Chapter 18
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Jaq
“Yeah, they're pretty brutal. Makes visits back and forth hard for everybody, but I promise it's worth it,” his smile equally exhausted.
Looking back through the aisles, then back at me, he wore a sinister smile.
“Bet joining the mile-high club might wake us up a bit,” he suggested, as that sounded like a plan, but given it always looked more suspicious when the woman went first, I suggested he go first and wait for my special knock.
By the time we got back to our seats, it was safe to say we’d both become official members.
“That was nice,” Graham spoke in his bedroom voice, draping his arm around my shoulder when I leaned in to rest my head on his. “Can officially cross that off my list,” he beamed.
“Honestly, same.”
“Seriously?” he asked, skeptical.
“It's not like I've ever traveled with a partner before,” I admitted, like it was no big deal.
“You're always so convinced that you can't have firsts with me, but life is surprising. New Zealand will have you experiencing a lot of firsts, so prepare yourself. It's nothing like New York.”
“I swear to God, Graham, if you mention the beach one more time,” I rolled my eyes, but was truly kidding.
“Baby, but it's practically summer right now. It's really hard not to mention the beach,” he noted.
“Well, the only sight I'm looking for immediately upon arrival is the bed. Tell me when we get to that,” I joked.
“Same, but I feel like we should discuss some stuff. I don't want you to be offended by anything when we get there,” he admitted through pursed lips.
“What do you mean?”
“Let me start out by admitting that, while my parents are esthetically not very conservative, they're going to stand by some of the stuff they brought me up with, and I just don't want you to feel any kind of way about it, because if it's expected of my sisters, it should be expected of me, too.”
“Oh gosh, do your parents know you're sexually active?” I wondered if they brought things like that up with each other, given how strongly the subject of premarital sex was in LDS culture.
“I'm bringing home my forty-one-year-old girlfriend.
Premarital sex is pretty much implied. But we'll be under their roof.
And just know that I fought really hard for us to be able to sleep in the same bed during the duration of the trip.
I'm receiving a privilege my older sister never got.
So, their only ask is that we don't have sex unmarried in the house.”
“Wow, they're that traditional?”
“They understand that I'm in love and I'm an adult, so nothing can keep me from you. But I have to set an example for my younger sisters, too. But don’t look at it as a sexless trip, though. There are plenty of places to make love that aren't at home. We'll get creative,” he flirted.
“But how will they know?” I joked.
“Trust me, anytime it gets too quiet, it'll look like a knock on the door.
Invites for long nature walks. Or activities that'll tire you out to where you don't even have the energy to have sex.
A task that was abandoned from months ago all of a sudden being priority.
It's harmless, I promise, but annoying.”
“I'm surprised you got them to compromise on that in the first place.”
“They probably think I'm gonna propose,” he said with a rolled eye. Maybe it had been meant as a joke, but I don't know. Given his upbringing, he was probably right. I hoped he didn't feel pressured to, because I sure as hell wasn't sure what I'd say if I was asked.
Graham did his best to prepare me for what else might be a minor change during our stay, but that comment about proposing made me so nervous, I fear I didn't retain everything else he said.
The only thing that got my mind off of it was watching Kung Fu Panda together, though, would it have killed them to have Kung Fu Panda 2? That one had the best villain.
Graham woke me up with cheek kisses a half hour from landing, and it wasn’t long before we were offboarding the plane and following arrival signs.
All the flashing cameras only added to the mix of excitement and confusion.
The airport was always filled with people, but something about the local press being there seemed odd.
“Graham, what is all this?” I wondered out loud.
“Just try not to give them eye contact. Walk as normal,” Graham advised, as he reached for my hand to hold, guiding me through the crowd.
“Are they taking pictures of you?” I asked curiously, unable to help myself from acknowledging the camera's following, specifically us.
“I'll explain it to you later,” he dismissed, as I couldn't help myself from waving to one of the cameras.
Graham had mentioned his family had money, but was his family considered famous here?
People kept referring to him as the Waka Prince, yelling, “The Waka prince has returned,” and I couldn't help thinking Graham was due for answering a lot of my questions on the way to his family home.
When we passed the departure gates, all of this chanting started, and when I saw nothing but brown people organizing, my body couldn't control myself.
