by K T Bowes
Chapter 36
Hana climbed the steep driveway to Culver’s Cottage, the truck whining with the effort as the floor sander clunked in the boot. At the top of the incline, she stopped to survey the house, noting parts of the rusty roof already covered with a large, multi-coloured parachute. The builder met her on the porch. “We’ll need access to the house, but not for a few days. We got heaps done today from the outside.”
“That’s great, thank you.” Hana’s brow knitted in worry. “It feels daunting.” She dug a spare key from her jeans pocket.
“Na.” The builder took it, his gaze on a man climbing the scaffold with a length of wood on one shoulder. “Once the joists are strengthened, we’ll get yer new roof on. It’ll look amazing. It’s nice to see these old places getting some love.” He gave Hana an encouraging smile and she nodded in appreciation.
Hana met the labourers, signed the contract for work and admired how far they’d got. The men left in two vans after a quick game of move-the-cars. Hana drove down the steep slope towards the garage with care, not bothering to angle the truck towards the doors. Standing there it felt overwhelming, her decisions more foolhardy than brave as she faced them alone. “Damn it!” she yelled into the silence as she opened the boot and the sander dropped onto her foot. “He’s gone, okay! It’s over!” Logan’s absence jarred with his promises of help and loyalty. He should be there, carrying the equipment and sanding the floor with her. Just like he said. Hana squeezed the bridge of her nose between thumb and forefinger, waiting for her brain to stop reminding her how it felt to see him at work. “I haven’t been dumped since Year 3,” she grumbled to herself, her mind running over the awkwardness on Logan’s face and the wonky buttons. Hana inhaled and shook her head. “You’re a stupid woman,” she sighed. “Stay single, that’s my advice.”
Cumbersome and heavy, the sander fought her every step as she manhandled it up the back stairs to the upper level. She returned to retrieve the massive pot of varnish, turpentine and assortment of brushes, her resolve receding further with every footstep. “This can go one of two ways,” she told the empty house. “I’ll either make the floor look beautiful, or delay my moving in date while the builders lay carpet!”
An hour later, she’d worked out how to change the sanding pads with a screw driver and sanded the master bedroom and lounge once. Two hours and four changes of pads revealed a smooth honey coloured rimu. She scuffed the hall floor and lobby and dented the wall of the bedroom in the back corner, by slipping and almost sending the sander through the plasterboard. Every muscle in her body complained and her eyes felt scratchy with dust.
Hana stood in the bay window at the front of the house and admired her handiwork. “Not bad for an amateur,” she commented to her reflection in the window. “Even if self-praise is no praise.” A woman looked back at her and she blinked, seeing a dust-covered banshee wearing a scarf over her nose and mouth. Her hair looked grey and Hana coughed, sending up a cloud of fine debris. She laughed and returned to her work, her legs dragging themselves back to the top of the rear stairs and the waiting machine.
It grew dark, forcing Hana to search for the light switch. A naked bulb in the third bedroom blinked to life, dangling from a length of brown cable. Sanding dust covered every surface and she reached for a broom and attempted to herd the mess into one corner. As she ceased sweeping to catch her breath, a door downstairs creaked and Hana froze with her hand on the broom handle. Quick footsteps mounted the stairs and fear banished all thoughts of autonomy and independence. Hana panicked and lifted the broom like a weapon, ready to whack whoever walked past the door.
“Mum?” Bodie’s face appeared in the gap and Hana screamed. Having already begun a downwards swipe, she couldn’t stop in time and he dodged aside as the broom head flew off and crashed into the opposite wall. Hana dropped the handle and put her hands over her mouth.
“Sorry, sorry,” she gushed.
“Who did you think I was?” Bodie’s eyes narrowed in suspicion and he pulled her hands away from her face. “Mum?”
“It doesn’t matter.” She pressed her face into his chest and heaved out a grateful sigh, banishing thoughts of the blonde man who sat outside her house at random times, his presence threatening her and his air casual. “I’m glad you’re here.”
Bodie choked and waved his hands at the floating dust particles. “What are you doing?” he coughed. He walked into the hall and retrieved the grizzled broom head.
“Sanding.” Hana ran her filthy hands through her hair. “It looks amazing but I wish I’d never started.”
Bodie looked at her dirt-streaked face and grinned. “I bet.” His eyes narrowed. “You didn’t lock the downstairs door. There’s nobody else out here. No one will hear you scream.”
