When Water Burns Read online

  Simone was on holiday in New Zealand with his family and loved to send me photos of the scintillating scenery. Most of it seemed to be rugged and tattooed. And half naked. Clearly Simone was hanging out at a lot of beaches and making the most of his new phone. The day I got my first message from Jason in San Francisco was an exuberant fireworks kind of day. His recuperation was going much more slowly than Daniel’s. Mainly because the American doctors had no clue what had been wrong with him. I had to laugh at his descriptions of the medical team that had been waiting for him once he got airlifted back to the US. Dressed in head-to-toe protective gear like spacemen, they had bustled him to an isolation unit, treating him like radioactive waste. “They think I’ve got some nasty new tropical infection that they’ve never heard of, so they’re acting like I’m a plague carrier or something,” he grumbled. “I don’t even have a fever anymore and I keep telling them I feel fine but they’re not convinced. I hate being locked up like this. I’m going to get my brothers to bust me out of here soon.”

  I laughed, but inside me, the truth squirmed like slippery eels, biting and gnawing to get out. When would I be brave enough to tell him what had really happened? It wasn’t right to keep the truth from him. But I wasn’t ready. I hid my shame and guilt in relief that he was better, well enough to complain daily about ‘sadistic doctors, mean nurses, and crappy food.’ I would tell him when we next met. It was not the kind of thing that you told someone over a phone, I rationalized. No, the right thing to do was to wait until we were together in person and I could look him in the eyes and confess. I practiced my apology speech in my head many times. I broke the telesā law by telling you my secret. I condemned you to death by asking you to help find a scientific cure for my fire thing. My mother poisoned you. You were supposed to die a miserable, gut-wrenching death. I was selfish and I’m sorry. Can you ever forgive me?

  It’s safe to say that I was not looking forward to seeing Jason again in person. No matter how much I cared about him and no matter how much I missed him. In the meantime, I was happy to exchange bantering, funny messages with him all day. Because there was another huge white elephant in the room of all our conversations.

  Almost dying does something to a person, you know? It makes him realize that life is short. And you have to grab at every moment, every happiness with both hands. Tight. And not let go. You gotta know, I’m in love with you.

  With his love declaration, Jason had placed in my hands a fragile flower of possibility. And I wasn’t ready to hurt him by crushing it with the truth.

  I spent some time in the attic going through boxes of my dad’s stuff that Grandmother Folger had packed away into storage. I found the passport and took it back downstairs with me. The guilty Samoa stamps stared back at me accusingly. So? Your dad took me to Samoa. Big deal. Whatchya gonna do about it? I couldn’t do anything about it. There was no one to ask. No one to confront. So I stowed it away and tried not to think about it. Being at Grandmother’s house and back in D.C. was kind of painful. Everything and everywhere reminded me of my dad. I was anxious for the funeral to be over so that I could go back to Samoa. Something I suspected my Folger family would not be happy about. Something I waited until after the funeral proceedings were over with before broaching with them.

  “What do you mean, you’re going back there?” Uncle Thomas was exasperated and Annette handed him a glass of wine with a soothing glance.

  “I think your uncle is just concerned for your future, Leila. You should be thinking about college. If you go back to Samoa, what will you do about school?”

  I had done my homework. I was ready. “I have thought about college, Annette. There’s a National University in Samoa and all the other seniors in my high school go there to do a university preparatory year before applying for scholarships to colleges in Australia and New Zealand.” I took a deep breath before plunging into the rest of my carefully prepared announcement. “I’m going to enroll at National University and do another year in Samoa.”

  They both looked startled. More so because I actually had a plan. They glanced at each other before Thomas took the lead. “And where will you live?”

  “National University doesn’t have a dorm. My mother’s relatives, Matile and Tuala, are happy to have me stay there again. I’ll stay with them when I first get back but I’m going to look for an apartment to rent. I know the country well enough now to live on my own. I’ve made friends at school that I could probably get to room with me if I need company. I have enough money from Dad’s insurance payout to support me through the year if I budget it carefully.”

