Illumine Her (14 page)

***

He was out there. Sitting in the front yard on the muddy grass with the mat over his head. It rained earlier in the morning, and still he sat waiting under the stifling heat of the afternoon sun. He was there since dawn, and she didn’t feel sorry for him. His humility didn’t touch her, and she didn’t care if he hadn’t eaten or drunk anything; her heart had turned to stone long ago, her stomach coiled in indifference. Alana peered out through the louvers but kept herself hidden from view. Her father wasn’t even cold in the ground, and he was already out there begging.
Let him beg for eternity
, she thought, fisting her hands at her sides and clenching her teeth. Let him hurt until he got ill; she didn’t care. Her mother was in her room mourning, and her brother sat in the living room, his face hardened and tense. Their uncles surrounded him, their low mutterings reaching her ears. How long should they keep him waiting? When was the appropriate time to forgive him? She felt sick hearing them talk this way. She didn’t want to forgive him. She would refuse to forgive him. When the talking ceased, her brother stood and walked towards the front door. She lunged ahead of him and pushed it open. She heard him curse as he tried to reach for her but she was quicker. Bolting to the man rooted to the ground she grabbed the mat and wrenched it free. Heat and perspiration rose and struck her nose. Her attacker’s hair was rumpled and plastered to his forehead and neck from sweat. Balling her fists she raised and pummeled them down hard on his head. Bash! Bash!

“You killed my father!” she screamed at him.

He raised his arms in protection, his knees lifting off the ground, shouting obscenities at her. Alana heard roaring in her ears as her brother’s hands shook her loose.

“You killed him!” she continued shouting. “You killed him! You killed my father!” her voice grew hoarse as the roaring intensified.

Her uncles surrounded her and dragged her away. Her arms flailed and her foot struck out and kicked someone.

“You killed him! You killed him!...”

Alana gasped and jerked awake. Her shoulders curved over her chest as she raised her hands to cover her mouth. A whimper escaped her lips. God, what was wrong with her? With each expanding breath, her chest squeezed in anguish. Patting around the tangled sheets for her discarded
lavalava
, she wrapped it around her hips and rose. Darkness gripped her bowed spine, enveloping her in a tunnel of fury. Flinging the mosquito net aside, she padded her way to the bathroom.

Shutting the door quietly, she flicked on the light switch and blinked against its harsh glow. Spitting into the sink, she raised her eyes and caught her reflection in the mirror. Dark pools stared back and a line creased between her brows. Turning on the tap, she splashed cold water on her face and neck.

“Alana?” A rap at the door. “Are you alright?” her mother’s sleepy voice asked.

She swallowed and cleared her sore throat. “Just getting a drink of water. Go back to sleep, Mama.” Alana didn’t want to talk about this with her now.

She heard her soft footsteps retreat down the hallway. Switching off the water, her hands and shoulders quaked in an emotion she had become accustomed to two years ago. Pure hatred. It had become a fixture in her life, and she relished in it now, her breaths coming out in harsh bursts before returning to her room. Instead of going back to bed, she stood at the end of it, the wood frame scraping along her knees.

Lowering herself to the floor, she bent her legs and propped her elbows on them, supporting her head with her hands.

Don’t cry. You will not cry.

Chapter 11

A
lana slouched down in her seat and stared out the car window. The salty breeze blew in from the open windows and whipped strands of hair around her face as Manu drove to the airport. They passed beaches and small shops, children running along the sides of the road with sticks, and older men carrying bundles of matured coconuts and green bananas.

It had been three weeks since the incident at Ruby’s house, and she felt as if she had been put through a year of hell. Manu slowed and allowed a truck to pass.

“Look, Lana, I’m sorry but you’ve got to do something—say something—to get out of this funk you’re in.”

She grimaced. “Funk? What good will it do to have some kind of hissy fit, huh? It’s done, finished! Everyone just needs to move on,” she said with a sneer, her uncle’s words echoing in her head.

“That’s it—get it out! Get angry! Get pissed off! Be furious with me,” he exclaimed.

“It wasn’t your fault, Manu, alright? How many times do I have to tell you?”

“It’ll make me feel a hell of a lot better if you do. Hit me, scream at me, whatever.”

“I’m not going to do either of those things,” she said quietly.

Manu clenched his jaw and punched the steering wheel, the horn blowing as a result. She flinched and turned to look out the window at the glittery water. It had been a while since they argued, and even then, it was always over something stupid like who sung better on
America’s Got Talent
or whether the ref made a bad call in a rugby match. But the tension from the past few weeks put a strain on their friendship, and she didn’t like it. She didn’t like that Manu felt responsible for her and blamed himself for what happened that night.

“It wasn’t a big deal, alright?” she said to appease him. “He didn’t rape me, so it’s not important. Hundreds of women get raped and beaten and wind up with worse fates, so who am I to get all fired up about this?”

Manu swore under his breath and turned to her in disbelief. “Are you kidding me?” he almost shouted. “Are you hearing yourself? Don’t you ever say that this isn’t important! Assault is assault no matter what form it takes. There’s no grey area about it, Lana!”

Alana pursed her lips and turned away. Yes, she knew that was probably one of the most stupid things she’d ever said. He was right. There should be absolutely no tolerance for that kind of behavior.

