Breadfruit

by Célestine Vaite

  Georgette put an arm around the man she loved. “If your son is ready to take a big, ugly, hairy fellow like me, then I’m ready to take him as my lover the way he is.”

  “I like you, Georgette, you’ve got balls!” By then Jean was quite drunk.

  “I’m glad you reminded me of my balls.” Georgette laughed, and filled Jean’s glass with more Dom Perignon.

  Dinner went on until one o’clock in the morning. Then Georgette went home to bed. Not long after, Jean staggered to bed too because Stella had given him the signal to make a disappearance. But first Jean made sure to tell Maco that, Georgette, she was thumbs-up. He had really enjoyed the champagne and the expensive cheese. Stella, she’s a bit mean with the money.

  Stella, all alone with her son now, flicked his ears. “What’s gotten into your thick head, son? Since when do you fancy raeraes? God gives you a good-looking face, and what do you do? You go grab a man who needs shaving all over. What are people going to say?”

  “Ma, I don’t care what people are going to say. The first one I hear laughing, I’m smashing.”

  “Aue, son… Leila, she was good for you. Poor Leila, I liked her. Poor Leila. You and that Georgette… she’s more a George than a Georgette. Anyway, you and her, I mean, him, it’s not serious, is it?”

  “We get on well,” Maco said.

  “Georgette can’t give you children. You don’t want children?” asked Stella, starting to cry. She was crying because her only child wasn’t going to give her any grandkids and she was obsessed with having grandkids. Every time she delivered a newborn these days, she said to herself, “I want a grandkid.”

  Maco tenderly took his mama into his arms. “I just want to be happy, Ma, eh? Please understand.”

  The relatives were very shocked with that Georgette. They said, “Between them two, who’s the man and who’s the woman?”

  Maco gave James a bruised nose and a black eye for the honor of his Georgette. Apparently James had said to Maco, “So, I hear you’re sleeping with a raerae?”

  And Stella slapped Loma across the face for the honor of Georgette. Apparently Loma had said, “Auntie, I can’t believe Maco is a homosexual!”

  Maco and Georgette live in the country district now, where it’s a bit quieter. They have a house by the sea. When Stella and Jean visit them on the weekend, Georgette spoils them rotten.

  And people all over Faa’a say, “Aren’t they lucky, those two.”

  Now Materena is at the Club 707, but the glass door is closed. She knocks, and waits facing the door. She knows that people walking by are looking at her up and down, but she’s wearing a dress and you can see the form of her breasts. Club 707 is a raerae club and has quite a reputation for its shows. Not everybody is allowed into Club 707 to watch the shows. You’ve got to look respectable (no young men wearing thongs and shorts are allowed in, for example) and you’ve also got to have money. The entry fee is quite high and drinks cost twice as much here as at the other clubs. Rita went to watch a show once with Coco and apparently Coco’s eyes were fixed on the dancers, but Rita didn’t get jealous, because the dancers were men. And, according to Rita, the club was packed with women yelling, “Take it off! Take it off!” But there were also a few old men quietly drinking in the dark.

  Materena knocks on the door again.

  Finally, Georgette appears. She opens the door. “Cousin!” Georgette gives Materena two sloppy kisses on the cheeks. “Come in.” Georgette is wearing knee-length khaki shorts and joggers with pink socks, and a white blouse tied in a knot at the front, showing off a pierced belly button. They walk to the “office,” a little room filled with mirrors, wigs, earrings, and racks of costumes. Materena can see a nurse uniform, a police uniform, a black dress with silver buttons from top to bottom . . .

  And there are blown-up photographs of men displayed across the wall. They’re all showing off their muscles. Materena recognizes her cousin Maco, wearing nothing more than a piece of cloth on his private parts.

  “Right,” Georgette says as she gets her notebook. “As you told me on the phone, the friend of your boss is getting married. Do you have a date?”

  Materena was using a little mensonge. If she tells Georgette the truth, Georgette will tell Maco and then Maco will tell his mama. Then everyone will know! And Materena wants to keep her marriage a secret until she’s set a date. “Non, I don’t have a date, she didn’t give me one. But it’s for soon.”

