Fierce (28 page)

“It goes both ways,” she said. “It looks to me like this is a good time to have this conversation, like maybe we need some more promises. I take it you don’t want me to sleep with anybody else.”

“You could say that. Or you could say that I’d rip his head off.”

I got a little twitch of her lips for that. “And I don’t want you to do it, either. Do we have a deal?”

I sighed. “You drive a hard bargain. But you’ve got a deal.”

She fell silent again while Charles began the drive to Brooklyn, even though I’d closed the partition to give us privacy.

“Remember when you told me the swan story?” I finally said. “And you asked if I’d tell you one?”

“Of course I do. And I remember that you didn’t.”

“Mm. Your story was all about trust, wasn’t it. About proving yourself by what you do. Being steadfast. Makes me think that the Maori stories may be more up your street. More about weakness, and about the strength of overcoming it.”

“Oh.” My hand had been around hers, and now, she threaded her fingers through mine. “That sounds good. Can you tell me one?”

“Yeh.” I felt a bit naff telling a woman a story in the back of my car, but then, I’d always done what was necessary, and this felt necessary. “I’ve got a short one you may like. About how ta moko—the Maori tattoo—came to be. It was on the face, the buttocks, the thighs in those days. And it wasn’t inked. It was chiseled. So why would somebody do that?”

I could feel the shudder that went through her at that thought. “Yours isn’t…chiseled, is it?” she asked faintly.

“Nah. That kind of pain? No.”

“Still. It must have hurt, getting all that.”

I shrugged. “Yeh, nah. But anyway. They say that in the old times, a Maori chief fell in love with the daughter of the king of the Underworld, and she fell in love with him as well. So they were married, and it was good at first, but then he got jealous. As men can do. But he was worse. One day, he lost control, and he hurt her. Beat her, in fact.”

Her hand jerked in mine. “So far, not such a good story.”

“Wait. You’ll like this next bit better. She left him, went back to the Underworld. Because Maori women are strong. They don’t wait to be rescued, and they don’t put up with being treated badly. Just like you.”

A faint smile at that. “And?”

“And he followed her. He wanted to change, and to prove to her that he could, so he could get her back. He saw her father carving a moko onto one of his warrior’s faces, and he asked that it be done to him as well. Went through it all—the carving, having the charcoal rubbed into the wounds for the pigment. For days, weeks, because they didn’t do it all at once, or the shock and pain could kill even the strongest warrior. And as the king carved his skin, the chief sang about his love for his wife and his regret for what he’d done, and his promise that he would change. And because he was willing to endure so much pain to atone for hurting her, she believed him. She returned to the upper world with him, and they were happy, and he never hurt her again. At least,” I finished, “that’s the legend.”

“Wow,” she said. “Bad start. Good ending.”

“Mm. Thought you might like it. So—this.” I held out my left arm, even though my moko was hidden under my suit coat. “It’s my heritage, my genealogy, my journey, like I said. But it’s also a reminder of what strength is, and what it’s for. That it’s to bear what you have to, and to protect the people you...”

“The people you love,” she finished. 

“Yeh. The way you do with Karen. And that—that story,” I told her. “I guess I’m telling you that to let you know that I’m not going to hurt you. That I may be stupid. I may even...” It took me a moment to say this one. “I may even be wrong. But you can put me right.” 

“Hemi.” She laid a gentle hand on my face, stroked it down my cheek. “That’s—Thank you.”

“And,” I said as Charles pulled to a stop in front of her building, “if that offer of a movie with you and Karen is still open, I’m thinking I’ll take it.”

The next night was a first for Karen and me: a Women’s Wednesday that would include a man. I was nervous, and because I was, I changed into my PJs, exactly as I normally would’ve. Which made Karen look at me with astonishment and ask, “Aren’t you supposed to, like, dress up if a guy’s coming over? Maybe you want to put on some mustache bleaching cream while you’re at it.”