“Thanks for reminding me.” Hana sighed. “Just as I felt safe.”
Bodie confiscated the broom handle. “Interesting weapon of choice.”
Hana eyed the sander. “I’m fed up of lifting that. I’ll bring the rake up and use that to hit intruders instead.”
Bodie nodded with approval. “Cumbersome, but used right, a rake might inflict enough injury to escape.”
Hana closed her eyes and exhaled, releasing a puff of dust. Logan’s advice returned with a bite. “Can we talk about something else?”
“Sure.” Bodie stepped around the bedroom examining the floor. “I took a week off to help you.”
Hana swallowed and gratitude melted some of the ice in her heart. She licked her lips and fought the lid on her emotions. Hearing nothing, Bodie turned to face her, confusion in his eyes. “Is that okay? Sorry, I should’ve spoken to you first.”
“It’s fine. Amazing actually.” Hana breathed through pursed lips, her courage failing. “I think I’ve made a terrible mistake. It’s a money pit and I thought I could renovate it myself.” Her lower lip wobbled and her throat tightened. “I’m lost and overwhelmed.”
“Mum, it’s gonna be okay.” Bodie’s face softened and he crossed the short distance between them. His arms around her offered safety and consolation. He kissed the side of her face. “We can sort this out and it’ll be fantastic. It’s good to see you stepping out of your comfort zone.”
Hana sniffed into the front of his tee shirt. “I bought a new car today.”
“You what?” Bodie pulled away, holding her by the shoulders to look into her face. “Geez, Mum! Did you win the lottery and forget to mention it?”
“No.” Hana shook her head. “I’m using the money Dad left. I wanted to sell the other house, but the market isn’t great in Flagstaff at the moment. The agent says I need to keep it for a while and rent it out.”
To her relief, Bodie smiled and squeezed her shoulders beneath strong fingers. “Best get this place sorted out then and you can move in.”
Hana swallowed. “I’m glad you’re here.”
“Good.” Bodie gave her a small shake. “Because I brought dinner.” He left down the stairs and returned with a bottle of cheap champagne, a new box of wine glasses and a steaming packet of chips.
Hana watched as he unpacked the gift onto the dusty window seat, seeing his father in every facet of his body language and looks. Gorgeous and complicated. She sat next to him, releasing a cloud of dust from the windowsill. “Where’s your car?”
“In the garage.” Bodie pushed a chip into his mouth and closed his eyes. “These are nice. Got them from a place in Ngaruawahia.”
“My garage?” Hana savoured the word on her lips and he nodded.
“Yep. Some gumby blocked the bottom of the slope with a Hilux. I didn’t realise until I got half way down so I drove into the garage and parked.”
“Made yourself at home already. Nice.” Hana dipped a chip into a container of tomato sauce.
“Yep. I hope you didn’t buy that Hilux today.” He narrowed his eyes. “You didn’t, did you?”
“Why? It’s a cool man-wagon.”
Bodie snorted. “It’s a diesel fuel guzzler. It’s a
farm vehicle. Please tell me you didn’t.”
Hana rolled her eyes. “No. It belongs to a farmer. He lent it after mine went missing.”
“Went missing?” Bodie stopped, a chip in mid-air. “Went missing where?”
Hana sighed and recounted the story. “I told you this.”
“No you didn’t!”
Her mind worked back over the last few weeks and she couldn’t remember who knew what anymore. “I thought I did.”
Hana ate until the chips masked the taste of wood dust. Then she leaned against the windowsill and rested her head on the cool glass. The dull ceiling bulb highlighted the small cuts healing on Bodie’s cheek and more of the same on his fingers. “What happened?” she asked, taking his hand in hers.
“I don’t wanna talk about it.” The shutters slammed over her son’s expression and Hana ran a hand over his hair.
“Fine,” she said, her voice soft. “But are you okay otherwise?”
Bodie swallowed and shook his head. “No. I’ll tell you later.”
Hana kissed his cheek, using her hand to remove the dusty mark she left on his face. He snorted and reached for the champagne. “Let’s drink to your new start, Mum,” he said, lifting the foil from around the cap.
“I can’t drink and drive.” Hana raised a hand in protest and Bodie showed her the label.
“It’s not real,” he said, laughing at her. “I’m a cop, Mum. I can’t drink and drive either. It’s fizzy fruit drink.”
