Wvfloof Wvfloof Creek
Shauna felt certain there was a dead body buried on her new property. Sometimes it was bloated in the water tank. Others, it was buried under the shipwrecked rowing boat, the one with the bromeliads sprouting above clay sky-rises architectured by the wasps. She had ten acres of New Zealand bushland, where the skyline was fuzzy with native treetops, and the creek ran wild after heavy rain, and the kauri grove stared like a hui of ancient elders passing law and tut-tutting ideas of the new generations; and all Shauna could think of were dead bodies. Jet pawed heavily at the root of a tobacco weed. That’s where it is, she thought, and sipped on her tea.
Shauna opened her laptop and refreshed her email. The dinosaur from page 404 was running a marathon. She picked up her mobile and called Tiger Internet Providers again. No reception.
At the top of her driveway was an old pear tree with a metal possum trap nailed to it. Jet barked furiously at the historic smells emanating from the stained trap. She checked her phone. Two bars. She dialed Tiger. We are out on the road. We are doing our best to install and fix your connections. Growwwwwl.
Jet found the perfect stick: a gum tree limb. He threw it up and caught it. How uncanny, gum trees on her New Zealand property. Slice of home.
A horn beeped. ‘Jet!’ Shauna called. The blue van with the orange tiger on it slid to a stop on the gravel road.
‘Nearly gotcha mate.’ The serviceman opened his car door. Wiki, his name badge read.
Across the road she could see balloons on a letter box in an eclectic colour scheme of childhood chaos. There was a deep gully to the north of her neighbour’s driveway where ferns and puriri competed for sunlight. She could see a raggedy swing bridge heading further north. To the left, her neighbour’s driveway curled like a fern frond and met a series of mossy stone steps leading up to the house’s large front deck.
Another man appeared before her. He had a two-day growth and greying white hair. Jet submitted to him, waiting for a belly rub.
‘Traitor,’ Shauna said.
He laughed, looked over at Wiki, then shook his hand and hugged him.
‘Wiki is installing my internet.’
The trio walked down the drive to her house together and huddled amongst unpacked suitcases, Wiki and Corby comparing versions of their night out the weekend before.
Shauna reached for her teacup sitting on top of a used QANTAS boarding pass. It felt as though rain was suddenly pounding on her eyes. The neurologist explained that the migraines were the result of compressed vertebrae in her neck, damage she had acquired during childbirth. She imagined her neck like the many knotted branches of the ghost gums that grew back home. Each branch twisting into a new direction to overcome a trauma. Here the trees were tall and straight, unafraid to take up space and make their presence known.
‘Shauna?’ Corby said.
‘Huh?’ Shauna refocused.
‘I was just saying that we’re having a birthday party today for our little girl, Emalene, if you wanted to pop in for some cake…and gin.’
‘Oh, thanks. Um, yeah, sure, why not? Meet the neighbours.’ Shauna rubbed her eyes.
‘Sweet as. I’m sure the girls would like to meet you. Just come up when you kick this homeboy out.’ Corby gave Wiki a light punch in the arm and Wiki pretended to smash him one back.
‘See you in a bit.’
Corby and Wiki performed an extended hand shake.
‘Luckiest man alive,’ Wiki said.
‘Why’s that?’
‘Got two wives.’
Shauna’s forehead crinkled.
‘He married his high school sweetheart, Moana, they had a kid, then she came out saying she had been seeing her best friend, Bernie, since high school.’
‘Sounds very Home and Away-ish.’
Wiki looked perplexed. Then he clicked. ‘Heyyy. Yeah, true. But here in New Zealand, we call it Shortland Street.’ He smiled.
‘So, do they all live there now?’
‘Think so. Most of the time. For Emalene. My boy gets his kicks though.’
‘Hmm. Well, I wonder if your boy can make a good gin!’
Wiki smiled and then held out a soft fist curl to bump Shauna in the arm.
She smiled. ‘I’m only going for the gin, Wiki.’
‘Sure. And I’m white as the queen.’
‘Har har.’ She hated it but the bromance had impacted her; she bumped Wiki in the arm.
