herwritings684

[herwritings684]

Ch 13

"Manuia lou aso fanau, manuia lou aso fanau Ma'asoama! Faamanuia le Atua!"

Grams favorite color is yellow. Everything in her room is yellow. Her bedsheets, her clock, her desk, her iPhone cover (that she never ever uses), her floor once in a while when she doesn't get to the toilet on time, her favorite pen, her house slippers that she never wears, her Tusi Paia cover from dad and uncle John from Apia 5 years ago. According to them, the owner of the bookstore had a crush on Grams back when she visited often with Mama Tepatasi.

Grams is a minister's daughter. When you are the child of a minister, even after he dies, you are still, in the present tense, a minister's kid. It's a forever thing.

Papa Lealofamatemomoe and Mama Tepatasi first served in a village called Mala. Grams loved to repeat stories of her days in Mala before moving to Atoatoa.

Her days at the Alofamoni Catholic School for girls. Before she gave away her hibiscus flower to Gramps at the makeki and giving birth to her golden boy, my father, Avemaoe. Before learning about Papa Lealofa's illegitimate child. Before Mama Tepatasi's suicide. Before all the pain and struggle and darkness.

"Blow out your candles Grams!"

Grams wearing her yellow pua reaches out for my hand.

"Go ahead, fai ifo." We hold hands as I blow out her birthday candles.

As I straighten my back, I turn to look at Grams and notice her lips quivering. I quickly kneel down next to her. She closes her eyes and shakes her head quietly as if to tell me not to make a fuss.

"Tell everyone to come sit down," her demanding voice shields her vulnerable state. Grams is never one to let anyone make her feel weak, including me, her on and off favorite grandchild.

One by one, everyone settles around the living room. Uncle John is wheeled in by Afa. Aunty Sina is typing away on her phone, probably trying to reset her Facebook password for the 15th time, I'm already crosslegged on the floor. Dad's two younger twin sisters, Malia and Mareta, sit on the couches next to their military husbands, also twins, Mataio and Mareko. All their kids start walking in, with their annoying AirPods, faces glued to their iPads. Paying no mind to Grams or anyone for that matter.

Mulikaeas, I tell you.

"Kape mea ga!" aunty Sina yells towards them.

Uncle Mataio and Mareko both nudge the closest child to them to remove their devices.

Grams adjusts herself in her chair. Looking around as if to count how many of us were present.

Recognizing Grams intentions, uncle John responds to Grams with a booming voice.

"O LAE KOEKIKI O'O MAI LE KA'AVALE A SIMOGA MOM."

Ahh, Simona. Grams middle child.

No wife, no degree, no job, major wannabe drug dealer.

I remember at Dad's funeral, Simona was the only one who didn't cry. He never walked up to the pusa oki to say goodbye either. He stood all the way in the back of the church. All the way in the back of the final service. I never understood why he was always so distant. The only time uncle Simona came around was the day of Grams' birthday and the first day of school.

Everyone in Atoatoa knows that Uncle Simona buys all the school supplies for the elementary kids with drug money. Two years ago, he got caught by the police and they took all his stash of weed, including the drug money. So the night before, instead of buying notebooks and pencils and erasers and sharpeners, he stole them from Hong's store three villages down.

Grams nodded her head.

"Thank you, my children, for being here. This is the only gift I want. All of you. Together. Us. O le aiga. I praise the Heavenly Father. I see your faces. I am happy."

Her lips tremble.

"If Gramps was here..."

I pat her right foot gently to try and console her.

"He would be happy, too."

No one says anything for the next 2 minutes. Like obedient children, we just bow our heads and think of Gramps in silence. His laughter. His anger. His wrath. His love. His choice to bring Simona around 10 years ago.

Uncle Mareko is the first to look up as we hear a buzzing sound. His phone was vibrating in aunty Mareta's pocket. He quietly stands up to go outside.

"Cut me some cake, Giga". Grams gently taps my shoulder.

Everyone starts to move and walks towards the dinner table. Except for the Amelika robots. They rush to their rooms and continue watching their ridiculous Youtube videos.

"Happy Birthday Queen of the world!"

Uncle Simona has arrived. In both hands, he's holding two bags. One says Coach and the other is an all too familiar brown bag with the yellow M. I bet it's Grams favorite: 10 piece chicken nuggets with a double quarter pounder with cheese.