  Thomas waved his hand at the mention of money. “Don’t be ridiculous. You’re a Folger and you never need to worry about finance. You have your trust fund account and I know that your grandmother would have wanted you to be well taken care of. I’ll have my secretary set up an allowance for you.”

  Elation. Not about the money but the fact that I wasn’t going to get fought on this. “So, you’re going to be okay with this?” I looked at him, then at Annette and back again at Thomas. “No legal threats? No lectures?”

  A tired sigh. “No. Would it make any difference? You’ll be nineteen in a few months. You’re an adult. Besides, my mother was very specific in her will and final instructions about you, Leila. She may not have been happy about your country choice of residence but she was insistent that we do everything to make sure you go to university. And if it means starting your degree at a Samoan university, then so be it.”

  Annette added her piece. “Your grandmother did say she was glad you had found some of your mother’s family, that you seemed to be happy with them because she knew you often felt like an outsider here. This couple, Matile and Tuala, they have clearly welcomed you as one of their own.” She studied me intently. “Your time there has been good for you. We can all see that. Can’t we, Thomas?”

  My uncle gave her the baffled shrug that a man gives his wife when he has no clue what she’s talking about – but he knows better than to do anything else but agree. Annette smiled. “It’s settled then. Leila will go back to Samoa to do a university preparatory year. But you must stay with us for a while, spend some time with your Folger family while your uncle makes the necessary arrangements.”

  I wanted to argue. I had been away from Daniel for two weeks already and it was killing me. But he was not all I longed for. He was not the only reason I walked with emptiness within me. The winter was burying the island fire that warmed me. I walked on tarseal and concrete and I couldn’t feel Fanua. I couldn’t hear her in the chill wind. She did not move upon the icy waters of the Potomac River. Or breathe in the chemical-laden soil of the luxuriant Folger gardens. I wanted to catch the first flight back, right then and there, but I knew Annette was right. I was a part of this family. Even if I was a rather surly, thug-girl part. So many of the walls that divided me from them had been of my own making. It was not they who had excluded me from the Folger fold. It was me and my hostility. Heck, I probably made a bigger deal out of being the brown one than they did. And so I agreed to stay on. For just a little while longer.

  The weeks that followed were busy ones with barely space to breathe. There were extended family dinners and meetings. Trips to each of the uncles’ homes. Time spent with cousins who had once been only a blur of polite faces. Annette took me shopping in New York. I think Uncle Thomas was squirming a little with guilt because he was faintly relieved that I was going back to Samoa. And so his instructions to Annette had been precise. “Buy her a new wardrobe for that university. Get her everything she needs.” It wasn’t easy to find summer clothes in the dead of winter but money really can buy you everything. Shopping with Annette wasn’t easy either. She had never been to the other side of the equator, and it showed.

  “I’m sorry, Annette. Valentino and Calvin Klein will not make sense in Samoa. Trust me. Think tropical country. Sauna heat and lots of sweat and dirt, okay? Samoa’s the most beautiful place on the planet, but it’s also dusty, dirty,
and nasty in places.”

  So she took me to Gap and Banana Republic and I had to be happy with that. I think Annette was channeling the ‘African Queen’ and Lara Croft Tomb Raider because we ended up with lots of khaki pants, white linen tops, and breezy cotton shifts. I let her have fun with it and, I confess, I did enjoy shoe shopping for Louboutins just a tiny bit. But I had to draw the line at the felt-brimmed hat and thigh-high designer ‘wilderness’ boots. Next thing you know she was going to buy me a leather whip so I could hang out with Indiana Jones on weekends.

  “Umm, I don’t think so. My friend Simone would love those.”

  Annette’s face lit up. “See! They’re perfect.”

  “Not for me they’re not. This is Simone. His parents call him Simon.” I showed her a photo on my phone that Simone had sent me from New Year’s Eve. With flawless makeup and a stunning red sequin dress. Slit up to the thigh and stiletto heels. Annette’s jaw dropped.

  “Oh.” She put the hat and boots back on the shelf and kept on walking. “Right, I think we’ll stick to the sandals and maybe a few more pairs of shorts?”

