Destined

by Sarah Doren

  “Yes?” I said.

  “So, you’ve enrolled at Auckland University, right?” My host dad asked.

  I nodded. “Yeah.”

  “I heard you changed your major. Is that true Tina?”

  I nodded once again. “Yeah, I did actually. I just wanted a bit of a change since I was already studying Health Sciences. So, before I came here, I decided to study Food and Nutrition for a year and a half.”

  “Ooh, you can cook?” Isaac asked beside me, sounding enthusiastic about it.

  I grinned down at him and patted his head. “Yes, I do. I enjoy cooking very much.”

  His beautiful blue eyes widened, making me laugh.

  “Will you cook for us one day?” he asked, sounding hopeful.

  “Sure, I’d love to. As long as your dad is okay with it,” I said.

  My host dad nodded in approval. “It should be fine, love. It would be nice to stay home and have a decent meal for a change. Since I can’t cook to save my life, I normally just pick up takeaways or we eat leftovers from the fridge.”

  “And leftovers are yucky when they’ve been in the fridge for so long,” Isaac added.

  “I’d love to do that,” I said.

  “When did you learn to cook?” Anthony asked.

  I shrugged. “I learned when I was little. My mom taught me when I was ten. I didn’t really know much about food and stuff like that until she educated me. It was a pretty fun experience.”

  My host dad frowned, his forehead wrinkling. “Where’s your dad?”

  An awkward silence fell between us. I suddenly grew uncomfortable at the question.

  “I, uh, never met him.” I said.

  Another silence fell between us. Neither one of us talked, as the car continued to rock gently beneath us, nearly lulling me to sleep.

  “Is that so?” Anthony asked.

  I nodded. “Yeah. I never got to know him. All I know is that my mom said he left us pretty early on. Before I was born, I think.”

  “Shit.”

  “Dad, you said a bad word!” Isaac chastised.

  “Sorry son,” Anthony apologized. “I’ll put a dollar in that jar of yours.”

  “Sweet as!” Isaac said, pumping one fist in the air.

  “So, your mom raised you?” My host dad questioned yet again.

  “Yep.” I said, popping the p.

  He nodded, as if agreeing with me. “Good thing you had your mom to raise you, then. You both will be better off without him. Well, we’re glad you’re here with us, Tina. Me and the boys. So when you go back to Germany, call us, skype, or whatever the kids are doing these days with technology. Don’t be a stranger, aye?”

  I grinned at the familiar sound of his accent.

  “Sure, thing Anthony.”

  We fell silent again and I took the opportunity to look out the window again. The beautiful view of the city met my eyes. The Sky Tower stood tall and proud.

  ***

  “Here is your room. It’s not big, but it’s cozy,” my host dad said.

  I peeked from behind him and looked into the room. The unfamiliar scenery of my room met my gaze, and the plainness didn’t bother me at all. I sent him a grateful smile and started to bring in my things, thanking him when he offered to help.

  A short time later, I flopped down on my bed. The mattress sagged under my weight, and I couldn’t stop looking around. New Zealand was so much different than I had thought. The houses were so different from what I was used to. Back in Munich, Germany, the houses were closely built, but many were old and castle-looking. But here, as I looked around, the houses were not only built closely, many of them were actual row houses.

  I looked down and reached for my bags. Somewhere in one of them, I had the schedule for my new classes and for what I was supposed to do when I got to Auckland University. It still felt scary and intimidating, but this was what I had chosen - And it wasn’t as though I could back down now.

  I rummaged through my things, pulling some out to place on hangers and hang in my closet. For the next couple of hours, I went through all my clothes and stacking things on shelves and cabinet. I was just finishing my unpacking, when I heard a quiet knock on the door, breaking into my thoughts and concentration.

  “Come in!” I said, putting down a picture frame.

  A head full of dark hair poked through my door and revealed an awkward-looking Jayden. His eyes were down and he wouldn’t meet my gaze as he said, “Dad said dinner’s ready in five.”

