Ahuura put on the parking brake. The radio was set on Polynésie 1ère, babbling advertisements and a repetition of the news she had already heard hours prior. The other stations weren’t broadcasting nice music at the moment and there was no cassette tape player in the car anyway, so she couldn’t even listen to her mixtapes.

She pushed a button, silencing the noise for the time being, then leaned back on the driver’s seat, closing her eyes. Oh, to sleep for days on end again. To be far away and live those adventures she could only… dream of, so far, though she knew that she was no longer simply fantasizing. That in fact, she hadn’t been for a while, but that it never quite hit her how real her experiences were until that last time. To disappear and be gone, while still physically being in the fenua she loved.

After all, Grandma wouldn’t be left without help: not only was Teheiura there for her, but one the twins came to lend a hand while she was indulging in her deep slumber. And there were her two daughters… their husbands… maybe even her son-in-law, if he thought about something else than work, work and more work. At the end of the day, her presence was wanted, but not really needed all that much. She could just vanish and it wouldn’t have all that many consequences, except perhaps crying for a little while and then moving on. The hardest hit would be her brother, though. Teheiura would never be the same again, and it was one of her main reasons for still being here, alive and well.

But lingering in the car, just thinking about her last dream and planning the next escapade, were not an option. The groceries were in the trunk and she couldn’t afford to let them spoil. Under the tropical sun, it would be a matter of a few dozen minutes.

The bags were heavy. Even though she was used to it and hadn’t shopped more than usual, the weight of them felt much heavier than what she was accustomed to. But no time to stop and reflect: she had to put the groceries into the fridge and cupboards. Grandma’s smile and “oh, thank you, my dear!” would reward her efforts later on, as well as Teheiura coming back from work and noticing that she got him a pack of Prince, for which he would die.

Yes, those moments were a reason not to entirely disappear… but the temptation, oh, the temptation. As she was unpacking, her mind wandered. She thought of her dream home, craving to smell the paint, wrap herself in the throw blanket if things felt a bit chilly, lay down on that couch reading her favourite books… and play with herself in the privacy of her own space.

She thought of this person, of those lips, of those hips. Of that hair, of the way those eyes looked at her. Of that skin against hers. Oh, if only...

The main door opened. She was just done putting things in the fridge, leaving only a lemon on the counter, and was about to get to the cupboards.

“Ahuura darling, are you back home?” Grandma’s voice sounded.

The young woman jumped.

“Grandma?” she gasped. “I thought you were at the neighbours’ place?”

“I was, but I heard your car coming back. You were fast!”

Ahuura resumed her unpacking.

“The traffic was okay. I guess I went at the right moment. Still got almost rear-ended, by some guy, but that’s not really a big deal.”

Her grandmother walked towards her, bending down towards the bag.

“Hold on, my dear, I will help you.”

Ahuura put a hand on her arm, firmly gripping it.

“Grandma, I’m doing this to help you, not for you to help me”, the young woman declined, embarrassed. “Look, I got you a little something that you can make yourself while I take care of what remains.”

She took out a box of mango-flavoured black tea from the bag, which she handed to her.

“Oh, you’re sweet as ever!” the old lady happily said. “You’re right, I’m going to make myself some. Do I make you a cup as well?”

Ahuura smiled, wiggled her finger in a “no” gesture and opened the fridge door: one of the bottles of Perrier she had brought home was cooling down there.

“I was considering getting lemonade, but I settled on Perrier with a lemon slice”, she explained. “For a change...”

“Ah, like mother, like daughter…” Grandma pushed the kettle’s button. “By the way, both of your aunts are coming tonight. I wish I could have told you earlier, but you were already gone.”

Ahuura hesitated to pour herself a drink. The water had just been put in the fridge, but was there any ice? She couldn’t remember.

“I can hop back there…” the young woman quietly offered.

“No, darling, don’t. Vaiana said she’d bring a carton of fruit nectar and a bottle of Coke. Teora is going to bring some amber Mana’o, as usual.”

She opened the freezer compartment. Indeed there was still some ice left, but not much. She took it out, then got herself a tall glass.