Aunty Sina rolls her eyes and pretends to dial numbers on her phone.

"I have to go work on the song list with the faletua. See you later, Mom. Save me some ice cream faamolemole."

Uncle Simona smirks and waves her off.

"Whatever Sina, while you're at it, please French kiss the faletua for me." He chuckled.

Aunty Sina sharply responds back. "Kago i lou komo."

"SINA!" Uncle John interjects. Aunty Sina is already out the door.

[herwritings684]

Ch 12

“No. I just don’t speak to ugly boys.”

Tua’s face fell to the floor. My cousin crackled a huge laugh while holding his stomach.

“Hurry up cous! Let’s go already. Tua will only slow us down.”

I didn’t want to feel guilty, but I did. Then again, he shouldn’t have asked such a stupid question. He was adjusting his shirt, probably trying to compose himself after getting smacked by my hurtful response. But he was not an iota of ugly. Not by a millimeter. Tua could pass as the love child of Jason Momoa and Rihanna. Brown skin beauty. I’d nickname him Brownie Babyboy.

I was looking at him a bit too long.

“Oh really? And do you always stare at ugly boys?”

I snapped out of it. I couldn’t let him see the lie.

“Ae a! I stare because it’s like watching a scary movie… FOR FREE!!”

I don’t know what came over me but I threw one of the ulu leaves towards him and started running towards the beach. He ran after me.

[herwritings684]

Words to describe facial expressions

Absent: preoccupied 

Agonized: as if in pain or tormented

Alluring: attractive, in the sense of arousing desire

Appealing: attractive, in the sense of encouraging goodwill and/or interest

Beatific: blissful

Black: angry or sad, or hostile

Bleak: hopeless

Blinking: surprise, or lack of concern

Blithe: carefree, lighthearted, or heedlessly indifferent

Brooding: anxious and gloomy

Bug eyed: frightened or surprised

Chagrined: humiliated or disappointed

Cheeky: cocky, insolent

Cheerless: sad

Choleric: hot-tempered, irate

Darkly: with depressed or malevolent feelings

Deadpan: expressionless, to conceal emotion or heighten humor

Despondent: depressed or discouraged

Doleful: sad or afflicted

Dour: stern or obstinate

Dreamy: distracted by daydreaming or fantasizing

Ecstatic: delighted or entranced

Faint: cowardly, weak, or barely perceptible

Fixed: concentrated or immobile

Gazing: staring intently

Glancing: staring briefly as if curious but evasive

Glazed: expressionless due to fatigue or confusion

Grim: fatalistic or pessimistic

Grave: serious, expressing emotion due to loss or sadness

Haunted: frightened, worried, or guilty

Hopeless: depressed by a lack of encouragement or optimism

Hostile: aggressively angry, intimidating, or resistant

Hunted: tense as if worried about pursuit

Jeering: insulting or mocking

Languid: lazy or weak

Leering: sexually suggestive

Mild: easygoing

Mischievous: annoyingly or maliciously playful

Pained: affected with discomfort or pain

Peering: with curiosity or suspicion

Peeved: annoyed

Pleading: seeking apology or assistance

Quizzical: questioning or confused

Radiant: bright, happy

Sanguine: bloodthirsty, confident

Sardonic: mocking

Sour: unpleasant

Sullen: resentful

Vacant: blank or stupid looking

Wan: pale, sickly

Wary: cautious or cunning

Wide eyed: frightened or surprised

Withering: devastating

Wrathful: indignant or vengeful

Wry: twisted or crooked to express cleverness or a dark or ironic feeling

[herwritings684]

(Fale tali malo, pa autes, sun is about to rise)

Bare legs shown. one female. Straight forward with her lavalava above the knees.

Manly voice. “Faakai ou vae!!” She crosses her legs fast.

Show legs of man walking in. Four people, all female, girls walk in from behind man.

Lower bodies shown. One with a baby on the side of hip. One on a crutch. One still trying to sulu her ie right. One wearing a dress holding high heels. Each sitting at a pole of the faletalimalo. Fala rustles. Mother’s grave is shown right across. “Faalogo mai. O le a sau le masiofo i le guu.”Girls chatter. “Se faalogo kaliga!” Silence. “Fai faalelei kou ofu. Fai faalelei le ofu a le keige lea.” “Penina.” She looks up. Looks back down. “Saugi faalelei.” Dad’s face is shown.

