Tessa Keenan
Patupaiarehe Sightings
Diary page
I am typing the wrong price into the till so he can pay for everything with a $20 note and I won’t have to give him any little coins he’ll never use. I am refusing to make eye contact during the interaction. When he says ‘thank you’, I say ‘no worries’. I am watching him step through the door and into the carpark. Red hair almost brown in the June fog. I am putting one lolly in its adjacent pick n mix jar and one in my mouth. I am saving up for a car. Once I have a car I will drive to the track head and walk along the mountain. I usually hate tramping. I am begging my friends over Messenger to come with me. Hard no. I am not giving up. I am trying to stalk him but all I can find is an Instagram account called @patuinthemist. It has three pictures of the same Kawasaki quad bike covered in mud. I am writing out Nana’s roast veggie recipe so when I cook for him after I first get the courage to talk to him I can memorise it and make it look like I made it up from scratch. I am putting myself second and him first and everyone else way down the bottom. I haven’t even looked at him properly yet. Am I in love?
Primary school painting
(Painting of the mountain): The mountain is a woman who sleeps on her back. (Painting of a child holding hands with another child): Look after each other. Don’t talk to strangers. (Painting of Laura’s family): My name is Laura. My Mum works at the café where people stop if they are driving back from the mountain. My Nana stays at home and knits me itchy jumpers. My sister Caitlin works at the Four Square and gives me lollies. (Painting of a group of people and many houses made of what appear to be vines): Patupaiarehe have hair like fire. They live on mountains where there is a lot of mist. When it is a foggy day, we might see them among us.
The playground
Laura knows a red haired girl called Mia. She also has brown spots all over her nose. Mia always has carrot sticks in her lunchbox and she never has any chips. She is prone to getting twigs caught in her hair. The kids who don’t know much call Mia names.
The quad
Caitlin knows the story about Dad. She tells her friends to make them scared and jealous. Dad had striking red hair. He was Māori alright, but he refused to look like it. He hadn’t visited the marae since he was little because he was a grumpy teenager and he moved to Australia to become a DJ. When he came back as an adult, he went alone to weed the steps out the back. Everyone complained of a horrible smell hanging around the wharenui the day after that. ‘Yuck,’ the little kids said. Mum’s sisters thought Australia had made him rotten. But Mum liked how different he was, even if he was smelly.
‘Advice for Girls’
Play it cool with your crush! When you bump into him in the school corridor, say ‘Hey’ and move on. But make sure you make strong eye contact! Otherwise, he’ll have no idea you’re even slightly interested. Compliments are the best way to tell a boy you like him. Don’t tell him something he already knows about himself, so many other girls would’ve already said that to him. If he’s tall: don’t ask ‘Do you play basketball?’ If he has red hair, don’t say ‘I like your hair.’ Tell him he’s funny. Tell him you’d like to get to know him better because he already seems interesting. Tell him he’s smart. Tell him you like how mysterious he is. When the time is right, tell him he’s perfect.
Deck before bed
Back in the ’80s, Mum and Dad saw a tūī egg hatch. They had spotted the nest when the walk turned from road to bush, in the low branches of a pōhutukawa. Mum said Dad had good eyesight. Anyone would have spotted it. The outer rim was entirely purple from kōnini berry juice, and it stood out against the green and brown. There was a rustle, and a little head emerged from the centre of the purple ring. Its mother was nowhere to be seen. Dad blocked Mum’s ears because the longer they heard the little chick, the sadder the whole thing became. I’ve never seen anything like that myself, but I don’t think I look hard enough at the trees. Now go put your PJs on, Laura.
Diary page
I know that he lives up by the mountain on a farm. I don’t know if he has any siblings. I’ve never seen him at school, so he probably works. I’m scared to follow him first. Maybe I should just slip him my number. I’ve never seen him with anyone else. I don’t know if he has a car. Help! I can’t stop stalking him.