“I do not have a mustache. And anyway,” I tried to explain, “Hemi’s coming into
our
place. Into
our
special night. He’s seeing my real life for once, and I need to know that he can be OK with that. I’m not glamorous, and I don’t have a glamorous life, and it’s just too hard to pretend I do.” 

I stopped, sighed, and pulled the mesh bag with my hand washing from its hook. I was way behind on laundry, and I wasn’t going to have anything to wear the rest of the week if I didn’t do something about it. “I mean, like this,” I said, hefting the bag. “Behold my life. I guess I just need to know I can be myself, because being anybody else is going to get too exhausting. If that’s what he wants, I need to know.”

She plopped herself down on the bed and reached for a nail file. “I’ll pretend to get that. The fact that you wear Wonder Woman pajamas might be a little too much reality, though. I’m just saying. If he takes one look at you and leaves again, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

“Uh...you’re in your pajamas, too,” I told her.
“And
actually doing personal grooming.”

“I’m just the little sister. Plus, I already puked on him. Nowhere to go but up.”

When Hemi appeared, he was wearing jeans and a T-shirt himself. Which was a relief, but fortunately—or unfortunately—didn’t diminish his attractiveness one little bit. He kissed me on the cheek, then, to my surprise, gave Karen her own kiss before standing back and saying, “Wonder Woman and Catwoman, eh. I’m a bit intimidated, suddenly.”

“That’s our deal,” Karen said, stepping right up to defend my honor. “Love it or leave it. But you have to admit, Catwoman’s
way
more badass. Wonder Woman’s kind of lame.”

He actually laughed at that. “I’ll love it, how’s that. And I’m not going to comment on who’s more badass. I reckon Hope’s got her share.” He put his arm around me and drew me closer.

“Hmm.” I may have had a weak moment, have snuggled up and rubbed my cheek against his chest. Just for a second. “You trying to soften me up or something?”

“Could be,” he said. “Could definitely be.”

Karen sighed. “Guys. PDA. I’m an impressionable teenager.”

“What?” I stood up again, though, and took the plastic bags from Hemi’s other hand. “I’m not allowed to hug?”

“Not like that. No offense, but it’s a little sickening.”

“Speaking of that,” Hemi asked her, “how you goin’? That medicine working?”

She shrugged. “Not too bad.” 

I frowned a little. She’d woken that morning with another headache, I was pretty sure, and the nausea, too, because she’d wanted a smoothie for breakfast again. She said she was doing better, and that the pills helped. I hoped it was true.  

“Tell me how much suffering’s in store for me,” Hemi said when I’d brought over plates, plus juice glasses for the inevitable bottle of wine, and had sat on the couch beside him with Karen on my other side. Cozy, and that was all right with me. “I’m holding out for action, maybe a superhero movie, as you’re both dressed for it, but I’m guessing I may be disappointed.” 

“We
did
try to keep you in mind,” I said. “But I don’t know how you’ll feel about it. Karen and I both wanted to watch a New Zealand movie, since you were going to be here. We found
Whale Rider
, which is supposed to be good. You’ve probably seen it, but would you mind watching it again?” 

He shrugged. “I’ve seen it, yeh. It’s a pretty good film.”

“Plus,” Karen said, “sounds like total girl power.”

It was, too. By the time we were halfway through it, Karen had forgotten that Hemi was with us, was lying curled up with her feet in my lap as usual, and I was stroking my hand over her legs, also as usual. Snuggling, like we did. And if I was lying back against Hemi myself, and he had his arm around me? Well, that was just comfortable. If I got a few tears in my eyes towards the end, that was normal, too. When I cried over real things, the tears hurt too much, but somehow, in a movie, it was different. Anyway, I was allowed to be vulnerable, to be a normal girl, in the dark like this where nobody could see. Surely I was.

 “It’s funny, isn’t it?” I said, doing my best not to sound sniffly when the credits were rolling at last, the haunting music still playing in the background, and Karen had reached a hand out to turn on the light. “You and I were just talking about this last night, Hemi. When you were saying that the Maori legends were all about proving yourself, overcoming your weaknesses. That felt so real just now. I mean, the legends felt real. Like magic, still, but like a...a
real
kind. Not like a fairy tale at all.” I caught myself up, laughed a little. “Even though I know that’s silly.”

