Just Come Over
Page 38
He stood up himself. “I don’t expect you to believe anything. I’m telling you the truth anyway, because it matters to me that I do, and because whatever you think now, I care about you. I wasn’t a good enough husband. I could say that was because I’d always been so focused on getting out, on moving up out of where I’d started, and that being single-minded about my career was the only way I knew how to do that. I could say that I thought I was doing the right thing for you, too, making a better future for both of us. The truth is that getting married at all was probably a mistake. You deserved better.”
She’s not perfect, either, he’d told himself at the time, pulling up the same old list of grievances. They didn’t matter, not anymore.
“Yes,” she said. “I did deserve better.” She laughed, an angry huff of breath, shoved her hair out of her face, looked around like she wanted to be anywhere else, like all she wanted was to escape. He knew how she felt. “You were so . . . unavailable.” The tears were there, he could tell, but she wasn’t letting them out. “I know the word now. I’ve learned it. And it doesn’t help a bit. I want to slap you.” Her voice had begun to tremble. “I want to scream at you. I want to . . . burn down your house. And I don’t believe you.” She blinked hard, forcing the tears back. Guts again, or too much control, because surely, she needed to let it go.
“I know you don’t.” His chest ached with a pain worse than any loss. There was no next game where you could redeem yourself. These mistakes, you had to live with forever. “I loved you. I just wasn’t good at it.”
She said, “I can’t hear any more. I’m going.”
He said, “Fine. I’ll pay for your drink.”
“Fuck you,” she said. And left.
Zora was running the vacuum in the lounge when she jumped at a touch on her arm.
“Sorry,” Hayden said when she turned the machine off. “You didn’t answer my knock.”
“Don’t scare me like that.”
“You? I’m the one who was attacked in here. I could develop an aversion.”
“You weren’t attacked. It was a fend.”
“Excuse me, were you here? Flew across the room, didn’t I.” He looked around. “Where’s Isaiah?”
“Cleaning his room. Supposedly. Or playing with his robots with Casey, more likely. She’s meant to be dusting.”
“Coast is clear, then. Good.”
He sat at the end of the couch, and she headed into the kitchen, came back with a bottle of cleanser and two sponges, and handed him one of them. “If you’re going to talk to me, talk while we work. Bathroom. I have an hour to spend on this. Why are you here? I thought you had a date last night.”
“I did. Out late, and yet I came anyway. Mum woke me with the phone at eight, thank you very much, and there was no getting back to sleep after twenty minutes of that.”
He went into the bathroom with her, and she gave him the cleanser and said, “You can do the tub.”
“Why do I get the hard part?”
“Because you’re taller. D’you know how tricky it is to reach the far side when you’re my height? And scrub well, please. Casey and Isaiah both came home from rugby with Rhys yesterday covered with dirt, and I’m not taking a bath again until that’s sanitized.”
He sighed. “‘Talk to your sister,’ Mum said. ‘It’s my duty as a brother,’ I thought. ‘I’m dying to hear more, because it sounds fraught, and maybe she’ll give me breakfast.’ Pancakes and caramelized bananas, I thought. I saw a thing where you did the bananas with toasted walnuts. Looked fab.”
“Dream on.” She squirted cleanser around the toilet bowl, then got to work on the floor behind it. “I don’t make breakfast at ten in the morning. Also, I could have more appetite for cooking pancakes if boys aimed better. What do I have to do, put a floating target in here? But I can’t wait to hear how Mum spun this. Let’s have it.”
“You should have him clean the floor instead of doing it yourself,” Hayden said. “The message is more likely to get through if he’s wiping up the dried pee.”
She stopped wiping for a moment and sat back on her heels. “Huh. That’s a surprisingly good idea. And it was fraught. I said things I’ve never said before. You could call it a scene. Dad didn’t look too happy, either, thinking back. I don’t know what happened, but I’m guessing he tried to condescend to Rhys, and that it didn’t go well. Parental relationship blown to bits, or reestablished on more even footing, perhaps. Time will tell. What did Mum say? She hasn’t rung me since.”
She should go over there and have a chat, probably. Isaiah needed a relationship with his grandparents, and it was going to have to come from her. She needed to haul up some compassion and be the bigger person.
She was so very tired of being the bigger person.
Also, she had Casey today, and she didn’t want to drag her into it. Her mum wouldn’t actually make Casey feel unwelcome, though, would she? Or say something in front of her?
The truth was—she wasn’t sure. Besides, how many emotional explosions could you take in one weekend, on how little sleep, before you broke? She was raw inside, the weepiness just under the surface, and she was having trouble shoving it back down.
Everything was good, though. Everything was brilliant. Rhys had said he loved her, and her worries about money had lifted like a cloud you’d had hanging over you for so long that you hadn’t even known it was there. Suddenly, she could not only buy a van, she could buy a heat pump, too, and even replace the floor in her kitchen. She was still going to do the work herself, though. No need to go wild.
Except that Rhys wanted her to move in. That was a . . . complicated thought.
