Her matter-of-fact statement about the Sisterhood’s violence shocked me. “Are you saying that Nafanua and her sisters would harm people – and you were okay with that?”
Steel had replaced the smiley friendliness on Mrs. Amani’s countenance. “I’m saying that your mother and her sisters ensured the safety of the countless battered women who seek refuge here. If you had seen the pain and suffering our residents have endured, you would not be so quick to condemn Nafanua’s actions.” She took a heavy folder out of the filing cabinet behind her. “This is our paperwork on all the incidents we have had in the last two months. Everything ranging from graffiti and vandalism of the premises to threats, rocks through the windows, and the most recent – a knife attack on one of our frequent residents. A woman with a long history of domestic abuse. She’s in critical condition at the hospital.” She opened a file of photographs and I flinched instinctively at the array of pain displayed there.
Photographs of women with purple bruises, black eyes, stitches. Women in casts and bandages. Misery and hurt.
Suddenly, a boyfriend who hadn’t called when he said he would didn’t rank very high on the list of what’s truly important. It hit me then, that in spite of all its greenery and cheerfully painted classrooms, the Center was a place where misery came for help. “Have you reported these to the police?”
A brisk nod. “Of course. That’s where most of this paperwork comes from. Witness interviews, medical reports, accounts from the repainting, and repairs for the vandalism. But the police have always been less helpful than they could be. I cannot even begin to count how many times I have taken a woman to report an assault and had the receiving officer ask, ‘Is that it? Is that your only injury? Are you sure you want to go to all the trouble of making a report for just that?” Mrs. Amani shook her head wryly. “No, the police have not been very helpful. Which is why I asked to meet with you. I would like you to approve a security detail expense in our annual operating budget. We currently have two night watchmen who are on rotating shifts, but they are elderly gentlemen who are more a fixture than a real security presence. We need a 24-hour security team of at least four guards, all of whom are able and confident to take on any threats to our residents and property. What do you think?”
“Of course I’ll approve that. I don’t know how to access Nafanua’s funds,” a wince, “because I was sort of busy when the lawyer Mr. Thompson was going over the details of stuff with me but I can get in touch with him now and clear the money.”
“The money can wait, I just needed to get your approval before going ahead and contracting the security company. This won’t be cheap. The annual cost is going to blow our original budget.”
I waved away the warning. “Whatever it takes is fine.”
We spent the next half hour going over other Center details and the time flew. Folole interrupting us with an offer of afternoon tea, startled me. Had it really been that long?
I declined food and Mrs. Amani walked me back to my car. The courtyard was filled with activity this time round. Children playing and laughing. Women of all ages feeding their babies and sitting in the shade talking and relaxing. I turned to the woman walking beside me. “There’s a nice feeling here. Kind of like a closeness, a community. I like it.”
Mrs. Amani beamed proudly. “Yes, we try. Our residents have been through a lot of traumatic things and for many the nightmare is far from over, but we are a family here. This is a respite. A sanctuary. Even if only for a short while. Even if …” The shadow of a frown flitted across her face.
“Even if what?”
A shrug. “Even if most of these women end up back in their violent relationships again. We try to give them the tools they need to break free from their dependent destructive cycle but they come, they stay for a while and then they go.” She stopped at the gate. “And then they come back again. And we get them the medical help they need and start all over again. Until the next time. And the ones who suffer the most?” She pointed to the knot of youngsters on the swing set. “The children.”
I looked, but my attention was caught by the young girl sitting at a wooden slat bench by herself. She had her iPod earphones on and she was scowling at everyone and anyone. It was the teenager from Mrs. Amani’s class earlier. I nodded at her. “Who is that?”
Mrs. Amani followed my gaze and her eyes softened. “That’s Teuila. Her mother is Siela, the woman who was knifed.”
“Oh.” I didn’t know what to do with that information. “Doesn’t she have any other family?”
“Siela is a sex worker – even though prostitution supposedly doesn’t exist in Samoa, ha. The extended family shuns them because of it and so when things like this happen, they’re on their own. Siela and Teuila are in and out of the Center a lot. This attack was the worst so far though. Her mother’s boyfriend has been charged with assault but if history is anything to go by, Siela will probably withdraw her testimony. I suspect the boyfriend has been abusing Teuila as well but, so far, she’s not saying anything to the counselor.” Mrs. Amani shrugged dejectedly. “We see this a lot. The mother will forbid the child to speak to anyone about what’s going on at home and threatens them badly enough that they will never call the police – even if their mother is getting beaten to death. Siela’s neighbors called the police and the only reason they were able to arrest the boyfriend is because he was injured himself and still at the scene.”
As if she knew we were talking about her, Teuila looked over in our direction. The anger in her eyes as she glared at us was a thick, malevolent thing. Mrs. Amani sighed. “Teuila has a lot of anger and very little outlet for it. But can you blame her for hating the world? She’s been dealt a rough deal. All we can do is try to earn her trust. I wish there was some way we could protect her better though. Once Siela is recovered, she will take Teuila with her and she will be forced to endure the same thing all over again.”
