Epic

by Lark O'Neal

  She leans into him, pushing up her breasts so they sit in her hands like two big round freckled balls. “My girls did some good work today.” She whispers it so the adults don’t hear.

  He pinches her. “Not what matters.”

  “Ow!” She slaps him—hard. “That really hurt.”

  Katy turns around. “God, you two. Stop bickering!”

  “You guys have been at the winery how long?” I ask Darcy. I know it from my conversation with Kaleb, but she needs distracting. Kaleb flashes me a glance. Gratitude?

  Darcy narrows her eyes. “Since the earthquake. Second one. How long, Auntie?”

  “February it’s three years.”

  “Three already? Wow.” She looks at me. “You’ve heard of the earthquakes, right?”

  “I hadn’t, not until I got here,” I say. “I haven’t had a television for a long time.”

  “What? Why?”

  “Expensive. I didn’t have the Internet until my dad sent me an iPad this summer, or well, your winter. A month ago.”

  She looks at my face for a while.

  “Can’t use the big tragedy now, can you?” says Katy from the front seat. It seems kind of a mean thing to say.

  “You lost your house, right?” I ask.

  “Bro,” she says. “The whole bloomin’”—blimin’—“city fell down.” She calls up to the front. “We should take her to Christchurch, Uncle Keiran, yeah?”

  My dad looks in the mirror. “We might.”

  “Seriously,” I say. “The whole town?

  “Pretty much.”

  When she says this, there’s something tight around her mouth, a darkness around her eyes that touches me. “You miss it?”

  “Yeah.” She nods emphatically. “It was a beautiful town. They called it the Garden City. There’s a river that goes through the center, and there were stone buildings that made it look like England. People used to go on holiday there.” She lifts her fingers to her mouth, and I see the nails are bitten all the way to the quick. She takes a sharp nip, and a bright bead of blood appears. “We had two big earthquakes in five months, and just about everything fell down.”

  “I felt that earthquake yesterday, but that was the only time.”

  “Yesterday?” Darcy echoes. “Oh, in the afternoon? No, that was nothing.”

  “It felt like something to me.”

  Kaleb snorts. “You’ll get used to it.”

  “Why? Are there a lot here?”

  “Yeah,” Darcy says, and flings her head back against the seat. “There are.”

  Not sure I like the sound of that. At all.

  Chapter FIVE

  We park near a downtown that looks quaint, even in the rain, and dash under the awnings that cover the sidewalks all the way up and down the street, both sides. We pass a drugstore, which is just a drugstore, nothing else, and a clothing store, and an electronics store. All of them are marked by signs hanging from their awnings. I peek into a bead shop and a stationary shop. “This is so cute!” I exclaim. It makes me think of an old movie about some small-town Main Street or something, not that I can think of any town that has awnings over everything. I suppose you only need them in a place where it rains a lot.

  Fragrant smells are pouring out from a cafe ahead, and, despite the little snack at the film house, I’m looking forward to lunch. But just before we get there, we pass a bookstore.

  Or rather, everyone else passes it. I stop in my tracks, my mouth hanging open. It’s not a used bookstore, although there are some quality used volumes in the window. It’s a new bookstore, with new books, and just-published things advertised in the window. It’s small—I could walk side to side in ten seconds—but it’s deep. I ache to slip in there and lose myself. “A bookstore,” I breathe.

  Katy comes back. “Do you want to go in and look around? I’ll come with you if you like.”

  “Let’s eat first,” Dad says and walks on. “Then you can wander.”

  I’m mesmerized. “We don’t have bookstores like this anymore. It’s either really big ones or used book stores. I shake my head. “Not like this, just an ordinary store.”

  She tucks her arm through mine. “We’ll come back after lunch and you can browse as long as you like.”

  Nodding, I let her draw me away, toward that smell of grilling onions and meat. The cafe is bustling; people lined up to order at the counter, crowded around tables, umbrellas leaning against their legs. My dad and the others have claimed a prime table in the corner beneath a window that floods the area with pale light. They all have their heads bent over menus, and Darcy passes me one silently, absorbed in her choices. I sink down on the bench next to her and brush loose strands of hair out of my face.

