When Water Burns

by Lani Wendt Young

  He had a frown on his face as he sat uneasily on the bench, “Where are we? Can I take this off now?”

  “In a minute, wait up … … now.”

  I reached up and helped him untie the blindfold. He looked around trying to find his bearings as I looked up at the trees and focused on one hundred coconut shell candles, sparked, and then lit them with a single thought. Yes, it worked! His eyes caught on the fire of a multitude of candles suspended from the branches of the flame trees that lined the Samoa College driveway. Around us on the ground, lining the tarseal driveway and standing on all the wooden benches were more candles and lanterns, casting their warm glow. There was a round table on the grass with two chairs draped in white elei print fabric, set for dinner with sparkling crystal ware, a bowl of fragrant white frangipani for a centerpiece. A silver ice bucket with cans of Diet Coke. A three-tiered dessert platter of sweet treats specially ordered from the High Tea team at Plantation House. We were standing in a fiery wonderland of scarlet blossoms mingled with gently swaying buds of flame, and his face broke into an unwilling smile of awe. “It’s amazing. How did you do all this?”

  I thought about working all afternoon with my trio of helpers – Simone, Maleko, and Sinalei – perching precariously at the top of a ladder and clambering through tree branches to tie on candles, but there’s no way I was going to ruin the fairytale effect. I grinned up at him, “Magic?”

  It felt so right to be standing there with him that I almost forgot what I was supposed to say. What I had rehearsed many times in my mind. “There’s a hundred coconut candles up there. And another hundred or so candles and lanterns all around us. That’s a lot of candles, but nowhere near as many as all the memories and meaning that this place has for me. I know our old high school is kind of a weird place to take you on a date, but Samoa College will always be precious to me because it’s where we first met and where our friendship grew.” I pointed to the assembly area. “Over there is where I first saw you conducting an assembly. Up in Ms. Sivani’s classroom is where I first hated you on the debate war field … So many firsts, our first touch, our first laugh, our first time cutting grass on Hard Labor Detention together, and our first explosive kiss. It all happened here.” As the memories flooded, I fought to contain my emotions. Don’t cry, don’t cry. I took a deep breath and kept going. “We talked about telesā for the first time and you asked me a question. You asked me, ‘Leila, if you were a telesā, would you choose me?’ Do you remember that?”

  He nodded, his expression unreadable. I prayed for the courage to say everything I needed to say. “I chose you then. But not as telesā. As Leila Pele Folger, a girl who loves you and needs you to love her back. And then I hurt you but I didn’t understand how or even why you were so upset with me. You told me that you didn’t need a bodyguard, you wanted a girlfriend, someone to walk with you, who would trust you with her heart, her strengths, and all her weaknesses. You said to come back when I was ready to be that girl.”

  I paused to carefully remove the bandage on my arm. Slowly because the skin was still so raw and painful. I bit my lip, wincing a little at the sting as I peeled the last piece of cloth away. His eyes widened with shock to see the tattooed band. “I got this done today. I designed it myself. The patterns in this tattoo represent many of the reasons why I love you.” I moved closer to show him each inked marking in the flickering light. “This is the flame tree flower. A year ago, you stood on this bench and did an impromptu strip tease for me in the middle of lunch hour, in front of hundreds of students – because you wanted to make me smile. Every time I see flame trees, I think of you and how you make me laugh. You stole a piece of my heart that day.”

  “This is the origami ninja star you gave me the day you described me as mysterious, instead of ‘hostile social recluse,’ which is what I usually get tagged as. That’s the day you took me to the pool in the mountains, blindfolded so that you and I would know that the only way I can ever go back there again is with you. You treat me with respect and wonder, like I’m special and unique. You make me feel like a Pacific princess.”

  “This sphere is for rugby. Your strength, power, speed, and courage on the field. And off. The way you took care of me after the fight at the game. The way I always feel safe with you.”

  “These lines and flame marks are for your welding. How you work hard to support your family and balance school with your job and your sport. The fire and passion of your commitment to the values you hold, even when I try to jump you and persuade you to change your mind.” I nudged him and he laughed with me at that one.

