Page 108 of Just Come Over
Hayden looked at her for a long moment, and finally climbed out of the tub, put his arm around her, and held on, and she had to breathe those stupid tears back one more time. For once, there was no laughter in his voice when he said, “I’m torn here. On the one hand, we have Mum, telling me that Rhys is choosing your clothes and buying you inappropriate jewelry and making a fool of you. On the other hand, she’s, well, Mum, and you’re you. But Rhys has buggered off again and left you holding the bag, exactly like before. Do you think you may...” He hesitated. “Love too hard, maybe? Such a thing as asking for something yourself, you know. Such a thing as ‘mutual.’” He smiled, but it looked a little pained. Something she should ask him about, probably. Just not today, because she had nothing left. “Or so I hear.”
She wanted to tell him, and she didn’t want to. That this morning, when she’d asked Rhys what was going on, he hadn’t said nearly enough. “A couple things I need to do down there,” he’d said instead.
A day earlier, she’d felt like they could see straight into each others’ hearts, and now, his seemed all the way closed again. Hayden’s questions were making the doubts rise, but if she didn’t trust Rhys now, at the very first test, what was she doing here?
She didn’t know. “I need a life,” she finally said, “even if it’s complicated. Even if it’s scary. I need to live it anyway. And I love him.”
It was raining in Nelson, too, the commuter jet rocking and rolling its way down, dropping out of the sky with a series of jolts that were causing outbursts from the passengers, and even the occasional shriek. Rhys had flown too often, himself, to worry much about a few bumps. He guessed a pilot would have more hours in the air, but that was about it. He figured if he didn’t see flames and the oxygen masks didn’t come down, he was all good. He looked outside and saw nothing but streaks like tearstains on the glass, thought again about how he could have done this part on the phone, and dismissed it.
Harden up. It has to be done. Decide, do it, and move on. The deciding’s done. It’s time to do it, so youcanmove on.
Another hired car, and this time, the kid behind the counterdidrecognize him. Hard to avoid, though, in Nelson. He posed for a photo with him, got the keys, and made the drive.
Thirty miles north. Past shops and businesses, quiet on a Sunday, the crossings in front of Auckland Point School empty instead of swarming with kids not looking where they were going.
His first day here, the start of the third term. Eight years old, wearing the same navy-blue shirt and shorts the kids would be wearing tomorrow, though his had been bought used from the school shop. Taking off his shoes the second he came out of the school gates, because he wasn’t in Invercargill anymore.
He tried to remember how that day had felt starting out, if he’d been scared, and he couldn’t. There had been no choice but to do it, so he’d done it. You could call that the theme of his childhood.
He hadn’t gone home straight away most days, though, the way he was meant to, because as soon as he did, he’d be expected to mind Dylan and Te Rangi, and whatever other littlies were around. He’d headed with his mates down to the Maitai River Walkway instead, looking for treasures washed up on the rocks. Stripping off their uniforms and jumping off the bridge until somebody chased them off. Playing rugby barefoot in the park, running and tackling and passing and kicking until it got too dark to see, until mums would be putting their hands on their hips and getting loud. Not his mum, but some.
It hadn’t all been bad, not a bit of it. Of course, when he’d got home at last, Nan would warm his backside with her jandal for being late, and Dylan would ask, “Can I go to school with you tomorrow, Rhys?”
“You aren’t old enough to go to school. You’re a baby,” he’d snap. And feel exactly the same frustration every time at the hurt in his brother’s face.
Eventually, Dylan had quit asking. He couldn’t remember when that had happened.
The landscape changed, and there were rain-soaked orchards and vineyards outside the windows now, the apples and pears and grapes harvested and the workers gone on to other jobs for the winter. The fishermen would still be out, though. Rain and wind didn’t matter to the fish.
Ten minutes more, and he was pulling up outside The Sprig & Fern in Motueka. At least he’d be able to eat this time. There was no situation where Te Rangi would think,Nah, too tense to eat.Not happening.
His cousin had said, when Rhys had rung up, “Come to the house instead, cuz. Everybody will want to see you, and nobody’ll be out on the boats on a Sunday. Come for the afternoon, and we’ll have a proper boil-up.”
Rhys had said, “Not this time, bro. I’d rather talk to you alone. We’ll do it at the pub.”
Te Rangi had laughed, as usual. “Sounds ominous. But OK, if you’re buying.”
His cousin was already sitting at a wooden table by the wood stove, drinking beer from a pint glass, but at sight of Rhys, he got up, hongi’d him, then grasped him in a tight hug.
When he brought Casey down here, she’d change her mind that Rhys was Maui. Te Rangi’s tattoo went down his arm all the way to the wrist and spilled over half his barrel chest, his hair curled below his shoulders, and he had a voice like thunder. A laugh like it, too.
“Good to see you,” he said, clapping Rhys on the back. “You’re looking good, bro. Fit, as usual.”
Rhys had to grin. “And you’re getting fatter.”
“Nah.” Te Rangi punched himself in the belly. “That’s ballast. Good for cranking the nets up, eh.” Another laugh. “Got you a beer already. That’s a start for you.”
Rhys considered declining it. He didn’t. He had an hour and a half before he had to leave to catch the plane back to Auckland. He carefullydidn’tthink,I need a beer.That way lay weakness. “Hang on,” he said. “Let me order a burger. Want one?”
“I won’t say no.”
“Crispy potatoes?”
“You know me too well.”
When he came back, Te Rangi said, “So. You flew down for an hour, during the season. I’m thinking that’s because you’ve got something to say.”
“Something to ask, more like.” Rhys turned his pint glass in his hand and looked down at the foam, then back at his cousin. “And I’m thinking you know what.”