[herwritings684]

Scene 1: Notebooks stacked, scattered, the sound of the red pen scratching against paper, rustling sound, laptop clicking, an email dinging sound, phone low battery with many notifications, zooms in on woman, from the back, messy hair with red pens sticking out, falling jacket halfway off the chair, rubs her eye, turns off fan.

Student enters (nervous girl)

Miss?

S comes in, teacher gives full attention, adjusts something on desk before approaching student

T takes out a cigarette pack and places it gently on the table

S

T takes it out and smokes it, coughs. Gives it to student. Waits for her to smoke.

S smokes it, doesn't cough, perfect normal.

T "Aisea?", takes the cigarette, crushes it, throws it in the trash across the room.

S "Sikaleki a lo'u kigā. Miss faamolemole."

T "Penina, e sau lou kigā e piki oe?"

S " Leai, o lo'u kamā."

T looks at watch.

T "Ka o."

Dad pulls up in beat up truck. (He looks like T's age)

T tells S to sit on the pavement and wait for her.

T walks up to dad's car and jumps in the passenger's seat and hands him the cigarette pack.

T "Aua le fasia le keige. (S face shows fear). Kalagoa ai. Ua makua Penina, ua fia faakaikai foi i le olaga o le kagaka makua. (S fingers fiddling). A faapea ua masagi ai le keige, kalagoa ai pea. E le faigofie. (S cries) Ae lelei le malamalama lelei i lou afafige.

Dad reaches out for T's hand. T slowly pulls hand away. Looks at Dad. "E lelei le keige, pau a ua sasi foi." Smiles. Gets out of car. Holds door and asks for S to come while holding the door, hugs her, and closes the door.

Car drives off.

[herwritings684]

An old woman who forgets she is a healer. Tapi (inspired by Tabitha from Passions)

A middle aged woman who forgets she is a shape shifter.

A young woman who forgets she is an oracle.

A teenager who forgets she is an element bender. Eiya (my Fijian sister's nickname is Teiyah, short for Litea...without the T lol)

They all end up in a village dance. Total strangers. But when they go through the sāsā, their memories come back little by little during dance practice. Their former lives together as sisters.

Yassssssss!

[herwritings684]

Script Idea Scenes :

Four Sisters (all different lives)

Scene : Brother gets married. (a very beautiful intro, brother makes a very emotional and truthful speech about life). Four sisters jump in one car and say goodbye, one of the guests passes by and sees brother take a turn to someone’s house.

Scene: Sisters meet for lunch (Saturday), brother doesn’t show up , talk about wedding, little hints about each one’s life at the current moment.

Scene: One sister gets asked out by a guy, one sister is getting fired, one sister wants to adopt a baby, one sister starts drinking

Scene: Sister goes to the clinic and starts carrying babies. She seems nervous. But also inside very excited. Bathroom scene where she prays to God that she’s doing the right thing.

mini: sister messaging with a guy while in car waiting to do laundry

Scene: Sister picks up one of the sisters, phone call from sister in law to please pick up nephew, the nephew from school ends up being asked a weird question about his uncle, the brother.

mini: brother takes son to school, sees the mother of his ex-gf

Scene: after Church (outside standing everywhere, everyone about to leave, hop in their cars, etc) Sisters update the question that the nephew asked. A few of the church members come over to say hello and say how beautiful the wedding was, mention of one of the sisters coming to the hospital to adopt is brought on.

mini : sister reveals she might be pregnant and the guy has nothing to say.

Scene: brother shows up in his wedding outfit at a random woman’s house crying (Cliffhangerrrrrrrr!!!)

[herwritings684]

Ch 11.

I loved the beach. Of course, I didn't know how to swim, but I didn't care. I didn't mind swimming under the fau at all. Besides, the sun is always too hot in the afternoon.

Tua and I did this every Sunday. After church, we'd wash the dishes together at the faifeau's house, volunteer to drop off any containers, china plates, and maybe an old lady's coffee cup that brought the fish sauce. Then, we'd head right down to the pulu tree where the tiny crabs greeted us halfway from the main road.

We made sure to bring some leftovers from toanai and fill up our empty water bottles with Kool aid from the faifeau's fridge. Technically, it was the ekalesia's fridge but usually on Sundays it's packed with too much food after cleanup. So why not be a part of the solution and leave some space by using up all the juice, right ?

