Read Online Breadfruit by Célestine Vaite - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Célestine Vaite
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like the shirt?” Materena’s eyes are furious now.
“Materena,
this
… it’s not my style,” Pito starts.
In Pito’s opinion, the colors scream out,
Admire me! I’m beautiful! I’m a flower!
In Pito’s opinion,
raeraes
wear that kind of shirt, and, actually, Pito saw a
raerae
in town yesterday and that
raerae
was wearing the exact same shirt. And Pito doesn’t want to be mistaken for a
raerae
and he doesn’t want to be mistaken for someone who likes
raeraes.
He’s never going to wear that shirt, not even for
cent mille
francs.
Materena snatches the shirt away. “Eh, you don’t need to say you’re never going to wear that shirt, not even for
cent mille
francs, you know well nobody is going to pay you
cent mille
francs to wear that shirt.”
Materena’s disappointed, she’s angry. She scrunches the shirt and gives Pito a dirty look.
“Did I ever ask you to buy me a shirt?” Pito asks. “No, I never asked you to buy me a shirt, because what I like and what
you like, it’s not the same.”
Pito likes to buy his own shirts. He knows best what suits him.
“It’s like that love-song tape you got me last year,” he says.
“You already told me about that love-song tape,” Materena snaps.
“And that straw hat you bought me the year before. I never wear it. It’s you who always wears that hat. You know I prefer
caps, so why did you give me a straw hat—plus, a woman’s straw hat?”
“You already told me about that hat.”
“Take that shirt back to the store and give me the money for a case of Hinano.” Pito goes on watching the TV.
Materena drags the ironing board into the bedroom to iron the shirt, as you can’t take a scrunched shirt back to the shop.
It must be crisply ironed.
She was going to get Pito to show off that beautiful shirt on Saturday at the birthday party at Mama Roti’s place, but it’s
not going to happen, since he thinks only the
raeraes
wear that kind of shirt.
Materena plugs the iron in, berating herself—and Pito. It’s the last time I’m buying that Pito a birthday gift! You
andouille,
Materena. She knows what Pito really wants for his birthday. He wants a speedboat. Eh, as if we have the money for a speedboat.
It costs a lot of money to buy a speedboat. Plus, there’s the repairs and the petrol, and the motor. And what are we going
to do with a speedboat?
Materena takes the shirt back to the store the following morning on her way to work. She smiles a big smile to the salesperson.
“Eh,
iaorana,
girlfriend, it’s a beautiful day today, eh? I thought it was going to rain, but it doesn’t look like it’s going to rain.
And are you fine?”
The salesperson just glances at the shirt.
“Girlfriend, I have to give you that shirt back. It doesn’t fit my husband. It’s too small.”
The salesperson gives Materena the
do I know you?
look.
“I was here yesterday,” Materena says. “Check in your black book.”
Ah yes, the salesperson remembers. But she can’t take the shirt back—it is the store’s policy.
Ah, now Materena is annoyed. “I can’t exchange the shirt for a dress?”
The salesperson gives Materena the
I’m sorry
look.
Materena wants to say that it is the last time she buys something from that store, but it’s not the fault of the salesperson
that there’s a store policy. The salesperson is just an employee—she doesn’t own the store.
Materena leaves the store.
She could give that shirt to her cousin Mori. It’s not money lost. But first, she’s going to try it on. She tries it on as
soon as she gets to her work. The fabric feels really nice.
She inspects herself in the mirror in the room of her boss. Eh, the colors suit her. The shirt is a bit big but it still suits
her fine. Materena lifts her arms. It looks a bit like a blouse on her. That can be my uniform, she thinks. A blouse and a
pareu—it matches.
She leaves the blouse on. It’s nice working with that blouse on. You don’t sweat as
“Materena,
this
… it’s not my style,” Pito starts.
In Pito’s opinion, the colors scream out,
Admire me! I’m beautiful! I’m a flower!
In Pito’s opinion,
raeraes
wear that kind of shirt, and, actually, Pito saw a
raerae
in town yesterday and that
raerae
was wearing the exact same shirt. And Pito doesn’t want to be mistaken for a
raerae
and he doesn’t want to be mistaken for someone who likes
raeraes.
He’s never going to wear that shirt, not even for
cent mille
francs.
Materena snatches the shirt away. “Eh, you don’t need to say you’re never going to wear that shirt, not even for
cent mille
francs, you know well nobody is going to pay you
cent mille
francs to wear that shirt.”
Materena’s disappointed, she’s angry. She scrunches the shirt and gives Pito a dirty look.
“Did I ever ask you to buy me a shirt?” Pito asks. “No, I never asked you to buy me a shirt, because what I like and what
you like, it’s not the same.”
Pito likes to buy his own shirts. He knows best what suits him.
“It’s like that love-song tape you got me last year,” he says.
“You already told me about that love-song tape,” Materena snaps.
“And that straw hat you bought me the year before. I never wear it. It’s you who always wears that hat. You know I prefer
caps, so why did you give me a straw hat—plus, a woman’s straw hat?”
“You already told me about that hat.”
“Take that shirt back to the store and give me the money for a case of Hinano.” Pito goes on watching the TV.
Materena drags the ironing board into the bedroom to iron the shirt, as you can’t take a scrunched shirt back to the shop.
It must be crisply ironed.
She was going to get Pito to show off that beautiful shirt on Saturday at the birthday party at Mama Roti’s place, but it’s
not going to happen, since he thinks only the
raeraes
wear that kind of shirt.
Materena plugs the iron in, berating herself—and Pito. It’s the last time I’m buying that Pito a birthday gift! You
andouille,
Materena. She knows what Pito really wants for his birthday. He wants a speedboat. Eh, as if we have the money for a speedboat.
It costs a lot of money to buy a speedboat. Plus, there’s the repairs and the petrol, and the motor. And what are we going
to do with a speedboat?
Materena takes the shirt back to the store the following morning on her way to work. She smiles a big smile to the salesperson.
“Eh,
iaorana,
girlfriend, it’s a beautiful day today, eh? I thought it was going to rain, but it doesn’t look like it’s going to rain.
And are you fine?”
The salesperson just glances at the shirt.
“Girlfriend, I have to give you that shirt back. It doesn’t fit my husband. It’s too small.”
The salesperson gives Materena the
do I know you?
look.
“I was here yesterday,” Materena says. “Check in your black book.”
Ah yes, the salesperson remembers. But she can’t take the shirt back—it is the store’s policy.
Ah, now Materena is annoyed. “I can’t exchange the shirt for a dress?”
The salesperson gives Materena the
I’m sorry
look.
Materena wants to say that it is the last time she buys something from that store, but it’s not the fault of the salesperson
that there’s a store policy. The salesperson is just an employee—she doesn’t own the store.
Materena leaves the store.
She could give that shirt to her cousin Mori. It’s not money lost. But first, she’s going to try it on. She tries it on as
soon as she gets to her work. The fabric feels really nice.
She inspects herself in the mirror in the room of her boss. Eh, the colors suit her. The shirt is a bit big but it still suits
her fine. Materena lifts her arms. It looks a bit like a blouse on her. That can be my uniform, she thinks. A blouse and a
pareu—it matches.
She leaves the blouse on. It’s nice working with that blouse on. You don’t sweat as
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