  “The crested wave is what you promised you would be to me. The water that keeps me real, focused, and in control. It’s for the day you risked your life for mine, rescuing me from that shark. Your willingness to give everything for the ones you love.”

  I stopped, too choked with tears to carry on with the rest of the tattoo designs. “What I’m trying to say, is that I’m sorry for shutting you out and thinking I could make all the decisions for us. I’m ready to be that girl. To walk by your side, no more secrets, no more lies. You already had my heart but I’m ready to entrust you with my fears. I don’t know what the future holds for us. I’m afraid of what can happen to you and to us whenever some psycho telesā like Sarona finally catches up with us. But I know that as long as we are together, I can endure anything.”

  “I love you, Daniel. I’m asking you please, will you choose me?”

  He slid his hands around my waist, drawing me to him, careful not to touch my new tattoo. It felt so good to be in his arms again. He looked closely at my arm band taulima and asked with that crooked smile, “Is that my name written on there?”

  “Yes. I probably should have asked you first, right? Or at least made sure you wanted to still be with me. World’s dumbest girl – gets her boyfriend’s name tattooed on her body, when her boyfriend is on a break and doesn’t want to be with her.” I was only half joking, painfully aware that he had yet to answer my question.

  “So does my name tattooed there mean that you belong to me? Or do I belong to you?”

  “How about both?”

  “I like the sound of that. You didn’t have to do all this, you know. You could have just shown up at my workshop in a t-shirt and shorts, given me the same speech and gotten the same response.”

  “Overkill?”

  He nodded, “Yeah. But I love it. It’s so you. Not one candle, but a hundred. The table setting, the dinner, the flowers, all of it. It’s so you. When you do something, you go all out and leave nothing to chance. You’re an unstoppable force of nature, you know that?”

  “I wanted to overwhelm you so you would have no choice but to take me back. Did it work?”

  He brushed his lips against my cheek. A whisper. “The answer is yes. It’s always been yes.”

  Yes. A pyrotechnics display, a volcanic eruption, an entire spangled night sky and one hundred candles – could not come close to the joy inspired by that single word.

  The rest of the evening was a magical dream date come true. We sat and dined under the stars with flame flower petals drifting down upon us in the night breeze. The fish steaks I’d ordered from Amanaki Restaurant were cold by the time we got to them but we didn’t care. He fed me dessert and laughed when I bit into a chocolate éclair and whipped cream spurted onto my face.

  I wiped at my cheeks and asked, “Is there any cream left on my face?”

  He looked, “Yes, come here, let me get it for you.” Before I knew what he was doing, he had leaned in and licked at the side of my bottom lip. My insides were a pool of melted chocolate. And the pyrotechnics and volcanoes I mentioned before? They were all going off. Madly.

  He pulled back. Grinned. “Got it. It’s all gone now.”

  I stared at him with my mouth agape. He had to shake me out of my fiery daze. “Umm, Leila? You’re burning holes in your dress.”

  “What?”

  He pointed to my legs where my malu had lit up, glowing red
through white fabric, searing patterns into my dress. “No, not the dress! Simone is going to kill me. Quick, quick.” I looked around wildly and then grabbed the ice bucket and dumped the contents onto my lap. Stupid move. The icy deluge was a shock. I screeched and leapt to my feet, dancing about, “That’s cold!”

  Daniel laughed – which I didn’t appreciate. “It’s not funny.” I used a napkin to try and soak up some of the water. “Do you know how long it took for Simone to get me to look like this? He will be so mad at me if I ruin this dress.”

  That wasn’t quite true. Simone’s actual words to me before I left the house had been triumphant, “If Daniel doesn’t rip this dress off you in a passionate frenzy – then I have failed.” Thinking about that had me flushing.

