Breadfruit (8 page)

“Materena,
this
… it’s not my style,” Pito starts.

In Pito’s opinion, the colors scream out,
Admire me! I’m beautiful! I’m a flower!

In Pito’s opinion,
raeraes
wear that kind of shirt, and, actually, Pito saw a
raerae
in town yesterday and that
raerae
was wearing the exact same shirt. And Pito doesn’t want to be mistaken for a
raerae
and he doesn’t want to be mistaken for someone who likes
raeraes.

He’s never going to wear that shirt, not even for
cent mille
francs.

Materena snatches the shirt away. “Eh, you don’t need to say you’re never going to wear that shirt, not even for
cent mille
francs, you know well nobody is going to pay you
cent mille
francs to wear that shirt.”

Materena’s disappointed, she’s angry. She scrunches the shirt and gives Pito a dirty look.

“Did I ever ask you to buy me a shirt?” Pito asks. “No, I never asked you to buy me a shirt, because what I like and what
you like, it’s not the same.”

Pito likes to buy his own shirts. He knows best what suits him.

“It’s like that love-song tape you got me last year,” he says.

“You already told me about that love-song tape,” Materena snaps.

“And that straw hat you bought me the year before. I never wear it. It’s you who always wears that hat. You know I prefer
caps, so why did you give me a straw hat—plus, a woman’s straw hat?”

“You already told me about that hat.”

“Take that shirt back to the store and give me the money for a case of Hinano.” Pito goes on watching the TV.

Materena drags the ironing board into the bedroom to iron the shirt, as you can’t take a scrunched shirt back to the shop.
It must be crisply ironed.

She was going to get Pito to show off that beautiful shirt on Saturday at the birthday party at Mama Roti’s place, but it’s
not going to happen, since he thinks only the
raeraes
wear that kind of shirt.

Materena plugs the iron in, berating herself—and Pito. It’s the last time I’m buying that Pito a birthday gift! You
andouille,
Materena. She knows what Pito really wants for his birthday. He wants a speedboat. Eh, as if we have the money for a speedboat.
It costs a lot of money to buy a speedboat. Plus, there’s the repairs and the petrol, and the motor. And what are we going
to do with a speedboat?

Materena takes the shirt back to the store the following morning on her way to work. She smiles a big smile to the salesperson.
“Eh,
iaorana,
girlfriend, it’s a beautiful day today, eh? I thought it was going to rain, but it doesn’t look like it’s going to rain.
And are you fine?”

The salesperson just glances at the shirt.

“Girlfriend, I have to give you that shirt back. It doesn’t fit my husband. It’s too small.”

The salesperson gives Materena the
do I know you?
look.

“I was here yesterday,” Materena says. “Check in your black book.”

Ah yes, the salesperson remembers. But she can’t take the shirt back—it is the store’s policy.

Ah, now Materena is annoyed. “I can’t exchange the shirt for a dress?”

The salesperson gives Materena the
I’m sorry
look.

Materena wants to say that it is the last time she buys something from that store, but it’s not the fault of the salesperson
that there’s a store policy. The salesperson is just an employee—she doesn’t own the store.

Materena leaves the store.

She could give that shirt to her cousin Mori. It’s not money lost. But first, she’s going to try it on. She tries it on as
soon as she gets to her work. The fabric feels really nice.

She inspects herself in the mirror in the room of her boss. Eh, the colors suit her. The shirt is a bit big but it still suits
her fine. Materena lifts her arms. It looks a bit like a blouse on her. That can be my uniform, she thinks. A blouse and a
pareu—it matches.

She leaves the blouse on. It’s nice working with that blouse on. You don’t sweat as much. She checks herself in the mirror
again before leaving the house of her boss. Ah yes, it’s her style.

And now, she’s noticing how people are looking at her as she’s waiting for the truck at the market. People—men especially.
She knows it is because of the colorful shirt. Nobody looks at her when she’s wearing her clean, ironed oversize T-shirt.

A tall, lean woman walks past Materena and smiles a big bright smile at her. Materena smiles back. They’re wearing the same
shirt. The tall, lean woman is wearing it with bright red tights, though—she’s got nice legs. Nobody is looking at Materena
anymore. The tall, lean, muscular woman is more interesting because she’s wriggling her bottom and swinging her bright orange
handbag.

