No Small Thing by Elsie Uini

Elsie Uini is the Sunday Star-Times emerging Pasifika short story writer for 2021 thanks to this ‘‘tender and skilfully told’’ short story about a young woman grappling with how to present her Samoan home life to her boyfriend.

Kenese picked at the plastic, woven mat covering the lounge room floor. She sat in the all too familiar spot at her parents’ feet. They sat opposite her on the couch, her mum waving the salu as if to emphasise her words and her father, arms crossed, brows furrowed, looking stern, although Kenese could tell he was secretly keeping an eye on the now muted rugby match behind Kenese’s head.

She felt the burden of her ancestors staring down at her from the ula-draped photo frames on the wall. She could sense rather than hear the hushed presence of her siblings, hiding behind the door, craning their necks to hear their sister’s fate.

Silently she cursed the nosy aunty who had told her mum about her boyfriend. It wasn’t like Kenese had been trying to hide him from her family, she just had to be sure that Orion was serious about her. ‘‘Tsk,’’ her mother’s sound of annoyance snapped her back to the conversation, ‘‘Nese, why you are not telling us about this, ah? I should hear this from my own daughter and not from gossiping aunties at church.’’

Kenese briefly wondered if her mum was more upset at her for going behind her back, or for being stupid enough to be caught by the church gossips (a group of women that her mother was ironically part of).

‘‘What’s the name of this boy?’’ ‘‘Orion,’’ Kenese mumbled.

‘‘Sh, Nese, what’s the name I said?’’ Kenese took a careful breath, to ensure it wasn’t misunderstood as talking back, and tried again, ‘‘His name is Orion.’’

‘‘Orion?’’ Her mum tested the unfamiliar name, and Kenese could almost see her mind working to try to place a family from church who had a son named Orion.

Coming up short, her mum pressed on, ‘‘What family is he from? What’s his job?’’

‘‘Mum, you don’t know his family and he works in my building. In finance.’’

Kenese held her breath as her mum decided if her answers were satisfactory. ‘‘Bring him here for Sunday to’ona’i,’’ she finally said. ‘‘He can meet your father.’’

Kenese sat up, panicked. She looked to her father, hoping he’d bail her out of this one. Apparently feeling all eyes on him, her father slowly moved his gaze from the game, looking between them both, and finally settled with, ‘‘Hey, listen to your mum, Kenese.’’

Then he unmuted the TV, signalling the end of the conversation. Her mum, nodding her head, stood and headed back to the kitchen. Kenese heard her siblings scuttling away, tumbling over one another and trying to conceal their laughter. Sweating, Kenese stood, looking at the all too familiar cramped space. The framed photos felt as if they were closing in on her as she pushed her way into the kitchen behind her mum. What would Orion think of this place? Would he understand the need for plastic coverings on nearly all of their furniture? Would he wonder how a family of seven could possibly fit in this three-bedroom house? And more than that, what would he think of their traditions?

Orion was so opinionated and vocal, would he speak up about Kenese and her younger sister not eating at the table with the elders? Would he understand that the world she had invented for herself at work, was worlds away from the reality of her home? Kenese had worked hard to shape her work persona into one that fit in at the lunchroom. She carefully tamed her hair every morning and she had learnt to laugh quietly.

She never packed leftovers for lunch, opting instead for fresh salads or eating out, and she shared only filtered stories about her weekend adventures; family lotu became a Saturday picnic with family and hours of White Sunday practice became a workout with friends. Now she stared at the cupboards loaded with tinned foods, the stack of corned beef laughing at her – at her attempts to be someone she was not, someone who blended in at work. How would she spin this story?

‘‘Mum, what about we go somewhere else for dinner? There’s a nice restaurant down the road from my work and we can...’’

‘‘Tsk, Nese,’’ her mum cut in, ‘‘what would we do that for? Why spend all that money when we have a house here with good food in it? What? You don’t like my cooking?’’