It wasn’t until I was in my Jeep driving away that I realized who Teuila reminded me of. The sullen face and attitude?
Me. A year ago.
My morning at the Center had made an unexpected impact on me. I went to register for the school year at National University. Alone. Simone wouldn’t be back from his New Zealand holiday until the weekend but I consulted with him via Twitter to co-ordinate my courses with his so that we would have at least a few classes together. All the while though, my thoughts were still back at the Center. While I stood in lines, filled in forms, and skimmed through my course schedule, I kept thinking about the children playing in the sandpit with carefree abandon. The women in the classrooms. I had to admit, that no matter what crimes my mother had committed in her long life – there were some things she had done right. And they were things I wanted to do as well. Unbidden, Salamasina’s condemning words, So you are your mother’s daughter, after all. In this one thing at least, I could be proud to answer yes. But how? What could I do to help?
It wasn’t until my registration papers had been processed and my timetable printed that I realized how I could try and help girls like Teuila. I could set up a few basic self-defense courses and maybe even some martial arts classes at the Center. My Dad had sent me to muay thai through most of my childhood because I’d always had an ‘anger management problem’ and my favorite part about it had been the chance it gave me to beat the heck out of a kick bag three times a week. I never got very good at muay thai, but I always felt better after a workout session. At best, martial arts could give the girls at the Center some self-defense tips and some added confidence. At the very least, they could get a workout and feel marginally better about the crap life had handed them. Operation Kick-Butt was now commencing.
My step lightened and I was smiling as I accelerated the Wrangler out the imposing university gates. There’s no way I could teach the classes but I was sure I could find people in Samoa who could. If there was one thing I had learned from growing up with rich people? It was that money could make things happen. And lots of money could make seemingl
y impossible things happen.
I did some online research. Made some phone calls. Googled a few things. Cleared my plan with Mrs. Amani. Made a few appointments with key people I would need to hire for the plan to work. Went to several sports equipment suppliers and spent up big, wielding my Visa card with purposeful frenzy. Sending silent prayers of thanks for Thomas’ insistence on expanding my line of credit to what had seemed frightening proportions. I arranged for the gear to be delivered to the Center and then stopped at two different gymnasiums to scope things out before I headed home.
I’d had a productive day and I was a good kind of tired when I turned into Matile’s driveway. Right after me, Daniel’s green bomb drove in. It was piled high with welding gear and Okesene was driving but it was definitely Daniel. In blue overalls and a baseball cap.
Finally. Tension eased. Sweet relief. He was back. He was alright. So what if he hadn’t called me? So what if he didn’t want to talk about his conversation with a shark. Or the returning from the ocean grave thing. So what? I had spent the day with people who had real problems. I was blessed to have a gift like Daniel in my life. I slipped out from behind the wheel and ran over to the truck, suffocating him in a hug. His overalls were unzipped to the waist in the humidity of the fast-approaching evening. He smelled of acetylene. Smoke. Steely sweat.
“You’re back.”
He gently loosened my arms from around his neck so he could smile down at me. A tired but happy grin. “Yeah, and I’m dirty, sorry. We’re on our way home from the wharf and I asked Okesene if we could just swing in here for a minute. I forgot my phone at home so I couldn’t call you, and the job was a lot more complex than I thought it would be. We had to overnight in Salelaloga.”
“I was worried. I thought you were mad at me.”
Confusion colored his face. “Why?”
“Because of our discussion the other night. Because I kept bugging you about stuff you didn’t want to talk about. And when you didn’t call me, I thought you were angry at me.”
He shook his head at me ruefully. “Leila, of course I’m not mad at you. I said I didn’t want to think about that stuff and that was it. I haven’t thought about it again. I didn’t know you still would be.”
I winced. What did they say about guys and their ability to think about ‘nothing.’ And their gift for wiping their minds clean of unpleasant conversations when they were done having them? I thought back over the last forty-eight hours and all my obsessing over Daniel and his state of mind. Good one, Leila. He was telling me about the intricacies of the welding job in Savaii, explaining why they had to work another day there when I interrupted it all with a kiss, pulling his face down to meet mine. I didn’t care about the details. He was back. He wasn’t mad at me. I could have kissed him forever but I could sense his discomfort, what with Okesene in the truck.
He pulled back gently, “Hey, I gotta go. Okesene needs to get home and I have to go to paddling club training. I just wanted to stop by and let you know why I hadn’t been in touch.”
I remembered all his emails about his latest sporting obsession, outrigger canoeing. “So when do I get to check out your paddling club?”His tired face lightened into a grin. “You’re in luck. In a few weeks there’s a big Pacific regatta. Lots of races with lots of different paddling clubs that are coming from all over. It’s going to be big. There are clubs invited from New Zealand, Australia, Tahiti, Hawaii, Rarotonga, and American Samoa. Can you come watch? I’m just a novice so I’ll probably come last in all my races. I’ll need lots of encouragement and hot cheerleader support.”
“Of course I’ll come cheer for you. I’ll try to be hot but it’s difficult for me, you know?” I gave him a wide-eyed innocent gaze.