Hana reached for the bottle and inspected it, seeing the letters rearranged in the label. “Oh,” she said, her face breaking into a smile. “That’s clever. Your brain reads it as champagne, not what it actually says.”
Bodie nodded and filled a slim glass, handing it over and then pouring one for himself. “Yep,” he said. “Perspective.” Hana’s smile faded as he lifted his glass to clink against hers, halting mid-way. “What’s the matter?”
She sighed. “Someone else told me life was about perspective.” Her eyes dulled with sadness. Logan’s infidelity pained her, but at least she knew where she stood. “And it is.” Hana raised her glass and the chink against Bodie’s filled the room with a musical note. It soothed her heart and gave her hope. “It’s all about perspective.” She waved her glass around the room. “And this is my perspective from now on.”
Hana grinned at her son and sipped her drink, studying him from beneath her eyelashes. He looked deflated and a familiar tick of worry began in the back of her head. She tried to respect his privacy, maternalism wanting to probe and comfort. “I needed you here,” she whispered, sighing out her own concerns as dust particles bounced in the light. “I didn’t know it though.” Her fingers stroked his wrist through his jacket sleeve and she saw him wince. “Are you hurt?” she asked, the question tentative.
Bodie nodded and laid his glass on the floor. Then he rolled up his sleeve. Thin gouges covered the flesh of his forearm, deeper in some places than others. It wrapped around his arm and she recognised the marks. “Barbed wire?” Hana asked, reaching out her fingers and pulling away at the last moment.
“Yeah.” Bodie inhaled. “A deep dive in a crater lake. A kid went missing from a family boat. We’ve searched that lake heaps of times for different reasons and stuff collects at one end. We spent a day looking, but the current sent me a different way just before the boss called time on it. Someone dumped a load of rusty wire on the bank and rising water levels pulled it under. He must’ve swum for the shore and would’ve made it, but the wire snagged the hem of his pants. Struggling would have dislodged more of it from the bank and he drowned there, less than a metre from the surface.”
“That’s so sad,” Hana breathed. “How old was he?”
“Ten.” Bodie’s jaw worked in his cheek. “It never gets to me but this one did.”
“Why?” Hana stroked his hair back from his face. “What’s different?”
Bodie swallowed. “He looked like Marcus, Mum. I saw the photos before we dived and it became personal. It stopped being a body and became my best friend, my brother-in-law. It wasn’t a job anymore, but something else.”
“Oh, sweetheart.” Hana’s chest felt tight with the effort of not crying, of not making it all about her fears. She put her arms around Bodie’s neck and he let her hold him, his face pushed into her soft hair.
“I got a tetanus jab,” he muttered. “So you don’t need to print off pictures of lock-jaw and sepsis.”
Hana jabbed him in the ribs. “That was once! And it wasn’t tetanus.”
“I remember.” Bodie sat up and rubbed his hands over his face. “You printed off a heap of pictures of athletes’ foot when I refused to shower.”
“They weren’t feet,” Hana began and Bodie covered her mouth with a large hand.
“No! They weren’t. And I don’t want to talk about those types of rotting body parts with my mother, thank you!”
Hana giggled. Her sentence sounded muffled. “You didn’t want to talk about them back then either.”
“No, I didn’t!” Bodie removed his hand and reached for their glasses, topping them both up.
“It’s hard when there’s no father figure,” Hana admitted. “I would’ve set Vik on you. He’d tell you how much you stunk.”
“Man smell!” Bodie protested. “I liked it. He’d have liked it too.”
Hana snorted and accepted her refilled glass. She raised it against the backdrop of the deepening night sky through the window and clinked it with Bodie’s. “To a new future for both of us,” she said, forcing positivity into her voice. “Gaining perspective and putting the past back where it belongs.”
“Amen to that.” Bodie clinked her glass again, planted a kiss on her dusty cheek and then sipped, closing his eyes and savouring the flavour. “This is nice.”
“Jock-rot,” Hana said, laying her glass on the windowsill. A peal of laughter escaped her lips at the horrified look on her son’s face. “That’s what the fungus is called. Boys get it when they don’t wash!”
Bodie spat drink down his chin and his shirt and leaned forward, choking. “That’s disgusting!” he cried, his body heaving with laughter. A giggling fit consumed them both and the sound carried outside to the lonely bush, floating away on the breeze. They each laughed away their troubles and the world felt a brighter place.