Free Dreamboat Dad by Alan Duff Page B

description of
a tall, lean man, very handsome, thick dark hair like his son's, musical and
probably rich. Looks like Elvis.
    What if he's not rich and doesn't look like Elvis?
    That's not possible.
    She tells me she's getting out, so I turn my back. She's nearly a woman
now. My sister Wiki is ten, brother Manu seven. The age difference means
we're not as close as Mata and I are. Says she has something to tell me.
    I'm pregnant.
    Oh? Well, you are nineteen. Thinking, Henry won't like this.
    He's from my work. (My sister works at the telephone exchange in
town, on the switchboard.) From the Far North.
    Maori or Pakeha?
    Yank, who cares? God, sometimes you are obsessed with who is white
and who is brown. Does it matter?
    Sorry.
    He's Maori. Doctor said I'm nine weeks.
    Does Mum know?
    Yes, but not telling Dad. I'm leaving home, going to Auckland, start
a new life. My sister looks happy. And if your American father ever turns
up, you make sure I meet him or else.
    I will, I promise her, and with a real sense of anything being possible
now.
    Will you call him Dad?
    No way.
    Why not, if he is your Dad? Would you ever call my father Dad?
    For some reason her questions feel as if they've caught me. No, I say.
Though I might: I've had my moments of wishing.
    Moving costs money. Does your boyfriend have a car?
    If you can call it that. Might not make it to Auckland.
    Arguing with myself, this is your sister and you in the position to give
her money, help her get away from Henry. How much? Fifty? A hundred?
There goes my own car. But she's my sister, who comforted me when
Henry's silence made me miserable. When Henry hit Mum who was it
got us out of the house?
    You can have a hundred quid to help. Now she has me smothered in
sister's kisses. Don't thank me, thank my father.
    Thank you, Elvis. She laughs. Or is it John Wayne?
    Try both, I say.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
    WALKING UP NEWLY SEALED ROAD, thanks to Henry. Doesn't feel the
same as dirt and stones, slippery mud in the wet, a layer of dust in the
long dry. Our town council must be sick of him with his never-ending
demands to improve the services at Waiwera.
    This is the third trip of surreptitiously carrying Mata's belongings to her
boyfriend waiting in his car. Henry won't be happy even if she is legally
allowed. He's the kind you have to ask permission to do anything he considers
important. Her being pregnant Mata knows would only bring comparison to
our mother having me. Me, I still think there's something sad about someone's
pregnant kid leaving without saying goodbye. Even if it is Henry.
    Houses like fluorescent paint daubs and light blotches appearing in
and out of steam drifts, a good sky of stars above and a one-third moon
portion. This is the last trip. I shake Lew's hand in the semi-gloom, he's
fine looking, very polite, good enough for my sister. I hug and kiss Mata
goodbye, she promises to write and thanks so much for the money they
couldn't have done without it.
    Watch the red tail-lights go past the carved tekoteko figures you can
see their rounded head silhouettes in the car headlights, bump over the
bridge planks, under the memorial arch, and that's my big sister gone. She
was the best sister.
    House lights change to smudges. The lit candles old people still use
are pencil glows, every light source turned fuzzy, or gobbled up for some
moments by the steam. Smell the candle wax on the breeze, drifts of
tobacco aroma, see the splutter of kerosene lamp up at Merita's. She raved
about Henry forcing the council to install electric lighting, yet often prefers
to read her newspaper under the kerosene light, which from a distance
throws a different hue, captures human forms and seems to slow them.
    Cabbage and mutton smell emit from a steam box. Toby Taita is out
on his steps singing like a mournful Negro. I'm captivated by his singing
style; it's quite unlike most others round here, I've heard it on the radio.
I stand listening till the song finishes. Toby lends me his