He just rolled his eyes at me. “Whatever!” A laugh and a quick kiss before he turned to leave. Back in his truck, he paused to ask a question before starting the engine.“So did anything interesting happen while I was away?”
I thought about the meeting at the lawyer’s office. The confrontation with Sarona. Her arson attack on Nafanua’s house. The tense conversation with Salamasina. My visit to the Women’s Center. The plans I was already putting into action. Things that could be potentially dangerous for anyone who wasn’t a fire goddess. I would definitely warn him about Sarona. Later. But he didn’t need to know about the rest of it. “Oh, nothing much.” I gave him as convincing a smile as I could muster. For a thug brown girl.
“Nothing much at all.”
The next day was spent Sarona hunting. I wanted to find her before she found me. I drove back up to the Aleisa property. All my mother’s sisters owned homes on the vast estate but each of the houses was boarded up and derelict. No Sarona there. I went to her law office in town but the glass-paneled building was empty and a ‘FOR LEASE’ sign glared at me. No Sarona there either. It was as if the woman had vanished from the island completely. I seethed with frustration. How do you fire blast a weather witch when you can’t even find her?
The next two weeks flew by as I worked with Mrs. Amani on getting martial arts added to the Center program. I told Daniel about my mother’s will and my new responsibilities but was deliberately vague about what I was doing every day at the Center. I think he thought I was giving English lessons or something equally helpful. And safe. I also told him about meeting Sarona, that she was dangerous and we both needed to be on guard. His reaction to the news that she was alive had been much more reserved than mine. A shrug. A pensive look. “I hope she stays out of my way. If I see her on the road when I’m in my truck, I’m going to have a hard time not running her over.”
Overall though, Daniel seemed to be distracted. Distant even. There was something weighing heavily on his mind and he wasn’t ready to share it with me. I didn’t push though. Mindful of our argument the day of the shark attack, I gave him the thinking space he seemed to need. He was crazy busy with work, wanting to finish a project before the university year began. And of course, every evening he had training with the outrigger canoe club, preparing for the regatta. At the end of each day, he didn’t have a lot of energy left over to push me for too many details about mine. So I conveniently left out certain things that I knew he wouldn’t be happy about. Like the Center getting all its windows stoned by a drunken husband of one of the residents. Mrs. Amani calling me after waiting for police that never showed up. And my discreet use of a flame whip to take the idiot down after he had punched out the two security guards.
No, Daniel didn’t need be bothered with inane stuff like that
He didn’t know it, but I was stalking him. Making regular drive-by trips past the welding workshop, just checking there was nobody there who shouldn’t be. Sneaking out at night when Matile and Tuala had gone to bed, so I could park at the end of Daniel’s street. Watching. Waiting. Just in case. So caught up in steel work, he never noticed my Wrangler’s slow drive past but I had caught Salamasina’s eye several times. She had only shaken her head at me. I knew that she had not spoken to Daniel of my visit to the house. Or her warning to leave him alone. There seemed to be an uneasy truce between us. We both agreed that Daniel needed to be protected against Sarona and for now, we would each do our part. Even though we didn’t like each other. Even though I was the reason Daniel needed protecting in the first place.
A new weekend came and with it came Simone. A-flush and a-flutter with stories, energy, and excitement about his holiday. “Girlfriend, it was a dream trip come true. You would not believe who I shared the same gym equipment with. Sonny Bill Williams, the New Zealand All Black rugby star. It’s true. I was going to Les Mills gym with my cousins while I was over there and it was the same gym that Sonny goes to. I died. I just died. He was doing lateral raises right there!” He gesticulated wildly. “He was this close. I swear, some of his sweat droplets fell on me. Oh, I was in heaven. I can’t wait until I go back to Auckland for school next year.”
Simone wanted to study fashion design and had been to check out several programs of study while he
was in Auckland. But his parents wanted him to be an accountant and he was at odds with them over his course choices for the year. “Why can’t you do both?” I suggested. “Fashion designers need to know how to manage their money too, you know. Especially super successful ones who have their own design companies. Which will be you, of course.”
He clapped his hands with glee. “Of course! Fabulous idea. I love it. Solves my inner dilemma and gets my parents off my back. Aren’t you a clever girl.”
Simone loved the idea of sharing an apartment with me and we resolved to start house hunting right away. Things were starting to fall into place. I could almost forget there was an angry telesā out there somewhere with my head on her hit list.
Matile invited Simone to come for dinner and he was thrilled with the chance to rifle through my wardrobe. A thrill that soon faded as he surveyed my khaki and cotton gear. A hand on his hip. “I thought you said you went clothes shopping in New York?”
I had to laugh at the look of disgust on his face as he held up a brown linen shift between two fingers, as if it were something a miserable cat had died on. “I did. My aunt Annette insisted on buying me all new clothes for the school year. They’re just pleased that I’m going to university. They were worried I was going to be a bum. Or a rebel and marry my high school sweetheart and get a job at Walmart.” I laughed at my own joke but Simone didn’t think it was funny. He was too caught up in my new wardrobe from America.
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