She looks at Chessie, obviously decides from my casual manner that it’s nothing to worry about, and goes over to get a treat.
“Tell him to sit,” I advise as the puppy approaches her.
“Sit,” she says firmly, and the puppy obediently drops his bottom to the floor. “Good boy!” She bends and gives him the treat, and he chews it, then gives a delightful burp that makes her giggle.
Chessie rests her forehead on my chest, then pushes back a little and wipes her face. “I’m okay,” she says as Thea looks up at her. “Sorry.”
“Nothing to apologize for,” I say cheerfully. It’s important in Maori culture to show emotion. “E kore te paraire e hoki mai i te tangi.”
She lets me stroke her hair. “What does that mean?”
“The bellbird will not return from its cry. It means once emotion is released, it cannot be undone. It’s natural and necessary to let it out. That’s how you heal.”
She nods and gives Thea a shaky smile.
“Drink your coffee,” I tell her. “Now, Thea, what about you? Would you like a drink? I’ve got juice, milk, or bottled water.”
“Juice, please.”
Bearcub has flaked out on one of the rugs, so I leave him there rather than put him in his crate. I pour her some orange juice from the carton into a glass, add some cold water from the fridge to water it down, drop in some ice cubes, and slide in a straw, then pass it to her. “Now, what about dinner tonight? I can send out for something if you like, or I don’t mind cooking, if you’re brave enough to try it.” I pull a face at her, and she giggles. “What do you like? I do a mean spaghetti Bolognese.”
“That’s my favorite.”
“Then that’s what we’ll have.” I check my watch; it’s four thirty. “I’ll start soon. But there’s time yet. You want a snack?” I open the fridge, and we both study the contents. “A chicken sandwich?” I suggest. She agrees, so I get out the bread, cold chicken, and Lurpak, and proceed to make her a sandwich. “Do you want one?” I ask Chessie. She shakes her head, although I suspect she hasn’t had lunch today. I make an extra one anyway, and when Thea climbs up onto the stool next to her to eat hers, I have a bite out of the other sandwich, then push it toward Chessie. She looks at it, then picks it up and starts eating. I wink at Thea, and she winks back.
“Chessie told me you’re pretending to be engaged,” she states.
I lift my eyebrows at Chessie, who pulls aneekface and says, “Sorry.”
I chuckle. “Yeah. But you mustn’t tell anyone, okay?”
“Yes, I know it’s a secret.” Thea has a bite of her sandwich. “Did you get the job?”
“At the Foundation? Yes, I did, because of Chess.”
“What job is it?”
I tell her a bit about it while we eat the sandwiches and drink our coffee and juice. I explain that I’ll be helping young people, providing opportunities for them to improve their health, wellbeing, and futures.
“Kingi likes mountaineering,” Chessie tells her. “He’s climbed Aoraki Mount Cook.”
Thea’s jaw drops. “Really?”
I nod. “A few years ago.”
“Wow.”
I smile. “It was quite an experience.”
Chessie goes to say something, but then she says, “Oh,” and pulls out her phone. “It’s Grandma,” she says to Thea. Putting the phone to her ear, she gets up from the table and wanders over to the window as she talks quietly.
Thea watches her go, then looks up at me. “My dad’s in hospital.”
I lean on the breakfast bar. She obviously wants to talk about it. I’m sure that some people would try to change the subject, but I’ve never shied away from difficult conversations. It’s one reason why I want to work for the Foundation—because kids need to know it’s okay to have feelings, and it’s okay to want to talk about them.
“Did an ambulance come to pick him up?” I ask.
She nods. “He’d taken too many pills.”