The Dream Swimmer, page 39
Okay, if this was the way she wanted it, this is the way she would have it. I spat at the entrance of her cunt. Shocked, she looked down at the spittle sprayed on her pubic hair.
‘You disgusting –’
I stood up on the bed. Then I grabbed her by the legs and pulled her by the arse until her thighs were locked around mine. I spat again.
‘If you’re here for one thing, we’d better get it over and done with then.’
She began to struggle. Her body was cantilevered on mine. Her head was dragging on the pillows, her hair swirling around her like kelp.
I held her by the waist, balancing the small of her back on my forearm. I was so angry. With my other hand I took my cock and positioned it at the head of her vagina. Clear fluid from the head oozed its lubrication on to the outer folds of her vulva. I began to dip the head in, watching it swell and jerk at every sweet dip.
Only then did Tepora begin to respond. Her eyes widened and she hissed out one word:
‘No.’
But it was too late for her. Too late for me. I had to get in her. I thrust to the hilt and she sucked in the air with the pain.
She was a virgin. So that was it.
The act itself was joyless, mechanical. A couple of savage pumps and I pulled out and sprayed her with my semen.
‘That’s all you’re worth,’ I said. ‘Now get out.’
There were tears in Tepora’s eyes. ‘I never want to see you again,’ she said.
‘Fine,’ I answered. ‘You got what you wanted. I got what I wanted.’
She left my bed. The stains of her virginity, taken that night, were on the sheets.
I didn’t know it then, but Tepora went straight to Hamiora’s house. She woke him up. She said the words that he had been waiting for.
‘I love you,’ she told him.
Then she slept with him.
I didn’t see Tepora all that week. But Hamiora’s eyes were shining with love. He was on top of the world as he told me what had happened. I said nothing.
The next Friday night, Tepora stepped out of the shadows.
‘The first time we made love I did it out of hate,’ Tepora said.
‘Hate?’ I asked. Tepora wasn’t making sense.
‘I did it because I had to,’ she continued. ‘This time I want to.’
Her eyes were glowing. She wanted me to ride her high and I did as she wanted. She grabbed my hips when I tried to pull out of her but she held me in. I looked down at her.
Again, when Tepora left, she went to Hamiora.
And so the pattern continued.
‘Does Hamiora know?’ Billy asked when, inevitably, he found out.
‘No,’ I said. ‘Hamiora doesn’t know.’
Truth to tell, I had no conscience about what I was doing to Hamiora. Worse, somehow, I wanted him to find out about me and Tepora.
‘Does Hamiora know about me?’ I asked. I was lying on the floor with Tepora, rubbing ice cubes around her nipples. I was feeling angry, used again.
‘Of course not,’ Tepora answered.
‘Why not?’ The ice was trickling between her breasts, down towards her pubic triangle. The taste on my mouth was like cold salt. I flicked it into places that made her shiver.
‘It would kill him,’ she said. ‘He loves me.’
‘And you? Do you love him?’ I began to feather her thighs apart with my tongue.
‘You know that I do.’ As always, her statement was a challenge.
I was curious. ‘So what’s the difference between us?’ I asked.
‘You’re an animal,’ Tepora said. ‘Hamiora’s an angel. I don’t deserve him. But you and I, we deserve each other.’
The way she said it was punitive, accusing.
And, after Tepora left me, she went to Hamiora.
In the end, it wasn’t my conscience but my need to take control of the situation that made me disclose to Hamiora what was happening. I saw Tepora as a girl playing fanciful games. It was time for her to grow up, and time for Hamiora to open his eyes to the truth, as ugly as that might be for him. And I had decided I didn’t want to share Tepora.
One night, I told Hamiora to come to the flat.
I said that I would leave the door open.
From the door he saw what I wanted him to see.
And I watched him watching. Tepora never knew he was there. She was threshing, biting my shoulders, caught up in the ecstasy that drove the collision of my pubic bone against Tepora’s puckered mount, our voices joining together in mutual desire.
Three days passed, and I heard from Hamiora that he was leaving for Australia. I went to see him. I put my hand on his shoulders and made him turn to me. He began to shiver and I caressed him, saying, ‘There, there.’
