“Good night,” Lana and I said in unison as we watched her head back down the deck towards the stern.
“Oh, and as for your parents,” Avalon said, stopping just four paces away. “I suppose this goes to any of you younglings listening, live your life accepting that they will always worry about you. Take it from me, parenting is not easy, and the first forty years is always the hardest.”
I smiled as she gave a wink, turned and disappeared below deck.
“Should we go socialize with the other girls?” Lana asked.
I nodded, and as much as I wanted to sit and think about what Avalon had said, I had taken enough of Lana’s time for my own needs, and it was time to give back. We stood with our goons and joined in the drinking game “twenty-one” in the cockpit.
***
The next day we sailed back to Arlie Beach, soaking up the sun. Along the way we anchored off the shores of untouched islands and went snorkeling along the pristine coral reefs. After the boat berthed back in the marina we disembarked and said our goodbyes.
After meeting back up with the new friends we had made on board for dinner, we hung out with the Chilean girls for a night on the town. Most of the girls found hook-ups and Lana stole a kiss from the club’s very cute DJ. While getting some fresh air on the balcony overlooking the man-made lagoon, I met a bronze skinned, raven-haired guy from Spain, and though he was very cute and very insistent, I couldn’t bring myself to take it past flirty words. He wasn’t Xavier.
***
Three days later, Lana and I arrived in Hervey Bay. We signed up for a self-guided tour of Fraser Island, a natural wonder, and at seventy-five miles long and fifteen miles wide, it held the record of the world’s largest sand island. Joining the Chilean girls we had met while sailing, we rented a 4x4 jeep and spent three days exploring the forests, lakes, creeks, mangroves, and even the rusting carcass of a wrecked ship. For the two nights we spent on the island, we camped in tents under the stars.
On the last night as the sun was setting, I wandered away from our campsite at the threshold of the beach and sat alone on the top of a grassy dune. I spotted and kept my eye on an opportunistic dingo. With some time to myself, I let Avalon’s words sink in, and I honored my decision to forgive and let go. With darkness falling, stars became visible and twinkled against the dusk. I looked into the sky and said, “Miles, I forgive you. Mira, I forgive you.”
It seemed that forgiving others was easier than forgiving myself. But after seeing my parents, I could bury the guilt I had for leaving home and making them worry. No matter what I did they would always worry, and I had to continue to do my part to let them know I was alright. Forgiving myself for the hurt I caused Adam was the next step. When I saw Jade had healed from that asshat Cliff’s infidelity by letting Arturo into her life, I had to remember that he would heal too. He may never forgive me, but that was on him.
And so, I opened my mouth and whispered to the stars, “Harper, I forgive you. I am ready to let go of the shadows of the past and receive the happiness of the present and the future.”
Then I sat, basking in quiet acceptance. What has happened has happened.
***
Through the next day as we continued to sightsee and made our way back to the mainland, I had that odd feeling that I was missing something. It wasn’t until we made it back to the hostel in Hervey Bay, and I accounted for all of my belongings, that I realized that I had left my guilt behind. And I didn’t miss it at all.
Chapter 26
Date: April 28, 2010
Christchurch, New Zealand
Lana and I reunited with Jade on our last day in Brisbane, the evening after leaving Hervey Bay. Over a cup of tea, we caught up and then slipped into bed for the night. Early the next morning, we boarded a flight bound for chilly Christchurch, located in the South Island of New Zealand.
As we checked into the hostel in the center of the quiet city, we asked for information on the various car rental and bus options to see the island. The receptionist, a Dutch guy in his late twenties, handed us a binder from a shelf behind the desk. We flicked through the pages, and about halfway through, Lana screamed something that vaguely resembled English. Bending over, she furiously riffled through her daypack. Jade and I exchanged confused looks with the receptionist, and Lana bolted upright with a crumpled piece of paper in her hand.
She slammed it on the desk and smoothed it out and said, “Leo said in Goa that they were going to do one of these buses.”