Foggy morning
The girls are growing. The girls don’t have to be woken up before school anymore. The girls ask Mum what time she will be home from work. One girl is smaller than the other. That girl has strong legs and a cheeky nose. The bigger girl is older. That girl works as hard as me and won’t tell me what she does it for. That girl creates a world inside our home where we are artefacts she can rearrange. Us other girls must prepare dinner, sit in front of the TV, stop being so annoying. The girls both walk to school in the morning, the little one leaves before the other because she doesn’t want to be a tag-along. This morning the little girl disappears faster than usual as she walks out the door. This morning it is foggy. This morning it is a struggle for Mum to get out of bed, like every other morning. This morning the big girl looks at her phone and not up at Mum. This morning she grunts instead of saying goodbye. This morning she whispers under her breath.
The mat
Laura can’t pay attention in class. She is scared of the fog. When she got to the school gates, she turned around to say goodbye to Caitlin. She wasn’t there. Laura yelled ‘Caitlin! Caitlin!’ but all the kids looked at her like she was weird. She put her bag on a low hanger in the cloak bay to go unnoticed. She sobbed there for a little bit. Laura’s teacher is going on and on about fractions. Two sisters make a whole. Mum is one half since Dad left. Caitlin’s been looking at her phone too much lately, she’s acting like five quarters. Laura imagines Mum yelling at Caitlin for never looking at the family yet suddenly being so interested in Nana’s recipes and making the house clean. ‘Laura!’ the teacher yells. ‘Titiro mai! Stop daydreaming!’
Intersection by the Four Square
Fog turns to rain. CAITLIN, a teenage girl saving up for a car, stands behind the till looking bored. Enter PATU, a tall teenage boy with red hair down to his waist. At the ding of the electronic bell, CAITLIN looks up to see PATU walking towards the till. Her face glows and she lowers her eyes to the bench, trying to stop herself from staring. PATU stands before the till with his hands clasped in front of him.
PATU: Could I get an AirsPops, 50 nic?
CAITLIN: Yeah, sure.
CAITLIN reaches into the cupboard behind her. She forgot to lock it after the last customer. She quickly turns back to PATU.
CAITLIN: Wait, sorry, what flavour?
PATU: Ummm, mint.
CAITLIN reaches into the cupboard and gets out the vape PATU has asked for. She puts it on the counter. She looks at the $20 note scrunched in PATU’s hand. She types the price into the till. She still hasn’t looked at PATU.
CAITLIN: That’ll be $20.
PATU pauses for a few seconds, thinking.
PATU: That’s a bit steep.
CAITLIN: What?
PATU: I got one of those for $12 at the other dairy.
CAITLIN: Oh right, yeah, sorry. I must’ve put the wrong amount in.
CAITLIN completes the sale and hands PATU a $5 note and a handful of coins.
PATU: Thanks.
PATU, with the change scrunched in his right fist, leaves the shop. He doesn’t turn back to look at CAITLIN, though she is staring intensely at the back of his head. CAITLIN keeps staring at the door once PATU disappears into the rain, leaving a cloud of vapour behind him. When the air clears, she sees a coin lying on the concrete just outside the shop’s entrance. CAITLIN, in a trance, leaves the shop and picks the coin up. Before she can think, she starts running after PATU in the rain.
CAITLIN (yelling): Wait! I think you dropped your money!
CAITLIN gets close enough to PATU to see he is wearing headphones.
CAITlIN (yelling louder): Oi! I think you dropped your money!
PATU doesn’t turn around. CAITLIN is close enough behind him to tap him on the shoulder. She walks quietly behind him, not sure what to do. PATU stops suddenly to check his phone. CAITLIN bumps into him.
PATU: What the hell? Hey! Are you okay?
CAITLIN: I think you dropped your money.
CAITLIN holds the single coin out to him.
PATU: Oh, thanks. It’s just a dollar.
CAITLIN: No worries.
CAITLIN turns and begins to walk back to the Four Square. She looks at the footpath the whole way, so her face won’t get too wet. Her arms are folded, and her shoulders are low. CAITLIN reaches the Four Square and steps behind the till. On her phone, there is a message from @patuinthemist.
