Tuvalu Read Free

“Excuse, exc—, excuse me? This note, this isn’t … This isn’t mine.” ’ Laughter, possibly forced, took a hold of Mami. She coughed and waved off smoke. ‘I was charmed though, Noah, really. You have to understand, I learnt to lie from liars. Every liar does. Learns from watching others lie, or worse, from being lied to—from believing.’
    â€˜Charmed?’
    â€˜You were something new to me.’
    â€˜How so?’
    â€˜It didn’t enter your head to steal that money, did it?’
    â€˜No.’
    â€˜See. I’d reached a point where I didn’t believe people like you existed.’ Mami again began to laugh. ‘Sorry, I shouldn’t laugh, I know. I don’t even know why I’m like this. I’ve been doing it all morning and for no reason. Always at the stupidest things. But I loved that stammer of yours. I heard it and I thought, Mami, here’s someone who won’t ever lie to you.’
    â€˜Because I can’t?’
    â€˜Exactly.’
    Then, as if Mami had seen something awful in the alleyway—a car crash or murder—her laugh cut out. When she faced me again her eyes narrowed. I had the sensation that all fun, all warmth had flooded from her.
    â€˜So tell me again,’ she said, ‘why you don’t want this Catalina girl to see me?’
    â€˜Because she’s a friend of my girlfriend, Matilda.’
    Mami nodded, threw her still-lit cigarette into the street and rolled her legs back into my room. The very edges of the feathers at her throat flashed white in the sunlight. I thought she was angry—leaving. But I glimpsed amusement in her face, and she flopped casually onto my bed.
    â€˜Matilda’s the girl you share this room with?’
    â€˜Yes.’
    â€˜And where’s she?’
    â€˜In Australia, visiting her father.’
    Mami smiled—a full, beautiful smile revealing straight, white teeth, teeth with a confidence all of their own. I shifted uneasily.
    â€˜To Odaiba,’ she said.

    Our train trip out to sleek Odaiba was unremarkable, except for the fact that Mami stole her ticket. While I was slotting change into the ticket machine she set her face in a pout and strode up to the stationmaster. I had no inkling of what it was she was doing or why she was upset. Nor could I understand a word she was saying. But her pleading tone was clear. There was something she wanted from this fat, balding man, something she was not meant to have. He peered through his window with the tired, resigned look of a harangued civil servant. Only when Mami shot him an awful look did he shrug, print a ticket and slide it under the screen. He looked unhappy with the whole affair but nevertheless bowed his head when thanked.
    Mami found me at a newsstand reading an English newspaper which featured, among other things, the weather and a photo of a schoolboy, hand in his mother’s, glossy red backpack strapped tightly on, returning to school for the winter term. I held up my ticket. Mami took an excessively firm hold of my wrist and flung me through a ticket gate.
    â€˜Hurry up,’ she said. ‘You’re too slow.’ She dragged me through clumps of people, up stairs, around rubbish bins and into a train.
    â€˜What was that all about?’ I asked.
    â€˜What?’
    â€˜Before, with the ticket guy.’
    â€˜Oh, that. I lost my ticket.’
    â€˜Lost it? You had a ticket?’
    Mami thought for a moment, chewing at the inside of her lip. A number of commuters glanced at her, at her dress and the red feathers. She had dropped her cashmere coat in the bin outside the hostel. ‘No. Not really. But I told him I did.’
    â€˜So you stole this ride?’
    She recoiled playfully. ‘What are you talking about?’
    â€˜You stole your ticket.’
    â€˜Stole? So I’m a common thief now? Is that what you’re saying?’ Still smiling, Mami jutted out her