With soaring hopes, I practically elbowed Jade out of the way to get a better look. It was a brochure that had been bent in all the wrong places, with pictures of buses with various names and logos, information and dates. Scrawled in red pen were the dates, April 26th, April 27th, April 28th, and April 29th. The titles “Stray Bus” and “Kiwi Experience” were circled. My pulse hammered wildly at the thought of seeing Xavier again.
“Which one?” I said, flipping the brochure over, hoping to see more of Leo’s writing.
Lana bit her lip and looked at me. “I don’t remember.”
I fingered through the binder until I found the pages on Stray Bus and Kiwi Experience. Both companies detailed near identical itineraries, but each offered a dizzying number of sightseeing options.
“He said something about ‘hop on hop off,’” Lana said, running her index finger down the pages.
That narrowed it down slightly, but Stray alone had eight routes mapped for each of the South and North Islands, twelve that encompassed both islands for “hop-on-hop-off” passes. The Kiwi Experience boasted thirty-three routes for their “hop” passes.
“We’ll never find Xavier and Leo,” I said pressing my hands to my face. “What should we do?”
“If I were you ladies,” the receptionist answered, even though I hadn’t directed the question to him, “I would take the Stray Bus. The Kiwi Experience is for the eighteen-year-old gap year kids.”
After paying for our dorm room, we took the binder from reception to a bench in the courtyard. Under the orange glow of a streetlamp, we debated what to do. Christchurch was a quiet little place, and as we sat one-hundred feet across from its famed cathedral, the autumn chill nipped at our skin, and barely any souls passed by. Jade puffed on her cigarette and put forth her argument in favour of renting a car and using the itineraries as a guide. Lana, however, wanted to choose a bus, and the more we debated, the more she was sure that Leo had said the Stray Bus. The dates, he listed weren’t in our favour. The Stray busses left on dates with odd numbers, the Kiwi Experience left on dates with even numbers, and given that today was the 28th, our only option was to take the Stray Bus that left tomorrow.
In the end, we compromised that we would take the Stray Bus leaving the nearby town of Greymouth tomorrow on a pass that recommended eight days, and then we would rent a car for the North Island when we got there.
***
Early the next morning, under a blanket of cold fog, we boarded a bus bound northwest to Greymouth. After leaving Christchurch, we made the journey slicing through the body of the South Island. I stared through the rain-flecked windows as we passed through emerald-green mountains covered in dripping dense forests. Just shy of four hours later as we arrived in Greymouth, the sun finally clawed through the clouds.
As we ate our lunch al fresco at a café in the charming mining town, I was glad that I hadn’t thrown out the jacket that kept me warm in Agra. In less than an hour, we were due to board the Stray Bus. Meaning, in less than an hour, there was a possibility that I would see Xavier, and I could barely talk with the anxiety closing my throat. But Lana was so excited at the prospect of seeing Leo that she couldn’t stop talking: I can’t wait to do ABC to Leo, and I wonder if he’d be interested in trying XYZ.
All the while, Jade, now more zen than ever, tuned her out and scanned the rugged mountain landscape instead.
As I pushed my food around rehearsing what I would say when I saw Xavier, (I didn’t get much further than “Hi”) Jade loo
ked at the sun and then asked, “What time is it?”
I looked at my watch. “Shit, it’s two fifteen, we’re late.”
Lana leapt to her feet, grabbed her backpack, and swung it on her back, in the process knocking the solid wood bench clean over. By the time Jade and I put it back on its feet and secured each other’s packs, Lana was halfway down the street. We trailed behind her and when I saw the orange bus with the word “Stray” splattered across the side I nearly saw my lunch again. What if Xavier was on there?
What if he wasn’t?
After we showed our printed tickets to the young woman wearing an orange shirt that matched the logo, we stored our backpacks in the underbody storage compartment, and I froze as my foot hit the first step. It wasn’t until Jade nudged me that I took the next step and then the next. I greeted the driver and turned my attention to the rows of seats, scanning the occupants for raven hair framing a devastatingly handsome face.
Blond hair, blue eyes girl. Damn. Brown hair, brown eyes, boy. Damn. Red head boy. Damn. Black hair grey eyes…girl. Double damn. My eyes locked onto each face, but when they reached Lana’s pouting lips at the back, I had to accept that Xavier was not on the bus.
