Dad knew nothing of our new friendship. I made sure there was no trace of Rangi’s visits, even flushing the toilet after him every time, since that was something he always forgot. I’d told him that my dad didn’t want him in our house. He was unsurprised, but pleased that I still wanted him to visit.
On Friday 10th December 1982, Rangi got a half-day to mark the end of his schooling. He had a few days’ study leave before his School Cert exams began. Christmas in the sun was still a strange concept to me, but one I liked. Rangi swerved into his driveway and then jumped the fence. He showed me a note from his teacher. ‘Much improved,’ she had written. ‘Rangi has applied himself this year. This boy’s future is bright.’
He whooped and hollered like a cowboy, kicking the dust with his bare feet. Rangi didn’t wear shoes in the summer. From what I saw in town, a lot of kids didn’t. ‘Thanks, mate, look what you did for me! Teacher says I’m going to ace these exams.’
‘You did it, Rangi, you did it.’ And he had.
I had an idea. ‘Let’s go swim in the lake, to celebrate.’
He had an idea too. ‘I’m not much for swimming but I got some beers. Let’s go for a soak.’ He went to grab my shoulder in some gesture of affection, I think, but I pulled back at the last minute. ‘No touching!’
‘Sorry, mate, I forgot.’
The trip to the lake was a mistake. The whole friendship was a mistake, and everything was my fault, but setting off that day, I felt happier than I ever had in my life. I had a genuine friend who was grateful to me for my help. We were going to have fun and act like grown-ups and drink beer. I had turned fifteen some months earlier and I knew that it was illegal to drink alcohol until you were twenty. Dad would have blown his top if he’d known about any of it, but in that moment, I didn’t care.
When we got to the hot pools, we changed into our togs, keeping our backs to each other to reassure ourselves and each other that we weren’t gay, though I couldn’t help but notice Rangi’s physique. He was built like a man. I was thin and scrawny and pale in comparison. He not only had bruises on his arm but lots of small circular scars on his chest. I couldn’t help pointing to them. ‘What happened there?’
‘My mum’s a bitch,’ he said. ‘That’s why I can’t swim. Couldn’t take my top off in school without getting questions asked. Ciggy burns.’
‘She burned you?’
‘Yeah, crazy bitch, when I was a kiddo. I don’t even know where she is now, probably in jail. Don’t tell anyone. I figure I can trust you, Pakeha.’
I think Pakeha meant a white person. I was pleased that he trusted me.
‘Who would I tell? Anyway, she sounds the same as my mother!’ I said, delighted that we had this in common, mad and dangerous mothers.
‘Yeah? I thought you said she was dead?’
I hadn’t thought about her in months. Rangi was my best friend, my only friend. He had told me a secret. I could tell him, couldn’t I?
‘I suppose I wished she was. We had to leave Ireland because she told lies about my dad.’
I told Rangi the whole story as he cracked open two cans. I took a long slurp out of my can, assuming it would taste something like apple juice, but the taste was foul, like I imagined old men’s feet to taste. I spat the liquid out on to the grass.
Rangi laughed at me. ‘Seriously? You never had a beer before?’
I shook my head, but then attempted another sip. ‘Chur, bro!’ he said. I didn’t want any more beer so left the other five cans to him.
‘That don’t sound right to me,’ he said, when I told him what had happened when I’d stayed with my mother for the weekend. ‘You shouldn’t have kicked your mum, especially when she was pregnant.’
I shrugged. ‘Dad said I could.’
‘Don’t sound right to me,’ he repeated, and I felt uncomfortable. I regretted telling him anything.
‘My Auntie Georgia says it’s never right to hit a woman.’
I thought of his old aunt and her long days spent cleaning other people’s houses and then her bar work in the evening. I suspected that Dad wouldn’t think much of Auntie Georgia’s opinions. Why did Rangi think women were so great? His auntie was a drudge. His mum was violent. I changed the subject and soon we were talking excitedly about the rugby as the Lions Tour was coming to New Zealand again that winter. I had begun to take a greater interest in rugby since I’d met Rangi. He would have loved to play for his school team, but it wasn’t worth the hassle he would get from the other kids.
I got into the hot pools, which were shallow. At their deepest, they only came up to my neck. Rangi joined me and we bobbed around for a while. ‘Sweet as,’ he said. When we got out, the sun was hot on the surrounding rocks.
‘We have to cool off,’ I said. ‘Let’s go over to the cold lake.’
‘Nah, Stevie, I’ll stay here,’ said Rangi. He was clearly uncomfortably hot as sweat poured down his torso.
‘Come on,’ I said, ‘you’ll bake if you stay here.’
‘Can’t swim, can I?’ His voice was slightly slurred by the beer.