Of course she had somehow turned it into a personal insult.

Kenese knew there was no point trying to persuade her otherwise, ‘‘No, Mum. You know I love your food. It’s OK, it was just a thought. Orion will be here for Sunday to’ona’i.’’

A pause as she watched her mum pull out the pots to begin dinner. ‘‘Do you want some help with the dinner?’’

Orion was so opinionated and vocal, would he speak up about Kenese and her younger sister not eating at the table with the elders? Would he understand that the world she had invented for herself at work, was worlds away from the reality of her home? Kenese had worked hard to shape her work persona into one that fit in at the lunchroom.

That night, Kenese sat in her car, the one spot guaranteed to have no ears listening in on her conversation. ‘‘Don’t pick up, don’t pick, don’t pick –’’

Kenese’s chanting was interrupted as Orion answered the phone; ‘‘Hey Babe, what’s up?’’

Taking a deep breath to calm her nerves, Kenese dove right in. ‘‘So, I know it’s totally random, and if you’re busy, I get it. And really it’s only if you feel comfortable, I know we haven’t really spoken about it and I know you have that trip to Wellington this week, so honestly Babe, it’s no pressure at –’’

‘‘Whoa,’’ he interrupted again, ‘‘Kenny, Babe, slow down! Start from the beginning.’’

Kenese took another deep breath. ‘‘My parents wanted to invite you over for lunch on Sunday… I know we haven’t really talked about it, and if you feel like we are rushing things, that’s OK too.’’

Kenese held her breath, waiting for Orion’s response. ‘‘Rushing things? Babe, we’ve been dating for almost a year! Of course I’d love to meet your parents! What can I bring? Maybe that rice salad you love?’’

Kenese briefly wondered how Orion would respond if she asked him to bring a pig’s head, that’d be sure to impress her parents. ‘‘Nothing babe, just bring yourself.’’

And maybe low expectations, Kenese added silently, then cringed at her own hurtful thoughts. ‘‘Well... OK.’’ Silence again. ‘‘So… What are you wearing?’’

Kenese could hear the humour in his voice as he tested his luck. ‘‘I’’m hanging up now,’’ she laughed. ‘‘Aw, not even an I love you – ouch!’’ ‘‘Bye Babe, love you.’’

‘‘Love you too, Baby.’’

Saturday night, Kenese was elbow deep in the sink, scrubbing dishes. She mentally added the girls-only-in-the-kitchen rule to her list of things to explain to Orion before tomorrow. She eyed her mum as she prepared her outfit, ironing her favourite bright green puletasi. Kenese loved her culture, she really did, but she had no idea how Orion would react.

She felt fairly certain that he would’ve never seen so many brightly dressed people in one room. It was certainly a far cry from the unofficial dress code of bland on bland that they were used to at

work.

Kenese’s mum pulled out her father’s matching bright green shirt and began to iron it. Kenese stole a glance at her father, hunched over his Bible, listening to the Samoan radio channel. Thump. Hiss… Thump. Hiss… the repeated drumming of her mum’s iron jerked Kenese back to her task as she pulled out her dad’s ie faitaga.

Suddenly feeling overwhelmed at having to add another thing to explain to Orion (this time why her father and most of the men would be wearing pocket lavalavas instead of pants), Kenese dropped the pot lid she had been holding and almost burst into tears when it landed on her foot.

‘‘Tsk, Nese! What do you think you are doing?’’ her mum said without lifting her eyes from her ironing. All at once it was too much. All at once the stress and panic she had been fighting off all week engulfed her.

‘‘Do you guys have to wear that!?’’ she snapped. ‘‘We aren’t going to church in Samoa – it’s Papatoetoe, you can tone it down a little.

‘‘And I told you Orion is palagi, he won’t be wearing an ie faitaga, he’ll think papa is wearing a skirt and… and…’’

Kenese ran out of steam. Her mum finally placed the iron upright and looked at her daughter. Kenese bit her lip and blinked back tears. She wished she could take it back, she hadn’t meant to be so harsh. She hadn’t meant to take her frustration out on her mum.

