Clad in a tasselled buckskin shirt and leggings, Tivo’s form wavered, then disappeared.

  “Don’t go,” she cried. “Please come back.”

  The female officer raised an eyebrow. “Ma’am, I’m not leaving.” She walked around the coffee table and sat down on the couch. “We will find your son. But you have to help us. Give us his friends’ addresses.”

  Thank God the woman had thought she’d spoken to her. After the incident with Jason Beadle, she had tried so hard not to speak to Tivo in front of strangers.

  Her hands began to shake.

  Caitlin wiggled on Janice’s lap. She looked confused, her little snubbed-nose turned up even more. “Mummy, Mummy, why you c-c-c-cold? It’s not-not c-c-cold.”

  Caitlin’s stuttering and word repetition was a constant concern for Janice, as her daughter regularly came home from school in tears. In the past week, Caitlin had stopped talking at school, too afraid of being bullied. Janice had an appointment to see her teacher the following day to discuss it, but didn’t want to go. It terrified her. She could only talk to her family and Betsy without feeling overwhelmed.

  “I just need you to hug me tighter, sweetie,” Janice said.

  Caitlin gripped onto Janice’s dressing gown, and squeezed.

  “Ma’am, can you please give us his friend’s addresses,” the female officer asked. “It’s imperative that we find Tama.”

  “G-G-Go away!” Caitlin cried. She leaned into Janice, squashing her teddy bear between them. Caitlin didn’t like the police, blaming them for taking her daddy.

  Janice smoothed down Caitlin’s hair, and glared at the woman. “You’re upsetting my daughter. Please leave.”

  “We need the addresses.”

  “I don’t know them!” Janice didn’t care that it was a lie. The police weren’t here to help her. They just wanted to hurt Tama, like they did Seth. Bastards handcuffed Seth in front of his own daughter. Of course he was going to fight back; no one wants to go to jail.

  “Ma’am—”

  “I said, leave!” Janice clamped her eyes shut.

  She heard the policewoman sigh. “We’re sorry that we’ve upset you, Ma’am. We will be in contact when we have more info on your son.”

  Footsteps receded. Janice opened her eyes as the ranch-slider closed. She leaned back into the vinyl couch Tama had bought her. The cops were wrong about her boy. He was a good kid—considerate to a fault. He was always buying her expensive gifts like the 40-inch flat-screen telly
in the corner. She was shocked when Jayden and Tama carried it in one day. It must have cost Tama an arm and a leg. But he’d been really modest about it, saying, “It wuz nuthin’, Mum, just a five finger discount.” Janice didn’t know what sort of special that was, but it must have been great as those tellies cost well over two grand.

  A rat-a-tat-tat on the ranch-slider made Janice jump. Brown curtains blocked her view of the front porch. Was it the cops again?

  She squeezed Caitlin tighter.

  “Ow!” Caitlin yelped.

  Janice loosened her grip. “Sshh ... Sorry, baby, Mummy didn’t mean to hurt you.”

  The rapping grew louder. The door wasn’t locked. Janice started to rock Caitlin back and forth.

  She couldn’t do this alone. “Tivo, please come back. I need you. Please...” She sniffled. “I’m sorry that I ignored you before. But they would’ve put me in the psyche ward. I need to be with Caitlin. Please listen...”

  Tivo shouldn’t have left her. She didn’t have a choice. Plus, she’d sacrificed taking her pills for him. Even though her medication calmed her, they had nasty side effects. They made her sleepy and hungry as well as vanquishing all her spirit guides. She couldn’t give up Tivo. Out of all her spirit guides he was her favourite—he kept her sane and stopped her from feeling lonely.

  Her doctor diagnosed her as schizophrenic. Janice disagreed, saying she didn’t have different personalities. He explained this was a common misconception and that schizophrenia caused her memory lapses, paranoia, anxiety, fear of people, and hallucinations. She had gotten mad with him when he’d said her spirit guides weren’t real. How would he know? He didn’t see them.

  Betsy’s voice snapped her out of her thoughts. “Jan, open up!”

