Frangipani

by Célestine Vaite

  Materena says that she is and that she’s been with her husband for more than twenty years now.

  “Ah, you must like sex!”

  Materena wants to tell that man off, but thinking about the special price, she giggles uncomfortably and looks out the window to show that she’s thinking now and not in the talking mood anymore. She doesn’t talk about sexy loving with strangers!

  But the taxi driver is very interested to talk about sex with Materena. He gives Materena hints that he’s a great lover and very soon he’s proposing to take Materena to a hotel for a quiet drink.

  Materena stays silent, thinking: I can’t believe what I’m hearing! Can’t he see I’m a respectable middle-aged woman? Ah, if the taxi driver were a big man, she would be very concerned. Luckily the taxi driver is a little skinny man. With one slap, Materena could make him fly all the way to France.

  “So?” The taxi driver switches the light on. “We go to the hotel?”

  Materena quickly reads the driver’s identity card, hanging from the rearview mirror. “Listen, Justin Ah-Kan, Number Fifteen. People don’t call me Mad Materena for nothing, okay?”

  The light goes off and Materena ponders if she’s going to have enough money to pay the taxi fare, considering that Justin is not going to be giving her a special price. Plus, he’s driving so slowly now. He slows down at the orange light instead of accelerating, as trucks do, and stops for the red light. Materena, annoyed, looks at the Suzuki car pulling up next to them. The couple inside the car is kissing, full on the lips, and it seems to Materena that she’s recognizing Ati.

  She hurries to wind the window down and hesitantly calls out, “Eh, Ati? Is that you?”

  The kissing ceases abruptly and Ati, shocked, exclaims, “Materena? What are you doing in a taxi at this time of night?”

  “Can you drive me home?” Next minute, Materena is in her husband’s best friend’s car telling him all about her mission and how Mori disappeared on her. Ati listens but his girlfriend doesn’t seem to care about Materena’s mission, she cares more about kissing Ati on the neck.

  “Can you stop your cinema!” Ati says to his girlfriend, sounding very exasperated.

  “You didn’t mind my cinema before!” the girlfriend says. Materena hurries to say that she doesn’t mind all the kissing. “Continue, don’t worry about me.” The girlfriend does just that, but now Ati is dropping her at her door.

  “But you said —”

  “Good night, I’ll call you tomorrow.” Ati speeds away, firing questions at Materena about her night, if she danced a little, if she talked a little. Materena wonders if Ati is interrogating her so that he can report the answers back to Pito. Is Ati playing spy? He’s looking at Materena in the rearview mirror with suspicious eyes.

  “Ati, I’ve had lots of men interested in me tonight” —Materena wants Pito to know this—“but I’m only interested in one person.”

  “I know what you mean. I’m also only interested in one person.”

  “You!” Materena laughs. “You think women are like tires.”

  “That’s because I can’t have the woman I love.”

  Materena guesses that Ati is referring to the woman he lost to a legionnaire many years ago. She tenderly puts a hand on Ati’s shoulder.

  “Ati, you can’t go on mourning that woman you lost to a legionnaire, you must —”

  “That bitch! I’m not talking about her!”

  Speaking softly, Ati goes on about how he’s talking about another woman. A woman he has loved for years. She is the only woman Ati wants.

  “Well, go get her!” Materena says. “What are you waiting for?”

  But the woman Ati loves is married, so he tells Materena. All Materena can say is that another woman is sure to come Ati’s way one day, and that woman is going to make the other woman disappear like that. Materena clicks her fingers and Ati laughs a faint laugh.

  “Did you know I’m living by myself now?” Ati says.

  “What?” That has got to be the news of the century. Materena can’t believe Pito didn’t tell her about it. “And your mama? She’s fine?”

  “Oh, she cried, she threw herself on the ground, but I wasn’t going to live with her for the rest of my life.”

  “Ah, true,” Materena agrees, thinking: You’re forty-two years old, after all.

  “I’ve got a flat in Papeete.”

  “Ah, no lawn to mow then, eh?”

  “I’ve got heaps of plants in pots.”