Later, I looked deep into his eyes and saw darkness.
‘It meant nothing to me,’ I said.
His eyes began to brim with tears. ‘Is that all you have to say to me?’ he asked. ‘I hope you rot in hell, Tamatea.’
Of course, Tepora found out what I had done.
‘You shouldn’t have let him see me like that,’ she said. ‘Don’t you understand? He loved me, and he saw us?’ Then her face flashed with sadness. ‘You planned it all along, didn’t you, you bastard.’
As soon as I had seen Tepora I had wanted her. If wanting is loving then, yes, I planned it.
I knew I loved Tepora.
Thirty-seven
All this deceit was highly unpromising material from which to fashion a relationship, and I was unsure whether Tepora and I would be able to surmount the dynamic that had bound us both with Hamiora in some unholy triumvirate. When, after some weeks, Tepora returned to me, I thought we had managed it. What I didn’t know was that Tepora had gone to Sydney to try to find Hamiora. When she returned, she said, ‘I love you, Tamatea.’
We had only been three weeks apart, but we flew back into each other’s arms and held each other tight. The wheel had gone full circle, and I believed Tepora. In particular I believed that she, as much as I, wanted to make some effort to make good our relationship despite the damage we had done to one another and Hamiora.
I wasn’t to know until much later that, for Tepora, there was another reason.
In 1966 I began my second year of law.
I had done very well in my first year and, as a consequence, both Riripeti’s estate and the Wi Pere Trust decided to give me scholarships. I was thus able to wipe my hands of grandfather’s mean-minded support and not be tempted by Uncle Alexis and his seductive offers.
Meantime, Billy had decided not to proceed with his studies. When our flat broke up, I moved to a small cottage in Karaka Bay.
‘Will you come and live with me?’ I asked Tepora.
When she said ‘Yes’ I thought that meant we wanted to be together.
Those were halcyon days. Tepora began to teach at Seatoun Primary School. We began to enjoy our relationship. Billy remained a good friend but, otherwise, we kept to ourselves. We swam in the freezing water of Wellington Harbour, and at night made love again and again and again.
Tepora was visiting her mother when one night I had a surprise visitor. Te Ariki was making a quick visit to Wellington on Wool Board business.
‘So this is where you live?’ Dad said as we hugged. ‘I’ve missed you, Son.’
At that moment, Tepora arrived.
‘This is my father,’ I said.
I wasn’t prepared for the look of terror that passed across Tepora’s face, nor the way she stepped back into the shadows. Then, ‘Hello,’ she said. She went to shake Dad’s hand but he pulled her into an affectionate embrace. She stiffened, but Te Ariki didn’t seem to notice.
‘So you’re my son’s girl,’ he said, and a look of recognition passed through his eyes, as if he was trying to think what was familiar about her. Whatever it was he could not recall it.
Relieved, Tepora smiled. ‘Won’t you stay?’ she asked.
But no, Dad was already on his way back to Gisborne.
Of course Te Ariki reported Tepora to Tiana. My mother was burning with anger. ‘So who is this girl?’ Tiana asked. ‘Who is she?’
‘At least she’s a Maori,’ I heard Dad protesting in the background.
‘What do you know of her?’ Tiana persisted. ‘Who is she?’
Easter came, and I wanted to go home to Gisborne. I had begun to receive disquieting news that Grandfather Ihaka was again making an attack on my mana. The adult Toroa, son of Awhina, the woman to whom Te Ariki had been betrothed and who’d reputedly been pregnant by him when he had married Tiana, had arrived in Gisborne. Confident and charming, Toroa had worked his way into Grandfather’s life. That foolish old man had never accepted the destiny that had decreed that I become the firstborn male grandchild. He became Toroa’s champion, trying to turn back the clock. Trying to put destiny, as he had always desired it, back on course.