Maybe he didn’t come to New Zealand at all.
The bus was half full. Passengers dotted around the seats, and cliques had already been formed. I took the row in front of Lana to spread out a bit. Jade took the row in front of me. The doors closed, and the bus lurched forward. I chastised myself for failing to manage my expectations, particularly since I couldn’t shake the disappointment. Lana’s disappointment, however, lasted until she met eyes with the ginger-haired guy at the front of the bus.
As the journey south down the western coast began, the rain fell again, first as small droplets, then as fat chunks splattering against the pane. My breath fogged the glass as I watched the world pass by. Mountains rose into the sky like the humps of a giant sea serpent covered in tangles of ferns, moss, bushes, and trees. As I held my breath at the sheer beauty of the river estuaries meeting the sea at rocky waterways, I pulled out my camera, but I couldn’t capture the scene properly though the rain-flecked glass. Flicking through the playback, I thought of the contest.
When you decide to enter a competition or start a new venture, the further away and more abstract it seems, the more confident you feel about your chances. Months ago I was so sure of myself, so sure of my abilities, but now all I could do was think about how I could have made my work better. The rice fields were oversaturated with colour in the Vang Vieng shot. I forgot to use the thirds overlay tool for the Ha Long Bay shot. And the shadows are too harsh in the images with the girls from Death Mountain, weighing down the feel the image was supposed to evoke. If only I had stayed away from Miles in Southeast Asia like I had planned to, I could have focused properly on my work. I could have spent more time researching the latest retouching techniques and really mastered the manual settings on my camera. I had mere weeks to wait for the announcement of the winners, and the more I thought of the outcome, the thought of winning transformed from a probability to impossibility.
The thought of failing at my dreams crushed me.
Our guide, Emma, broke my ruminations as she announced our itinerary for the next stop, Frans Joseph. She sent a clipboard around so interested participants could sign up for such adventures as ice climbing and glacier walks. Lana, Jade, and I signed up for a glacier walk, but as we arrived at the hostel nestled in a forest at the foot of the glacial mountains, the rain started pouring. We spent the next two nights huddled in the hostel’s common area, the continuous downpour killing any chance of making it to any of the excursions.
The rain began to let up once we left Frans Joseph. As we continued our way south we paused for a tour through a lush dripping rainforest, endured the whipping wind chill at a pebble beach, and stopped for pictures at a breathtaking vantage point as we drove through the fiord land. After one night singing karaoke at a hostel near Lake Wanaka, we finally made it to Queenstown.
***
Date: May 2, 2010
Queenstown, New Zealand
“We’re almost at fifteen-thousand feet.” I could barely hear my skydiving instructor over the roar of the tiny plane’s engine. “Your friends will go first, and then we’ll go last.”
“What if the parachute doesn’t open?” I leaned back and yelled.”
“Have a little faith in me,” he said patting me on the shoulder. “As they say in America, this ain’t my first rodeo, darlin’.”
“I’m Canadian.”
“What?”
“Never mind.”
I guessed if it didn’t open, there wasn’t much I could do except but enjoy the ride with my new best friend, Sam, strapped to my back. My parents would be so mad at me if this was the way I went out.
On our third and final day in Queenstown, the girls and I decided to go skydiving. Queenstown was called The Adventure Capital of the World, so we figured, when in Rome. It was one of those things that seemed like a good idea when your feet are planted firmly on the ground, but when you’re stuffed like sardines in a tiny propeller plane fifteen-thousand feet up, you begin to question your sanity.
I craned my neck to look out the window, and the ground looked really, really far away. There was no way of backing out now. I had a guy strapped to my back whose job was to get us out of this plane at fifteen-thousand feet. And I had paid him to do so. I looked at the other girls; Jade’s eyes were shut as she meditated while Lana leaned back into her hot instructor’s chest. Maybe that’s why she had suggested it — it seemed to be a great way to get close to a total stranger in such a short amount of time.
Jade’s instructor gave a hand signal, patted her on the shoulder and together they scooted across the floor towards the open panel in the side of the plane. We waved and a second later she was gone. Lana and her instructor shuffled towards the side, waited, waved and then disappeared into the sky. It was my turn next. Struggling to get our bodies to work together, Sam and I eventually shuffled across the plane and I dropped my legs over the edge and made the mistake of looking down.
