Breadfruit (15 page)

Georgette had brought some presents with her. “A few little things,” she said shyly. Two bottles of Dom Perignon, pâté de
foie gras, crackers, and some expensive cheese—not the Chesdale Stella always got.

Dinner started.

Stella said to herself, Don’t get alarmed. Georgette will last as long as the others before her: a very short time. Her baby
son was entitled to be silly now and then, although he was going a bit too far this time.

She remembered the other women, the ones she had sometimes met in her house by accident. They had all been very pretty. She
particularly liked that Leila, the one before Georgette. She was a real beauty, that one, Maco and Leila would have made gorgeous
children together. But Maco must have dumped her for Georgette.

There was no way Stella was going to let that Georgette hang around for more than a day. Tomorrow morning she’d talk some
sense into her baby boy’s thick head. He had to get rid of that Georgette as soon as possible, before the relations found
out about Maco’s latest girlfriend. Stella didn’t want her relations to laugh at her behind her back. Stella didn’t want her
relations to laugh at her, full stop. But in the meantime she’d be her hospitable self.

“Are you all right,
darling?
” said Maco, sitting next to his woman.

“I’m fine. I’m fine.”

“You want more rice?”

“Yes, please. And more chicken too.”

“You’re hungry tonight.” Maco gave Georgette a sexy wink.

Georgette giggled. Stella blushed, and even Jean blushed a little.

Maco looked at his mother and father. “Okay, you two, we stop the comedy, eh? Yes, Georgette is a
raerae.
She looks like a man, she talks like a man—because she
is
a bloody man.”

Then, turning to Georgette, who was laughing, Maco said, “My family’s not usually this quiet. For example, once Papi gets
talking, he doesn’t stop. When nobody wants to listen to him, he talks to the wall, eh, Papi?”

Georgette smiled, this time a real smile. “Ah, there’s nothing wrong with talking to the wall. I talk to my pillow sometimes
when I need to say words I don’t want anybody to hear.”

“I talk to the dog. A dog never tells you to shut up,” Maco said.

“I’ll never tell you to shut up… but don’t shit me.” Georgette was now slowly rubbing her shoulder against Maco’s shoulder.

Stella, who was getting annoyed, felt she better say a few words to Georgette. “Ah, this one… he’s sure going to give
you shit heaps of the time. Maco, he’s a lazy bugger. I always say to him, ‘I hope you’re going to find a woman who’s not
going to mind cleaning up after you.’ I’m sure not going to clean up after him all my bloody life. He takes after his father.
Oh well, I thought I better warn you.”

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.”

T
he 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.”