Then the suspicion that the woman is a man comes into Materena’s mind.

It’s not always obvious—a
raerae.
Some of them are hopeless at disguising themselves as a woman. One look at the face and you know it’s a man—there’s the spiky
hair.

But some of them are experts, and the only thing that gives the truth away is the deep man voice.

There’s a street in Papeete for the
raeraes
to wait for their clients. Materena had been past that street one night. Her cousin Mori was driving the car. And Mori yelled
out from the window, “And it’s how much?” And the
raerae
called back, “Come see me, my little cabbage, and I’ll show you what love is all about.”

They’re quite flamboyant, the
raeraes.
They like to show off.

They like colors.

Was that woman a
raerae?

Materena looks down at her chest. You can’t see the form of her breasts with that shirt.

Eh—people, they’re thinking she’s a
raerae?

Materena chuckles and gets into a truck.

Mori and Teva, another cousin of Materena, are drinking under the mango tree at the petrol station when Materena gets off
the truck. Mori is playing “Silent Night” on his accordion and Teva is humming, but they stop to call out, “
Iaorana,
Cousin,” to Materena.

“
Iaorana,
” says Materena. She wants to add, “Are you still waiting for a job to fall out of the sky?” But they are nice cousins. They
just like the drink a bit too much. There are quite a few empty bottles of Hinano in the beer case.

“Eh, Materena, you’re flamboyant today,” Mori says.

Teva laughs.

Materena stops walking. She demands to know what Mori means by
flamboyant.

“Well, you’re colorful. I can see you really well,” Mori says. “You’re like, how can I say this, you’re like —” Finally, Mori
finds the word. “Like a peacock, Materena, Cousin.”

Mori is now laughing his head off. He’s laughing so much that his dreadlocks are trembling. Materena looks at him, then she
looks at Teva, and she can see by the redness of their eyes that they’ve been smoking marijuana on top of drinking Hinano.

Materena puts her hands on her hips. “Well, you two, I prefer to look like a peacock than to look like a good-for-nothing.
Are you two still waiting for a job to fall out of the sky?”

She marches away and hears her cousins say, “What’s wrong with Materena today?”

“Ah, she’s just in a bad mood. Some days it’s best not to say
iaorana.
Some days, it’s best just to drink your beer and say nothing.”

Materena marches back to the mango tree and asks her cousins if the shirt makes her look like… like a
raerae.

The cousins are perplexed by the question. Mori says, “Well, we know you’re a woman… so . . .”

Teva says, “We know you’re not a
raerae…
so . . .”

Materena waves a hand. “Ah—who cares about what you two say?” Then she stomps off again.

Marching home, Materena thinks about how difficult gift giving is. There’s no guarantee. It seems that what people give and
what people expect to receive are often two different things.

Materena knows this will happen with her wedding gifts, but she will accept them gratefully because that is what you should
do when somebody remembers to give you a gift. In Materena’s opinion, Pito should have accepted the colorful shirt that she
bought him with such good intentions. He could just wear it at home if he’s so concerned about his image.

Now, standing in front of the mirror, Materena asks herself if that colorful shirt is making her look like a
raerae.
No woman wants to be mistaken for a man.

“
Alors?
” she says out loud. “You look like a woman or a man?”

Later, Cousin Rita, visiting, reassures Materena. “Cousin, you have nothing to worry about. You look like a woman because
you
are
a woman, and you are beautiful in that shirt, like in anything else you wear.”

M
aterena is making the bed. It’s an old bed and it came along with Pito because Materena’s bed was single-size, meant for one
body. Materena had never felt the desire to know the history of Pito’s bed, but Rita came to visit today and told Materena
that she’d bought a new mattress.

Well, it’s not really a
new
mattress Rita bought. It didn’t come from the mattress store. Rita bought it at the secondhand store. But even if it’s not
brand-new, Rita said it looks brand-new. According to Rita, the person who owned the mattress before must have only used it
for a week.