  I glanced at the clock. It was only five pm, and I didn’t usually eat dinner till six. I shrugged and put down what I was doing, greeting my host brother who was standing by the door.

  “Hey Jayden.” I said, smiling.

  “Hi,” he said awkwardly and ran off.

  A line formed across my forehead, as I stared after him. I didn’t know what it was about him that was making him so uncomfortable around me. Then I remembered Anthony saying that he was shy around strangers. I was hoping we wouldn’t be strangers for long.

  I walked into the kitchen and the aroma of baked beans, mashed potatoes and roast beef filled my nostrils. I looked around and noticed that they had neither bread nor cheese anywhere. Mainly meat. I pushed the thought aside and helped the boys set the table.

  “Oh, you’re here!” Anthony exclaimed, smiling. “I wanted to wait until you were done unpacking. I didn’t want to disturb you earlier.”

  “Oh, no. It’s fine.” I said, quickly reassuring him.

  “Well, then, let’s eat!”

  We took our places on the table and held hands as Anthony said the prayer, only letting go after he had finished and we were free to eat. I stared down at my meal and started picking at my mashed potatoes, beans, and roast beef. It struck me as surprising that they didn’t eat what we eat back in Germany, but I was more than willing to try their typical dinner.

  A quiet conversation picked up again, as Isaac began to talk with his mouth full, mashed potatoes spraying from his mouth.

  “Isaac,” Anthony warned. “What did I tell you about talking with your mouth full?”

  “Sorry,” Isaac apologized. He turned to me with a question on his face. “Why did you come here?”

  The question was direct and didn’t beat around the bush. I smiled at his straightforwardness.

  “Isaac,” his dad said again.

  The younger boy turned to his father with a scoff. “What? I was just asking her.”

  “What did I—”

  I shook my head, cutting him off. “No, no, please, don’t worry about it. It’s fine. You don’t have to scold him for asking.”

  I turned back to meet Isaac’s eyes. “I came here because I’m half Pākehā, just like you.”

  I must have pronounced it wrong, because he laughed. His little chest heaved with merriment, his dark head thrown back in complete abandon.

  “Dad, did you—”

  Anthony cut him off with a sharp glare, which soon faded when he turned his attention back to me. “I didn’t know you were one of us. From which side do you get your New Zealand heritage?”

  I swallowed my mashed potatoes and answered, “From my dad. The one I never had the chance to meet.”

  It was true. I never had the chance to meet my lousy father because he never stuck around long enough to get to know me. According to my mother, he had been an immigrant artist who shared one passionate night with my mother that resulted in by birth. Maybe it shouldn’t have come as any surprise that he left just after my birth. I pushed aside the depressing thought, not really wanting to think about it too much.

  “Is that why you came here?” A different voice chimed in. Jayden.

  I looked at him in surprise, wondering what got him to talk to me.

  I thought about it. “Partially, I guess. New Zealand is a huge must-go-to country in Germany. And I wanted to experience something exotic and beautiful away from my own country.”

  Jayden nodded and went back to his food. He didn’t offer any mor
e questions, so I remained quiet throughout the rest of the meal, except for answering the occasional question from my host dad.

  “You should try some hāngi sometime. They’re really good,” Anthony spoke yet again.

  That piqued my interest. “Oh, what are they?”

  “They’re a bunch of vegetables you cook using heated rocks. Look it up and you’ll see the process,” he answered.

  And so I did.

  Chapter Three

  According to my google search, hāngi was a traditional New Zealand cooking method that used heated rocks buried in pit ovens. Hāngi was only made for special occasions and included potatoes, kumara, and other vegetables that could be placed in the pits.

  This information was still at the back of my mind, when I hopped out of my host dad’s car. The loud sound of vehicles and people rushing enveloped me, pulling me in.

  “Well, have an awesome first day, aye?” my host dad said.