  “It’s for this year?” Georgette says.

  “Ah oui.”

  “Well, you came to the right place. I’m the best.” Materena nods in agreement. “Music is very important,” Georgette continues, clicking her fingers like castanets. “Nobody cares about food at parties. You could serve corned beef with rice and people would rave about the party for years if they’ve danced all night long, because dancing makes people feel happy.”

  Materena nods again, although she doesn’t really agree with Georgette, but she guesses that in Georgette’s world, food comes second to music and dancing.

  Georgette goes on about how the disk jockey’s aim is to make people go home thinking happy thoughts such as, I feel so young tonight! I feel so beautiful! I want to live! I’m so happy I’ve married you!

  By the time Georgette has finished her speech, Materena wants to hire her on the spot. She can see that for Georgette, being a disk jockey is a passion. And Materena thinks how hard it must be for Georgette to make people want to dance at weddings when she’ll never get to dance at her own wedding.

  “Okay, thanks so much, Georgette,” Materena says at last. “I’m going to highly recommend you to the friend of my boss.” Georgette smiles.

  Materena is now ready to get down to business. “And how much do you charge?”

  “Three thousand francs per hour.”

  “Ah, you charge per hour? Not per night?” asks Materena.

  “I’m available until people will be too tired to dance.”

  “And you? You don’t get tired?”

  Georgette looks down for a brief moment. “I love weddings,” she says. “I feel very privileged to be part of one.”

  Fifty Francs

  The second relative for Materena to visit is her cousin Moeata.

  Cousin Moeata used to be unemployed, but she’s got a business now called Chocolate My Love, and the business is thriving because Moeata’s chocolate cake is truly succulent. It melts on your tongue and somehow when you eat Moeata’s chocolate cake, you get happy.

  Materena has tasted Moeata’s chocolate cake a few times. Once Moeata borrowed some scissors from Materena and never gave them back. When Materena asked for them, Moeata said, “They’re lost, but here’s a chocolate cake in compensation.”

  Moeata’s got lots of regular customers, Rita and Georgette, to name a few. Moeata keeps all her money in an old coffee can buried in her backyard.

  She’s saving for a car, a brand-new one. Materena, on her way now to Moeata’s house to ask about the cost of a wedding cake, remembers the story of Moeata and the unpaid debt.

  Twelve years ago Moeata borrowed fifty francs from a Chinese girl in her class and she promised to pay the fifty francs back the next day. But when the next day came, Moeata didn’t have the fifty francs and she lied that she forgot the coin at home. And when the next day came, she gave the lender the same story. And every single day, the Chinese girl asked for her fifty francs.

  “Where’s my fifty francs?”

  “Ah hia, I forgot. I’ll pay you back tomorrow.”

  The Chinese girl who lent Moeata the money made sure to tell everybody about the unpaid debt.

  Now, there were occasions in the following weeks and months when Moeata had a fifty-franc coin in her pocket, but… well, she just couldn’t bring herself to part with it. She wanted to have something in return for that fifty francs—a packet of Twisties, Chinese lollies, things to eat.

  Every now and then, Moeata would say to herself, “Ah hia, give the fifty francs back,” and then
she would tell herself, “Ah, don’t worry, it’s only fifty francs, and she’s Chinese, she’s got lots of money.”

  One year passed.

  Moeata went to Pomare High School and the Chinese girl went to the Anne-Marie Javouhey College. The fifty francs became history.

  More years passed.

  One day, Moeata saw the Chinese girl in town, and Moeata made sure to disappear into the crowd. She told herself again, “Ah hia, I should just go give her that fifty francs and let’s not think about it anymore.”

  But how do you give back a fifty-franc coin? A ten-thousand-franc banknote, yes, but a fifty-franc coin? And, plus, Moeata believed the Chinese woman wouldn’t have recognized her.

  And then Moeata applied for a loan for a car, a secondhand car, cheap.

  She got the papers at the bank and filled them out cautiously. There was this question: have you ever defaulted on a loan?

  Moeata laughed, and circled the answer non. Surely that fifty-franc loan didn’t count here.

