Witi Ihimaera - Uncle's Story

‘Why did you do that?’ I asked. I had the feeling another shape was shifting in my life.

Roimata tried to hide her emotions with flippancy.

‘Well it works in films and in television ads,’ she said.

She looked at me, as if trying to decide whether to push her point or not. Then decided that the meter had gone too far into the danger zone, so backed off — for now.

‘But that isn’t why I asked you for coffee. Are you able to come to Canada? Next month?’

‘Canada?’

‘There’s a big indigenous arts conference being held in Ottawa. The First Nations people of Canada are hosting it and they’ve invited indigenous representatives from all around the world — Black Africa, the Caribbean, Asia, Europe and, of course, Polynesia. The conference will consider the models available for indigenous cultures in terms of setting up our own network. I’ve already been asked to go but last week, you lucky boy, I emailed them a copy of the submission you wrote for me. They want you to come with me. They’re paying all travel and expenses. Will you?’

‘If the dates work out, yes.’

‘Great.’

‘Now,’ I said gently, ‘that kiss —’

Roimata was silent for a moment. She hated being cornered. She nodded to herself and there was both sadness and acceptance in her eyes.

‘I know you’re gay,’ she began, ‘and you know I’m lesbian. But I love you, Michael, and I wanted you to know it.’

I took Roimata’s hand and kissed it. I was surprised to see tears welling in her eyes. Our relationship had always been unspoken. Amiria was my twin but Roimata and I shared something else. Amiria was part of the old world; with Roimata there was a promise of the new.

The moment grew dangerous. Then:

‘What a pity you’re not a woman,’ Roimata smiled.

‘What a pity you’re not a man,’ I answered.

In every other respect we knew we were made for each other.

At that moment the waiter arrived. ‘More coffee?’ he asked.

‘Yes,’ Roimata said. Her voice was strong and thrilling. ‘He’ll have a tall basketball player —’

‘A long black.’

‘And I’ll have —’

‘A flat white?’ I laughed.

‘Yes,’ she nodded. ‘A dead Pakeha.’

In the evening there was a knock on the door. I went down the stairs to answer it.

‘Jason.’

My heart leapt in my chest at the sight of him. He was looking stunning, and absence only made him look more desirable. Without thinking I went to embrace him but he took a step back.

‘No.’

I stood there looking at him, panicking that I could not touch him. How can you turn something around when the other person won’t let it happen? Jason was trembling, but there was a firm look on his face. I didn’t realise how much courage it had taken him to park his car outside the house that he once lived in and to knock on the door as if he was a stranger.

‘I hear you’ve been looking for me,’ he said. ‘I don’t want you ringing Margo or Graham. The reason why I’ve come is to demand that you don’t do it again.’

Demand? I acknowledged what he was saying with a nod.

‘Won’t you come in?’

‘No,’ said Jason. ‘Now that I’ve said what I want to say, I’ll go.’

Jason started to walk away. Ultimatums have always been to me like a red rag to a bull. I remembered that Jason had always been good at making statements and walking away before I could reply. As if I had no right of reply or that my reply wasn’t of any relevance. There was only so much of that I had ever taken and, as for playing the forlorn lover, it wasn’t a look that I liked. Before I knew it, I was walking after him and getting between him and his car. I wasn’t about to be rejected without a fight.

‘I wish you had told me to stay out of your life before I went to Amiria’s wedding. It would have saved me the bother of coming out to my folks.’

Jason pushed past me. Whatever Margo’s therapy was doing for him, he was certainly not taking anything lying down.

‘I won’t take physical intimidation,’ he said, ‘and I won’t be made responsible for what you said to your parents.’

‘You were the one who wanted me to do it!’

Before either of us could prevent it, we were arguing again, our voices echoing along the street, going over all that stuff, raking it back up.

‘I may have suggested it,’ Jason said, ’but the decision was yours, not mine, and it was time you came out of the closet. Margo was always saying in our sessions you can’t live a life of freedom until you come out; by doing so, you also come out to yourself, not just to the world. As far as you’re concerned, I was only trying to provide you with an example of how you denied me. In all the time we were together you never put me first. Whenever we walked down the street and saw any of your family, your Maori relatives or friends, you always seemed embarrassed I was with you. I got sick and tired of answering the phone and pretending I was your — your room mate.’

‘That’s unfair,’ I answered. ‘I was never embarrassed. Don’t try to palm off your feelings of embarrassment on me. If you felt that way it wasn’t my fault.’

‘How was I expected to feel? Listen to your message on the answerphone. What does it say? Not “Jason and I are not in right now” but “ We’re not in right now.” Your voice is giving the message. You never ever considered what this made me look like. Not a partner. Just an anonymous somebody else who lived in the flat.’

I thought about that and conceded. However:

‘You could have changed the message,’ I said. ‘Why didn’t you?’

‘The flat’s in your name and you never gave me permission.’

It was beginning again, the descent into accusations and recriminations where guilt was situational, something unthought of until pointed out. I tried again.

‘We’ve talked about all of this before, and it was the reason why I came out to Mum and Dad. To make legitimate what we were to each other. I know there were times when I didn’t realise how you felt —’

‘Whenever you had to meet clients, did you ever introduce me as your lover?’

‘Did you ?’

‘I’m not the one answering the questions, Michael, so don’t try to change the subject. Well, I can tell you the answer. No, you never did. You preferred, in fact, to take your girlfriend, Roimata, rather than me.’

I felt helpless. I was always having to provide proof, proof and more proof, more and more signs that I loved him. When would I ever find the holy grail?

Jason stared at me. He wrenched away, opened the door of his car and stepped in.

‘You’ve never understood me, Michael. Never.’

The line between us snapped and I could see him spinning away, spinning, spinning, and I reached out to grab him before it was too late —

‘I don’t want to lose you,’ I said.

Tears began to stream down Jason’s eyes. ‘When I’m with you, all my old feelings for you come back. But I have to figure out whether that’s because I really want to come back or if I’m doing it only because it’s what you want. I’m all mixed up, Michael, and talking to you only confuses me more. Did I get into my relationship with you because I needed to be loved? I’ve never really known what my needs are. As I said before, this has got nothing to do with you. It’s about who I am and what I want. Margo says I have to find the child in me. I have to touch him. Nurture him. Once I have found him, then I can begin to heal myself. I asked you to wait for me. Please be here when I come back.’

He started the car. Burnt rubber as he put his foot on the accelerator.