*
Shauna peered down as she hiked the gravelly incline. The gully smelled damp and earthy. She could see moss-covered rocks near the creek. A trickle of water dribbled like time caught in a dream. Tāheke Falls, a dilapidated sign said. It had an uncanny sound she couldn’t quite describe. Like some lost, sad feeling you hold onto without knowing why.
As Shauna approached the house, she saw two women arguing passionately. She followed the side of the house towards the deck.
‘As promised!’ Big smile as he handed her a gin. ‘Wiki get you sorted?’
Shauna nodded. ‘All good.’
‘Work?’
‘Design.’ Shauna sipped her gin.
‘What kind?’
‘Book covers mostly.’
‘I would have picked you for an interior design girl after seeing your house.’
‘Get out!’ They laughed.
The little girl in the pink party dress and blue bow tie swirled towards Shauna. ‘Who are you?’
‘Emalene! Manners.’ Corby shook his head.
‘Ko Emalene tōku ingoa. Ko wai tō ingoa?’
‘Manners don’t mean using formal te reo Māori, Emalene.’ Corby razzed her hair.
The girl looked expectantly up at Shauna.
‘Ko Shauna tōku ingoa.’
Emalene squashed a squeaking balloon between her legs. Jet yelped short barks sending her into hysterics.
‘I don’t know enough te reo.’
‘She’ll teach you.’ He sipped his gin.
‘Snack?’ A tall woman with reddish blonde hair and freckles on her nose offered a plate of cheese and olives.
‘Thanks Bernie.’ Corby said, taking an olive in a toothpick. ‘This is Shauna.’
Bernie nodded hello.
Corby took Shauna’s empty glass and waltzed inside the house behind Bernie.
Shauna stepped towards the wooden deck railing and peered into the native bush below. In gaps of laughter, squealing and talking, she could hear the gurgle of the creek. She rubbed her eyes and pushed her temples with her thumbs.
Corby presented Shauna with another cocktail and a smooth grin.
‘Fruity?’ Corby asked.
‘Little bit.’
‘And the drink?’
They laughed and Shauna felt some part of her unravelling.
‘These doubles, Corbs?’ Moana nodded hello.
He shrugged and said, ‘You’ll need to ask the bartender, I’m just the house dad.’
Moana shook her head. ‘Don’t be hōhā.’
‘I don’t think he has a choice,’ Shauna said and Moana held up her glass in cheers.
‘You must be the new neighbour!’
‘Shauna.’
‘Moana. So, you’re in the old meth shack, hey?’
‘Moana!’ Corby said.
‘Those idiots were so noisy, revving their cars and playing shit music. Glad someone nice like you has moved in.’
‘Even if you are Australian,’ Corby winked. Shauna smirked.
Bernie stepped towards them and reached for a sip of Moana’s gin, but Moana turned her back, asking Corby, ‘Where’s Emalene?’
‘She’s around.’ Corby said. ‘You two okay?’
‘Oh it’s just the usual shit. We’re fine, Cor.’
‘The usual shit meaning yous are both stubborn arses.’
‘Moana’s just grieving is all. She lost her brother.’
Shauna shifted her weight.
A shriek of laughter came from the deck and when Shauna looked up she saw that Jet had wriggled his way towards the food table and smashed his face full of party sausage rolls. The kids were laughing hysterically.
‘Jet, you little…’ She lunged after him.
‘Don’t stress Shauna, it’s hilarious entertainment.’
Pastry flakes scattered Jet’s nose. She veered him towards a bowl of water at the furthest end of the deck.
Shauna peered back into the bush, deep breathing, Jet panting into her legs, flicking water droplets over her. The creek seemed to gurgle louder now, but it sounded like a choked yowl. Jet could hear it too, his ears perked up. It sounded like Wvfloof, Wvfloof. She rubbed her temples again.
‘Sorry about before,’ Corby joined her. He leaned over Jet and pressed his pointer finger in between her two eyebrows. ‘You can relax that wrinkle, Jet’s a dream. Kids love him.’
‘What happened before?’
‘Oh, just moody Moana.’
‘How did her brother die?’
‘Well, he didn’t die so much physically. He’s dead to her because he started taking hormones and growing breasts to match his beard you see?’
‘Oh.’
‘It’s not so much that he’s, she’s changed her gender, it’s just that Moana has a problem with how he mistreats the female body.’