  I laughed. “Okay. But Simone will be disappointed that I won’t have such fabulous boots for him to borrow.”

  She was cool enough to laugh with me. I was starting to like Annette. And my dad’s brothers weren’t bad either. They liked to play cards after family dinners and I taught them the Samoan card-playing basics that I had learned from Sunday evenings with Uncle Tuala. Games like swipi and ka-isu. With a little prompting they had loads of stories to tell about when my dad was a kid, pestering his much older siblings.

  “Your dad was spoilt rotten, Leila. It’s true. He was Mom and Dad’s golden child and could do no wrong.” Michael complained.

  Cameron added. “He was a sickly baby who grew up to be a scrawny little kid. Mom was always worrying about him getting sick. So he got away with everything.” He mimicked Grandmother Folger. “Cameron, you let Ryan read your X-Men comics, you hear me? He was so sick when he was a baby that we need to treasure every moment we have with him. Why don’t you go read to him in your room? And then as soon as Mom left the room, Ryan would be making faces at me and laughing. And he trashed my comic collection. I spent a lot of money on that collection and he never looked after my comics properly.”

  It was Michael’s turn again. “He was definitely sly. Always getting in trouble and then finding the most ingenious ways to get out of trouble! Remember that time in high school when he didn’t come home because he was making out at the back of the bleachers with that brunette girlfriend of his? And by six o’clock Mom went out looking for him and she was raging mad.”

  I had never heard any of these stories about my dad’s childhood and I loved it. “So then what happened?”

  Thomas continued the story. “Ryan saw Mom’s car and knew she would be angry. So he ripped his shirt and rolled around a bit in the dirt. Then he told Mom that the reason he was so late was because he got attacked and beat up by a gang of bullies. Mom bought it, hook, line, and sinker. She drove all around the neighborhood looking for this mythical gang and even called our dad at the office to send some of his security detail down there to help her.” He shook his head as everyone laughed at the memory. “Dad didn’t, of course. He was more clued in to Ryan than Mom ever was. When Dad came home, he took Ryan into his study and warned him that if he ever made Mom worry like that again, he would send him away to military school.”

  Michael scoffed. “Not like Mom would ever allow that.”

  Thomas shook his head. “No. Ryan was very special to our mom.” He had a sad smile on his face. “He was very special to all of us. He was so much younger that he kind of belonged to all of us. In a way. We all looked out for him. And he was so different from the rest of us, that he was like a breath of fresh air. He brought our mom and dad closer together. And he was Mom’s favorite. She had so many things planned for his future. She was so upset when he joined the Peace Corps. Mainly because it took him so far away from her. And then when he told us he had gotten married over there … well, she was devastated, worrying that he was going to live over there permanently. She was so happy when Ryan came back. With you.”

  There was a heavy silence as everyone busied themselves with memories. Unspoken thoughts.

  “Our mom took it bad when Ryan died. We all did. It was like the sickly boy who we all worried about when we were younger had finally gotten the dreadful sickness that had always been an ominous threat. He was so young. So funny. So full of life. I still can’t believe he’s gone.”

  Thomas stood abruptly. “Believe it. Ryan’s dead.” He stalked out of the room, slamming the door behind him. Cold. Brutal. Final. I was shocked.

  Michael spoke softly into the painful silence. “Don’t mind him, Leila. Thomas took Ryan’s death personally. He’s the oldest, he’s always felt responsible for the family. For his brothers. But more than that, he’s one of the finest neurosurgeons in the country and even he couldn’t do anything for Ryan. Nobody could. Not with that kind of aggressive tumor. Nobody had seen anything like it. It was horrifying.”

  The dinner gathering broke up shortly after that. Back up in my room, I couldn’t shake it from my mind. Ryan’s tumor was like nothing the doctors had ever seen. The finest neurosurgeons couldn’t do anything for him…it was horrifying. Grandmother Folger’s final words hammered away at my brain. She did it. Your mother. She killed your father.

