Witi Ihimaera - Uncle's Story

‘I was making good time,’ Mrs Davidson said, ‘and had adjusted my driving to the road and the weather conditions. The traffic was pretty busy. That highway between Tauranga and Auckland has always been heavy with traffic. People heading up to Auckland for the weekend. Big trucks wanting to get back to their yards before they closed. Some fools trying to pass on bends or taking risks when there’s oncoming traffic. I had one impatient driver tailgating me for quite a while and, when he passed, he pressed his horn almost as if to say I shouldn’t be on the road with my little Mini. So I gave him the fingers. Anyway, the heater was working, the windscreen wipers were doing their job and I was feeling pretty good, and quite excited about a date with somebody I’d never met.

‘Let me think, it must have been about quarter to five when I saw the crossroads where the Tauranga highway joins the main highway from Hamilton to Auckland. I was checking my lipstick in the rear-view mirror and humming to myself. I was going around a bend when I had the puncture. I heard a bang and, next minute, the car was sliding all over the road. I managed to get it under control and pulled over to the side. At the time I didn’t realise how dangerous my position was. On a bend. The rain and darkness. I kept waiting for somebody to slow down and help me. No such luck. There were certainly no gentlemen on the road that night! All those cars kept on streaming past, swerving to get around me, horns blaring. Mind you, who could blame them? The rain was really atrocious. So I thought to myself, “Oh, well, there’s nothing for it, Anne-Marie, except to get out of the car and change the bloody tyre yourself.” In one second I was drenched. My dress was soaked. My hairstyle flopped across my forehead like wet candyfloss. My shoes were ruined. But I got the spare tyre out, and the jack, and was just about to get to work when, among the stream of cars going past, one stopped. It’s rear backing lights came on. It backed up fast. A young man jumped out. He was Maori. It was your Uncle Sam.’

‘What the hell —’

Sam swore as he saw the car in front of him brake, swerve and narrowly avoid a small car that had broken down on the side of the highway. He braked too, swung hard on the steering wheel and, in the headlights, caught a glimpse of a woman in a white-sequined ballgown. She was struggling with a spare tyre. Her dress sparkled in the light and then was gone like small glowing stars falling to earth. For a split second he almost kept driving. He thought of Cliff, waiting at the airport, but then braked, reversed and switched off the ignition. He glanced quickly at his watch. He could spare five minutes. He got out of the car and ran through the rain.

‘I could never resist a woman in a white dress.’

‘Thank God,’ Anne-Marie said. ‘I was thinking that nobody would stop.’

‘You look like a drowned cat,’ Sam said. ‘Why don’t you go and sit in my car out of the rain. I’ll have this done in a jiffy.’

‘I think I’m past caring. I’ll get the torch out of the glove box. You might need some light.’

‘The sooner we get you off this bend the better,’ Sam nodded.

With that, he was cranking the car up, slipping the jack underneath and unscrewing the wheel nuts. Anne-Marie came back and shone the light on the hub of the tyre. She saw Sam’s face, the rain falling into it, as if he was transparent. He had a strong profile and lovely dark eyes.

‘How come you’re dressed like that?’ Sam asked.

‘I’m supposed to be going to a ball tonight,’ Anne-Marie answered. ‘I doubt my partner would want me to accompany him now. I mean, look at me.’

‘You look gorgeous,’ Sam said. ‘If your boyfriend doesn’t like you wet, ditch him and find somebody else. So what’s your name?’

With a yank, Sam pulled the punctured tyre off the hub.

‘Anne-Marie.’

‘Pleased to met you, Anne-Marie.’

Sam positioned the wheel. Reached for the screws and began to tighten them on.

‘And you?’ Anne-Marie asked.

‘I’m Sam Mahana. I’m on my way to the international air terminal to meet up with my mate. I’ve got plenty of time.’

At that moment, another car stopped and backed. An elderly man stepped out with an umbrella and hazard light, and ran to join Sam and Anne-Marie.

‘Goodness me,’ he said. ‘Are you just about done? I’d better go up the road a bit and try to get the traffic to slow down until you’ve finished.’

‘But it was too late,’ Mrs Davidson said. ‘From out of the rain came one of those big long trucks with trailers. It was festooned with lights. I saw the old man almost disappear into them, almost as if the truck had eaten him up. Luckily he was able to leap to one side out of its way. I can still remember how the lights from the truck blazed on Sam. He was kneeling. He had the wheel brace in his hands. He was screwing one of the screws on the tyre. Then everything seemed to happen in slow motion. Sam cried out my name, “Anne-Marie.” All of a sudden he was reaching for me. Picking me up. He threw me across the bonnet of the car and out of danger. I can remember, as I tumbled in the air, thinking how strong he was. I heard the screech of brakes. The klaxon of the truck blaring like an air-raid siren. I had a brief glimpse of Sam in its headlights. He was beating at something in the air. Then the truck slammed into my car, and Sam disappeared.

‘I must have hit the ground at that point. When I stood up all I could see was this mangled mess on the highway. The truck had stopped. Everywhere, traffic was stopping. I ran back. I couldn’t see Sam at first and I thought, “Thank God, he’s been thrown clear.” Then I heard a groan and I saw him. The car was on top of him. I’ve seen accident victims before. I knew there was no way in which he was going to live —’

‘God have mercy.’

Sam saw the headlights of the truck bearing down on him, and he remembered the owl on the night he and Cliff had driven from the wedding. The owl had cried out a name — Sam hadn’t been too sure whose. Now he knew it had been his. He was glad that it wasn’t Cliff’s.

The truck hit him. It came out of the dark, blazing like a Christmas tree. The impact was loud, fast, blinding.

For a moment Sam thought, ‘Why, that doesn’t hurt at all.’

A second later his body was in agony as the truck shunted Anne-Marie’s car over his chest. He tried to scream out with pain but found that he couldn’t. He felt something squeezing at his heart and knew it was Death. He turned his head a little and saw Anne-Marie’s shoes. She was crying out his name.

‘Sam? Oh, God, Sam.’

He heard other footsteps. The elderly man. The truck driver slamming the door of his truck as he got out. All the sounds were magnified. He could hear them clear as crystal. He groaned.

‘Oh, my God,’ he heard Anne-Marie cry. ‘He’s under the car.’

Then she was there. Reaching for him. Sliding under, her face so close to his that he could have kissed her. Lifting his head onto her white dress. As she did so, something rattled inside his chest as if he was broken. He screamed when he heard it, the blood flying like spray and splattering Anne-Marie’s dress.

‘No —’

Anne-Marie tried to motion to him that it was nothing to worry about. Her eyes were streaming with tears.

‘You shouldn’t be the one who’s crying,’ Sam said. ‘After all, I’m the one who’s stuck under your car. Unless — you want to change places? And you mustn’t cry. I hate it when a pretty girl cries.’

He tried to reach up and wipe Anne-Marie’s tears away but ended up in another paroxysm of spouting blood.

‘Oh, God!’ he screamed. ‘It hurts. It hurts .’