She was not prepared for the gossip that ensued. The pain it caused was far worse than what the attacker did to her. Like a knife, the whispers stabbed her spirit and the questioning looks devoured her thoughts. News of that evening had reached some circles she was acquainted with, and she was both praised and blamed for her reaction to the assault. She couldn’t help but be hurt by the hissing comments that were fired her way. Outwardly, she put up the façade, the mask of strength and indifference that society deemed as pillars of strength and fortitude, but inside she was a pool of sensitivity. She knew they originated from his extended family, but she couldn’t help the prick in her heart from the effect a few words created.

“Why couldn’t she just leave it alone? It wasn’t like she got seriously hurt. Stirring up unnecessary trouble.”

“Those poor kids of his. Now they have been dragged into this mess.”

“I bet she asked for it, the slut.”

Lisi cornered her one day after she changed a patient’s catheter. “Don’t let those idiots get to you, Lana,” she whispered as they walked down the hall. “Those people who said those things about you? They’re bored and coming together to talk is the only form of entertainment they will get around here. Don’t worry, it’ll soon blow over.”

Alana tried to smile, but she hated island gossip. Like a forest fire, it latched on and spread without care for anyone in its path.

For days she lost sleep and the evidence was clear by the dark shadows under her eyes. Her weight loss worried both her mother and Sala. Alana stopped her morning jogs and chose to lay listlessly in bed until the beams of sun forced her to get ready for work. She moved throughout her day with a quiet acquiescence, her silent demeanor slowly quelling her spirit, effectively concerning everyone around her. But she hadn’t cried once. No tears. Nothing. She was just an internal mess of emotions and a wounded soul.

She reacted in a way that would draw less attention to herself. She was determined not to let it show that it affected her; her pride wouldn’t allow it. She kept quiet, shuffling through her day as if nothing bothered her. In the evenings, she found comfort near her father’s grave side. Plucking at the weeds that sprung around his tombstone, she wiped away the dust that had settled over it. Even the dogs she feared sensed her emotions and left her alone, stretching languidly beside her on the grass. Days passed and she felt like a weak failure. Outwardly, she was Alana, the obedient daughter; Alana, the caring nurse; Alana, the attentive friend, and if she continued to fulfill those roles, she could convince everyone around her that she was just that, and perhaps in the process persuade herself of it as well. But no. She knew deep down what a failure she was. What a weakling she had turned out to be. She failed her father, and it cut her deeply. The feminist side of her also mourned what was lost to her—the chance to fight for something that no woman should tolerate. She failed her Samoan sisters, and ultimately herself, and swept the incident under the mat like the vulnerable victim she was.

When the anger took over, it consumed her for days. Her relationship with David was strained, and she found it easier to ignore him day after day. He left early for work each morning, and she didn’t see him in the evenings when she came back late from the hospital, which suited her just fine. She was angry with him. He hurt her, and she was not prepared to forgive him. Physically she was moving forward, fulfilling her responsibilities at the hospital and carrying out menial tasks at home. As long as she was busy, she could bury the last few weeks away somewhere in her mind, lock away the memory and throw away the key. There was enough happening with the family that made it easy for her to do just that. Now that she had everyone fooled, she pretended she didn’t care. She was indifferent to it all and didn’t give a damn anymore.

They drove in silence the rest of the way as Manu sped up and passed some cars to beat the airplane to the airport. When they reached Faleolo International Airport, a crowd of people populated the arrivals area, anticipating passengers with their straight, bored faces. Alana wasn’t deceived though. She knew deep down they were as eager as she was. Family and friends stood awkwardly facing the doors, waiting to welcome their loved ones with garlands of flowers, and Alana and Manu joined them. They stood to the side looking out for the familiar honey-colored highlights of their best friend. A family of seven dressed in matching Hawaiian-print outfits stepped through the doors, wheeling their obviously heavy carts of suitcases and boxes.
Christmas had come early for that family
, she thought as they launched into hugs with their awaiting relatives. She turned away from the reunion and saw Sera appear with her radiant smile and bouncy curls. Alana immediately launched herself forward to hug her, their happiness evident to all those witnessing.

“I can’t believe you’re finally here,” she said, gripping hard.

“Lana, you know very well that when I say I’m going to do something, I always do.” Sera pulled back, her smile waning. “My God, look at you! You’ve lost so much weight…” she trailed off, eyes glistening with moisture.

Alana squeezed her hands. “I’m okay, Sera. It’s behind me.” From the corner of her eye she noticed Manu stiffen at her words. Alana ignored him and focused on the best friend in front of her. “You’re here now and that’s all that matters. We have a wedding to look forward to, lots of family, lots of food, lots of sightseeing.”

Alana smiled to erase the look of concern on Sera’s face. Her smile didn’t reach her eyes, and Sera gave her a look that said she wasn’t convinced. For the moment, she seemed willing to help her friend in any way she could, even if that meant temporarily burying the problem.

She wrapped her arm around Alana’s. “I’ve heard so much about this place that I finally had to check it out for myself just so I don’t feel left out anymore.”

She nudged Manu in the ribs, and he hugged her around the shoulders. Picking up her bag, they crossed the street to the car park area. Manu’s truck was parked a few rows away, and the three friends meandered their way over. Once they were settled in, he started the forty minute journey towards Alana’s home. Sera enjoyed the village setting and traditional homes, flourishing gardens adorning the front yards, children walking along the road waving and shouting in greeting. They passed the main town area with its busy market stalls of fresh fruits and vegetables, women chasing flies away from the fish caught early that day, and shoppers shielding themselves from the sun’s rays in the shade of looming department stores.