Deck before bed
Dad drove me to the track head where they saw the tūī. I asked Dad what tree it was when we got to the bush, but he didn’t remember. It had probably been chopped down. We walked through the bush for about 10 minutes before we saw anyone else. It was nearly dark, and the track was cold. Suddenly this woman was coming towards us. She had fists full of kawakawa leaves and no shoes on her feet. Her hair blinded me, it looked like the sun. Dad raised his eyebrow at me as the woman walked past us. I’d never seen anyone look so much like him before. When we got home, he stayed in the ute and told me to go inside. ‘I’ve got to run a late errand, Caitlin.’ That was the last time I saw him. You were only 5 then. Mum thinks he drove back to the mountain. Now put your PJs on, Laura.
Phone screen at 11pm
Meet me at the end of your street in 5. My car’s red.
Fence
The farmhouse was a bit run-down. Yellow paint was peeling on the side exposed to the road. The other side of the house was right next to the bush. Its paint was fine, but black mould lingered around the windows. Kareao vines came down from the gutters and wound around the whole building. The rain stopped. We sat on the fence outside his house. ‘Where are your parents?’ I asked. ‘Mum goes to visit my Nan up north sometimes,’ he answered. ‘I have the house to myself.’ He looked me in the eyes and blew a cloud of vapour softly into my face. I turned away. It was all real. His hands were resting on the fence, steadying him. Mine were doing the same. I wondered what phase the moon was in. I couldn’t see it: the night was so cloudy. ‘I don’t usually leave the house except to go to the dairy,’ he said, ‘and only on rainy days. I don’t want to be seen by just anyone.’ I felt his eyes on me, trying to get me to look up. ‘Do you like me, Caitlin?’
Dream
Dad comes back home after a long day. Laura can see his strong legs through the cracks in the kareao walls before he gets inside. When he sees Laura sitting peacefully with Nana asleep beside her, he asks her where her mother is. She’s chatting with the other mums about how best to keep their children from being interested in humans. Young patupaiarehe can be as naughty and seductive as their parents. Dad sits down next to Laura and shows her what he’s got from the forest. Berries, leaves, bark. Mum comes back home a while later to look at what’s been gathered. The three of them snack on the delicious fresh food until it gets dark. They wait for Caitlin to get back from a friend’s place. They wait for hours. She doesn’t come back.
Clear morning
The girls are growing still. The little girl is up early, saying she’s had a nightmare. The little girl asks Mum what time she will be home from work. The little girl puts her lunchbox in her bag. The little girl sits with Mum at the table and eats her breakfast. The girls usually do this together. The bigger girl is still in bed. The girls are staying up later the older they get. The bigger girl stays up especially late. The little girl asks Mum to wake up the bigger girl. The girls’ rooms are down the hall. The bigger girl’s snores can be heard from the hallway. The bigger girl lies tangled up in her sheets, Mum sees this when she opens her door. The bigger girl groans when Mum tells her to get up. The little girl cries when she gets back into the kitchen.
The playground
Laura is the witch queen and Mia is the fairy queen. The witches’ goal is to capture all the fairies, and the fairies’ goal is to save each other from the witches’ prison. The boys say it’s just cops and robbers, but the girls think their new version is better. Laura knows stories about fairies and witches. In her favourite story, one from Rotorua, a fairy woman that looks like Mia chases a handsome man down the mountain because she’s in love with him. The fairy woman runs fast. The handsome man gets out some kōkōwai to make the fairy woman run away. Despite this, Laura chooses to be a witch on the playground because she thinks they’re even faster.
The kitchen
I introduce Patu to Nana first. She’s waiting behind me when I open the front door for him. ‘Patu, this is my Nana. She’s made us dinner tonight.’ Nana gives Patu a warm hug, ‘That’s because Cailtin couldn’t do it herself.’ Patu laughs like the perfect boyfriend. We walk into the kitchen, and I introduce him to Mum. ‘Where’s Laura?’ I ask. ‘She’s in her room.’ Mum smiles with sad eyes. We talk for a while about nothing much. Families, cars, the mountain. Then we sit down to eat Nana’s classic. Roast chicken with veggies soaked in stock and a green salad on the side. ‘Laura!’ Mum yells down the hall. There’s no answer. ‘Sorry Patu, she’s in a grump,’ Mum says. Patu fills his plate with only the green salad. ‘Don’t you want any roast?’ Nana asks. ‘I’m fine, thank you.’ Patu says with a little smile. Other than this, dinner is nice. Mum compliments Patu’s hair a lot. I should’ve known.