But today, of all days, we had an uninvited third wheeler.

"Hey Tua! Wait up!"

"Oi hey Nat! Everything okay?"

"Where are you guys going?"

So according to Tua, this is his aunt Evelyn's son from Hawaii. He moved here because he wanted to be closer to his dad. The rumors started spreading that Tua's aunt couldn't take care of him any longer because she was on drugs and had to be sent into a rehabilitation center.

"Oh, well, we usually go and return dishes for the people that brought food for the pastor."

"Can I come?"

"Sure---"

"There's alot of dogs, maybe you should stay? Don't want you to get bitten and have you end up at a hospital now, right ?"

I gave Tua a dead stare. How dare he invite his cousin with us? Even worse, he doesn't even introduce me. Talk about rude!

"Oh right, right. We don't want to get you into any trouble uso, you know?"

Tua's cousin walks up to me and snatches my plastic container. Ugh! What a moron!

"I'm not afraid of dogs...umm...what's your name?"

"Give it back you le popoi!"

"I won't until you tell me your name."

I was heated. I quickly faced Tua.

"Tua, ua fia maga'o lou kausoge e pa'ū aga kaegifo?"

"Oh, what? Are you shy to talk to me now?"

[herwritings684]

Ch 10.

Grams was at it again this morning. She woke up before the roosters. Before the sun. Before God. Before my disheveled hair.

The scattered and chopped up branches of the avapui piled up against Grandy’s four-leveled grave of beach black stones. Grams with her knees barely visible from the opposite side of the foldable table.

Grandy was one of the paramount chiefs of Atoatoa. There’s a chief system in every village, and basically Grandy’s chief status was like being a Sensei, black belt type shit— every other chief would give him the highest respect.

But I remember Grandy in a different light, maybe it was because I always saw him laughing. Full of jokes, he could’ve been a comedian if he wanted to, cracking up Grams until she couldn’t breathe.

“Good morning Grams.”

“Ei ! Did you brush your teeth and fufulu your fanny?”

“Ioe, I did.”

“Good girl. Come scratch my back.”

It’s been almost 20 years since Grandy left us. And four times a year, Grams would replace all his flower arrangements with fresh ones.

“Why aren’t you wearing an ie?”

“Why? It’s too hot.”

“Shhh! Do you want to collect your front teeth from the floor?”

Silence.

I know if I said no, Grams would upgrade my experience to include my entire jaw.

“Go grab something to cover your legs.”

“Grams?”

“Do I need to repeat myself?”

“No, no, I just wanted to say, I’m really sorry for answering you back like that.”

“Close your mouth. Hurry up and go grab your ie.”

This is nothing close to actual child abuse, or violence, or any sort of corporal punishment criterion.

In my home, this is the highest form of parental love and discipline.

According to Gramps, the world is a cruel and unforgiving place.

It was up to Grams to create a crueler one.

He would always tell my mom that him and Grams weren’t always going to be there.

And when that time came, she wouldn’t just survive the cruelty of the world without them in it.

She would thrive in it.

I came back with my ie. Nicely tucked. Right below my knees. My hair slightly brushed back with a few drops of coconut oil.

Grams looked up halfway into sticking a ti leaf in the middle of her oasis sponge. Ah. There’s that smile.

“Grab the trash bag and open it.”

I do as I’m told and wait for her next command.

“Well don’t just stand there! Pick up the unused stems and put it inside.”

I chuckled a little.

“Don’t laugh at your stupidity.”

Total 360.

I shrug my shoulders. I won’t be winning today with Grams.

“Hurry up! I want the flowers in front of the flag poles before the sun comes up.”

I feel the scratches on my fingers as I try to pull a Fast and Furious with the stems all over the floor.

I throw the bag to the side and head over to place the first arrangement in front of the flag pole.

Grams guides me ever so bluntly with a cuss word in every other sentence.

“A little to the left, aikae!”

“Okay leave it.”

“Ufa! Push it back it’s about to fall !”

“Alright that’s good.”

“I said lower se komo ia oe! Enough.”

My other cousins would’ve cried their eyes out by now. Probably attempt to commit suicide. Require serious therapy. Something like that.

But not me.

I find it all amusing, well, for the most part. This is the only Grams I ever knew growing up.