  Moeata dropped her loan papers at the bank and within two days she got a phone call from the bank with regard to an interview with the loan officer. Apparently, the loan officer just wanted to ask Moeata a couple more questions before making a decision, because a few of Moeata’s answers were a bit unclear.

  So Moeata went to the bank.

  Someone led her to the office of the loan officer.

  Eyes met eyes . . .

  And would you believe that the loan officer was the same girl who lent Moeata the fifty francs, that particular fifty francs?

  Moeata’s first impulse was to run out of the office, but she managed to overcome her shock. She really wanted the money for her car. “Ah, it’s you who’s the loan officer!” she said, smiling.

  “I thought the name was familiar.” The loan officer’s voice was very cold, very businesslike.

  There and then, Moeata got her purse out of her bag. She was so nervous that she dropped her purse and ten-franc coins went flying everywhere on the carpeted floor. Moeata got on her knees and picked up her coins, all the while thinking, Of all the days I need a bloody fifty-franc coin, and all I’ve got are bloody ten-franc coins.

  Moeata had to pay off her debt with ten-franc coins. “Here. That’s fifty francs—total.” If she’d been white, her cheeks would have been red from the embarrassment.

  The loan officer, looking at Moeata straight in the eyes, took the coins and shoved them in her drawer. Then she got right down to business.

  Well… Moeata didn’t get her car loan approved. She says it was because of that fifty francs it took her so long to pay back. How was she to know that the Chinese girl was going to get a job with the bank instead of working at her father’s grocery store?

  Moeata is busy melting chocolate in the kitchen when Materena arrives unexpectedly.

  “Iaorana, Cousin!” Materena calls out.

  “You’re not here for your scissors, are you?” Moeata looks a bit worried.

  “Don’t be silly, Moeata! My scissors are probably rusted by now. It’s been six months since you borrowed them.” Materena can’t believe Moeata is bringing up the subject of scissors today. “I’m here to inquire about wedding cakes.” And before Moeata starts wondering, Materena hurries to clear up the situation. “It’s for a friend of my boss. She’s getting married this year.”

  Materena glances at the three big ovens standing side by side, and the three gas bottles. There’s enough gas in this kitchen … Materena tries to push the thought out of her mind, but she can’t. “Do you make sure to turn off the gas every night?” she asks.

  “Non,” replies Moeata. “But Mama does.”

  Ah, Materena is relieved. “So, what’s the price for a wedding cake?” she asks.

  “How long is a piece of string?” Moeata shrugs.

  “Eh what?”

  “I can’t give you a price if I don’t know how big the cake is going to be,” explains Moeata.

  “Well, how about we say the cake is going to be big, like this.” Materena draws a square with her hands. “But it’d be good if there’s a decoration on it, just so it doesn’t look like a normal cake. Perhaps you could write the names of the married couple on it?”

  “Oui, I could do that. I’ve got other kinds of decorations too. Red roses are very popular at the moment. Red being the color of love, and people do marry for love—most of them, anyway.”

  “Ah oui, that’d be nice. Okay, put red roses on the cake, then.”

  “The friend of your boss, she wants roses on her wedding cake?”

  “I’m just going to give her the price,” Materena says. “But she trusts me. I’ve told her all about your chocolate cake, the best chocolate cake on the island.”

  “How would you know, Cousin? I never see you here buying my cakes. The only one you’ve tried is the one I gave you a while ago in exchange for the lost scissors.”

  Materena scratches her head. “I was going to, many times, but then I didn’t have the money.”

  “You know well I would have given you credit. You’re family.” Moeata looks like she’s sulking.

  “True, but you know me. I don’t like to owe people money,” Materena says slyly. End of discussion.

  Moeata gives Materena the price, and it’s twenty-five thousand francs. Materena nods, but inside she’s yelling, Twenty-five thousand francs! And she’s thinking this marriage is going to cost her godmother a lot of money. The problem with Moeata’s cakes is that they keep going up in price. Moeata really wants that new car.

  But you have to be prepared to pay the price if you want people to enjoy the wedding cake, and Materena has no doubt they will if it’s one of Moeata’s cakes.