  When the meal was finished, Daniel and I talked. True to my word, I told Daniel everything. About my work at the Center, about Teuila and my suspicions, about Keahi and our disastrous fire lesson. He listened intently. He didn’t like some of it but there was nothing but happiness in the hug he gave me when I was done. “Thank you. That’s all I wanted, for you to be open with me about everything that’s going on in your life. That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

  “No.” I grinned back at him and then got serious. “Now it’s your turn to talk. Can you please tell me about your ocean experience? What’s been going on with you?”

  “I knew there was a catch. Can’t get anything for free around here.” He replied lightly, but when he saw my face he hurried on, “Okay, I don’t remember anything from the sisterhood showdown, honest. Just getting stabbed, and chucked overboard and then waking up on the beach with you holding me. The naked you.”

  “Don’t sidetrack.”

  “Just saying. A guy’s got to treasure those naked moments, you know?”

  “Daniel, back to the subject at hand!”

  “Alright. Since that day, I’ve been having a lot of strange dreams. About the ocean. And you.” He hastened to add, “You’re not naked though.”

  “I’m glad to hear it.”

  “But the thing that’s been freaking me out is the voice. At night, I think I hear a voice calling me from the ocean.”

  “Who’s calling you?”

  I could tell he didn’t want to answer me. “Daniel? Who do you think is calling you?”

  He shrugged. “The ocean.” He gave me a dark look as if daring me to contradict him. “I know it sounds weird. But some nights, the ocean is talking to me. It’s crazy isn’t it?”

  “You’re talking to a telesā fanua afi. If anybody knows impossible, it’s me. If you say the ocean is talking to you, then it must be.” I hesitated, speaking very carefully, unwilling to shatter the bubble of trust that we found ourselves in. “That day on the beach with the shark, did you really hear its thoughts?”

  “I think I did. I was asleep when something told me to get up because you were in danger. And then when I ran to the water, I felt a presence of some kind. Menacing. And then I was caught in its intentions. Not so much words, but distinct images and feelings like I was seeing what the shark was seeing and planning. It was terrifying.”

  “Where to now?” I asked him in the candle-lit night.

  He smiled down at me, “What do you mean?”

  I chose my words very carefully. I was tip-toeing through a bed of prickly sea-urchins here, my desire to help Daniel find answers in opposition with my promise to Salamasina to keep her secrets. “I think we should tell your grandmother what’s happening to you.”

  “No, I don’t want to worry her. Ever since my grandfather’s illness and then after he died, she’s been carrying a heavy load. I don’t want to add to it.” He was adamant and I could see he was not going to be moved. I tried once more, this time with white lies.

  “Nafanua and her sisters told me once that there was a sisterhood of ocean telesā in Tonga. Perhaps your grandmother knows something about Vasa Loloa. She might be able to tell us what’s going on with you.”

  “Or she might think I’ve got some mysterious illness that she needs to try and cure with her medicines.” He shook his head. “No. I saw how she suffered when she couldn’t heal my grandfather. The days she spent trying to save him. The guilt and pain she still carries. I won’t do that to her.”

  I didn’t know what else to do to try and change his mind, so I left it. A weak smile. “Okay, let’s just figure it out together then, shall we?”

  He hugged me. “Sounds like a good plan. And in the meantime, don’t ever go swimming again. I came so close to losing you that day. I don’t think you and oceans mix.”

  We laughed together but his words had hollow truth in them. I was fanua afi, and maybe me and vasa loloa were never meant to be together?

  TEN

  Daniel and I were together again. The world could have been hit by a comet and it wouldn’t have mattered to me. All was right between Daniel and I, which meant I could endure anything. Which was a useful feeling to have because it was time for me and Lesina to start practicing for the Independence Fashion Awards.

  “You never said anything to me about daily practices, Simone!” I accused. “This is stupid. Why do we need to practice for two hours every afternoon? All we have to do is put the damn clothes on, walk up and down, and not fall over. How hard can that be? Why do we need to practice for that?”

  Simone was not in the mood for petulant models. He had ensembles to complete and deadlines looming. He glared, “This is not some bush fashion show, you hear me? There is choreography to be learned and change techniques to be mastered. This is an international fashion event and you will do as you are told. Or else I will never speak to you again. And I will cut all your hair off in your sleep.”