Diary page
We listen to Talking Heads as we drive to the track head. Patu has never spotted a tūī nest, and he wants to try. I told him the story of Mum and Dad before we went to sleep one night last week. He made the plan. We arrive at the track head. It’s late in the afternoon. Patu opens the boot and throws me a blanket. I wrap it around my shoulders. He puts a Swanndri on. We walk up the gravel road to where the track starts. We stop and listen. There are so many birds calling through the bush. I don’t know how to identify any of them, but I think Patu does. We walk through the bush. Patu is looking up at the trees. I’m watching his footsteps. We walk past the point where the trees are open and enter the dense bush. Patu tells me to keep walking.
Film photo, 1982
It was summer and we had to pose as a couple. ‘Open every flap of the car,’ I told him, ‘I want to look parked up.’ He popped the boot open as if to look for something. He propped the hood up as if the engine needed fixing. I adjusted my seat to the angle of a poolside lounge chair. ‘Let’s pretend it’s a sunny day.’ He popped the driver door open and stood next to it. ‘Looks like I just drove you.’ He was like a hired smoke machine. Mist flowed around him, and he smelt kind of sweet. He held himself up with crossed legs. His back pressed against the car. ‘Sis!’ I yelled. She ran to us with my disposable camera sitting tightly in her little hands. She knew how to take the photo, to hold down the red flash button. I’d trained her well by getting her to take pictures of my friends and me. ‘Thanks!’ I said after a while, to get to her to leave us alone. ‘One more!’ she snapped back. I frowned. She took the photo without warning. ‘You look good,’ she said, looking straight at me.
Front page
Caitlin’s concerned mother spoke to journalists this morning. ‘She never really goes anywhere but to school and work at the Four Square. I guess she’s been more distant over the last few weeks, but she was never angry or upset at us.’ When asked if she’d noticed anything suspicious throughout the house, Caitlin’s mother answered, ‘Not at all. Wherever she is, it looks like she’s taken her diary with her.’
The playground
Laura knows she has a sister and a father. Those who don’t know say they’ve gone missing. They were once together and now they’re not. Laura remembers her dad’s fiery hair and big muscles. She could never forget her sister’s big presence and passion for what she wanted. Laura wakes up alone. Mum never gets out of bed early enough. Laura knows that people choose to leave.
Deck before bed
I went back to the track where he and Caitlin saw the woman. You girls were at school. It was the middle of the day, but it was foggy. I could barely see anything while I walked up the gravel track. When I got to the bush, I was less scared and was enjoying myself. I walked for an hour without thinking. There were plenty of birds around, and beautiful mist hung above the trees. Then the track became more exposed, and I began to lose my vision again. Large boulders blocked the cliff on the side of the track. I was looking down, making sure I stepped in all the right places, when I saw him. He was standing on top of a hill in front of me and off the track. It was your Dad alright. I would recognise those legs anywhere. We stared at each other for a long time in silence. ‘Come with me!’ he yelled after a while. I shook my head. Your Dad began to run down the hill towards me. I turned and sprinted down the track. I couldn’t see anything, but I didn’t want to turn around. I heard his heavy steps on the rocks. But I was outrunning him. He was chasing me through the bush, ripping off all his clothes so he could get more speed. I didn’t stop. He was closing in behind me. I whacked my arm on a branch that leaned into the path and it started bleeding. At the sight of my blood, your Dad stopped. I heard his footsteps get quieter and quieter as he walked back up the track. That was the last time I saw him. Now go put your PJs on, Laura.
Tessa Keenan (Te Ātiawa) grew up in Taranaki and is now studying at Te Herenga Waka Victoria University of Wellington. She has previously been published in Starling, a fine line, Salient, and Poetry Aotearoa Yearbook. ‘Patupaiarehe Sightings’ was primarily inspired by Tia Ranginui’s photography series Tua o Tāwauwau/Away with the Fairies (2020-2021).