Page 115 of Catch a Kiwi
Matiu didn’t ask any more questions. He talked about how he’d lived in the Bay of Plenty his entire life until he’d moved to Dunedin, and how he’d met Poppy down there. He’d actually delivered her third child, in fact. “I don’t deliver many babies,” he said, “but that was a good one. That was my wee girl Isobel.” I asked him about the state of medicine in New Zealand—it seemed like a safe topic—and we discussed the British and New Zealand and American systems in a determinedly objective sort of way. Matiu, it turned out, was a comforting sort of person to talk to despite the looks. Kind. Sensitive.
Not really much like Hemi. Or Roman.
As if I’d conjured him up, Matiu asked, when we were nearly at the bottom, “Going back to spend the evening with Roman?”
“Well, no,” I admitted. “He has a lot of work to do. I’ll go get something light to eat, maybe, and read a book on my phone. Relaxing,” I hastened to add. “Illuminating, too,because I’m reading a social history of England in the fourteenth century at the moment. The Black Death, the Hundred Years’ War. Sounds heavy, but it’s very accessible. Takes you away into another time.” I didn’t add, “That’smyescapism,” but I thought it.
Matiu blinked. “Wouldn’t be my choice, but OK. As an alternative plan—I need to look in on Koro this evening. I’ll have no time in the morning, and I’d like to check him out after all the excitement yesterday. You could come, if you like. Have a sandwich and a cup of tea. Sit in the garden a bit. Koro’s fond of company, and he liked you.”
“Oh,” I said, and tried not to flush. “Uh … I don’t have a car here, though, and it’s a half-hour drive back at least. An Uber would be—” I cut myself off, because I’d been about to say “so incredibly expensive,” and I didn’t want to admit it, after the clearly pricey dress and shoes and all yesterday. He’d know, then, that they’d been bought with Roman’s money. Wait, I’dsaidthey’d been bought with Roman’s money. Could I have exposed my raw parts more this weekend? “Awkward,” I said instead.
“Nah, no worries,” he said. “I’ll give you a lift back, or Karen will. She’s bound to be visiting, as they’re headed back to Auckland tomorrow at sparrow fart. Jax has to get back to the camp.”
“The camp?”
“Papakura military camp. HQ for the SAS. Special Operations.”
“Jax is in the SAS?” All right,thatdiverted me.
“Too right. My whanau could be a bit intimidating for a mere doctor, what with Hemi and Jax and all. And now Roman, of course. Not to mention my wife. Something you may not know about Kiwis, though—we don’t judge you much by what you do for work, or by how much money youhave. We try to judge more by the person you are. Humility, eh.”
Was this, I thought, meant for me? I was trying not to be a coward anymore, so I asked, “Is that meant for me? Because you know my background? Are you saying that you all know, but I shouldn’t worry about that? I wouldn’t normally be so blunt,” I hurried to add when he looked surprised. “But some … things have happened recently. I’m a little … raw. Possibly. Possibly a little raw.”
“We did see the stories, yeh,” he said. “One thing you learn as a doctor, though—everybody has a story. Sometimes a surprising story. Not much to hide behind, lying on a table in Emergency with the trappings stripped away. I see people at their worst, and occasionally at their best. People who rise above.” He paused. “I think you’ve done some rising above. So what d’you reckon? Quiche and a flat white in some shonky café, or a sammie and a chat with Koro and the whanau?”
“All right,” I said, because after all, why not? My thoughts were pretty poor company tonight. I was in grave danger, in fact, of feeling sorry for myself. “Thank you. I’d love to come.”
Roman
When I came out of my bedroom, it was to find Delilah in the kitchen. Alone, and eating an apple with what looked like the culinary debris of days around her.
“Hi,” she said, waving the apple at me. “Summer went out, so no worries, no awkward meetings.”
“Out where?” I asked.
She shrugged. “I don’t know. Possibly a movie. Or a walk.” She eyed me speculatively. “She was practically naked when she said it. Very strange. Standing out here almost naked,talking to me butnottalking to me, or maybe just not telling me. So you guys had sex, and then had a fight? Dude. I haven’t had that much sex, and it wasn’t exactly fabulous when I did, but I thought it was supposed to bring you closer. Intimacy, that’s the idea. Maybe you’re doing it wrong.”
“Cheers,” I said. “I’ll remember that.” I picked up my phone, which was still on the kitchen bench, then set it down. “You OK?”
“Who, me? I’m great. I just ate most of your food, though, sorry. Swimming makes you hungry. The only exercise where the more you do, the fatter you can get. Or maybe that’s just me.”
I wasn’t paying attention. I was thinking about Summer out there somewhere. Sitting alone in the dark in a movie theater, maybe, feeling like she wasn’t enough. Just because I’d got my feelings hurt.
What did I do here? I’d meant what I’d said, at least while I’d said it. The thing I hadn’t realized about that “in love” thing was that it could hurt. I’dheardthat, of course. It just made no sense. If a relationship hurt, you got out of it. If it felt good, you went on.Thatmade sense. But what if the falling in love partmeantthat you hurt?
Murimuri aroha. Who needed it?
I was rubbish at introspection, and I didn’t do things I was rubbish at, this morning’s yoga excepted. I also had work to do. I’d grab a takeaway, come back here, and do it.Thatwas a profitable use of my time, unlike everything else. My not-really whanau. Summer. All this weird emotion.
Delilah stuck a container of ice cream back in the freezer. “I’m going to take a shower and head out. But first—” She pulled a credit card from the pocket of her coverup and slid it across the benchtop to me. “It pains my heart, but from what Summer said, I’m guessing my time with this thing is up.”
I slid it back across to her. “Nah. Take it.”
“If you’re sure,” she said, “OK. For today. I need to get a job once we get back to Dunedin, now that my tailbone doesn’t hurt as much, or I’m going to feel like one more jerk user in Summer’s life. It’s probably going to be a crappy job, though. Unless I’m actually making the lattes or serving the beer and get to sneak some for myself, I’m not going to be drinking any, so …” She waggled the card. “I’ll enjoy it while I’ve got it.”
“Do that.” I waited for her to go downstairs, and when she finally did, picked up my phone, pulled up the messages, hesitated, then closed the app. What was I going to say? “Are you safe?” She’d hate that. “I’m sorry?” I wasn’t, or not exactly. I put the phone back in my pocket, made a cup of tea that would make it even harder to sleep tonight, opened my laptop, grabbed a legal pad—I still sometimes thought better on paper—and started making notes for the morning.
I lasted barely an hour. Then the door banged and I went downstairs to check it out, my heart hammering for no good reason.
