Auntie Pat looked at me askance. ‘Any minute now,’ she said, ‘and your father is going to follow suit with his equally famous rendering of the haka.’
For some reason, a shadow eased itself stealthily over the bonhomie and warmth. Perhaps it had something to do with my conversation with Jason.
‘Maybe you shouldn’t go through with it,’ he’d said. ‘If you don’t want to, don’t do it.’
Nothing is worse for a single man or woman than to go home for a family celebration at which all the conversation, all the codes, are involved with family. You have failed, have not conformed. You are isolated.
Auntie Pat must have sensed my mood. She looked at me with concern.
‘By the way,’ Dad said to Tyrone, ‘has Amiria told you what to expect? The Mahana breed has a habit of having twins. There’s seven sets distributed throughout your generation.’
‘Uh oh,’ Tyrone said. He hit himself on the forehead in a mock gesture.
‘When Amiria gets pregnant,’ Mum continued, ‘make sure you get one of those big double prams!’
‘Gee, thanks,’ Tyrone said. ‘You really make a fella feel good about getting married.’
‘Stop telling Tyrone your horror stories,’ Amiria said. ‘You should count yourselves lucky the wedding is still on!’
At that moment, there was the sound of a couple of cars screeching to a stop outside the house. The front door banged open.
‘Hello, everyone!’ Denise, Amiria’s matron of honour, came in. After her trailed Amiria and Tyrone’s groomsmen and bridesmaids. They’d been having a couple of drinks at the pub.
‘Gotta go,’ Amiria said. She gave a look at Tyrone, who stood up and prepared to follow her.
‘Where to, dear?’ Mum asked.
‘Me and the girls are celebrating my last night of freedom, and Tyrone and the boys are going back to the motel for their stag do.’
‘It won’t be much of a do,’ Denise scoffed.
‘How do you know we haven’t got a female stripper coming along?’ one of the groomsmen challenged.
‘You wouldn’t know what to do with her if she was!’
Dad and Mr Henderson smiled at each other knowingly. Mum and Mrs Henderson pretended not to understand what anyone was talking about. Weddings are such a pretence.
Then Amiria turned to Tyrone. ‘Tyrone, why don’t you take Michael with you. He won’t want to spend all night with the older generation.’
The older generation clucked in protest.
‘Sure,’ Tyrone said.
‘I’ll take a rain check,’ I answered. ‘You guys go ahead.’
‘After all,’ Mum agreed, ‘why should Michael want to watch a stripper? He’s already got a girlfriend.’
The others smiled. Mum looked as pleased as punch.
‘So you won’t come with us?’ Amiria asked. ‘Okay.’
I watched Amiria as she moved around the table. Saw her red kiss being accepted by proffered cheeks like a reward for having done the right thing. And then I knew that this was it, the opening I had been waiting for. After all these years of Mum and Dad talking for me, and making up a history for me, it was time I talked for myself. It was now or never.
‘I don’t have a girlfriend.’
Amiria’s lips wavered above my face and she stepped back.
‘Of course you do!’ she said.
Dad was staring at me with incomprehension.
‘I don’t have a girlfriend, I never had a girlfriend, I will never have a girlfriend. Ever. End of story.’
Mum looked at me and, at that moment, I realised she already knew. Perhaps she had always known. Always suspected. Isn’t that what they say about mothers?
‘Perhaps we can leave this conversation till later, son,’ Mum said. ‘When our guests have gone home.’
But Dad wasn’t so easily deflected.
‘What do you mean! Of course you have a girlfriend. And you’ll get married like your sister. And I’ll have grandchildren.’
As usual, Dad was trying to make the decisions. If he said something would happen, it would happen.
But I stood my ground.
‘There will be no grandchildren. My girlfriend is a boyfriend. Do I have to spell it out?’
There was a moment’s silence. Then Mum excused herself and went into the kitchen. Dad’s face crimsoned and his fingers tightened on his wine glass. Mr and Mrs Henderson looked at each other. Denise, the groomsmen and bridesmaids started to edge away. Auntie Pat picked up her napkin and patted at her lips.
‘Boy oh boy, you sure pick your moment,’ she whispered.
One o’clock in the morning. I sat on the steps of the front verandah. The Hendersons had returned to their motel. Mum had gone to bed, crying. Dad and Auntie Pat were arguing in the sitting room.
I saw headlights coming down the road: Amiria returning from her girls’ night out. She stopped the car. Got out. Slammed the door. Leaned against the bonnet, arms folded.
‘Did you have to do that?’ she asked. ‘Why didn’t you rain on somebody else’s parade.’
‘I couldn’t take it any longer. All that talk about my girlfriend. It’s about time they knew.’
Amiria walked across to me. Sat down. ‘Well you sure chose a rotten time to do it. I can just imagine what tomorrow will be like. I’ll be standing at the aisle with Tyrone, and the priest will ask that question about anybody having just cause or knowing any impediment about our marriage. And somebody will call out from the back, ‘Her brother’s gay!’
The idea surprised her into laughter.
‘You were always such a drama queen,’ I said.
‘God! What else is there to do except laugh. And listen to who’s calling who a queen. Turning up like the bad fairy to spoil the party. Did you know Denise wasn’t going to be a bridesmaid because she didn’t like the outfits? Come to think of it, why didn’t you lay your egg earlier! I could have given Denise the shove and you could have worn her dress.’
‘Pink’s not my colour.’
Amiria sighed. She put her arms around me. ‘Listen, I’m only trying to humour you — to show you it’s okay. This was already turning into the wedding from hell. And we’re supposed to be twins. Tell each other everything. I should know when things are happening to you. I never knew anything about this. So how did it all happen!’
‘I don’t think it happens. It just is. Maybe when we were in the womb together I got a few of your chromosomes and they tipped me over.’
Amiria gave a gasp.
‘That means that I got some of yours too! Oh my God.’
She got up and gave me a peck on the forehead. ‘You’re still my twin,’ she whispered. ‘We’re as married to each other as I will be to Tyrone tomorrow. For richer for poorer. In sickness and health. Till death do us part.’
Half an hour later Dad and Auntie Pat stopped yelling and screaming at each other. I sensed that Dad was there, behind me in the doorway. His voice seemed to come from out of the past.
‘Can you change?’ he asked. ‘Can you be fixed?’
Dad always thought you could fix things physically. If you had a puncture, change the tyre and put on the spare.
‘No.’
‘You don’t want to change, is that it?’
‘I can’t.’
Dad’s voice spilled over with horror. ‘You can’t like what you do with other men.’
I made it clean, clear and swift. Jason would have been proud of how I did it.
‘I do.’
Dad took a step back, as if I had hit him. He searched for words.
‘You’re supposed to be my son but, so help me, I wish you weren’t.’
A star fell from the sky, puncturing the night like a needle piercing your eyeball.
Chapter Two