Page 31 of Kiwi Sin
Dad said, “I can’t countenance this,” and went on to talk about sacrilege and so forth, but I wasn’t listening, because the little candles on the cake were burnt nearly to the icing already. I asked Oriana, “Do you want to do the candles, and all the rest of it?”
“What?” she said. “Yes. Or I did. But if it’s …” She trailed off.
I said, quietly as I could, “Close your eyes and make a wish, then.” She shot me a quick glance, and I smiled, though it was a little painful, and said, “It’s all right.” Even though every wish she could make would move her further away from me.
She closed her eyes, and her pretty face got serious.Moreserious, because Oriana had a face like Mary’s, in all the pictures. Something I’d never tell my dad. She had a sort of serenity, when she was cooking or coming up from the garden carrying a trug, and the kind of happiness that comes out as more of a glow.
Now, she opened her eyes again and said, “I did it.” Her cheeks were a bit flushed and, as usual, she wasn’t quite looking at me.
I said, under the sound of Daisy and my dad having yet more words, “Wave the candles out, or whatever you do. That’s the next part, right?”
“It was blowing them out, but I guess we’re not supposed to.”
“Let’s try it together.”
Oriana began waving her hands over the candles, which were nearly going out by themselves now, and the flames flickered. I added my own hands, and she looked at me and laughed. I laughed back, because we must’ve looked so silly, and finally, the tiny fires died.
Gray was saying, the same way Drew would have, like the kind of leader of men I wished I were, “I reckon we should expect to have some culture clashes, with everybody coming out of Mount Zion at different times, being on different tracks. But we’re in my house today, and we’re celebrating Oriana here in the normal way people do. If you don’t want to participate, Daisy and I can’t force you, but this won’t be the last time you’re faced with birthday candles and birthday wishes. Maybe it’s not so bad to encounter them now, where we can talk about it.”
Dad said, “One can be in the world without being of the world.” His face sad now, and troubled.
Gray said, “Very true. On the other hand, I think this cake is … what, Aisha?”
“One’s chocolate,” she said, “and the other’s lemon. They probably aren’t very good, since they were my first ones, so they may not be worth fighting about.” Still looking expectant as a dog eyeing a bone, though.
“Please don’t interfere in adults’ business,” my mum told her. Not nearly as harshly as a girl would have been reprimanded at Mount Zion, but Aisha still looked shocked.
“Again,” Frankie said, because, yes, she was getting stuck into things, “not really yours to say, Aunt Constance. The rules are different Outside, and in this house, we’re embracing the change.”
Oriana stared at her cake, so clearly wishing this were over, and I’d had enough. I stood up and told her, “Come with me.”
* * *
Oriana
I followed Gabriel out of the yurt and wanted to cry. Having a birthday, having acake,had sounded so wonderful, and it was blowing everything up instead. I should never have suggested it. I should have—
Gabriel, though, helping me wave the candles out, laughing with me. He hadn’t seemed to think it was awful to want to do it. He may not have laughed if he’d known what I wished, but he was never going to find out. Not because I believed my wish wouldn’t come true if I told, because I already knew that, but because it would be so hideously embarrassing.
Aisha had seen all of that, though. Frankie was right. I shouldn’t have invited her. What would she think now?
I didn’t pay much attention to where we were going. I assumed Gabriel was taking me out until the arguing died down. I wasn’t expecting to end up at his ute. But …
Wait.
I said, “You painted it green,” and the warmth of it suffused me despite the chill of the day.
The ute was, in fact, dark green, exactly like I’d suggested, and polished to a shine. That shine said he was proud of it, didn’t it? Heshouldbe proud. He’d just come out of Mount Zion, he was doing so well and had been so brave, getting his own place, and now, he had a ute!
If capitalism could be good as well as bad, why couldn’t pride? What else was it, when your cakedidturn out perfectly? It didn’t mean other people had to say it. You could still feel the pleasure of it, and that pleasure pushed you to do even better, didn’t it?
“Yeh,” Gabriel said, “I did paint it green. I liked your idea best. I found I didn’t much want my ute to shout, ‘Look at me!’ It’s cold out here, though. Let’s get in for a minute.”
I did, which meant I was sitting beside him on the narrow bench seat, so aware of his presence, of the faintly soapy smell of him. I saw the faint dampness in his blond hair, too. He’d taken a shower before he’d come over, maybe, just like I’d taken one before people had arrived. I’d put on a bit of makeup, too, even though Aunt Constance’s face always looked troubled when we wore it. So, yes, I was wearing lipstick, but I’d pulled my hair back, because hair in food wasn’t anything like sanitary, and also …
Well, yes. It was also in the low knot I’d worn since I was twelve, because I hated people looking at me disapprovingly. I knew it was weak. I knew I didn’t have to obey anymore, but not doing it made everything so awful.
Gabriel’s voice pulled me out of my thoughts. “Nice to be quiet a minute. That was awkward in there.”