  I smiled at hearing him say ‘aye’, which is an indication of agreement or wonder used by many Kiwis. I nodded at him and closed the door, then watched the blue vehicle drive away. I took a deep breath, feeling nervous and excited about starting fresh in a new school. People didn’t know me here. They didn’t know about my past, nor about anything I had done back in Germany. Well, it wasn’t as if I had done anything illegal back home anyway.

  I squared my shoulders and adjusted the strap of my bag on my shoulder. My feet moved me forward, as if they had a mind of their own. I stared up at the sky and surveyed the white, massive, majestic-looking university. Small groups of students were scattered around, books held tight in the crooks of their elbows.

  I walked toward the double doors and pushed my way inside. The sun glinted in the window panes, the steel color of the doors matching the transparent exterior. A warm breeze brought with it the temptation to bask in the sun. Back in Germany, March was springtime, but here in New Zealand, it was the last month of summer.

  I clutched my books tightly to my chest and went up the stairs, completely unsure of what to do. The biggest fear I had as an international student was getting lost in the sea of people. There were so many of them that it overwhelmed me. Everywhere I turned, unfamiliar faces were greeting me.

  It took me a little while to realize that someone was calling my name. I spun around and noticed a tall girl with red hair walking toward me, her face lit up in a wide grin. I smiled back.

  “Hey,” she said when she reached me.

  “Hi,” I answered.

  “I’m sorry, my name’s Chelsea. You’re Tina, right?” the redhead—Chelsea—said.

  I nodded, accepting the hand she was offering me. “Uh, yeah. That’s me. Do I know you from somewhere...?”

  Chelsea looked stunned. “Oh, no, no. You don’t, actually. Sorry for being creepy, I’m part of the International committee. It’s my job to look after the new international students and make sure they don’t get lost in the crowd.”

  I giggled at her rush to explain.

  “Hey, it’s fine.” I said, “Don’t worry about it. So, where do I go now?”

  Chelsea grinned. Just then, I noticed a set of freckles scattered across her cheekbones. “You’re going to come with me, and I’ll show you around. What’s your major?”

  “Food and Nutrition,” I said.

  “Ooh, nice! It looks like we’ll be having a few classes together. Hopefully,” she said and linked her arm through mine.

  I was slightly taken aback by her instant familiarity, but decided to go along with it. Even though I missed my friends back home, I wanted to make friends here as well, and it looked as if Chelsea and I were going to be just that.

  She dragged me toward what looked like a room filled with international students like me. I examined each and every one of them, fascinated that some were German students like myself.

  “Are they all international students?” I asked Chelsea.

  She nodded. “Yeah, a lot of them are exchange students. But some are immigrants who have lived here in New Zealand for a very long time. Like me.”

  I looked at her quizzically. “What do you mean?”

  “I’m from England. You probably can’t tell from my accent, but I grew up here. My parents and I immigrated when I was just three years old.”

  “Wow,” I exclaimed.

  “Yeah. Enough about me, let’s talk about you,” she said.

  “What do you want to know?”

  Please, don’t ask about my dad.

  Talking about my father—or lack thereof—made me somewhat uncomfortable. It had been one thing to talk about it with my host family, but it wasn’t exactly something I wanted to talk about to everyone. Especially not to a girl I had just met.

  Chelsea shrugged. “I don’t know. Your dogs, family, whatever. Anything, really. I just want to get to know you a bit.”

  “You should know that Kiwis are friendly, so they want to get to know you, yet, at the same time, they aren’t trying to pry into your private life. You get what I mean?” she asked.

  “Sure.” I said, nodding.

  “Let’s go inside,” she said.

  Chelsea pulled me into the room and I tried to suppress the sudden feeling of nausea from the butterflies in my stomach. I found my seat and found myself staring into a pair of deep brown-green eyes. Almost hazel. The color captivated me, pulled me in so deep that I couldn’t tear my own green eyes away.

  “Tina?” Chelsea called.

  I blinked and forced myself to look away from those eyes. I looked back at Chelsea, and noticed that she was staring at me too, her face etched with concern and worry.

  “Are you okay?” she asked, even sounding worried. “You look a little pale.”