  “Somebody just got told off!” Lesina laughed before taking pity on me. “Come on, I’ll help you. We can do this.”

  The practices were being held at the show venue, the Sinalei Reef Resort, which was a thirty minute drive from town and we all crushed into my Jeep. There were five of us who would model Simone’s collection – me, Lesina, Teuila, and two other fa’afafine friends from school, Rihanna and Mariah. They were both more beautiful than the originals but after listening to them croon all the way to the Resort, I concluded that neither of them could sing. I seethed in the car, feeling like I had been conned. I would have to cut back on my hours at the Center until this show was over and scramble for time to spend with Daniel. When Simone had talked about a fashion show, I had imagined a handful of models walking down a makeshift stage, a few people clapping politely, and then lots of cocktails afterwards. End of story. But this? Choreography and routines and change techniques? This was something entirely different.

  Sinalei Resort was set on acres of stunning landscaped grounds that overlooked the beckoning ocean and some of my tension eased as we walked through jubilant foliage. Heliconias, orchids, and hibiscus were only a few of the flowers that lined the walkways. We were directed to the main restaurant fale that opened out to a swimming pool. We were late, and the practice was already in full swing. The passion and fever of Pacific band sensation, Te Vaka, was the music that the models were walking to. And dancing to.

  “We have to dance as well?” we asked Treena, the show director, an imposing woman all dressed in black. (If you’ve ever wondered who wears head-to-toe black on sweltering tropical afternoons, then wonder no more. Creative Directors of Pacific fashion shows do. And somehow they don’t sweat.)

  Treena looked at us like we were infants. “Yes. And act. This is a Pacific production that will integrate design, art, music, and dance. It begins with a contemporary interpretation of the Samoan creation myth and continues to the ava ceremony and more. We need all the models to participate in the dance acts so there will be daily practices until the show.”

  Great. Just great. Modeling for Simone had taken a giant leap from a vague nuisance to a nightmare. Like I didn’t have enough to deal with in my life. He was so going to owe me for this. Big time. We went to join the other girls who were milling at the
back of the stage and my disgust only intensified when I saw that my least favorite person was one of the models. Mele.

  Another skinny, skanky reason to hate being a model at the Independence Fashion Awards. I couldn’t sulk for too long though because the organizers quickly put us to work. There were dance numbers to be learned and runway tips to be absorbed. Simone came back to check on us and I was about to hiss my complaints at him until I saw the look on his face.

  Absolute delight. “Leila, isn’t this amaaaaazing? It’s like a dream coming true.” He waved his hands around. “All this is really happening. Did you know that my fashion idol will be one of the judges? Lindah Lepou, the groundbreaking creator of Pacific couture, is going to be right here, looking at my designs.” He grabbed my hands in his. “Thank you so much for doing this.”

  That shut me up and put an end to anymore resentful thoughts. This was Simone’s dream. A fierce, fabulous opportunity and I was going to be happy to be a small part of it. Even if it killed me.

  It was the mantra that sustained me in the next two weeks as life in our house was consumed by fittings, feathers, shells, and the endless whirring sound of Simone’s sewing machine. Lesina crashed at our place most nights as she and Simone sewed later and later. And then Mariah and Rihanna basically moved in as well because they were doing all the appliqué and embroidery work. They wielded glue guns with wicked glee and played their namesake’s songs constantly. Super loudly. Endless suffering for the rest of us.

  I was appointed driver, errand girl, and general doer of all random tasks associated with preparing a couture collection. I was the mannequin, maker of Diet Coke cocktails, cleaner of coconut shells, sorter of seeds, and cutter of pandanus leaves. From the front door to the Fashion Temple, our house was devoted to creativity. Which meant it was a mess. None of us was paying much attention to school. I wasn’t going to the Center at all except to pick up Teuila for fittings. Even Lesina had taken an official ‘leave of absence’ from her office – so she could sew feathers onto strips of tapa cloth.