‘‘Kenese, what do you think you are saying, ah?’’

‘‘Mum, I’m sor–’’

‘‘No!’’ Kenese could see the hurt in her mum’’s eyes, even if she wouldn’t admit it. ‘‘We are proud of where we come from. We love our Samoa and when we wear this, we show we are proud.’’

Her mum thumped a fist over her heart to emphasise the words. ‘‘I’m sad for you Kenese… I don’t care if the boy is from Samoa or from – from wherever. We don’t change for any person.’’ Her mum switched off the iron and walked away to neatly hang the clothes. ‘‘I’m really sorry Mum,’’ Kenese said to her stiff back. ‘‘I didn’t mean it like that. I’m just… nervous. I want you to like Orion. And I want him to like you.’’

Kenese quickly finished the dishes and headed to the room that she shared with her sister, briefly glancing at the now empty lounge, radio switched off and Bible neatly placed on the side table. She sat on her bed, she tried to make sense of what she was really fighting here. She loved her family and happily lived fa’a Samoa. She also loved Orion and her friends from work. So why did she feel uneasy about the two parts of her life coming together? Her door creaked open and her sister peeked in. ‘‘Mum said you have to come do the oka for tomorrow.’’

This was her mum’s peace offering, the matter was settled, Kenese also hoped it would be a task to take her mind off her spiralling thoughts.

Kenese didn’t wake for church on Sunday, which was unusual as the morning rush partnered with her mum’s yelling for them all to get up was usually better than any alarm clock. 10.36am. ‘‘Shit!’’

Pulling out her phone, she texted her sister; why didn’t you wake me up for lotu!? Kenese was rushing around the house, trying to pull her outfit together and style her hair when her sister’s text came back; Dad said 2 let u sleep. Idk. That was… unexpected. Unsure of what to do with the extra time, Kenese made sure the house was in order and then texted Orion; Hey babe, feel free to come over early. Family isn’t here yet and I can prepare you for what you’re about to witness lol.

Kenese had been half joking. Orion was quick to respond; ooo alone time before your family gets home ;) on my way. Twenty minutes later Orion stood at her door. To Kenese it seemed out of place to see him standing there, but Orion looked the picture of ease. He leaned in for a quick kiss before Kenese pulled him in the house and sat him down. The plastic covering sounded louder than usual as Orion settled in. ‘‘OK, so, there are some ground rules we need to go over before everyone gets here,’’ Kenese ticked off her fingers as she went over the mental list she had been creating. ‘‘First is PDA, alright? No kissing, no touching, no names other than Kenese… no eye contact? Yeah, maybe just like, don’t look at me?’’ ‘‘Oh shit,’’ Orion said, ‘‘I thought you were kidding about the lecture.’’

Kenese briefly smiled before the ends of her lips folded downwards again.

‘‘That brings me to point two… no swearing.’’ Orion mimed zipping his lips, locking them and then throwing the keys, hands up in surrender. This time Kenese chuckled, Orion scooted closer to her, grabbing her hands in his; ‘‘Babe… Kenese, don’t worry. Your parents are going to love me and if they are anything like you, I’m going to love them.’’

Kenese felt briefly comforted by his words, then tensed again as the first carload of her family drove into the driveway. Kenese and Orion walked out the door together. She braced herself for the meeting of her two separate lives. Her father slowly climbed out of the car and Kenese’s breath caught. He wasn’t wearing the bright green shirt that her mum had so carefully been ironing the night before. Instead he stood there, looking almost a little shy in a black and white suit – a little tight, a little short and a little old fashioned. Kenese recognised the suit, she’d seen him wearing it in an old family photograph. Tears blurred her eyes and he looked up at her and winked. Finally he stood in front of Kenese and Orion, hand outstretched; ‘‘Hello Orion, it is nice to finally meet you.’’