  The first shock is the prices. $11 for cereal, $20 for main dish lunches. It’s a nice place, but not what I would have thought of as fancy. “It’s expensive, right?”

  Kate glances up, her finger on her place on the menu. “No, not really.”

  “Remember the exchange rate,” Dad says.

  As if I can do those calculations in my head, especially now that I’m beginning to feel the drag of brain fog again. I’ll think about it later.

  The second surprise is the menu itself. I sort of thought before I came that since New Zealanders speak English, the food would be the same as American food. It really isn’t. I recognize some of the things on the menu—eggs Benedict and pancakes, bagels and things like that. I don’t recognize most things, though, but I get excited about trying them, all of them. Roasted kumara, ginger and chickpea soup. Sumac-spiced lamb with bulgur wheat fattoush. Prawns with wild rice and avocado. “What are prawns?”

  Darcy’s head jerks up, her eyes shocked. I’ve done it again.

  My dad answers, “Big shrimp.”

  I nod.

  “Anything else you want to know about?” he asks.

  “No, thanks.” I fold my hands. “I know what I want to try. The roasted kumara soup. Did I say that right?”

  Kaleb gives me a thumbs up.

  My dad gathers our orders and heads up to the counter. When he comes back he pulls out the itinerary and contract, and perches a pair of reading glasses on his nose. I smile. The glasses look cute with his curly hair. I touch my braid, wishing I had curls. Everyone at the table has them but me—Katy’s auburn tumble, Kaleb’s inky black.

  A woman brings a tray with our drinks, giving me the only one I knew how to order, a flat white. It’s as delicious as it was the first time. “The coffee is better here.”

  “Yeah?” Dad looks up from the papers. “You know we don’t think as much of Starbucks down here as you Americans do.”

  I snort. “Like I can afford Starbucks.”

  Darcy says, “So what’s the itinerary?”

  “Two days filming in Nelson. Town center and beaches, all that. Then three days kayaking and hiking in Abel Tasman National Park.” He nods, looks up at me. “You’ll like that, Jess. Didn’t you tell me you hike with your boyfriend?”

  “Some.” I don’t want to admit we’ve only done it once. It sounds pathetic.

  “Abel Tasman is beautiful, bro,” Kaleb says. “Might be cold this time of year. Especially if you fall in the water.”

  “I don’t know how to kayak.” My heart sinks. Maybe that’s the deal breaker.

  Kaleb makes a dismissive sound. “It’s easy. I’ll show you.”

  “It’s not that easy,” Darcy mutters.

  “You’re not exactly athletic,” Katy says. “Jess looks like she might be pretty strong. Are you?”

  I lift a shoulder. “I guess. It’s all from waiting tables, not anything interesting.”

  Darcy pinches my bicep. “Wow.”

  My dad says, “Kaleb’s right. It might be cold this time of year, but that’s the breaks, eh? It’s not all glamour, this filming business. You’ll work hard.” His eyes crinkle in the way I like, and I wish I was sitting beside him instead of all the way across the table. His blue eyes glitter with mischief pretty much
all the time. “Models in bikinis in Antarctica and all, yeah?”

  Kaleb shrugs. “For that much cash I’d walk naked across Antarctica.”

  “It is really good money,” I agree.

  “Would you walk around naked for that much money, Jess?” Darcy asks. “I would. Bodies are beautiful.”

  Kaleb turns his sleepy gaze my way, waiting. He blinks, those amber eyes never showing a thing, but I feel the look as something physical, alive, moving over my shoulders and down my back. I think of his body, naked, and it shocks me faintly.

  With an effort, I look away, shrugging.

  “Who knows?” I say honestly. “That’s more money than I earn in six months. It would be nice to have some savings.”

  “Cold, though,” Kaleb says, and I find myself drawn back to his steady, waiting gaze.

  I make a face to put him off, twisting my mouth. “Yeah, maybe. Antarctica.”