  “You think it’s expensive?” asks Moeata.

  And before Materena has the chance to say anything, Moeata says, “People will spend thousands of francs on music—but who cares about music?”

  “Ah, it’s nice when people dance. They go home happy.”

  The chocolate is melted and Moeata moves the family-size cooking pot onto the table. “Who is supposed to be happy at a wedding, eh?” she says. “The guests? Or the married couple?”

  “Well, if the —”

  Moeata interrupts. “A wedding cake isn’t just a cake. It’s the most important part of the wedding, because it symbolizes the beginning of the husband and the wife’s journey. When they cut the cake, they both hold the knife.”

  “Oui.” Materena knows this, but she doesn’t understand how cutting the cake is symbolic of a journey.

  “They both have a hand on the knife,” Moeata explains. “It’s not just the wife’s hand.” Moeata opens the palm of her right hand and looks at it. “It’s not just the husband’s hand.” Moeata opens the palm of her left hand and looks at it. “It’s both their hands.” She clinches her hands together in a gesture of prayer. “Together. Together in sickness and in health. Together for better or for worse.”

  Materena thinks that Moeata must have been to a few prayer meetings lately. But it makes sense, what she’s saying.

  A Little Drive with Mama Teta

  Mama Teta is a professional wedding-car driver. She started her business just weeks after she got her driver’s license. Initially, Mama Teta had wanted to be a taxi driver, but when she thought about it seriously, she realized that too many people prefer to catch the truck, because it’s cheap and there’s always a truck available. Anyway, driving newly married couples has turned out to be a much more lucrative business.

  Mama Teta’s business is doing okay. Materena can’t honestly say Mama Teta is the best wedding-car driver in Tahiti, because, well, Mama Teta’s driving is a little erratic. However, she is definitely the nicest wedding-car driver in Tahiti. And now Mama Teta is very happy about her niece Materena coming to her house to bring her new business.

  “Okay now.” Mama Teta claps her hands together. “As you told me on the telephone yesterday, the friend of your boss is getting married?”

  “Oui, that’s
right. She’s getting married this year and she’s just after a price.”

  “Where is she from?” asks Mama Teta.

  “Tahiti.” Materena gives Mama Teta a blank look.

  “Non, not what country, girl! Where does she live? And where is she getting married? I need to know the distance I’m going to drive.”

  Materena nods, thinking that Mama Teta is like a taxi driver after all. “Well, I don’t really know where the friend of my boss lives, but she’s getting married at the St. Joseph Church, and I think that she doesn’t live too far from the church. But she’d be interested in a tour of Papeete and everything.”

  “Of course,” Mama Teta says. “You’ve got to have the tour, especially if you live so close to the church.”

  “Ah oui. It’s a question of letting people know that you’ve just got married.”

  “People like to see a bridal car,” Mama Teta says. “They always stop to look.” Mama Teta smiles. “There’s something magic about a woman in a wedding dress, on her way to the church in a bridal car. She’s like a princess.”

  Materena smiles. “Brides are so beautiful, eh?”

  “Ah oui,” Mama Teta agrees. “A woman about to get married is radiant, but it’s nerve-racking, though, and I’ve had some real stressed-out women in my car. That’s why the wedding-car driver has to be more than just a professional driver.” Mama Teta smirks. “Honestly, girl—and you better make sure that the friend of your boss understands—the most important thing on a wedding day is to arrive at the church calm and relaxed.”

  And in one piece, Materena thinks. She nods.

  “One of my brides,” Mama Teta continues, “she was so nervous that she started to shake.” Mama Teta demonstrates. “I thought she was having a convulsion, and then she started to cry, and her father said, ‘You wanted this marriage, so stop crying.’ I looked in the rearview mirror—usually I don’t do this, but I had to check the situation—and, my bride’s father, he was just looking at the view outside, as if he was on a tour bus!” Mama Teta shakes her head and sighs. “Hopeless, that man was. And so I decided to take action. I started to sing ‘Kumbaya, My Lord,’ and, my bride, she relaxed like that.” Mama Teta snaps her fingers. “When we got to the church, my bride, she was smiling a great big smile.”