When my sisters had first mentioned Toroa I was not alarmed. When we spoke on the telephone Teria would say casually, ‘By the way, you know that boy, Toroa? Well, Aunt Floria says that Grandfather Ihaka is right. She says Toroa really is our brother.’ Or Erina would write, ‘I bumped into our cousin Sammy yesterday and he asked me, “How’s your brother?” I said you were well and he laughed and said, “Not Tamatea, your other brother.”’
Then Uncle Alexis got into the act. ‘So another star has risen in the east?’ he said.
Tepora seemed to take the threat to my mana more seriously than I did.
‘You must do something,’ she said, ‘before it is too late. If you don’t, all may be lost. Do not let Ihaka do this.’
Tepora was right to fear for my future. I had always been contemptuous of Grandfather Ihaka and put no store in his abilities. I had forgotten that he could be persuasive, especially where the family was concerned. Their stunning abdication to his side when he called them to acknowledge Toroa surprised me. But I did not feel any sense of threat until nearer to Easter. As a postscript to one of her letters Teria added, ‘Oh yes, I should tell you that Toroa – you know, the one Grandfather says is our brother – well, he’s living in Grandfather’s house.’
The first territorial incursion had been struck.
‘Your grandmother warned you,’ Tepora said. ‘Do not let it go further. It threatens all of us.’
I asked Tepora to come with me to Gisborne, but she refused, saying she wanted to spend the time with her mother. At the time, I didn’t question the disparity between my own scant knowledge of Tepora’s family, such as it was, and her apparent, often outspoken involvement with mine. I never queried her interest in the Mahana family’s upheavals while remaining resolutely silent about her own. All I knew was that her father had died when she was very young and that her mother, a Maori, had gone back to her people and put Tepora in boarding school. Now she had cancer.
‘I’d like to visit your mother when I get back,’ I said.
Tepora shook her head. ‘No, my mother doesn’t allow anybody who’s not family to see her as she is. She was always such a proud woman. She still is. I just don’t understand why she had to suffer so terribly.’
Tepora began to sob, punching me with her fists as if her mother’s cancer was my fault.
That Easter I fought for my mana.
First, to make sure of the ground I asked Te Ariki, ‘Is Toroa your son?’ If my father said yes I would at least accept Toroa as my brother.
Te Ariki said, ‘No.’
The whole family had therefore joined Grandfather Ihaka’s side, not only against my father but also against me
Second, I went looking for Toroa and when I found him I renounced him.
‘All are witness to my words, Toroa. Find peace wherever you can, but do not expect to find it with me and mine, or my father and his. You are neither my brother nor his son.’
As I stepped away and turned from him, I heard a primeval scream like a cyclone in my blood. But it was too late. It was already done.
I knew that my third fight would be with Grandfather Ihaka himself, he who had begun this war. Just before I was due to return to Wellington, we had our showdown.
I was sitting on Pakowhai marae when it happened. The Mahana clan, all the locals and many visitors were there. Suddenly, I saw Grandfather Ihaka arrive with Toroa. Grandfather saw me and his eyes blazed with anger. He motioned Toroa to remain where he was and came hastening towards me. I stood as he approached. He raised his walking stick and began to rain blows upon me.
‘You, Tamatea,’ he said. ‘How dare you –’
His attack stunned the marae into silence. I was caught unawares. One of the blows caught just below my left eyebrow and I felt blood splash across my face.
‘Grandfather, I warn you –’
‘– intervene against my whangai, Toroa. You know nothing. You –’
‘– to stop this attack. Toroa? I will fight him and you, Grandfather –’
‘– are of no account. Do you hear me? That boy, Toroa, is my heir. He is your father’s eldest son –’
‘– you will not win against me, although you have tried all these years and particularly since Riripeti died. She warned me never to trust you and she was right. But you had to wait until she died, didn’t you? You wouldn’t have had the guts to try anything while she was alive –’
‘– and your eldest brother. The rights are his not yours. And your grandmother has nothing to do with this. This is just between you and me, Tamatea –’
‘– but now that she’s gone, you make your move. Well, Grandfather, I’ll fight you both, and on the marae if I have to.’
Always talking past each other. Always at war. Always the bitterness, the anger. Until Uncle Alexis, shocked, separated us. And Grandfather Ihaka was panting with exertion.
