Page 74 of Kiwi Sin
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Gabriel
Yeh. Well. That was a first.
I watched Valor to make sure he really left. I jogged up the road after his ute, in fact, took care the gate closed behind him, jogged down again, tried to get my breathing and my anger under control, and thought about what I could do. What Ishoulddo.
I couldn’t decide, so I headed back to the yurt.
Oriana was in the kitchen, making dinner as if none of it had happened. If she’d cried again, and I’d bet she had, she’d done it fast and then mopped up, so nobody would see, and so she could get on with it. Gray and Daisy headed out the back to use the gym equipment, Priya helped Oriana with the cooking, and I sat at the island benchtop and didn’t say anything, because I didn’t know what to say, especially in front of Oriana’s sister.
Almost the only thing Oriana said to me was, “Do you think you can do these prawns on the barbie for me, once it’s hot enough? I didn’t get it preheated soon enough, with …” She stopped, pressed her lips together, and handed me a tray piled with stacks of the things, shoved onto skewers and smelling of their marinade, which, Priya told me when she headed out to the barbecue with me, was made of ginger, garlic, and lime.
“Because it’s Asian-inspired food,” she explained. “I didn’t know all the kinds of food there is. You try to make it all a bit the same, so it goes together. You’ll see. And Oriana—” She stopped.
“What?” I asked.
She glanced toward the house, then at me. “Nothing,” she said, and headed back in.
When I brought the barbecued prawns in on a tray, the table was laid, and dinner was nearly ready. That was how fast Oriana had moved. Her face was still shut down, but if her hands were shaking, I didn’t see it. We sat, finally, and ate those prawns, succulent and fresh as the sea, because, Oriana said, she’d bought them at the market this morning. We ate leaves of salad wrapped around brown rice and mince flavored with more garlic and ginger, plus something crunchy and white called water chestnuts. There were tender new sugar snap peas, too, with more of those flavors.
Priya was right. This was nothing Oriana had learnt at Mount Zion. It was good, though. Better than takeaway food. So fresh, and so … bright, somehow, like the flavors were bursting in your mouth. Nothing like those meals I cooked for myself in the microwave.
Oriana sat beside me while we ate, saying nothing. Daisy and Gray talked determinedly about the alpacas, about what was growing in the garden, about progress on the house, about Daisy’s shift at the hospital and her study schedule. Finally, though, possibly after enough time had elapsed for calm, Gray asked about Oriana’s job with the babies.
“Still seems a bit odd to me,” he said. “I know everybody takes photos of their babies, but an hours-long photo session? Must be something special about them, though, or people wouldn’t bother. Maybe show us some, Oriana, if you have any.” Being kind, that was.
She said, “It’s not like the snaps people take at home. It’s so different, you can’t think. It’s … Here. I’ll show you.” She pulled out her phone, scrolled a bit, and passed it to Gray.
“Nice,” he said.
Daisy said, “Hardly supportive, boy.”
He laughed. “Sorry. It’s cute. How’s that?”
“Not much better,” Daisy said.
“Different if it’s your own kid, I expect,” he said, and passed the phone to me.
It was a baby. Well, obviously. A naked, sleeping baby, curled up like she was still in the womb, bum up and head turned to the side, nestled into the middle of what looked like an enormous pink rose, the fabric looking soft and slightly out of focus. The baby’s hair was dark, and she was wearing a white headband with more pink roses on it, and transparent white wings that extended across her back. She looked like some sort of flower fairy.
I said, “It’s beautiful,” and Oriana’s face lit up like the sun coming out from behind a cloud.
“It was my idea,” she said, proud, but shy to sound it. “The prop.”
“Yeh?”
“Yes. The rose. It wasn’t hard, just trying different ways with the fabric, here at home, getting it to work. I’ve got ideas for other flowers as well. Laila’s the one who knows how to pose the babies, though, and she knows how to do the lighting and all, too. You try to make the backgrounds not too complicated, so your eye stays on the baby. There’s an art to all of it, and you have to be so careful moving them, because they’re fragile. They’re brand-new.”
“I’m guessing you’re learning, though,” Gray said.
“Yes,” Oriana said. “At least, I’m doing my best.”
“Pity it’s a totally stereotypically female occupation,” Priya said, and Oriana flushed.
“What does that matter, if she likes it?” Gray said, and Oriana looked at him with gratitude.
“Doesn’t matter anyway, as you’ll have to leave when school starts again,” Daisy said. “Work experience is always good, though.”