  I couldn’t sleep after that. Long after the house went silent, I slipped out into the moonlit night. I walked through the silver shimmer of the frozen garden. My breath made little clouds of heat as I trudged away from the house and into a secluded grove of trees. I was alone. I could see Masina the moon far above me. She was alone in a pollution-laden sky. No stars. Only the red flickering of an airplane kept her company. Closing my eyes, I reached out with my mind, my soul, my heart. Searching for Fanua Afi. I wanted – needed – to listen to her speak soothing serenity to my soul. I wanted the comfort of her fire. I searched through bitter cold, fought through frozen earth, reaching down through layers of dead soil and uncaring rock, down to sluggish currents of magma that barely simmered with red heat. She was there. Far away, but she was there. I summoned Fanua Afi. With every fiber of my being. And after an endless battle, she came to me. The barest hint of flame in the palm of my hands. Not even enough to ward away the chill of that winter night. But it was enough. To reassure me that, yes, my Mother Earth spoke to me still. Even here, in this city of steel and glass, of rushed busy-ness and fervent time chasers. She was here.

  I knelt in the snow and gave thanks for this small reminder of Samoa. Of who I was. And then I returned to the sleeping house. I had answered my own question. Yes, I was fanua afi even here in Washington D.C. – but my gift was only a flickering fragment of what it was back in Samoa. I thought back to all the hours of experiments and frustration with Jason and shook my head at the simplicity of the solution. If I wanted to remove the threat of my fanua afi, all I needed to do was move back to America. Embrace the Folger side of myself and be the regular girl I kept telling Jason that I wanted to be. I stared out the frosted window over the crystal night and it was like I could see two pathways stretching out before me.

  I could choose. I could choose to be regular. I could stay here in America, go to a college that the Folgers picked out for me. Maybe study for a law degree like my dad. Or bio-medicine, drawing on my knowledge of plants. I could have Jason. As a friend. And maybe more? He was on this path. I could see it now. The teasing smile, the warmth of his touch, the ease with which we talked. I could go to school on the West Coast. He would give me surf lessons in the white waves of California. Take me to meet his family. I would like that. Siblings. The stifling closeness of brothers and sisters, laughter, mess, and closeness. On semester breaks, maybe I could even go with him on assignment? Be a lowly assistant for the distinguished volcano professor? With the Folger’s money at my back, I would never have to work at any job I didn’t
want. I could even get them to sponsor Jason’s expeditions. We would make a great team. I could be happy with that. Content. It would be easy. Comfortable.

  And then there was the other choice. Return to Samoa. Embrace the fire goddess within me. Take up the challenge that came with being a telesā without a sisterhood. Face the risk that Sarona was alive. Be with sour-faced Matile and stern but kind Tuala. Go to university with my Samoa College friends. Simone. Maleko. Sinalei. And love Daniel. Decipher the enigma that was his vasa loloa birthmark.

  This pathway was less clear. There was danger and darkness in it. Nafanua was gone. Who would teach me all else I needed to know about being a telesā? Who would I turn to for answers about this volatile heritage of mine? I didn’t know if there were any more telesā matagi left in Samoa, but I was pretty sure I had burnt my bridges with them. Literally. And loving Daniel certainly wouldn’t help. No, this path carried no certainty or security. It wouldn’t be easy. Or comfortable.

  Not too long ago, I had confronted my mother, the Covenant Keeper of the Matagi Sisterhood, and I had told her that yes, I had a choice. I didn’t have to be like her and her sisters. I could choose my destiny. And here now, as I looked out over the winter of Washington, I knew that, once again, I held the key to my destiny in my hands. I could choose. Where to go and what to do. Who to love.

  Choice. It was an exhilarating and terrifying thing.

  Daniel Tahi, Samoa

  Subject: Missing you

  I’m so sorry about your grandmother. Are you ok?

  Leila Folger, Enroute to New York

  Subject: Missing you Sick

  I’m alright. I got here in time to talk to her. We made peace. In a way. In the car now with my uncle and aunt. We’re on the freeway. Long drive to New York. I just stopped crying. And only because I got car sick. My uncle’s a crazy driver. I’m worried we’re going to crash and die. I’m an island girl now, not used to hours in a car! I had to throw up. I am now back to missing you. Sorry about the vomit reference. Too much information.