Had circumstances been different, say, it was a leisurely plane ride to see Queenstown from the air, I wouldn’t have minded the view. But now that I was seconds away with nothing but fifteen-thousand feet of air between myself the ground, I had my issues with the altitude. Before I could protest, Sam pushed forward and we were air-born. I swallowed my stomach back down my throat as the freezing air assaulted my eyes. I had opted not to pay for a cameraman, largely because of the cost, but as I squinted and tears streamed across my flapping cheeks, I was glad I didn’t have any photographic evidence of it. No one should have to endure seeing my face like that. I have no doubt it was the stuff of nightmares.
Sam patted me on the shoulders twice, indicating that I un-tuck my arms and stretch them out into the “banana-back” position we practiced on the ground. We had reached terminal velocity, the speed at which we were no longer accelerating and were falling at a steady pace, and as I looked down, I could appreciate the landscape. It was then I wished that I had my camera but bringing anything along was a big no-no. A snowcapped mountain range stood next to a large Z-shaped lake with Queenstown built on hits shores. Around the town stood green grassy fields reaching to the horizon in all directions. From the ground it was a charming little ski resort town, and its name was bestowed upon it as it was considered a town so beautiful it was fit for a queen. At that point, I had no more thoughts of whether or not my parachute would open, it was too late to worry about it anyways. Adrenaline coursed through my veins and pure joy rippled through me. I was staring death in the face with a smile so big it hurt my cheeks. And I had never felt so alive.
Suddenly I was jerked upright, and I let out a loud squeal. Once the parachute was pulled, my sixty-second free-fall was over.
“See? Have a little faith,” Sam yelled in my ear as we floated back to Earth.
He made small talk and pointed out poin
ts of interest but the words, have a little faith, echoed in my mind. After years of convincing myself that my grand adventure with my two best friends was never going to happen, I was nearly at the end of it. After years of convincing myself I would never feel happiness again, I now felt as if I were overflowing with it. After years of wishing to speak to Audrey again, I felt her presence with me every moment. Everything I wanted eventually came to fruition. I just had to be patient.
As we descended from the sky, the little cotton bud sheep in the farmlands grew and grew. We landed with a thud back on the grassy field, and as Sam uncoupled us, he pulled me in for a hug, and I laughed off my bout of terror from before.
***
Still buzzing that evening, the girls and I set off for our last night on the town with our dorm-mates, five Japanese girls who hopped on the bus in Frans Joseph. In the near freezing night air, we made our way through the town from World Bar to Winnies, and then to Buffalo Club. Given the poor choices I made while drunk, I decided to only have one drink at World Bar, only because they were served in white ceramic teapots, and who doesn’t like a little bit of whimsy? At the rest of the bars, Jade and I ordered water, requesting it served in a highball glass with a cocktail straw. Lana kept up with the Japanese girls with some pretty aggressive drinking. Once we left the Japanese girls at Buffalo Club, Jade decided to go back to the hostel, and Lana and I made our way between the ski-chalet-style buildings to Loco Cantina. A sandwich board stood in the glow of a lamppost advertising an open mic night.
It was then I heard it. A note, a voice, carried by the wind. I looked at Lana, she heard it, too. Someone was singing a very familiar acoustic arrangement of “Sex on Fire”.
The walls of my stomach caved in, and my legs suddenly felt as wobbly as a drunken giraffe. Xavier was here. He was actually here. Fantasies of what he would do when he saw me, what we could do for the rest of the night, began to play in my mind.
Manage your expectations.
Lana squealed and grabbed me by the wrist, dragging me inside. Welcoming the warmth, I pulled my gloves off once she let go of my hand. Loco Cantina was a large space with a long bar, crowded with bodies on one side, the walls on the other were accented with painted corrugated tin paneling. We pushed through the crowd to find the stage at the back. I could barely hear him over the blood rushing in my ears. Over the sea of heads, I saw him. Sitting on the edge of a stool, strumming a guitar, his eyes closed, lost in the song.
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