She should be ecstatic. Instead, all she wanted was a couple hours alone. She wanted to climb into bed and fall asleep watching a movie, and she couldn’t. She did have both kids, Isaiah had been a bit intense himself yesterday, and she needed to pay attention. And then there was everything that had backed up on her this week. Laundry and cleaning and paperwork and grocery shopping and . . . everything. Tomorrow, she’d be up at five again, creating her business arrangements and making her deliveries, running all day. She didn’t have time to fall apart, and she didn’t want to cry in front of the kids. It scared Isaiah too much when she did, and it would scare Casey, too.
Tuesday. She’d get through all this, and on Tuesday, she’d take her break. Meanwhile, it was life, that was all. It was getting on with things. And if Rhys hadn’t told her why he had to leave? She could tell him how that made her feel. Just not tonight.
“I believe,” Hayden said, putting some muscle into his scrubbing, “that Mum’s theme ran along the lines of you prostituting yourself. Which made me laugh, for the record. Does she even know you? Carried away by animal lust, now? That, I can imagine. There was something about a necklace, and you wearing it backward, which is apparently the new tramp stamp. I didn’t quite get it, or maybe I zoned out. You could say she went on about it.”
“Rhys brought me a pearl necklace home from Japan. Bought me a new dress and shoes, too, and took me to Jervois, which I’m sure Mum told you. I’m not sure if she thought I was just selling my body, or if I’d thrown my soul in there as well. Is she more upset that it’s another rugby player with too much history, or that he’s Dylan’s brother? Since we’re being crass anyway, I’m sure he’s out-earned Dad for years. Also, if she thinks coaching is easy, she can think again.”
“I’m not the one you have to convince,” Hayden said. “Going back to this necklace . . . what are we talking about here?”
She sighed, finished brushing out the toilet, flushed, and didn’t look at Hayden. “Oh, we’re talking major league.”
“Huh. Bit early for that, surely. And he bought your clothes? You didn’t tell him about the money you found, then.”
“Yeh. I did. The dress wasn’t about the money.” She hadn’t told Hayden that Dylan was Casey’s father, and she wasn’t going to. Once enough people knew a secret, it didn’t tend to stay secret.
“Not too much. That Dylan was a dickhead, basically.”
“Of course,” Hayden said, “Rhys hasn’t covered himself with glory, either, in the personal-life department. Another thing Mum brought up. And on that note—why is Casey here? The game was last night. Surely he should have her today. Why are you letting him dump her on you? You know I never think Mum’s right, but in this case? She could be right.”
She wanted to leave the room. She didn’t. “Rhys had to go to the South Island for the day. He’ll be back tonight.”
Hayden looked her over. “For what?”
“He didn’t say. Just said he had to go, and could I take Casey. And what’s that look meant to be?”
“How do you spell ‘unavailable’?”
“He’s not. He’s nothing like unavailable. You don’t know.” She was getting that thing again, like in the bank. In another minute, she’d have to put her head between her knees. “And I don’t have any . . .” She had to blink. She had to breathe. “Any room left for any more of this. I can’t. I love you, but I can’t talk about it anymore.”
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 you can move on.
Another hired car, and this time, the kid behind the counter did recognize 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 carefully didn’t think, 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.”
“Nah, mate,” Te Rangi said. “I never was much chop at guessing.” Still genial, but awareness in the brown eyes. He wasn’t a fool.
“Dylan,” Rhys said. “And Casey.”
“Casey,” Te Rangi said slowly. “Don’t know any Caseys.”
“His daughter.”
Around them, locals chatted and laughed, and the fire
was warm on Rhys’s back, but he barely noticed.
“Ah,” Te Rangi finally said, no laughter in his eyes this time. “That Casey.”
“Yeh.” Rhys did take a pull at his beer, then. A long one. “Her mum died. She’s got no whanau in the States.”
“Oh. Huh. That’s rough. I reckon we’d better find somebody to take her, then. Ari and Terina have been having some trouble having a second. Waited too long, maybe, but he’s out on the boats every day now, earning all right. They’ve got a wee house out near Riwaka. Or there’s me. I’d have to ask Nia. Not sure how keen she’ll be at the start, since we’ve got the oldest nearly out of the house and the others not far behind, but whanau comes first, eh. You and I have some debt to pay along those lines, I reckon.”
“We do,” Rhys said. “But nobody has to take her. I already did. I’ve got her, and I’ll be keeping her.”
Silence for a long, long minute, and then Te Rangi said, “Dylan told you after all, then. That’s good.”
“No. He didn’t. First I found out was my lawyer ringing me up, saying there was this girl in Chicago, and my name was on the acknowledgment of paternity. Witnessed by Te Rangi Walton.”
Te Rangi sighed, took a swallow of beer, and raised a beefy shoulder. “Yeh, cuz. I did. Somebody needed to. Better than not having her provided for at all, I thought.”
“And you didn’t think,” Rhys said, knowing his voice was too harsh but unable to make it be anything else, “that I ought to know. Even when Dylan fell ill. Even after he died.”
Te Rangi’s gaze sharpened. “He had her looked after, though.”
“No. He didn’t. Even less than he had Zora and Isaiah looked after. Why would you think anything else?”
“I asked him, though.” Te Rangi’s genial face was troubled at last. “When I went up to see him, when he fell ill. Asked him if she was set, and he told me he was going to see to it.”
“When did he ever keep his promises?”