  Caitlin tried to wiggle out of Janice’s grip. “Besy, Besy, Besy...”

  Relieved, Janice let go. Caitlin jumped off her lap, ran to the ranch-slider, and opened it.

  Betsy stepped inside. Her tiny figure was wrapped in a teal dressing gown and her curly black hair piled high in a tidy bun. She looked much younger than her thirty-eight years, and showed no signs of having had six children.

  Janice wished she had a large family like Betsy. But with what had happened to her husbands, she realised that having more children was unlikely.

  “Why were the cops here?” Betsy asked.

  Caitlin stamped a foot. “Meanies-meanies w-w-want Tama.”

  Betsy’s eyes widened. “Why? What did he do?”

  Janice slumped further into the couch and covered her face.

  Betsy sat down next to her, and hooked an arm over her shoulder. “Tell me what happened.”

  “They said he stabbed Maia Daniels.”

  Betsy gasped. “Nike’s sister?”

  Janice nodded and wiped her nose on the back of her arm. “The Daniels always cause trouble for Tama. He ran. Poor kid’s probably scared half out of his wits.”

  Betsy hugged Janice. “You should be with someone, Jan. Come over. I’ll make up a bed for you and Caitlin.”

  Janice shook her head. “No, I need to stay here. Take Caitlin. I don’t want the cops coming back for her.”

  “Why would they take her?”

  Caitlin started screaming, “No, No! Pigs b-bad-bad.”

  Janice stared at her daughter in surprise, wondering who had taught Caitlin that name. Janice never called the police pigs.

  Caitlin took off outside. Betsy jumped up and rushed after her. Caitlin was fast. Even though her daughter was only five, Janice still found it hard to catch her. With Betsy’s small legs, she knew her neighbour would find it difficult too.

  Janice’s hands began to shake again. Betsy could take care of Caitlin; Janice desperately needed a drink—even the pills would do—anything to calm her nerves. She stood up and shuffled over the worn-out carpet and into the kitchen. On her tiptoes, she opened the cupboard above the bread bin and sifted through the packets of pills. A few dropped onto the bench in front of the knife block.

  Janice’s eyes locked onto the knives. Tama liked knives. He whittled wood and carved. She’d bought him a carving kit for his seventeenth birthday, and had given him money for his eighteenth for a new knife. She pulled out her necklace and looked at the koru he’d made for mother’s day. He’d said that the curled fern symbolised new life and peace, as well as representing his love for her.

  Her daughter started screaming again. She moved the curtains and peered through the window. Betsy had Caitlin in a tight embrace. She always thought Betsy was a good mother. Her friend was a confident lady, always able to stand up against anyone that upset her children. It didn’t matter that she was tiny; Betsy would barge into any neighbour’s house and demand an apology if someone had upset one of her darlings. Betsy had no fear. Janice had nothing but fear.

  She continued to watch as Betsy calmed Caitlin down. Caitlin would be better off with Betsy. She would protect her. If Tama had been Betsy’s child she would have protected him too.

  Janice focused on the knives again. Like Tama, they fascinated her. Although they hurt, bliss always followed after she passed out. No more thought, no more pain. She ran a shaky finger across the thick scars on her left arm, starting from her wrist and running up a few inches. She’d slashed them twice, but each time Tama had been there for her. He’d wrapped her wrists with his shirt and called an ambulance. She wished he was here now.

  She pulled out a knife from the block and ran a finger across the metal.

  Bliss.

  5

  Tama

  Shit, Jayden’s weed was great. It gave him the giggles, like a fucking little girl. Tama knew he should’ve kept it to sell, but couldn’t hold off toking the smoke. Or was that smoking the toke? Fuck knows! He just knew he felt awesome.

  He continued giggling as he staggered down the road. He’d given up hiding. No one was looking for him at this time of morning anyway. Plus, Nike could wait a few hours. Why hurry? He most certainly didn’t want to rush his plans for Nike’s fucking gorgeous wifey. Ooh ... he liked Jess—a lot. He was so going to enjoy her. No quickie there. Yeah!