“They’re worried about you, you know!” Grandma went on. “They wonder how it’s possible for someone to sleep like that for three days, even if you weren’t all that fully asleep. You still would drink and shower… and go to the beach… but still, it was like you were sleepwalking! Nobody could reach you!”

Ahuura didn’t know what to reply. The remaining ice cubes made a clinking sound as they fell into the glass.

“Maybe you should go to the doctor sometime? You’ve already slept a few days but you were eating. This time you were not. Just drinking. Maybe you’ve got some illness that they could cure?”

“I don’t know”, the young woman replied, taking the bottle and pouring herself some. “I don’t think I’m sick… not like that, at least.”

“This isn’t very normal, though. What if you don’t wake up one day?”

“What if I don’t want to?”, Ahuura thought as she took a knife from the drawer.

But she’d never be able to say it out loud. Those kinds of words would make everything worse.

“Either way… if you’re planning on going out, just don’t get home too late. Teora will likely be there first, as always, but they’re planning on coming at around 5pm. They haven’t told me whether your cousins would be here, it depends on their plans, but expect them to come.”

Ahuura pressed down the blade on the lemon, cutting herself a slightly uneven slice.

“Don’t worry. I don’t plan on wandering too much”, she finally spoke, placing it in her water. “I’ll just go see Mom for a while and come back home.”

The tea was done brewing. Grandma poured the hot water into her cup. She put it on the counter, but upon glancing back at her granddaughter, she appeared to notice something.

“Hey, that’s your mother’s necklace that you are wearing!”

Ahuura nodded as her grandmother touched the bird of paradise and its single black pearl.

“I thought it was Teora who had it?” Grandma questioned, puzzled. “When she...”

“She did, but she put it on me once and I didn’t think to bring it back”, explained Ahuura. “Not that it’s really important, anyway… it’s still in the family.”

Grandma caressed the pendant wistfully, almost tearing up. Poerava was her firstborn daughter after two miscarriages that led her to think she could not have children. But then the other two had followed. That pendant was a gift for her eighteenth or nineteenth birthday and a beloved accessory of hers.

“You two are just the same… down to that love of lemons”, the old lady whispered, lovingly caressing her granddaughter’s cheek. “That necklace fits you so well…”

She gave her a kiss. Ahuura smiled and embraced her. Those bones, even if thick and strong, felt so fragile to her. Grandma was still thankfully in good health for her age, but she knew that it was something not to take for granted.

“I wouldn’t eat a whole one to myself, though”, the young woman said. “Too sour.”

They let each other go.

“Oh, if only she could see you…” Grandma bittersweetly murmured. “How proud she would be of you, my dear.”

“Proud of me… or disgusted with me”, Ahuura thought.

“I hope”, she said out loud. “I hope she would be.”

They sat at the table and remained there for a while, talking about the good old times, about childhood memories, both children and grandchildren’s. Those discussions were both the best and the worst for Ahuura: on one hand, reliving the good moments was wonderful, and imagining her mother and aunts’ childhood, but on the other, it served as yet another reminder that she had been motherless for eighteen years, and that she would never get another mother.

Losing Poerava had been very hard on Grandma. No parent could ever be prepared to lose their child, even if said child was in her early forties. She was still her baby. Her own flesh and blood. A being she had carried for nine months after she had lost hope of ever carrying one to term, held in the first minute she was out of her own womb, wiped her butt more times than she could count, fed and lulled to sleep. Seen her grow from a helpless baby to a delightful little girl, then a just as delightful teenager, despite this frailty of hers that ended up taking her life. Then into a loving wife, and a devoted mother. Grandma’s motherly heart would never heal, but it regretted absolutely nothing: in fact, it was grateful that she got to bring such a lovely person into this world, despite how comparatively short her life had been.

When they were done talking, Ahuura put on her shoes and ventured back outside, taking an ‘opuhi flower from the garden, the reddest, most beautiful she could find. She then went towards her car, opened it, and put the precious bloom on the passenger seat.

