Page 101 of Hired Help

“I’m not—”

“Do you ever think about the future? Harrison’s future? What kind of girl is going to marry him when he’s got this weird sex thing hung around his neck like a stone?”

“I thought you liked Brooke.”

“This isn’t about Brooke.”

A sharper concern pierces through the fog of my morning-addled brain. “Wait, you talked to Harrison already? When?”

“Just now.”

I stand up, glancing over to the carport where my old Mazda is parked, condensation glazing into ice with the deepening morning cold. “Did you tell him about school?”

“Of course, I did. The boy needs some discipline and if he’s not getting it at Kingswood, I don’t know why we’re paying those exorbitant prices.”

“I’ve got to go.” A sense of unease falls on my shoulders and I try to shake it off, but it doesn’t leave. The lingering remnants of yesterday’s emotional upheavals are still raw.

If it’s like this for me, it must be a hundred times worse for Harrison. His youth will automatically amplify each emotion to an unbearable degree.

When I walk inside the house, the smell of freshly brewed coffee has a bitter edge. In bed, Brooke is just rousing, and I kiss her on the forehead, smoothing hair away from her cheek. “I’ve got to go out for a while. I want to track down Harrison and have a chat.”

“That sounds good. Is that coffee?”

“Yeah, there’s a pot on the warmer. Keep your phone turned on and I’ll give you an update.”

She sits up, eyes focusing. “Is something wrong?”

“Gwyn called him, and I don’t think she was very kind. He’s somewhere near the school and I just want to find him. Make sure he’s all right.”

“Okay.” She curls her knees to her chest. “Can I do anything?”

“Just let me know if he calls.”

I kiss her again, properly this time, her lips beautifully pliable, eyes still clouded a little from her extended sleep.

Then I’m outside, breath condensing into clouds like cigarette smoke as I get into the car, setting my phone on the stand so the GPS lady can guide the way.

It doesn’t take long to get where she tells me. A subdivision. Maybe a friend? I don’t know. All I want is to find him, make sure he’s safe, then the tightness in my chest will relax and I can go home.

A jetty pokes over a manufactured lake where the brilliant blue breasts of Pukeko flash as they stalk the mossy underbrush leading down to the water’s edge, their bright orange beaks stabbing at any stirring insect.

I walk there, eyes darting from the scenic view to my phone and back again, scanning for any sign of Harrison. He could be in any of the occupied houses here. Maybe even in an unoccupied dwelling. I could search for hours and never be sure.

A mound is at the end of the jetty, and I walk towards it, thinking it’s a coil of rope or someone’s fishing tackle trustingly left behind. It takes until I’m almost on top of it to recognise it as a pile of clothing.

I squat, pawing past the t-shirt and the jeans, checking the shoes, not sure enough of Harrison’s clothing choices to know if they’re his, believing it anyway.

The nip of concern I felt throughout the journey here, turns into a bite.

Harrison feels things deeply, but he’s never been good at sharing. Long before his misstep with Brooke, I remember how tense he used to get when Gwyn and I argued. How he held it all in, cracking jokes to get us to smile.

There’s a phone tucked inside the jeans’ pocket. I send a text and the screen flashes. They belong to Harrison.

He came here, a twenty-minute walk from the school, a half-hour drive from my house. He came here on a freezing morning, stripped off his clothes, left his phone behind, and… went swimming?

The improbability makes my skin turn icy cold.

When I try to inhale a deep breath, my lungs won’t inflate.

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