  I shook my head, making a strand of my blonde hair fall down over my face. I swept aside the thick strand, tucking it behind my ear.

  “Oh, I’m fine. Thanks for asking,” I said, sending her a smile.

  When I looked back in front of me, I was surprised to see those hazel eyes gone.

  ***

  “So, how did you do, finding your classes? Was it very different from Germany?” Chelsea asked, taking a bite of her French fry—or ‘chips’ as they were called here.

  I took a swig of my soft drink, loving the taste of it as it ran down the length of my throat, quenching my thirst. “It is a lot different here than in Germany. I’m a Health Sciences major back there.”

  It was true. New Zealand’s college—university, or whatever they called it again—was so different from Germany. While the work here was hard, causing lots of grumbling among the students, it was nothing compared to the assignments I was handing in at my old school. Perhaps, it was the workload that I was given, or maybe it was all in the capacity of one’s brain.

  Chelsea frowned at my answer. “Then why did you change?”

  “I just needed a change, you know? I was supposed to graduate in a couple of months, and I would have finished my degree in Health Science. But when I saw this advertisement about New Zealand, I decided to try it out and see for myself how beautiful this country really is.”

  “Were your parents okay with it? You changing your major, I mean?”

  I nodded. “Yeah, my mom was fine with it. She was reluctant about it at first, but eventually she gave me her blessing.”

  “It must have been a tough decision for her to let you leave.”

  “It was,” I said.

  Talking about my mother’s reluctance about my leaving made me feel bad. The last thing I wanted to do was hurt her, after all the things she had done for me.

  “Lucky for you though,” Chelsea began. “Your mom let you. My parents would have gone ballistic if I decided to leave the country. They wouldn’t even let me leave the house to go to parties, when I was a teenager.”

  I chuckled at that. “Really?”

  She rolled her eyes. “Yeah, really. It’s such a pain too. I’m twenty-four years old, an adult, and I’m in my final year of university. And they still wou
ld never let me travel around the world, or even do an exchange program like you did.”

  “That sucks.” I uttered, truly meaning my words.

  Chelsea’s face sobered. “I’m an only child, Tina. Most of the time, I think I understand my parents’ logic. Other times, I just don’t know. They say I’m their only daughter, their only kid, and that they’re trying to protect me. But sometimes, I just want to say ‘protect my ass’ and tell them to take their concern and shove it. I can’t exactly do that, though. They’d probably cut me out of their life insurance, if I did that.”

  In spite of the seriousness of our conversation, I laughed. So long and hard that my stomach started to hurt.

  “I’m sorry.” I said, still laughing. “I didn’t meant to laugh or offend you.”

  She waved it away like it was nothing. “Pfft. Don’t worry about it. That’s the main reason of telling you about my problems. To make you laugh.”

  I smiled. “Well, it worked.”

  Her eyes glinted with mischief as she looked down at me. “I noticed you looking at him earlier.”

  I frowned back at her. “Who?”

  “Wiremu. Wiremu Tone.”

  “Who’s that?” I asked.

  This time, Chelsea rolled her eyes at me. “The guy you were looking at before. Back at the international center.”

  “You mean the guy with hazel eyes?” I questioned.

  She nodded.

  “That’s his name? Wiremu Tone?” I exclaimed.

  Once more, my friend nodded.

  Wiremu Tone. I said the name in my head, my tongue rolling as I repeated the words over and over again. A rush of butterflies rose in the pit of my belly.

  “What does he do?” I asked. “And why was he back there with us?”

  “He’s part of the international team. He’s completing a degree in Health Science, and plans on going into the Medical field, I think. I’m not entirely sure. He plays on the school’s rugby team. You should see him play sometime, if you want.”

  “I’d like that very much,” I said.

  We finished eating and she showed me around the campus a little more, before we headed for our afternoon class. The day whirled by in a blur. I went to my classes and met a group of people, nice enough to let me sit with them. By the time the hour was over, I was ready to come home and take a nap. I was still trying to get over the time difference between New Zealand and Germany.