‘Okay, I’ll keep half a sack for me and I’ll donate the other half to the marae.’ Gee, she’d better be worth it.
‘Auckland — I’m from Auckland.’
‘Phew-wee! Pretty flash, girl, pretty flash! That’s where you got your costume from.’
‘You’re a blimmin’ genius.’
‘Don’t treat me like an idiot.’ Couldn’t she see I was trying to be serious?
‘I’m sorry,’ she answered. ‘So … half a sack to the marae? I’m worth at least that, although some boys I know would …’
‘Okay! The whole sack.’ And I was rewarded with a big smile that made the sun shine in my heart.
‘Anahera, my name’s Anahera.’
Yeah, but Anahera who? ‘Anahera Grace?’ I asked. Shake of the head. ‘Anahera Manuera?’ Another no. ‘Anahera Kaa?’ Nuhnuh. This was getting up my nose. ‘Anahera Rumple-fuckin’-stiltskin?’
‘Anahera McLean.’
‘We’re not related!’ I almost punched the air.
‘No,’ she smiled, ‘we’re not even remotely whanaunga.’
I was dancing on the inside. ‘Will you be here tomorrow?’
‘Maybe, maybe not. All right, yes,’ she replied. ‘Bring your guitar, eh? I’ll teach you how to play until your fingers bleed.’ Then she was off and over the sandhills.
‘And don’t forget,’ came her voice. ‘The whole sack.’
That’s how I met your mother, bub. But I knew I had to work fast because a girl like her, new in the neighbourhood, wasn’t going to be without a fulla for long. Not only that, but there were better-looking boys down at the marae.
Next day, I pulled a sickie from the meatworks — reckoned all that meat could wait to be chopped another day. I phoned the boss: ‘I’m really crook, boss’ — cough, splutter, cough. Then I drove fast to the reef to get some serious fishing in. Other whanaunga were down there, and I joined them in the water.
‘Hmmmn,’ said Auntie Polly, who was with some kuia, ‘the early kingfisher catches the …’ She gestured to Anahera, who’d just arrived, and the other aunties roared with laughter.
I must have broken the record, Whero, for the fastest time to fill a sack with paua. Once the sack was chock full, I pulled it after me up the beach, sucking in my stomach. Anahera was playing my guitar, pretending that she hadn’t seen me, my rippling muscles, my tight ribs, my sexy thighs. Then she looked up. ‘Oh, it’s you.’
I kept my pose a while longer before collapsing into my usual sloping shoulders, sunken chest and bony legs. ‘One sack of kai moana,’ I began, ‘for the marae …’
‘Oh?’ she asked. ‘And what do I get?’
I scrabbled for the other koha I had hidden, beforehand, in the sand. ‘Um, I found this kowhai floating in the ocean.’ I blew the sand off the yellow blossom. A bit wilted, but it couldn’t be helped.
‘I wonder what it was doing …’ Anahera answered, rolling her eyes, ‘floating out there?’
‘Well, it must have known Christmas is coming …’ I raised the kowhai above her head.
Anahera laughed at me gently. ‘Wait your patience, boy. Your kowhai should be a mistletoe. You kiss under a mistletoe.’
‘Yeah, I know.’ What did she think I was: entirely stupid? ‘But where am I going to find any mistletoe around here?’ I sidled in for the king hit. ‘Oh come on, let’s give those old aunties out there something to gossip about.’
‘Maybe tomorrow,’ she giggled, escaping my arms and running away.
Your mother sure played hard to get with all her ‘tomorrows’!
Luckily it was the weekend so I didn’t have to pull a sickie the next day. But I was a bit late arriving at the reef and, although it was crowded with the rellies and the whanau and the few Pakeha trying to poach our kai, what was this? Everybody was packing up to go home.
I sat beside Auntie Polly on the sand. ‘What’s wrong, Auntie?’
‘Today, the world has changed, boy.’ She motioned to a sign that hadn’t been there yesterday. I walked over to look at it. This time, I couldn’t help swearing. ‘Fuckin’ bastards.’
Anahera, coming over the sand dunes, heard me. ‘Kotare, wash your mouth.’ Then she realised something bad had happened. She looked nervously at Auntie Polly and watched as the trucks revved up and headed back to town. And I was so obviously angry, my fists clenched, looking out to the ocean.
‘What’s the matter?’ Anahera asked. ‘Is there a shark out there?’ She tried a joke. ‘Is the water too cold?’
‘First they take our land,’ I answered, ‘and now our fuckin’ ocean.’ I pointed to the sign. ‘It says the water’s polluted — sewage pipe. We can’t use our beach.’ I dunno, something just got to me. I dropped to my knees and … I couldn’t help it … I began to cry.
‘It’s all right, Kotare,’ Auntie Polly called. ‘You’ll find another place to fish. There’s always another place.’
‘Is there, Auntie?’ I asked her as I stood up. ‘And we go there and catch kai moana until the next sign tells us to move on?’ I felt I had to say something to Tangaroa. ‘Sea, we’ve been unkind to you. We’ve poisoned the land and now we feed our poison into your waters. We’ve lost our aroha for you, and our respect for life. Forgive us … Haere ra, e rangatira.’
I felt Anahera take my hand in hers and lean her head against my shoulder. Then at long last, she kissed me.
‘You’re a sweet man,’ she said.
It was on that day, Anahera told me later, that she fell in love with me, bub.
All because I was a sweet man.
I couldn’t believe my luck when I asked her to marry me, and she said yes. After the wedding, we went up to Auckland to make our lives and, for a while, we stayed with her folks.
Your mother, Anahera, became my angel.
Even when my troubles began.
So here we are, me and my mate Whero, onstage again.
How come? Dermot got us a second chance at another club, Delilah’s. Nobody gets a second chance in this town, but the faggoty Irishman pulled some strings and, fucking amazing, Delilah came through!
‘How did you manage it?’ Whero asks him.
‘Told some lies. Shite, I’m goin’ straight to hell. Said the reason you walked off the stage was because you had food poisonin’ and needed to spew … and, you know, Delilah’s been wantin’ a chance at you. So for feck’s sake, Whero, when you get out there on the stage and in the spotlight, stay there. If you don’t, and you walk, you and me are finished. Got that?’
But there’s always a moment, just before we take the stage, when girlfriend turns to me, panicking, her eyes wide with fear. ‘I can’t do it, Red,’ she says. ‘Not without you.’
Hell, I live for those moments. ‘That’s what I’m here for, babe,’ I tell her. ‘It’s me and you forever, remember? Womb to tomb, birth to earth and all that shit. So let’s get out there, bitch, and rock this es-tablish-ment.’