‘Right.’
‘They were out one night in town, at the pub, and Dan…sorry, Dotti, her brother, was flaunting his sizeable naked breasts in everyone’s faces.’
‘Naked boobs? What a sight.’
‘I know, but Moana was disgusted and embarrassed. She yelled at him, her, that if he was going to have the female physique then he, she should treat it with respect and that there are unwritten rules and responsibility as a role model for young women, including his, her niece.’
‘Understandable,’ Shauna said.
‘They’ve not spoken ever since. Both stubborn. Bernie thinks Moana is being harsh and dramatic and told her she should be a better role model for her brother, ah, sister.’
‘So Moana has cut him out?’
‘The problem is that Moana isn’t perfect herself. She’s been raised with burning martyr syndrome…thinks sacrifice is what women do to establish their identity. Bernie reckons whoring your soul out is worse than your body. Letting people use you and all that. Moana disagrees and has taken it out on Dotti.’
Wvfloof, wvfloof, wvfloof.
Shauna suddenly felt like she had strayed too far. She felt panic rising in her chest. Hadn’t she held onto her feminine fire out of righteousness? Hadn’t she too scolded her husband for his lack of empathy while failing to communicate her feelings, like some lost soul heading for the grave with a heart full of ‘I told you so’s.’ This notion she had of starting a family, moving to the Northland bush where her parents had lived before migrating to Australia, and focusing on her career was one she had held against him for too long. Her sacrifice.
The gravel driveway was loose, and she struggled not to slide away as she fled the party and the complacency it offered. She came to a wooden log seat at the edge of a steep gully by the driveway. Down below she could hear the wvfloof wvfloof of the creek. Emalene stood twirling around a silver fern. She was far too near the edge. Her foot could slip on a fern leaf or get suctioned into a muddy hole; Emalene could be pulled into the dark abyss at any moment.
‘Emalene!’ The girl couldn’t hear. Jet barked but the sound of the creek drowned them out.
This is where the body is, she thought. This is it.
Shauna feared the girl would spill over the edge and tumble down into the creek. She saw it in her mind, the creek’s arms stretching out, the rising waters, the shrinking trees, Emalene’s head bobbing and twirling down the river. Her outstretched arms. Her outstretched arms. Her outstretched arms…
…her outstretched arms. Him walking out of the neonatal ward without looking back. Paper. Scissors. Rock. Her being dragged away by a stranger in a white uniform. Paper scissors rock. Another stranger suggesting she see someone professional, many people experience PTSD after witnessing a death, after seeing a dead body. Paper scissors rock. Her outstretched arms. Her tightly balled fists. Paper scissors rock…
‘Paper scissors rock.’ Emalene’s hand struck out. ‘You win!’
‘Emalene?’
‘Dad always says that if someone is upset to distract them, and if they are still upset after, then get some help. Did it work?’
Shauna blinked back tears. Saw fading images of him, of the baby, of the stranger. That sad, lost feeling clung to her like moss as she peered over the wet, green trees. The creek trickled below the massive kauri, rimu and tōtara trees, the nīkau palms. There was no body. Just hers.
‘Yes, it did help.’
‘Tihei mauri ora!’ Emalene pushed her chest out and jutted her chin, widening her brown eyes.
Shauna observed her in awe.
‘I am aliiiiive!’ Emalene threw her hands up above her head and skipped back along the trail towards her birthday party. Shauna and Jet followed, watching her before crossing the dirt road home. Bernie was calling her. She had some great news; Aunty Dotti was on her way over and she had a special present for her.
As Shauna crossed the road towards her own driveway, she saw a small musk pink Beetle swaying along the metal road. A big hand waved and a warm face smiled. Dotti was wearing a polka dot moo-moo and had beads threaded through her beard. On the passenger seat was a small black puppy.
Shauna waved back. Jet yelped. The car made a putting noise that sounded a little like wvfloof wvfloof.
Tracie Lark grew up in Worimi Port Stephens, NSW, and now lives near Whangarei, New Zealand. She teaches high school English and writing workshops. She has an array of poetry and fiction published globally. She is studying towards her Master of Arts in Writing at The University of New England, Armidale.