Climbing back down Grams walks up to me.

“Let’s go.”

Her tone is a lot more calm.

“Penina, you need to sharpen your brain, are you listening to me?”

“I am Grams. I am.”

“Okay good. You need to be sharper than your future husband."

I start to peel off the faded yellow, tiny dried cracks of 7 year old paint off of Gramp's grave and quietly mumbled the words,

“Were you sharper than Gramps?”

Gram's eyes shoot up at me.

"E a lou guku?"

"It's just a question Grams. Don't be ika."

"Don't be ika? Why you sound like kaemaile come out your mouth?!"

"I don't know what you just said."

“Ioe ! I sharpener your mouth very soon! Ua e iloa?"

“Okaaaaay?”

“Se Penina, make your sharp mind and not just sharp mouth. Lava laia o ou fesili faavalevalea ga and come take this keu."

[herwritings684]

Ch 9.

I felt a light touch of wind through my unshaven legs. Picked up my slippers and tiptoed through the faleoo, with two textbooks under my aoao.

I had to walk barefoot. Tua’s house, like every house, had black rocks out front.

The younger village boys laughing under the lamp post caught my ear. Shit. No school tomorrow. I came 2 hours earlier to borrow Tua’s books. This afternoon my bag was stolen during Ave’s volleyball game. My books, study notes, PK gum half eaten, highlighters, dirty quarters for bus fare, gaoi. Gone.

A shadow across the faleoo. Kefs.

“Penina, you know, you shouldn’t be walking alone like this at night.”

Ugh. Natia and his fiakama greeting. My day couldn’t get any worse.

“Thanks for the advice! But this is Samoa. Not America. I don’t need your help.”

I felt a stronger wind blowing. This time through my knees. One of the neighbor’s dogs started barking.

“You need my help.”

“Why would I possibly need— you know what? I don’t know who you think you are but—“

“Se shutup…”

Natia leaned forward, gave me a teasing smile before reaching down in front of me.

“Excuse you, what are—!”

I look down and witnessed my death. My red ie lava lava was lying on the floor. Dear God, did it have to be Natia? It couldn’t be Keanu Reeves? I wanted God to take me at that very moment. Half naked. At least I didn’t have to deal with this fool who was probably laughing at me, up close and personal. I was waaay too mortified to move. Too mā to speak.

“You needed me to help you with your ie.”

I quickly try to snatch my ie. My books fall onto the rocks.

“Give it to—“

He reaches out and tugs my back with both arms, pulling me in with my ie lavalava.

“Hold still—“

I feel his fingers pressing the cloth further towards my chubby stomach. I take a breath in. His fingertips brush my shirt. He wraps it tight to my hip. I jolt a little. His left cheek lifts into a cheeky grin.

“THIS. This is why you need me.”

I stutter. Wtf.

“Oh right, um, thanks. Yeah um, okay. Sorry.”

We are standing so close. I lift my neck up slowly to find him staring right at me. Fuck. I look at his lips. I rush my hands into my hair, making space between his face and my stupidity.

“Have a goodnight, Penina.”

I was utterly petrified. He made me warm. I turned around and started to walk away.

“Mmhm. You too.”

Nodded my head to myself about 8 times and just waved him off without looking back.

[herwritings684]

Ch 8.

“I miss writing letters.”

“Um...I’m sorry, where did that come from?

I didn’t expect Afa to understand. He hated reading and writing. Still does, I suppose. People don’t really change unless it’s something seriously life threatening. The worst thing that’s probably happened to Afa was losing the high school football championship game back in 2007.

“It’s like papers and pens are always out of reach.”

“Well, you’re always on your phone. Aren’t you always writing people? Texting? Whatever?”

“But it’s not the same.”

Afa rolls his eyes at me. I could slap him in the ears and make sure his eyes would stay that way to teach him a lesson but I don’t really want that after everything that’s happened. He’s my only friend at the moment. I couldn’t possibly survive a conversation with Afa being permanently blinded by me.

“It’s not, meaningful. Typing feels rushed and easy. But writing is like art. You take your time. You aren’t distracted by random notifications popping up or noises in the background because the only thing you see are the words you’re writing on a white piece of paper. You’re focused. You’re in the moment. You pay attention to one thing.”

“So go write a letter! Write me something I can read later.”

