Our Place - by Joanne McGregor

I knew you were there, you know, I could feel you watching me.

Did it annoy you, the corrugated staccato along the Te Ngaio Road access fence? It was other kids too, though; it wasn’t just me.

Did you see my first flip? The sea-bitten banks in front of Green Gables begged our tumbles. Dad would have said “You’ll break your bloody necks!” if he’d been there. My cousin, Megan, lying still on the beach ‘working on a tan’ should have come and played with us because we got much browner.

Look, I know you could see me eyeing up Rabbit at low tide. You knew how badly I wanted to swim over. Would you have saved me in Shark Alley? I could’ve you know; I was a good swimmer - I had won races - but those sharks. … Bugger that. Huh, not one fin - ever!

When next we met it was full moon and low tide but with loads of little ripple waves. It was so bright I had a moon shadow planted on the dune beside me. I was pretending not to be cold or scared though you could see the shivering was a bit of a giveaway. He sat apart from me and made you closer – just there. He had his licence and drove a car.

Now that my twin cousins went to college, they didn’t want to do flips off the bank. I did like that day clambering over your feet, gathering grazes, getting lost in the galaxy swirls of the cat’s eyes. Did I tell you I wanted to go to a different galaxy? Home, feeding out at night, muffled by Davey Brown, I asked UFOs to please come and get me. I would help with their experiments: I was good at science – they wouldn’t need to kill me.

Maybe I should have talked to you about that more. Maybe you could have taken me in instead. You are quite straight up and solid, but quiet. I’m quite solid and I have strong muscles. I don’t really feel like a girl except for that other thing.

We connect again at a distance from Papamoa. You still recognise me. I’ve changed. You haven’t. I’m pleased. I’m very different on the inside now. I wonder what your insides are like. We do need to talk. My insides are all wrong.

I came over with Mark, some of his eleventy jillion brothers and sisters and his friend to some petrol-head thing at Bay Park. We got to the gates and had to pay to get in. Mark didn’t have enough money so off to the all-free beach. His mate, Steve, gave me a sunblock slap. I never got to show you the big white handprint on my red belly. Man, was there a lot of serious burn that day.

The old UE accredited days. Now that I wasn’t a kid, we were allowed to stay in Aunty Cath’s bach back in Te Ngaio Road. Dot came because we had always done everything together since we were five and Cheryl had the car – I had to do any hill starts if we went to Tauranga. Her Dad wanted to meet me to make sure I was sensible. I am so sensible. I think you are sensible, too, and reliable, that’s why we get along so well. Dot didn’t want to climb up so we walked around.

He gave me a fright, the man running up behind me, bounding over the half-way stile. I squealed. I am so not usually a squealer - pigs squeal. I saw his eyes though - they twinkled. Next day, on top, I saw this guy just like Peter Frampton.  I think he might have looked at me once but saw I’m too fat, my hair is thin and I have bad pimples. I know with age-old words you would have tried to re-speak the truth but it was my now.

Then came the years of separation. I was separated from so much. I separated from myself. I needed to be gathered up and held. And you heard me from the other side of our country. You heard me. I wonder if Karioi helped. She is really nice, too ­ you would like her.

Hey! Very cunning sending the twinkling eyes so I would know you had come for me. He still doesn’t know that. He still doesn’t know about us, but he loves me and he will understand if I have to explain our secret. He is of you, too – that’s why he brought me back here.

You remember that first togetherness day we rock-hopped all the way round. He couldn’t know this was our ceremony, bound and blessed. It has been twenty years but it is older than him. It is older than me. His eyes still twinkle.

You at the stake - fires are not cleansing. My helpless tears are not making it stop! Where is the stupid, stupid helicopter with its stupid, little piddle piss drip bucket?  But these scars, I know, are not for ever: I gave you the most precious thing in my keeping. She came, my only child, my daughter. She came to soothe and to plant your wounds. She knows her belonging.

I have traced your face blind-fingered. I know where the tornados tore, where boulders fell, where summer storms spread red carpet at my feet. I give you my breath; we speak in speckled-light words. I wonder about you? Did she really extinguish your molten desire? Are you still thinking about her - Puwhenua?

I know you as patient, tolerant, listening.

I will grow old, gnarled deep in your care as I hold his hand.