Once again, she leaned back on her seat and closed her eyes, breathing in a deep sigh. This time, she could linger a little. She didn’t turn on the radio: it would probably be the same uninteresting stuff as earlier. Silence was good enough. She loved basking in it when she wasn’t in the mood for music or when there were no thoughts to drown out. Just sitting here, the flower seemed to observe her, its red petals contrasting against the dark grey fabric of the seat.

Ahuura let her stomach fall on an exhale, deciding not to take another breath in that moment until she’d start to feel uncomfortable from her body asking for air. Her heart rate slowed down: at times, she wondered if she could make it stop by sheer willpower, but it would not be a wise thing to do. Ten, twenty, thirty seconds passed, and as the discomfort arose in her, she allowed herself to inhale deeply again. Ah, if only she could tell anyone about her dreams. About the life she was living in them. About what she managed to achieve after so many years of practice. About what she was exploring.

But that was the thing: not only would everyone make her feel guilty about it, her secret would just be the cherry on top and get her sent to the psychiatry department. Not only that, but she was pretty sure that her mother’s death would be brought up and be another reason to try and cure her of those questionable tendencies. It was almost easier for her to imagine confessing that she liked girls to her family rather than revealing this inclination of hers, even to Teheiura. She had told him a long time ago that a man would never come home with her, and surprisingly or not, the two had agreed on the appeal of the fairer sex instead of fighting about it. He was the only person that knew about her attraction to women: neither Heimana nor Raimana, their older brother, knew about it. Nobody else in the family knew, not even the cousins. And nobody would ever know her deeper secret, either.

She opened her eyes again. The sun felt almost blinding for half a second, but once she was back to reality, she started the car, still keeping the radio silent as she carefully drove down her street. The cemetery was about half an hour away by car.

Reaching her destination, Ahuura took a look at the flower she was about to place on the grave. Poerava’s favourite flower was the plumeria, the tipani as it was called here, but she loved ‘opuhi as well. The tragic irony was that she was now surrounded by those same beloved flowers: the tipani trees were everywhere in cemeteries. There was even one two or three tombstones away from hers. More irony.

Oddly enough, she couldn’t remember her mother’s funeral, although it was certainly possible that she had attended it. Raimana had flown back home at this occasion, that’s all she knew. Her first year of elementary was a blur in her mind anyway: it was as if it hadn’t existed at all, and she had gone directly from winter break of her last year of kindergarten to her second year.

Taking the red blossom with her, she pushed the car door open and set a foot out of it, knowing exactly where to go.

The family would most often visit the cemetery only on Turamara’a, the day of the dead, but Ahuura would not limit herself to one day in the year. As she grew up, and particularly after getting her driving license, she would go there rather frequently, often without telling anyone where she was going. Despite being four times the age she was at the time of losing her mother, Ahuura was still craving her presence every day. That kind of hunger had never stopped. Grandma, Teora, Vaiana, all of them had raised her, lovingly so, but this void in her chest could never be filled again. Not by friends, not by a partner, not even by her brother: this hole was in the shape of her mother.

Like most, Poerava’s grave was white, adorned with white sand. It had a cross on it, but in practice, nobody in the family had really been religious: it was simply out of tradition. It looked simple, unassuming, just like Poerava herself had been in her life. Two other graves surrounded it, leaving no free space.

Ahuura stood in front of the grave, flower in hand.

“Hi, mom”, she quietly greeted her. “I brought you something.”

She laid the ‘opuhi on top of the headstone.

“This is from the garden. I don’t know how that thing still lives even as we thought it was going to die, but it does.”

She sat on the edge of the grave, wishing there was a portrait of her mother to look at.

“...So do I”, she murmured.

Although so far she had been speaking French, she switched to Tahitian.

“I have so much to tell you… but at the same time, I don’t know if those are things I can even tell my long-dead mother. Maybe I should though, just so it doesn’t fester in my mind.”

She looked around herself.

“There’s no one here to eavesdrop or just pick up on it, after all...”

She then turned back to her mother’s tombstone, looking at it as if into her eyes.

“So, mom… I had a dream that lasted three days… and those three days were the best of my life. Truly. I was in my dream home, and I did something that I’ve always wanted to do. With the beautiful someone I told you about last time I came to visit.”