  The very corner of his mouth lifts almost imperceptibly in approval. He studies me for a second or two longer, then nods once and turns back to my dad. “Where else?”

  “Queenstown and Wanaka.” Dad explains to me, “That’s our big ski center, like Aspen or whatever in Colorado. Should be packed with Australians this time of year.” Ye-AH, he says, no real r.

  “Do you think it’s a good plan, a good company?”

  He nods. “Let’s have a look at the contract, but yeah.”

  Katy has been very quiet. Now she says, “Unless there’s something very objectionable, they’ll be fine. What were you doing when you were twenty?”

  “Surfing,” he says.

  “Right.” Her smile is kind. “They’ll look out for each other. It’ll be fine.”

  Dad makes a rueful line of his mouth and says to me, “Only thing is, we’ll miss your birthday. I was looking forward to that.”

  “Oh!” He’s right. If I do this, I’ll be on the road somewhere on my birthday. The realization makes me feel a little hollow. No Tyler, no mom and Henry, no Dad, just a bunch of strangers on my 20th birthday. But is that one thing enough to keep me from doing it?

  “You can celebrate when she’s finished,” Katy says reasonably.

  “We can,” he agrees.

  The food comes and we all dig in, the adults with less vigor than the rest of us. The soup is fantastic, savory and rich and filling, especially served with thick slices of white bread and butter. My dad examines the contract as he eats, starring a couple of things as he goes. “Looks good, kids. If you want to, it’s a good deal for you.”

  “Yes!” Darcy says beside me, and leans against my shoulder briefly in exaggerated relief. “We’re gonna have ourselves some fun, girl.”

  My dad eyes Darcy with slight worry, and I wonder what’s going on with her.

  Katy nudges him. “It will be fine.”

  He looks at me. “Are you all right with this, Jess? It’s pretty fast, but you’ll be done in a few weeks and have some cash in your pocket.”

  “Do you mind? I really came here to be with you.”

  He winks. “I figure you’re going to fall in love with New Zealand and stay, so a couple of weeks won’t matter in the slightest.”

  I smile at him. “I want the money. I really do.”

  “Done.”

  * * *

  We head back and sign contracts, get proper itineraries—filming starts on Monday, tomorrow! —and instructions, trade phone numbers—my dad says, “We need to get you a phone of your own”—and head back into town. First stop is a phone for me. A mobile, not a cell. Mo-BILE. I realize that I’m still not going to be able to text Tyler this way since the system won’t work across the two countries, which is a let-down, but I can do it on my iPad.

  Then a wander through a museum about the settlers, including some things about the Maori, who seem very fierce with their tattoos. “I saw a guy at the airport in Auckland with tattoos all over his entire face.”

  My dad nods. “It’s a way people connect to their ancestors. Kaleb can tell you about it if you like.”

  Finally Katy and I head into the bookstore while the others head for an electronics store down the block. “Have a wander,” she says. “I’ll buy you something if you like.”

  It’s not an offer I can resist. There are so many different authors and kinds of books here. The covers are different. The subject matter is different. I see a bunch of American titles, too—big bestsellers like Nora Roberts—but I can get those at home. I settle on a local author’s novel and hesitate when I realize it’s $25 even in paperback.

  But Katy comes to the cash register with a pile of books, all the same big paperback size, and doesn’t blink at mine. “Books are more expensive here,” I say.

  “Everything is,” she says. “It’s a small country. We have to import a lot of resources.”

  It makes sense.

  On the way back to the winery it’s pouring rain and I still can’t see the landscape, so I crack open my book and start reading.

  “Don’t you get carsick?” Darcy asks.

  “No.”

  “I don’t really like to read anyway. It’s boring.”

  I look up at her. “You just haven’t found the right books. It’s really not boring. It can be anything you want.”

  She lifts a finger to her mouth, nibbling on the stump of a nail. “You have to just sit there. I hate that.”

  I have noticed that she’s pretty restless. Even now, she’s wiggling her leg. Chewing a nail. Talking. “Yeah. I like it, though.”

  “What do you read?”