“Mm.” His arm was still around me, his fingers rubbing a lock of my hair, and I didn’t want to get up. Not yet. “That’s because it
is
about what’s real. The natural world, I guess you’d call it—it’s not separate for Maori. It’s not ‘nature,’ or if it is, we belong in it, and it’s part of us. We’re all tied together. The ancestors, the family, the ones who’ll come after us. The land and the sky and the sea, and the creatures, too. All together, all part of the same world.”

Wow. That had been a whole lot of sharing for Hemi. The movie must have had an effect on him, too. I wondered if he were ever homesick. It seemed like he’d have to be. 

“So is that movie really what being Maori is like?” Karen asked. “That place—is it like where you’re from? And do you believe all that? The magic part and everything? The legends? Even though you live here now?”

When he didn’t answer for a moment, I worried that she’d offended him. But when he finally spoke, he didn’t sound offended. “I don’t think any one film could tell you that, but it’s a start. Yeh, not too different from where my grandfather lives, that film. And being Maori isn’t just a box you tick on a form. I wouldn’t say I ‘believe’ that people can call to whales, or that whales would answer. I guess I’d say that the legends, the traditions, the waiata—the songs—all of it’s in in your blood, no matter where you live. In your bones.”

Clearly, I’d been right. That he was sometimes homesick, that he cared. But I didn’t push it, because he didn’t go on. Instead, I said, “I see what you mean about Maori women being strong, anyway. And maybe I’m beginning to understand a little more about Maori men.”

“You mean that we’re stubborn buggers?” He was smiling a little now. 

“Maybe,” I said, teasing back. “And that you like having your own way. That one, I’m completely prepared to believe.”

“Well, I didn’t like most of the older guys in it at all,” Karen said. “I kind of hated Pai’s grandfather. He was such a jerk. And her dad was totally worthless. I guess Maori dads are like everybody else, huh? They’re mainly good for yelling and making everybody cry and walking out.”

I could feel Hemi stiffening beside me, the softer moment vanishing. It seemed like forever until he answered, but all he said was, “Some of them are better than others.”

“Your grandfather, maybe,” I said. “Better than your father?”

“Yeh.”

“Well, I liked
her
the best,” Karen said. “Pai. That she was strong and...and fierce. That she didn’t let anybody tell her no. That’s how I plan to be. Not like you, Hope. No offense.”

“Oh, I dunno,” Hemi said before I could answer. “Being fierce isn’t just about fighting, maybe. Could be it’s that other thing, that thing Hope cares most about. Knowing what needs to be done, then going on and doing it, no matter how hard it is. Being steadfast. Isn’t that fierce, too? And doesn’t that sound a bit like Hope?”

There was a lump in my throat now from more than the movie, and I didn’t know how to answer. I stood up and went to put the leftovers into the fridge, and Hemi got up to help me. 

“Before I leave,” he said as he collected dishes and began to stack them next to the sink, “I wanted to ask. Would you like me to get Debra over here on Saturday?”

I glanced at Karen and said, “Uh...could we talk about this later?”

“Geez, why don’t you use sign language?” Karen said, getting up from the couch. “You could just
say.
I’m going. Don’t make out all night, will you? Because...
so
awkward.”

I waited until the bedroom door shut behind her, then turned to Hemi. “You’re thinking I’ll spend the night with you.”

His eyes were wary. “Yeh. I am. Why not, if Karen has somebody with her?”

I filled the sink with hot water and soap and began to scrub at the glasses, and to my surprise, Hemi picked up a dishtowel and prepared to help with the drying.

I swished the dish brush around, put the glasses into the other side of the sink to be rinsed, and finally said, “Because of what Karen said earlier. Because she
is
an impressionable teenager. It’s not really the example I want to set. How am I going to tell her to wait and get to know somebody, to be sure she’s ready for sex, if I sleep with you after a few weeks?”