‘So,’ he said. ‘You want a fight, ay? Ay?’
‘Don’t push me, Grandfather.’
And that’s when Grandfather did it. He played his grandest card in the game of winner take all.
He strode into the middle of the marae and, speaking in Maori, made his case for Toroa.
‘I wish to pronounce publicly,’ Grandfather Ihaka said, ‘that this boy, Toroa, is the eldest of his generation. Upon him will fall my mantle when I am gone.’
I was cold with sorrow and fury.
My mother, Tiana, looked from one Mahana to another, asking, ‘Will none of you support Tamatea?’ One by one they averted their gaze. Only Aunt Hiraina made a motion of support.
‘So be it,’ Tiana said.
The marae can be the loneliest place in the world. It is even lonelier when you are the Beloved of Riripeti and can see such mass defection not only from yourself but also from the woman who wore pearls in her hair, the matriarch whom they once followed.
It must have been thinking about Grandmother Riripeti that did it. Half perceived through the mists of childhood, I saw Grandfather Ihaka bringing Awhina, Toroa’s mother, toward the matriarch. The child, Toroa, four years old, was with his mother. Grandmother struck Grandfather Ihaka across the face. Then Grandmother pushed Awhina to the ground. Toroa began to run to his mother, and Grandmother, turning to him, raised her hands and started to squeeze the air –
‘So be it,’ I said.
Grandfather Ihaka had lifted his arms to Toroa, saying, ‘Come forward, eldest son. Come to my blessing.’ Everybody was watching Toroa as he walked toward Grandfather Ihaka. Everybody, that is, except for Tiana. Ah yes, she saw it all.
I stood up. I put both hands in the air. Like Riripeti had done, I too squeezed.
Toroa started to gasp, to fight against an invisible presence. I squeezed even tighter and he was forced to the ground. People rushed to help him. Bewildered, Grandfather Ihaka tried to support him. Then he knew.
‘No.’ Grandfather Ihaka cried.
‘Enough, Tamatea,’ Tiana said.
I stopped and Toroa reeled away.
Grandfather started to weep. I said in a voice only he could hear: ‘You wanted evidence as to who was the eldest, and now you have it. Give Toroa your mantle, you foolish old man. I have no need of it. But cease to place him above me. Next time, I will kill him. I will aim for the heart, cut it out and eat it.’
I returned to Wellington.
I told Tepora what had happened. I told her that Grandfather Ihaka had taken farewell of Toroa. Grandfather had loved him dearly, as much as he had loved Awhina; now, both had been lost to destiny. Toroa had bowed to Grandfather, kissed his hand and held it to his cheek. Then Toroa left the district.
My life at university, and with Tepora, resumed.
Oh, I wish I had known that Tepora, too, was part of the web of deceit. She made me think that I was in control of our lives. All I could see was my part of the spiral, not the double helix that Tepora was part of. Nor could I see that the mate was curled within the helix, hiding itself, waiting.
It’s easy to see why I was so blind. I was totally in love, and I was greatly enjoying my studies. I had finally come to grips with those mystical things called moots and torts. I was also starting to understand that the New Zealand legal system was built for one race. The principle that there should be only one sovereign rule was totally at odds with the whole partnership concept of the Treaty of Waitangi. I was constantly flexing my muscles, asking my lecturers why the Treaty was not the basis for New Zealand law. When a visiting lecturer from Great Britain gave a lecture extolling the Westminster system, I finally vented my frustration.
To warm applause, the lecturer summarised:
‘Therefore, ladies and gentlemen, English settlement brought the rule of law to an uncivilised country, and on that foundation has been laid the modern society we know today as New Zealand.’
Questions were invited from the floor. I didn’t have a question, but I did want to point out a fallacy in the lecture. With all the passion of youth I noted, ‘Sir, it is not correct to consider New Zealand prior to the Pakeha as being uncivilised and needing a legal framework. We, the Maori, had a system of law based on tapu, noa and hierarchical structures.’
The lecturer was patronising. ‘I take your point,’ he answered, ‘but English settlers provided a better law for Maori people.’