She paused for a little bit, gathering her thoughts.

“...But I feel worse in a way, now. I mean, I know I’m corrupt in the first place. I’ve known since… my ‘ori teacher. But now, I can’t even imagine stepping into a church anymore. In fact, I think I should not approach one at all.”

It was so tempting to lay down on the grave… but then, there would be sand everywhere on her hair, clothes and skin, and that same sand was expensive enough.

“That very thing I’m into… for you, it was an experience you weren’t looking forward to”, Ahuura continued. “I can’t imagine how it must have felt like when…”

Her words stopped right there in the middle of her throat, jammed, unable to move. They were pushing against each other like a crowd that’s desperate to get out through a small gap, crushing each other to a pulp. It felt as if she was being choked from the inside, as if her windpipe was collapsing on itself.

“...Why am I like this?” she could only whisper faintly, feeling her eyes burn.

A soft breeze blew through the tipani trees, scarcely rustling their leaves and flowers.

“That image has never left me, Mom. That question… that weird twisted shameful kind of curiosity, it has never left… and now, I’ve experienced what I fantasized about for years to the fullest. Through a dream, yes, but I did.”

Ahuura’s chest tightened and her eyes really started drowning, blurring her vision.

“And you know what’s the worst part of it? I loved it. I’d do it all over again. Given the chance to get my hands on the right supplies in real life, I’d do it, hide them, and play with them any time I get some privacy. All the while, for you, it was such a horrible thing to experience.”

One blink and they overflowed, running down her brown cheeks.

“What scares me is that I’m afraid not to be able to enjoy normal things again”, she started sobbing. “I mean… of course I may just be overthinking it... I was able to enjoy myself without… but when I want to get myself off quick, I think of that very thing happening to me, and there I go in less than five minutes, and then I don’t dare look anyone in the eye because of how dirty I feel.”

She wanted to say more, but those spasms that were taking a hold of her were making it impossible to speak in a proper way.

“Sorry… I’m so sorry…”

It took her a few minutes to really steady herself. There was still no one around, but even in a graveyard where it was almost expected to cry, a creeping sense of shame enfolded her. She was taking one deep shuddering breath, stopping for just a moment, but then the sobs would come back with a vengeance. It was impossible to keep inside anymore.

When, finally, her composure returned, she resumed speaking.

“Not only that… that beautiful someone deserves the world. But all of those creations are a lie. A world that fades and crumbles when I am not dreaming about it. It stops existing when I’m not focused on it, and I already know that they will look for me, and… not find me anywhere, nor find my home…”

The tombstone was still listening, almost silently prompting her to continue. Ahuura’s fingertips caressed the white sand unconsciously, tracing curved shapes in it without looking or even caring to look at them.

“And to be honest… I don’t know if Ahuura would be any interesting to this person”, her low voice quivered. “Too meek, too sad, too lost in her own world. Granted I tell the truth when I speak, I don’t invent myself a life or anything beyond… that. But I am someone else. I am my dream persona, in my dream home, so far away that nobody would suspect anything.”

She looked up at the sky. There were no clouds up there, just the ever-shining sun, and the mountains of Tahiti were reaching high, unfathomably high.

“If that isn’t corruption to the highest level, I don’t know what it is. I’m not just profoundly sick in the head, I’m also a liar and a thief. Stealing hearts and feeding lies.”

Then, she glanced back at the grave, which white colour was made even purer by the celestial rays.

“But you know the thing? It’s enjoyable, stupidly enjoyable”, she murmured. “It’s just like when you’re on the road, you hit the gas pedal, and you hope there is no cop at the next corner. You know it’s wrong, that it’s probably more dangerous than anything, but… you feel alive. For a moment you’re just… in a sort of trance. Once you taste it, there is no coming back.”

The birds were chirping. The chickens were clucking. There was still nobody around, nobody alive, but how many ghosts were listening?

It was soon time to go. Ahuura, at last, posed one final question as she got up.

“What would you think of your sweet little girl, now?”

The grave replied with only silence.