  “Ah,” Materena says, thinking, Aue, poor plants. She gives them about a week.

  “You should come and see my place one day,” Ati says, smiling.

  “Of course,” Materena says, thinking, What’s this? Why is Ati trying to cajole me?

  “You want to drink a coffee at the airport? I’ve got a proposition to make to you.”

  Usually, whenever Ati has a proposition to make, Materena laughs, slaps him on the shoulder, and says, “Ati, you’re never going to convert me, okay? You know very well what I feel about Independence. I’m half-French, and I can’t change this.”

  But tonight, Materena would like to find out what his proposition is.

  She herself has a proposition for Ati . . . her only connection to Radio Tefana. So Materena tells her husband’s best friend that coffee at the airport sounds like a very good idea.

  “So,” Materena says, stirring her coffee and trying not to stare at the other drunken couples drinking coffee at the airport and looking like they need to wake up a little before they can carry on with . . . whatever. “What’s your proposition?”

  “You know that I’ve always liked you.” Ati looks deeply into Materena’s eyes.

  “Oui, I know, you like me because I’m the wife of your best friend.”

  “Non, I like you because of you.”

  Materena smiles and takes a sip of her coffee, thinking how she should have gone home instead of accepting Ati’s invitation, but she has an idea and it’s really important that she talks about it with Ati.

  “I like you a lot,” Ati repeats, this time sounding so serious.

  “Enough to help me with anything?” Materena asks.

  “Anything you want, just ask me.”

  “Well,” Materena begins, “I’ve got an idea and it’s about . . .” Materena’s voice trails off. She’s a bit embarrassed to talk about her idea to start a talk-back radio show aimed at women. Ati might think she’s trying to big-note herself. He might laugh and say, “This is your idea? I thought it was something interesting.”

  “So?” Ati asks, putting a hand on Materena’s. “What is your idea about?”

  “I can’t tell you about it now,” Materena says, taking her hand away. “Maybe after my fortieth birthday.”

  “What’s happening after your birthday?”

  “Who knows?”

  “Am I in your idea?”

  “Indirectly, oui.” Materena smiles, but when Ati puts his hand on hers again, she hurries to add, “But it’s not what you think.” She feels Ati better know this now. She doesn’t want to lead him onto the wrong path, so she takes her hand away again. “I love Pito, you know that.”

  “Salaud.” Ati cackles. “I’m jealous.”

  “But are you still going to be there for me when I’m going to need you?” Materena asks. She doesn’t know yet how strongly she feels about her idea, but tomorrow might be a different story.

  “Materena,” says Ati, keeping both hands in his pockets, “I’ve known you for more than twenty years. You’re like a best friend to me.”

  Impossible Is Not French

  The birthday girl is about to blow the candles out on her triple-chocolate cake. But first she’s got to make her wish, eh? Everyone standing around the kitchen table is waiting, and there are so many wishes Materena could make tonight, on her fortieth birthday.

  She looks around at all the people who are part of her life, a silent tear falling out of the corner of her eye, and thinks, I can’t believe I’m forty years
old! Merde, life goes fast.

  Now, about that wish, what is it going to be?

  Well, Materena wishes for Cousin Rita to fulfill her dream of falling pregnant. She wishes for her mother to fulfill her wish of having her son and her grandchildren live in Tahiti. She wishes for Moana to get his wish of buying a restaurant.

  She also wishes for:

  Ati to meet a very nice woman.

  Pito to get promoted.

  Rose to find a job in Australia.

  Vahine to forget about Tamatoa and move on with her life.

  When it comes to wishing, Materena is never out of ideas. She wishes for Tamatoa to remember it’s her birthday tonight, she wishes for Leilani to find out what she’d like to do with her life soon, she’s been Dr. Bernard’s assistant/ receptionist for nearly two years now . . .

  She wishes for . . .

  “Come on, Materena,” Pito says, “how hard is it to make a wish?”

  Materena blows out her candles.

  “Joyeux anniversaire!”