  “Don’t stop ‘til you get enough,” he sang. He grabbed his crotch, did a Michael Jackson yell, then twirled around and arsed over.

  He laughed as he pushed himself up off the grass, and headed towards Mikey’s place. His cuz lived a few blocks from Jayden. The area was pretty much the same, filled with crappy houses that moulded up during winter and were toasters during summer. Mikey was the only child of his dad’s little sister. Though little could hardly describe his Aunty Trina; instead she was one big mother—

  Tama jumped at the blast of a siren. It sounded about a block away. He took shelter under a tree. “Mofuckin’ pigs, don’t they ever sleep?” he muttered.

  The siren gradually moved away. Tama relaxed and took another hit of his joint as he squinted up the street. Man, Claydon was dark at night. He’d been to Remuera, the snobby side of Auckland, and the streets there were lit up like a Christmas tree. Got a great present too, but almost got caught when the owners came home. Lucky he and Jayden were on their way out. Shoved that 40-inch telly into the back of Jayden’s van so fast they nearly busted the damn thing. But it had been worth the trouble just to see his mother happy.

  He would miss her a helluva lot. He felt bad that he didn’t give her a proper goodbye before the pigs showed up. But he couldn’t risk going to anal central. Soap was slippery stuff and his arse was way too pretty.

  But what’s to say he couldn’t visit her every so often. Or she could catch a bus up north with Caitlin and they could make a nice home in Kaitaia. He’d support them by selling his carvings and growing a marijuana patch like his uncle. That would be way cool. All natural living, yeah!

  Someone coughed further down the street. Tama watched as a figure holding a bottle staggered towards him. He’d love some booze. Maybe they also had some cash.

  Tama pulled out his switchblade. He started giggling then stopped himself. Didn’t want to warn the
dude ... or chick? Wouldn’t it be cool if it was a chick—booze, cash, and a screw all in one hit.

  As the figure came closer Tama let out a disappointed grunt. It was no chick, it was bloody Aroha Summers. He would never dip his wick into that. Her name meant unconditional love alright; she gave out to too many guys. If he did put it in, no doubt he’d get unconditional disease.

  Well, maybe it wasn’t a total loss. She could still have some cash.

  “Aroha, c’mere!”

  Aroha squealed. The bottle slipped out of her hand and smashed on the concrete.

  “You stupid bitch, why’d ja do that for?”

  “Tama?” Aroha moved closer.

  She wasn’t half bad looking for an old bird. Forty or so, give or take a few years. She had nasty-arse hair though, didn’t look like it ever saw a brush. She smelt too, and not from the piss she’d been drinking either.

  Tama covered his nose. “Yeah ... got any cash?”

  “Nah, forgot my purse.”

  “Well, you’re bloody useless, no cash or alcohol, bugger off.” Tama waved his hand.

  Aroha stayed rooted to the spot, her eyes taking in every inch of his body. She licked her lips. Tama cringed and took a step back. No way was he letting her near him. He didn’t even want to contaminate his knife let alone his dick. He closed his switchblade and pocketed it.

  Aroha coughed and hit her chest. “Heard you cut Nike’s sister.”

  Tama perked up. It felt good to be talked about. “Yeah ... who told you?”

  “A few guys I know. They also said your boys got nicked.”

  Tama’s face dropped. God, he hoped Mikey wasn’t one of them. He felt bad for the others, but Mikey was blood. He’d also promised his aunty that he wouldn’t get him into trouble. Shit, he shouldn’t have split without making sure the boy was alright first.

  “What about Mikey?”

  “Heard nuthin’ ‘bout him, but Naf, Corey, and Trey were all pinched by the coppers.”

  Tama let out a relieved sigh. The old bird had him going there for a moment. Mikey must have gotten away with Sledge. The kid made him proud. Fast like Tama. Plus, the other guys could handle one night in the slammer. Unlike Mikey, who’d never been arrested, they were used to the rap. As long as they didn’t do anything too bad they knew they’d be out the next day, and since they hadn’t touched Maia the pigs had nothing on them.