Witi Ihimaera - Uncle's Story

‘Yes, it was Tunui a te Ika. What was it doing around this American boy’s neck?’

Arapeta looked at Sam. Disarmed by love, Sam was defenceless. Arapeta saw into his soul.

George turned to Sam: ‘Did you know he could do this?’

‘No,’ Sam answered. His face was alight. He watched as Cliff wound his act to full lift-off and pulled Patty squealing onto the floor.

‘So if your baby leaves you —’

He had her in his arms. Leaning over her. Dropping her to the floor. He didn’t see Arapeta trying to push through to him.

‘And you’ve got a tale to tell —’

Now it was Anita’s turn. Clutch, pelvic grind, lay her down, yeah, baby. Arapeta was closed out behind a wall of cheering onlookers.

‘Just take a walk down Lonely Street

to Heartbreak Hotel —’

Cliff signed to Sam:

Meet me at the doorway and let’s get out of here.

Grinning, Sam signed back:

You betcha, Illinois boy.

He started to move towards the door. At that moment Arapeta forced his way to the front of the crowd, grabbed for Cliff — and missed.

Cliff made an exit to bring the house down. He pulled out all the stops. Sam had lit the fuse and Cliff exploded .

‘And you’ll be so lonely buh-huh-by —’

Sam waved to George and indicated to Florence that they were going now.

‘So loh-honh-nely —’

One last swivel and a groan of desire. The girls yelled out to him, ‘Don’t go, Cliff, don’t go!’ But a sneer, a bop and a pelvic thrust, and he left them crying for more.

‘You’ll be so lonely you could die!’

And Sam and Cliff were away, running out of there, making for the car. Patty and the girls crowded the door, yelling ‘Cliff!’, and Patty stumbled after him. Cliff slipped in the dark and Sam, laughing, found himself rolling down a small bank. Cliff embraced him, and wouldn’t let go, drawing him into a kiss that took Sam’s breath away. Then they were up and off again, into the car. Roaring away.

Arapeta reached the doorway of the hall just as the car turned out of the gateway. His blood was pounding with anger and fear. The girls were waving. He heard somebody vomiting in the bushes and saw that it was Patty. The beer had finally got the better of her. Her eyes were red, and she moaned as she brushed past her father and went back into the hall. He held her and wouldn’t let her get away.

Far in the distance, Arapeta saw the lights of Sam’s car as it braked at the corner.

‘Go and get your mother,’ Arapeta said to Patty.

He had bitten into his lip and blood was welling from it.

‘We’re going back to the farm. Tonight.’

Sam sped fast through Tolaga Bay. Soon they were on the coast road back to Gisborne. The road was a ribbon of moonlight curving through shadowed valleys. They were still laughing hysterically when, all of a sudden, something swooped, beating its wings against the windscreen. Sam caught a glimpse of hooded eyes and velvet wings and —

‘Sam, watch out!’ Cliff yelled.

Sam wrenched the wheel to the left, as if trying to avoid something. He slammed on the brakes and, next moment, was out of the car, staring into the sky, into the trees. He was on the balls of his feet, leaning forward with clenched fists.

This should have been the happiest night of his life. But on the branch of a tree was a visitor. It glared at Sam, extended its pinions and called out a name — but the name was indistinct.

‘Which one have you come for?’ Sam yelled. ‘Call the name again. Say it —’

Cliff joined Sam on the roadside. ‘What’s up?’

Above him, in the trees, an owl screeched, lifted, and disappeared into the night.

Sam put his hands up to his head, trying to figure it out. He was reeling about, terrified.

It was happening. The owl that George had seen in Vietnam had followed him home. Why? He should have known he couldn’t spit in the face of the gods and get away with it. He was to be punished, and all those around him were being punished too.

Sam turned to Cliff to explain. But what could he say? He saw that Cliff’s shirt was unbuttoned and Tunui a te Ika was against his chest — and something else clicked in:

Mum, pointing at Dad, and Dad moving through the crowd as if he was stalking something. Dad must have seen the hei tiki and —

‘You okay, Sam?’ Cliff asked.

Sam tried to get a hold on himself. He looked back down the road towards the marae and the War Memorial Hall. It wouldn’t be long before Dad came after them. ‘There’s nothing I can do about it,’ he thought. ‘Nothing. Whatever is going to happen will happen.’ Sam turned to Cliff and smiled. With great defiance, he sought Cliff’s mouth. When he broke the kiss, he looked across Cliff’s shoulder at nothing — and everything.

‘We haven’t much time,’ he said.

Ninety minutes later, the car sped through Gisborne. In another thirty minutes they would be home.

And it seemed to Sam that he was racing against Time. The clouds were storming through the night sky, shredding the moon, ripping it to pieces. But the faster he sped, the slower Time became. The clock ticked past the minutes, but every minute became an hour. The closer they came to the farm, the further away it seemed. By the time they reached the homestead, Sam’s heart was thundering with desire and fear.

Then Cliff turned to him with a moan and Sam realised that Fate had closed the door behind him. There was no going back. He had to keep on going forward and hope against hope that there was a way of escape from whatever destiny lay in front of him. And, if there wasn’t —

‘Come with me,’ Sam said.

He took Cliff’s hand and led him away from the homestead. His senses were magnified. He seemed to be both inside and outside his body. Inside was molten carnality. Outside, he could see himself stumbling with Cliff down the track towards the barn. The strong wind eddied among the trees, causing branches and leaves to fall around them. Far off, the wild horses were whinnying. They were uneasy, stamping the ground, trying to find a way out of their enclosure.

The barn door was swinging in the wind. Sam went to close it, to buy them more time, but Cliff couldn’t wait. He was following behind Sam, pulling at Sam’s clothes, ripping them off. By the time Sam reached the ladder into the hayloft his shirt was half off his shoulders. He was climbing the ladder when Cliff reached around his waist and unbuckled his belt.

‘Don’t move,’ Cliff hissed.

Sam groaned and arched and stretched both arms, reaching for the rung above his head. Standing behind him, one rung below, Cliff stared mesmerised with wonder as Sam’s shoulder muscles rippled with light. Sam turned, as if to escape, and Cliff saw that dark nipples spiked the hair of his chest. The light showered like a waterfall into his groin.

Pinned there, Sam felt Cliff’s lips on his neck. Cliff’s hands were around his waist and one of them was sliding under the waistband of Sam’s pants and underpants. Whimpering, Sam felt his trousers falling to his knees.

‘No,’ Sam said.

He clenched his buttocks. Tried to push Cliff away but it was too late. Cliff was undressing on the ladder. His shirt fell away, and Sam gasped at the feel of Cliff’s chest against his back. He made one last attempt to get away, lifting his right leg onto the next highest rung, but Cliff held him tight.

‘God, Sam, your skin is so soft.’

And Sam was gone, gone, gone beyond the point of no return.

With his free hand, Cliff released his belt and Sam felt the rough fabric rasping his skin as Cliff’s trousers and boxers fell to his boots. Cliff’s cock, strong and smooth, jabbing blindly against his inner thighs, trying to find a way in. Cliff’s hands joined his on the rung above Sam’s head, fingers interlocking. Pressed up hard against Sam’s back, Cliff was whimpering with need.