  They’re all singing the birthday song now, making Materena cry her eyes out into her pareu. The birthday song, even when sung with happiness, always makes Materena cry. The next fifteen minutes are spent kissing the birthday girl, and the next hour is spent teasing the birthday girl, who is, as of now, entitled to the title Mama. That’s the deal. The day you turn forty, you become a mama. Welcome into the respectable clan of hardworking mothers!

  “Non, thank you,” Materena tells everyone, her husband especially. “I’m Materena, full stop. When you are a mama, the next thing, you are a meme, an old woman only good for raking the leaves and minding the grandchildren. I’m not ready for that yet!” As far as Materena is concerned, turning forty is not about turning into a mama, it’s about . . . it’s about something else. But first things first . . . Materena had best mingle with her guests to make sure everything is fine and to thank everyone for coming.

  She thanks Moana for his wonderful effort with the menu. He’s been in the kitchen since seven o’clock this morning with his helper, Vahine, mixing ingredients in his bowl, stuffing chickens, stirring soups, chopping onions, tomatoes, and capsicum, marinating fish. “Merci, chéri,” she says, hugging him tight. “I’m sure your restaurant is going to become a reality.”

  Moana hugs his mother tighter and thanks her for believing in him.

  She thanks Ati for coming to her birthday party even though he had a very important political meeting to attend tonight, and he says, “Don’t forget to tell me about your idea.” “Maururu, Ati,” Materena says, squeezing his hand.

  She thanks Leilani for all the decorations in the house and tells her that she’s sure she’s going to know what she wants to do in her life very soon.

  Leilani hugs her mother and whispers in her ear, “I’ll have a talk with you later.”

  “Okay,” Materena whispers back.

  Materena thanks Vahine for having been so kind as to spend the whole day helping Moana in the kitchen, and tells her that one day she will meet the man who truly deserves her. Vahine squeezes Materena tight and says, “I think I’ve already found him.”

  On and on Materena thanks her guests and tells them what they’d like to hear.

  Now, time to open the presents.

  A book, a statue, some sheets, a quilt, a juicer, a bottle of blessed water from Lourdes . . . “I’m so spoiled!” Materena exclaims each time.

  Now, let the party begin!

  By two o’clock in the morning, everyone has gone home or fallen asleep. Hotu was the first to leave and Vahine was the first to fall asleep, in her ex-boyfriend’s bed, next to Moana’s bed.

  The only people left are Materena and her daughter, who are both slouched at the kitchen table.

  “Ouf,” Materena sighs. “That was a good party.”

  Leilani confirms this.

  “So, how’s Dr. Bernard?” Materena asks. “He’s still your hero?”

  “Oh oui!” Leilani exclaims. “I love that man.”

  “What did he do this time?”

  The last time Materena asked this question, she found out that Dr. Bernard spent twenty minutes teaching X (Leilani never reveals the identity of Dr. Bernard’s patients; X is for women patients and Y for men) about the many contraception methods that her boyfriend wouldn’t find out about. Apparently, the boyfriend didn’t want X to take the pill. He was firmly against it. X lived in permanent fear that her boyfriend would discover her packet of contraceptive pills. Dr. Bernard said to X, “You’re the one who will be carrying his child. You decide when.” X ended up choosing the sterilet.

  Materena also found out that Dr. Bernard cried tears of anger when he received the results from the laboratory for Y, a diagnosis of leukemia. But then he was on the phone making one phone call after another to colleagues, and Leilani heard him say, angrily, “Don’t you dare tell me nothing can be done! Until proven otherwise, there’s hope!”

  He spoke softly to little Y, about to receive an immunization shot. “This is going to hurt a little bit, but you need this shot, my boy, to protect yourself from all those nasty germs. Do you understand me? Shall we go for it, then? At the count of three?”

  He congratulated X for her strong arms. “These arms have done a lot of good deeds! I’ve never seen such strong arms on a woman!” X was so proud of her strong arms, she walked out of the surgery grinning from ear to ear, not angry anymore at Dr. Bernard for that strict diet he imposed on her to lower her cholesterol level.

  He professed, “Let’s never assume in medicine. Everything must make sense and be proven.” So what did Dr. Bernard do and say this time?