“You mean throw away later?”

“Yup. You’re right. It’ll probably get lost somewhere and I’ll forget.”

“Exactly Afa. But if it meant something to you. If I meant something to you, you’d keep it. You’d make sure you don’t ever lose it. You’d read it over and over again when you want to smile. You’d save it somewhere special in your room.”

“Oh c’mon Giga! What are you really trying to say?”

“I think, well, I’m actually afraid, that maybe...”

“Eh se say it! Auuu!”

“I think I finally found someone who makes me want to write letters again.”

“Who?”

“Tua’s cousin.”

[herwritings684]

Ch 7.

“You will join the army. You will leave this island. You will never speak about last night ever again! Faalogo mai?”

The last time uncle John walked was 10 years ago. He had been on a wheelchair after his car accident. The doctors told him he wasn’t going to walk after his surgery ever again.

Until last night.

Tua saw the whole thing and almost peed in his pants.

“Sole! Uncle! What the — HOLY SHIIIIT!”

It woke up my dad.

Uncle John looked at me with tears in his eyes. He walked up to me and said the weirdest thing I ever heard:

“I wish your mom could see you now.”

My father’s reaction confused me at first, then it just made me mad at him. It was like he had seen a ghost, but soon thereafter he wanted to kill the ghost.

He walked right up to my dad and without any hesitation, punched him right in the mouth.

“What....did....you...do?”

I reached for uncle John, but Dad threw another punch.

“Dad stop! What are you doing?”

Tua grabbed Dad by the shoulders.

“GET AWAY FROM ME TUA!”

Tua tightened his grip.

“JOHN !!! HOW DARE YOU JOHN !!! YOU UNGRATEFUL PIECE OF SHI—“

“DAD PLEASE ! Please stop.”

Uncle John sat there on the tile. Head down on the floor. He moved my hand away gently when I tried to pick him up. Dad was huffing and puffing but restrained by the brown steel hands of a coconut husking and tree climbing bodybuilder. God how I hated Tua for being so tall and buff.

“I did nothing, Lagi.”

“I DON’T BELIEVE A DAMN THING YOU SAY! YOU HAD NO RIGHT IOAGE! NO RIGHT AT ALL!”

“Lower your voice. You’re waking up the neighbors.”

There was a pause. He looked sternly at Tua.

“You. Go take your cousin and go wait at the guesthouse outside. Now.”

[herwritings684]

Ch. 5

11:19pm. The dogs came barking under the breadfruit tree.

“Giga!”

I peeked a little and saw Luga standing with his intermediate math book. Ah. Another one of his lies to go see his underaged girlfriend and use me as an excuse.

At this point, two things could happen. First, I could say ‘halu’ and all the dogs could go away. Or, I can pretend I can’t hear Luga and hope the dogs eat him alive until not a piece of him was left as a lesson to never leave your best friend hanging.

“Please! I know you see me!”

“E a la? Do I look like I care?”

“Giga please, I’m so sorry.”

“Alu e oki.”

“What?”

“I SAID GO EAT SOME SHIT AND DIE!”

Silence. He stood there for about 10 seconds. I was burning mad. I just wanted him gone. I heard the breadfruit leaves and rocks crushing under his feet. The sound grew louder. He stood below my window.

“Giga, kua ika a oe ia a’u?”

What a dumb question to ask, then again, Luga always asks stupid questions.

“I don’t know Luga, you tell me, would you be mad if I ditched you and lied to you and used you?

Did you know that they were playing Fergie’s GLAMOROUS!? That was our song!

But you know what I did?

I sat in my chair and clapped my hands like some clown because they don’t know our routine that we made up!

I wasn’t going to go up on the dance floor and just make up some silly moves and look like a fool!

They even played Rihanna! RIHANNA!!!!! And you already know how much I love her!

But I missed all the cool songs waiting for you. Waiting for your stupid ride with your stupid moemimi girlfriend !

I composed myself. I was starting to get too loud.

In my very sarcastic, but imperfect British accent I asked him,

“So tell me Luga, how in the bloody hell do you think I should feel at this point?”

“Gigs, please don’t hate me. Sorry a sis.”

I wasn’t mad, just disappointed. I gave him a glare.

“O a Gigs lo oe Fuāmigs.”

We immediately shot each other the “Do You Smell What the Rock is Cooking” brow. And the very next second we bursted into laughter.

