Page 29 of Kiwi Sin
Now, Duncan, one of the new flatmates, grumbled, “You took long enough in the bath, mate. I was about to take a piss in the kitchen sink.” He was bleary-eyed, his hair mussed and face unshaven, and he was wearing track pants and a T-shirt as if he’d just got out of bed, even though it was well past noon.
“Sorry,” I said, and wondered with horror if that had been a joke. Surely he wouldn’t do it.
Sadly, though, I had no illusions left. I was already cleaning the toilet every few days, because some things were more than a man could bear. I’d better add the kitchen sink.
Rowan, the other flatmate, a ginger, was lying on the flat’s sole couch, which was green fabric and none too flash, even by my standards. You could call it “dirty,” or you could go on and call it “filthy,” and you wouldn’t be far off. He lifted another extra-large spoonful of muesli to his mouth, wiped the milk out of his beard with the back of his hand, and said, “Don’t mind him. He’s having a sook because he didn’t pull at the bar last night after working on it for about four hours. She gave him a kiss on the cheek, in the end, and walked out with her girlfriends.” He laughed. “Loser.”
Duncan said, “Got her number, though, didn’t I. More than you did.”
I didn’t say anything. I pulled on my jacket and boots and headed down the two flights of stairs and out the front door.
In addition to not having had to buy much beyond the colorful bedclothes and an assortment of used towels which bore no resemblance to the thick, snowy-white things in Drew’s granny flat, the new place had other benefits. It was in central Dunedin, which meant I could do most errands on foot or by bus and save on fuel, and I was improving my cleaning skills.
The state of the kitchen and bath had left me open-mouthed when I’d first seen the place. Duncan had rubbed his nose and said, “A bit untidy, sorry. We had a piss-up on Saturday night to celebrate Jocko getting his contract.”
I’d thought,Oh. OK. It was a party,and had overlooked the beer bottles, pizza boxes, and something that I hoped was a pile of dirty washing and not a body. I’d signed the paper, then gone home and started collecting the purple duvet and so forth.
Barely a week after I’d signed, I was shaking hands with the whole Callahan family, including Hannah, which was progress on my part, saying my thanks and my goodbyes.
“I’ll still be coming to your rugby games and all, when I can,” I told Jack. “Still see you, eh. Almost the same.”
“Not really,” Jack said. “Not when you won’t be there to play basketball and watch TV.”
I didn’t know what to say to that. I knew about being lonely.
Hannah said, “Gabriel’s coming for dinner next Friday, remember. He’ll be around.” She looked more tired than ever today. Drew and Jack had been doing most of the heavy housework for the past couple of months, and when Drew was gone, I’d been coming up to help hoover and clean baths myself, but it was a good thing Drew’s mum was coming next week, because I was a pretty poor substitute. I couldn’t exactly provide dinner.
“If you need anything,” I told all of them when my few belongings were in two carrier bags, “ring me.” I put a hand on Jack’s shoulder. “And I’ll be ringing you, too, mate, when I need advice on shirts and washing powder and such.”
He nodded, and I thought he was holding back the tears, so I got myself and my two bags into the ute and left.
Moving day.
Unfortunately, it turned out that the flat always looked like that. I spent nearly fifty dollars on cleaning products after moving in, and I had no idea how high they’d have let the dirty dishes pile up if I hadn’t been washing them every night. On the other hand, my share of the rent was a hundred twenty-five a week, and my own place might have been twice that, if I could have found one at all.
When I’d missed living with a group of young blokes, though, I’d forgotten to remember that somebody else had cleaned the place.
Now, I turned the ute’s nose toward Corstorphine and the sea, heading for Oriana’s seventeenth birthday. Gray had told me about it at work on Thursday, saying, “I know that birthdays aren’t a thing at Mount Zion, and Oriana’s a bit embarrassed about having it acknowledged, but I reckon it’s good for those girls to feel special, if only for a day.”
“Yeh,” I said, wondering why he was telling me, of all people.
He said, “Could be getting some pushback from your dad and brothers, though. Maybe your mum as well.”
“No worries,” I said, getting the message. “I’ll speak up.”
He clapped a hand on my shoulder and said, “Good,” then went back to work. And I was left to wonder—exactly why had he said it?
It didn’t matter, though, because now, I had an excuse.
12
SEVENTEEN CANDLES
Gabriel
We had another interesting moment with the seating at the very start that Sunday, when Raphael came into the house with a folding table, Uriel walked in with two folding chairs under each arm, and Dad came last with a simple wooden stool. They shoved all the furniture around until the two tables fit, though barely, and stuck the stool near the others at the breakfast bar as Gray looked on with a sort of blank expression that was oddly alarming. That he was holding his power in reserve, maybe, and could be hiding anger behind that calm.
“Room for eight now at the tables,” my dad said, “four on the stools, and the rest on the couch. Constance found the table and chairs in an op shop yesterday, so here we are. Oriana and Patience can sit on the couch, as they’re not married. Problem solved.”
