8
THAT BOY H
e pokes his tongue in the gap like a worm breaking through soil, wiggling away. āNeat alright,ā I say. āMake sure you put it under your pillow tonight.ā The talk of money mopped up the last few tears quick smart. Now heās brimming with energy again. āCan I go back?ā āOnly if your brother goes,ā I say. Jack grew bored of the bridge a few years ago, they always do. Who knows maybe heāll get off his phone for a bit. āEveryone is still down there.ā āI said only if your brother goes.ā The last ļ¬ve weeks Iāve been here on the couch, grazing Netļ¬ix and scrolling on my phone. Never fully committed to either. I walk at nights, eat what my old man used to call ārabbit foodā and I take the pills. Itās hard work. The boat has been begging to get on the lake. Not to mention all the Lion Reds Iāve missed at the pub. Doctorsā orders. Raās back two minutes later. Heās doing that walk, the concrete feet shufļ¬e with his chin bolted to his
collar bone. Dark as an almond already and itās not even Christmas. āIām not going,ā I say. āPlease Dad?ā āMight be good for you to stay outta the sun for a bit. You donāt want leathery skin like your old man, eh?ā He shifts his eyes to the window. āIf you were at work, Iād just go back anyway.ā Mind reader, and heās not wrong. The boy could talk a pipi out of its shell. I can hear Angela already, And you let him go back down after losing a bloody tooth? āTell your mother you wiggled it out.ā He knows where this is going, and he clamps his lips but canāt quite hide the smile. Light exercise, thatās what the doc said. āIāll grab my togs.ā Then he shows me that big gap between his teeth again. Towels slung over our shoulders, we walk on the grass to keep our jandals from sticking to the road.
As a kid we used to look out for tourist buses parked up there. It meant the spring would be full of coins, and weād take turns diving down deep enough to bring on a headache. Weād surface with coins from around the world, but it was the New Zealand two dollar we prized above all else.
A short story by J.P. Pomare Illustration by Isabelle Russell
Itās only about a k. But Ra skips ahead, then waits, then skips ahead. Soon we see them through the heat shimmer coming off the tarseal. Brown bodies laid out on the grass. As a kid we used to look out for tourist buses parked up there. It meant the spring would be full of coins, and weād take turns diving down deep enough to bring on a headache. Weād surface with coins from around the world, but it was the New Zealand two dollar we prized above all else. Then off to the Caltex that doubled as the ļ¬sh and chip shop, to warm up with a bag of bloodānāguts, extra chicken salt. āTheyāre still there,ā he says with a bubble of excitement bursting in his voice. Six boys get up off the grass. āKia ora Mr Ruatara.ā āEh fellas, thought Iād come down to teach you boys how to manu.ā āEh!ā āTu meke.ā We toss our towels down, and step from our jandals. Marching on to the bridge. Thereās a crackle of anticipation, passing between them like static electricity. Climbing up on the rail, itās higher than I remember, and my balance is worse. Light exercise. The old ticker barely registers it at all. Then I leap. A moment of ļ¬ight. Ice and pain. Na, not pain. Itās something else entirely. I hit the sandy bottom but not before the water compresses around me and surges up with that old familiar boom. I surface to howls of chaoo. The current pulling me into the shade of the bridge. Then comes the next concussive splash, then the next as one after the other they throw themselves over the rail. Last of all, Ra hits the water. Heās the skinniest of the lot but he sends a perfect spire of water back up. āTu meke fullas,ā I call over the train of boys crawling along the current to the shallows. Towelling off, one boy picks up his phone. āGo again?ā he says. āIāll chuck it on Tik Tok.ā āTik Tok?ā I say, making a face. I catch Ra staring at the angry pink line running the length of my sternum. I realise itās the ļ¬rst time heās seen it. The others all stare. No one says anything. āTough scar eh?ā I say. āRa said you had a heart attack.ā āYeah, I wouldnāt recommend it either. Alright one more.ā āDo a Staple this time?ā āNa, a gorilla?ā Then weāre back on the bridge, a phone pointed in my direction. I can see why Raās campaign to get one himself has ramped up the last couple of months. āYou ļ¬rst,ā I say to Ra. He climbs up, as graceful as any gymnast. The bar is wet beneath his feet, easy to see how he slipped. This time he leaps so high he seems to hover for a moment, he folds and turns then hits the water. The splash clears the rail. āOosh,ā I say. Raās head pokes out of the water. āHow big Dad?ā āBarely made a splash,ā I call. The boys laugh, leaning out to see him drifting in the shade of the bridge. āNaaa,ā he calls. āBarely made a splash.ā āNice pin-drop Ra.ā Then quietly, to the others, I say, āActually pretty big, eh. Heās got the gift that boy.ā āNa watch this then,ā one says. They all jostle, bump shoulders, pull at each other to be the next one in and I watch on as their heads emerge one at a time to look up. āWas it big?ā āWas mine big ow?ā āOh yeah,ā I say. āBloody big alright.ā Then I climb up, balancing on the rail with both my feet beneath me and the blue sky above and when I jump I feel for just a second like I might never come back down.