In unison we both screamed “Se Fuamiiiiiigs!”

[herwritings684]

Ch 4.

The night sivas are nothing more than political gatherings.

Atoatoa’s precious 3-times-a-year who’s who.

The only valid reason I ever attended them was because I always loved seeing Zerry’s latest fashion dress. Zerry was my classmate Freya’s older, more glamorous, more opinionated, more everything faafafine sister.

Freya knew how much I wanted my dress to be seen by Zerry. A gown made for the gods.

“Zerry ran away with Avaga.”

“E aaaaaaaa?” Gosh I was devastated.

“To the Philippines. My mom said they were going to open their own sewing shop when they come back.”

“When? Next month?”

“Sorry Pen, next year.”

I couldn’t blame Zerry. The working conditions here wasn’t always pleasant. Zerry was always being secretly pursued by middle aged men who had boring wives.

One, of which, was Avaga.

He was married to Lemau, one of our high chief’s daughter, Futiselaki, who later left Avaga for one of the male teachers they flew in from Fiji at the missionary school.

You see, Avaga was to be an a’oa’o after they married. Another prestigiously bestowed title in our village. But it never happened. He caught Lemau with Mr. Tonu a few months after their wedding and beat the man to a near death experience. Kicked out of school, out of Futiselaki’s house, and found himself looking for any job that was hiring.

“Yesterday. Both of them. Gone.”

Zerry was not exclusive with anyone. Too busy making monumental outfits.

Until one evening when his mother, our kind Tita Hayna, made a funny comment before closing the shop.

“Oh you know Zerold, he got Samoan boyfriend from the night club next to the church.”

Frey and I giggled. There was no way Zerry would even give any man the time of day. Boy were we wrong.

“I will go and visit Zerry. Maybe Christmas? I heard his wife got the Fijian teacher fired. Now she’s dating another teacher.”

“Eh! Nobody cares about her. Is Zerry happy?”

“Oka, let me tell you, over the top happy!”

“Then it’s settled. Avaga is her happy. They will live happily happy happy.”

I love siva nights. But last year I picked the wrong partner. Word of advice: Never trust a cousin to take you to a siva night.

I went with Luga, my now expired best friend/first cousin since ECE. His girlfriend was too young to come to these events and so automatically, I knew we would go together.

We wore matching red outfits. Zerry authenticated.

I even dyed my hair red. My acrylic nails were rose red. My lips were cherry red. My red Chimmy Choose.

Mom has a cousin in California named Chimmy, his actual name is Dimitri but we all call him Kimiki who got me the red shoes.

And yes, it was all Katniss Everdeen vibes.

But without the Hunger games. Samoans don’t go hungry. At any given moment. It’s law.

After our grand entrance, a few minutes after being seated, Luga left me by myself because his girlfriend was waiting in the rental car that he supposedly got for us.

He never came back.

He lied to his dad about being at the night siva and went cruising down Lioga West with her until they got pulled over by a police officer.

I sat at the table clapping my hands and stomping my feet while the DJ was playing all the latest hits wondering where Luga had gone.

An hour later, my phone was ringing and it was Luga. He was profusely apologizing and asked me to lie for him.

[herwritings684]

Side note:

There are about 15 people living under our roof.

You can’t blame me for wanting to walk around naked in the house 15 years later.

[herwritings684]

Ch 3.

Mom never talked about her miscarriage, well, the villagers claimed it was a home abortion, and grams herself did it with her bare hands and coconut oil.

Aunty Sina was also pregnant at the time. Her bump showed much faster than Mom’s. Everyone cursed our family, saying we brought the devil’s work into Atoatoa.

Legend has it that our perfect village of Atoatoa was the first place that God’s follower walked onto our land. Joseph was a white, middle aged man, who carried around a black book. At first, they called him a witch. Then, they called him a priest. Eventually, they just called him Atoa. Or was it Atua. Our history is pretty much passed down through oral tradition and storytelling. I guess we’ll never know. He stayed here. He brought his family here. And he died here, too. The day he died was the same day two servant girl sisters were announced pregnant. No relation whatsoever to our family. No relation to Mr. Fuller. And yet, it was seen as a bad omen. A dark cloud. Again, a bloody curse. Nothing is ever a coincidence in our island. It is always a sign from God, or a prophecy, or a warning, could even be a vision. In his memory, they named the village after him, Mr. Joseph Fuller. Full of shit if you ask me.