  Materena is still waiting for Leilani to tell her.

  But Leilani asks, “Mamie, do you sometimes wonder what your purpose in life is?”

  Oh, la-la, Materena thinks. I’m too tired for an intellectual discussion. Nevertheless, she begins by saying that people don’t have just one purpose in life and that purposes can be as simple as helping a child cross the road. Making someone sad smile. Listening to someone’s story. According to Materena, a person’s purpose in life should be about making a difference, and the opportunity to do so comes to us every single day.

  There, Materena hopes this answers Leilani’s question.

  Well, Leilani is nodding in agreement. It must mean she agrees with her mother’s belief. “You know, Mamie,” she says, “one of Dr. Bernard’s patients told me that when we don’t fulfill our purpose in life, we make ourselves heavy in the coffin on the way to the cemetery because we’re so angry with ourselves.” She goes on about these people, who turn into angry spirits and roam the world of the living, moaning, “I thought I had more time.”

  Materena shrugs and tells her daughter that you don’t have to be dead to moan, “I thought I had more time.” Even the alive moan this every now and then. People who are late for appointments moan, “I thought I had more time.”

  “I don’t want to be heavy in the coffin,” Leilani says.

  “Oh, Leilani! Don’t talk about death on my birthday!” Materena chuckles to lighten up the atmosphere a bit. Nobody wants to talk about death on their birthday. Birthdays are celebrations.

  “Mamie . . .” Leilani’s voice trails off.

  Materena waits.

  “Imagine you’re young.”

  “Eh ho”—Materena smiles—“what do you mean? I am young.”

  Leilani smiles along. “You’re right, you are still young, you’ve got a whole life ahead of you.”

  “A whole life—I’m not sure about that. But I know I’m not old yet.”

  “It’s true,” admits Leilani. She goes on about how one hundred years ago being forty years old was considered very old, but these days, with all the progress in medicine, being forty years old is nothing.

  “I’m sure glad about that!” says Materena, and adds that now that she’s thinking about it, there are less mamas around these days because women don’t feel old anymore at forty. Not like they used to.

>   “Mamie, you don’t even look forty.”

  “Really?”

  “Oui . . . you look closer to thirty-eight, actually.”

  “Merci, chérie.” Materena kisses her daughter’s hand. “Ah hia hia, I can’t believe I already had a child at your age with another one on the way.” Shaking her head with nostalgia, Materena confesses how she felt so old at twenty years old. So much older than she feels today at twice the age.

  “That’s because you had a baby then and you were pregnant. Now that all your children have grown up, you are free to do whatever you want, Mamie.”

  “Whatever I want,” Materena murmurs. “That would be nice . . .”

  “Mamie, the sky is the limit for you . . . Do you remember how I used to draw you three times taller than anyone else in my drawings?”

  “Oh oui.” Materena laughs.

  “You’re still three times taller than anyone else for me, but you know, Mamie . . .” Leilani’s voice trails off again.

  “What?” Materena asks.

  Cringing, Leilani confesses that there was a time when she was a bit embarrassed about her mother being a cleaner, but that was a long time ago, when she was an adolescent.

  “Ah,” Materena says, smiling, “back in those days when you hated me.”

  “I’ve never hated you, Mamie, I was just a bit conne, that’s all, and I’m so thankful you’re still here today so I can tell you how much I admire you, and love you, and how sorry I am for all the grief I’ve given you before.”

  Materena looks her daughter in the eyes. “Don’t cry on your birthday!” Leilani says, and pinches her on the arm. “Today is a new day for you! You are forty years old, you are free!”

  “Girl, what is this?” Materena smiles through her tears. “Are you on a mission or something?”

  “Non, I just want to see you fulfilled, that’s all.”

  “But I’m —”

  But the telephone starts ringing before she can finish, and Materena is up in a flash, thinking: It better be that son of mine calling to wish me a happy birthday.

  “If it’s Hotu, tell him I’m asleep,” Leilani says.

  Nodding, Materena picks up the phone. “Allo.”