  I close my book, realizing she’s not going to let me dive in, and that’s really ok. It’s nice to have someone to talk to. “Lots of things. I like fiction, mostly. Novels, and I guess I like them to be about women.”

  Her dark eyes are glazing over. She has no idea what I’m talking about. On my other side, Kaleb’s shaking his head with a faint smile. He makes a subtle chopping motion across his throat.

  “Stories,” I say. “I just like stories.”

  He nods.

  Darcy curls closer to me, puts her head on my shoulder. “Will you read to me?”

  It feels like having a sister. “Sure,” I say, and open the book.

  She falls asleep on my shoulder. On my other side, Kaleb is slumped against the back of the seat, staring out the window. His thigh is pressed into mine, and our sleeves, but that’s because there’s not enough room for us. My dad drives. The windshield wipers slash back and forth, back and forth. The car smells of spice from lunch and shampoo from Darcy’s hair and candy, and I feel as loved and cradled as I ever have in my life.

  I’m glad I came.

  * * *

  Back at the winery, Dad tells me to take some time for a nap and he’ll get me up at dinner time. “We’re going to keep you up till ten tonight. Play some games or something, how’s that?”

  “Good.” I nod. “Will we have a chance to spend some time together, just me and you?”

  “Absolutely, love! When you get a break from your filming, how about I drive you down to Kaikoura? I’ll show you where we lived.”

  “That would be great.”

  His phone rings.

  “Thanks, Dad,” I say, heading up the stairs.

  He answers the phone, waving to me as he walks down the hallway.

  My room is chilly, but the view across the misty, rainy vineyard is beautiful. I shed my jeans and climb into the cozy bed, pulling the covers up around me, and open up my iPad. There’s an email from Tyler, finally.

  To: jessdonovan@cheap.net

  From: tlsmith@greatmail.com

  Subject: a thousand lifetimes

  Dear, sweet, beautiful, sexy, smart, wise, old soul, Jess.

  I could never forget you. Not in a lifetime. Not in a thousand lifetimes. If we parted ways and lived our lives and then we died and reincarnated over and over through the centuries, never meeting again, I would still remember your face. It would haunt me in dreams, drive me to wander the earth to seek your soul,
so that I could kiss you one more time, lie with you in a rainstorm, cozy under the quilts while the storm raged around us.

  You should not forget me.

  Or maybe you should. When I saw you at the airport, backpack on your shoulders, dressed for the journey, you had an expression on your face that I haven’t seen before. You glistened. With possibility. With hope and excitement. The nerves were there, too, but mostly it was that shine. You, leaving a world that has not been kind to you for a place that you told me you wanted to visit the very first time we had coffee. Do you remember? You said you’d never been anywhere but you wanted to go back to New Zealand.

  And now you’ve made that happen. I know I said I wished you were starting school, but there’s plenty of time for that, and it took a lot of guts for you to do what you did, make the break, leave everything you know for an adventure. I hope it’s totally epic, Jess. I mean that with all my heart.

  So don’t worry too much about me and keeping in touch. Have an adventure. Live the moments that are right in front of you. I’ll wait for you. I’ll be here when you get back.

  Love, more than you know,

  Tyler

  PS A commercial! That’d be pretty epic, right?

  PS PS I am four hours ahead of you. I had a court date yesterday and some stuff related to that to do today.

  Tears of relief and love pour from my eyes as I read his beautiful, beautiful words. My heart expands until it feels like it’s filled up my entire ribcage. I hit reply and type:

  Tyler! That letter made me cry (in a good way) and freaked me out at the same time. I can’t stand to imagine us parted for a thousand lifetimes, looking for each other and being lonely. I don’t even like us being parted now. I am so happy to be here I can’t even tell you, but I’d love it even more if you were here.

  What do you mean I shouldn’t think of you too much? How can I help it? You seem to think I’m only accidentally with you somehow, but it’s not random. I chose you. Let’s Skype really, really soon, okay? I need to look into your eyes and know that you’re not already losing interest and it’s only been two days.

  WHAT DID THEY SAY IN COURT?

  I’ll have a phone set up tomorrow.