It was raining outside, I could hear the wet pitter-patter against the breadfruit leaves right behind our house.

“Do you have something to wear for the night siva this weekend?”

I almost passed out in the edge of the library and it was a bit strange how the light came in through Dad’s wooden reading chair.

“Oh, me? I’m not going. I want to Rocky ride icecream and some good Netflix movies to watch, how does that sound?”

“Leai. And this is my final answer.”

“No? But isn’t me staying home and going nowhere for the next 30 years of my life everything you ever dreamed of?”

“Giga, I want you to have your own life. I’m your mother, of course I’m going to be selfish with you.”

“It’s really a waste of time.”

“Aren’t your friends going to be there?”

“Mom, you don’t care about my friends.”

“Don’t say that!”

“Mom, you never let me sleep over their houses. You never let them sleep here. You don’t talk when they come over. You have this really weird nod that you do to intimidate them.”

“I do those things to protect you.”

“Protect me? From what?”

“From things you’ll never understand unless you become a mother yourself.”

Mom stares blankly at the window pane behind me. A bit of a trance. She slips back into reality. There’s a frown I see forming, then she grins it away. My mother, what a mystery she is.

“I’ll have aunty take you to get your measurements...”

“But I thought —“

“You thought what? It’ll be your last night as a senior, there’s no way you’re going to waste a perfectly good night.”

“Will she be buying me a wine bottle to accessorize my dress?”

Ma shakes her head and lets out a little sigh. I’m feeling like a total dissapointment by now.

“Penina, I love you so much. Don’t make me crack that wine bottle on your head, understood?”

[herwritings684]

Ch 2.

Feaus. More like child slavery. In other countries, kids were being kids, meanwhile in Samoa, parents made sure by the time a child turned 5, they were able to turn on the faucet sink and hold a bottle of Joy dishwashing soap.

Aunty Sina slapped me on the head. I was daydreaming for way too long. The right side of the kitchen sink was overflowing with water.

“Stare your eyes!”

“Oh! Sorry!”

“Turn off the damn water before you flood grandma’s house! Valea girl !”

I’ve already blocked the rest of Aunty Sina’s bickering because she tends to say the same things over and over again.

I am starting to believe what the ladies at church are saying about poor Aunty Sina. She needs to find herself a man.

What do they say?

Get some?

I pray to the gods of single aunts with no husbands over the age of 50 to grant my aunt a man so she can get some.

Immediately.

A few of aunty Sina’s vocabulary to promote low self esteem amongst us disappointing handwashing dish doers:

Kaea = You suck. Muli kaea = Your butt sucks too. Kaea pipilo = You’re a septic tank overflowing with suckness.

“Giga, are you pretending not to hear me?”

“I’m sorry, aunty. It won’t happen again.”

Of course it’s going to happen again. It’s me, Penina the Almost Disaster.

“Eh se! Get away, go massage grams feet or comb her hair.”

Thank goodness.

Grandma’s outside in the garage. In Samoa, garages are not for cars. They’re for storing everything other than that. Fine mats. Shoes with no pairs. More fine mats. Half used Black Flag sprays. Old tires that make up the community of frogs and toads. A stolen toolbox that nobody uses.

“Ua fo’i?”

Ugh, grandma and her bionic ears.

“Nothing, aunty just wanted me to come here and help you.”

“Just leave her be, pepe. Come comb out grandma’s hair and pluck my eyebrows, just the white hairs.”

“Gram, you only have white hairs.”

She chuckles and slaps my leg with her hand fan. I reach out for the fine tooth comb and begin to brush out the ends of her long hair.

“So which ugly boy from school with no front teeth has seen your panty?”

We look at each other quickly and burst out laughing.

“Gram! Why would I let any boy see my panty?”

“That’s right. You just go to school and listen to your teacher. Don’t be a foolish girl. Don’t you ever, ever, ever try and show your panty to a boy or a man or anyone. You are not stupid. The only person who can see your panty is mommy or aunty or grandma.”

“I know grandma.”

“Penina, you pray to God everyday and you obey mommy. You will have a good life.”

“Do you want me to braid your hair?”

“No, just put it in a bun. Then you go finish your dishes now. I’m sure your aunty is gone.”