In fact, it’s not really a
mattress
Rita bought. It’s more a Japanese-style bed. It’s low and a bit hard to sleep on, but Coco will get used to it. Coco says
he misses sleeping in his old bed, but Rita likes the new bed better than she liked the old bed.

Here’s the story.

Rita knew Coco had had lots of women before she caught his heart, and these women had never really bothered Rita until Coco’s
mama said to her last week, “Ah, my son, he had lots of women. They used to sneak into my son’s bedroom, those women.” Apparently
Coco’s mama had heard the
clap-clap
noise of the high-heel shoes. These women didn’t come barefoot.

Coco’s mama cackled and Rita cackled along. Rita’s cackle was louder. And she said to Coco’s mama, “Eh, I know all about sneaking
into a man’s bedroom. I’ve done lots of sneaking myself. Ah, all that sneaking us women do.”

Coco’s mama looked at Rita and Rita could tell that she didn’t believe her story about sneaking into men’s bedrooms. Everybody
in Coco’s family knew Rita was a virgin when she met Coco. Coco had told his mama about Rita being a virgin and his mama had
made sure to pass this information on to the coconut radio. Coco’s mama was very proud her son caught a virgin.

She’s always talking about Rita’s virginity. One day Rita asked her, “Why are you always talking about my virginity?” And
Coco’s mama replied, “It’s so rare, that’s why I’m always talking about your virginity.”

Rita wishes she hadn’t been a virgin when she met Coco.

Anyway, back to the mattress story.

Within two days of Rita finding out about all those women sneaking into Coco’s bedroom, she developed an allergy to the mattress
Coco got from his mother for his seventeenth birthday.

Rita tried to fight her allergy. It’s a bit silly to be allergic to a mattress just because other women used it before you,
it’s only a mattress and there’s a sheet on it. Rita tried to be sensible about that mattress, but it was no use. There were
just too many women linked to that mattress.

Rita revealed her allergy to Coco and he roared with laughter. In his opinion, it was months since another woman had slept
on that mattress, so it was clean now. Rita’s sweat and Rita’s perfume had cleaned it.

Yes, true, but still Rita’s allergy got worse.

In the beginning, Rita’s allergy was a general physical discomfort like you get when the mattress is too hard or too soft,
but within days Rita’s allergy transformed into a rash all over her body.

Rita rubbed cream on her skin to no effect. She slept on the mat for one night (Coco commanded her to stop being ridiculous)
and the rash went away. She slept on the mattress again and the rash came back.

Then Rita suggested to Coco that they get a new mattress and he got cranky. He said, “Rita, there are days when you tire me
with your nonsense.” He told Rita her allergy was in her imagination. So Rita showed Coco the rash and said, “And these red
spots—it’s my imagination?”

One morning, Rita carried the mattress out to the backyard and hosed it good, then she scrubbed it with lavender fabric softener,
then perfumed it with lavender oil. She did all this while Coco was out, and when he came home and saw the mattress drying
outside, he said, “And where am I going to sleep now?” He was really baffled.

Rita and Coco slept on the mat, and all night long Coco complained about the hard floor. The next morning it rained. And the
day after, and the day after. Every morning, Rita would look at the gray sky and smile. It suited her that the mattress was
getting ruined outside. But Coco was very fond of that mattress, and he didn’t appreciate sleeping on the floor. He cursed
Rita every single day it rained. It rained for a whole week.

So one afternoon Cousin Rita decided to buy a brand-new mattress.

In Rita’s opinion, when a man and a woman get together, they should buy a new mattress, because a mattress is very important.
A mattress is for sexy loving, a mattress is for words of love—a mattress is for intimacy.

So she went hunting for a new mattress, but then she spotted that Japanese-style bed in a secondhand store. She lay on it
for about one hour and realized that she not only wanted a new mattress but a whole new bed. So she bought that Japanese-style
bed.

A new bed—a new beginning.

Cousin Mori organized the delivery of the bed to Rita’s house, and when Coco saw the Japanese-style bed, he said, “And where’s
my bed?” Well, Rita gently informed Coco that her cousin Mori took the old bed, along with the wet, ruined mattress, to give
it to a friend who didn’t have a bed, only a very old torn mat. “What!” Coco was out of his mind, and it took Rita a while
to calm him.