I just knew we were getting a haka. A woman's voice initially started the ceremonial dance as about seven distinctly Māori men led the combination of foot stomping, body slapping, and sick facial expressions that made it hard not to feel anything.
The ancestors were in the room with us today, but that wasn't even the best part. A quarter way through, Graham started joining them, and I mean this, in the most disrespectful way. I had never wanted to fuck that man so much in my life.
Sure, his Māori side of him was pretty physically visual.
From his features, his accent, his Tā moko.
But nothing compared to watching my boyfriend looking like a Polynesian warrior.
We were gonna have to take a drive or find a tool shed or something, because he was definitely getting fucked tonight.
The hairs on the back of my neck were rising. Oh my god, what was even I watching? So many things were being felt at once, but the childish part of me was thinking no wonder Graham had winged eaten pussy for the first time. That tongue was going everywhere.
By the end, I was sent so spiritually that I felt like I had just been at church. When an older man and woman both approached Graham, he met both of them with pressed noses and foreheads and traditional hongi greeting. I was steady still cheesing from the haka.
When Graham gestured in my direction, I admit I was a bit nervous. It could only mean I was about to meet a parent or significant relative.
“Mom, Uncle Tiake, this is Jacqueline. The woman I've been telling you guys about.” I wasn't sure whether to hug or handshake, so when both of his elders hugged me and pressed their foreheads and nose close to mine, I felt a little less insecure that I wouldn't be welcomed.
“Well, you're the splitting image of Graham, so you must be his mother,” I smized.
“I'm Mārama. Nice to meet you, Jacqueline.”
“I'm his uncle. Strangely enough, Tiake is the Māori equivalent to Jack,” he joked. “Come meet everyone,” as his uncle pulled me over, but Graham steadied me, meeting some of his extended family externally.
I was chill, but internally I was screaming, because I knew I had recognized one of his family members during the haka. The wrestler, lowkey entertainer Wiremu TePuni, a first cousin of Graham’s, that he conveniently forgot to mention.
There were actually a lot of things he hadn't shared, as those cameras followed us like jeepers creepers to baggage claim—and then the drop off area, where cars were already waiting to pick us up.
“Mum, I'm gonna ride with Jaq and Uncle Tiake. Can I meet you at the house?”
“Of course, my love,” she hugged him, then hugged me, then joined two of their other family members in a combination of four cars.
Wondering why we hadn’t ridden with his mom, I still looked forward to getting to know him through his Uncle Tiake.
“What was that back there?” I asked, as Graham instinctively leaned in for my kiss.
“Nothing really. I just haven't been home in a while and the press has nothing better to do.”
“Graham, that wasn't nothing. Those cameras were invested in you. Your family. And why were they calling you the Waka prince?”
“That's just his nickname,” his uncle interjected. “It's hard being the only boy in one of the wealthiest families in New Zealand.”
“Come again?” my neck snapped in Graham's direction.
“I told you, Jaq, my family works in a dairy industry. New Zealand exports like 35% of the world's dairy.”
“Yeah, but I'm thinking like a local yogurt here and there. You're one of the wealthiest families in New Zealand?”
“When you say it like that, you make it sound weird,” he frowned.
“Boy, I'm thinking we're on the same level. Come to find out, I'm the pauper in this relationship,” I laughed.
That was a first. I either met men at my level or dated down just to vary out my options. No wonder he had a nice apartment with a part-time salary. He was fucking rich!
“Baby. Does it really matter to you?”
“I mean, no. But I think you forgot to mention a few things when it came to your upbringing.”
“Well, this is about to be a long high ride, girl. We got plenty of time,” Tiake announced, as he wasn't lying. The GPS predicted this was about to be a long car ride, but I was sure it’d be made fun by Uncle Tiake’s hilarious stories about growing up on the island.
I shouldn’t have been surprised, but Graham spoke a lot more Māori than he led on back in the states. I’d heard him speak Spanish for sure, but maybe it was because he had so little people to speak it with, it was why I hadn’t been made aware of it.
It all started when Tiake referred to Graham as takiwātanga, and not wanting to be left out of the context, I demanded to know what the term meant.