I shrug. “Makes no difference to me.” I give her a smile. “I’ll see you later.”
“Yeah okay, have a good day.”
I go out, get in Dennis, and head over to Midnight. I’m going to do a final bit of landscaping on the back terrace; I’ve had some hebe ‘wiri mist’ delivered to put between the lavender and flax, and it’s a nice May day, perfect for planting.
While I drive, I let my thoughts linger on the fact that Ria didn’t come home. The sad thing is that Tamati hasn’t surprised me at all. To be honest, neither has Ria—I know what she’s like. I suppose it’s more that I’m sad about the harsh finality of it all. I didn’t want to get back with him. He was very cruel to me outside the shop, and he killed any remaining feelings I had for him. I don’t know why it was such a shock to hear about the two of them. I suppose there’s no understanding the human heart. It feels what it feels. We can’t always analyze our emotions. They just are.
It doesn’t take me long to get to Midnight, and I park Dennis in his usual spot at the end of the car park. I get out and lock him, then head to the shed. Sure enough, the hebe plants are waiting outside on a trailer, delivered by another member of Dad’s team yesterday. They’re native to New Zealand, hardy, low maintenance, and beautiful all year round, producing white or lilac flowers like a froth of lace that attract bees and butterflies.
At least plants don’t let you down. The thought comes to me with a wave of emotion that rises inside me. It’s so stupid! Why am I upset? I’m so mixed up right now. It must be hormones or something.
But I know what it is; I can’t deal with the complexities of other people and their actions and emotions. This is why I prefer my own company. It’s just too hard to fathom people out.
I drop to my haunches to test the moisture in the pots with my fingers, examine the plants, and inhale the delicate scent. Then I push up and turn to fetch my spade…
…and bump straight into someone I hadn’t realized was standing behind me.
“Oh!” I hadn’t heard anyone approach and my heart hammers.
And then I realize who it is, and I slide my arms around his waist and bury my face in his neck.
*
Kingi
“Oh!” Surprised at her reaction, I close my arms around her. I’d half expected her to slap me around the face. “Good morning.”
“Morning.” She’s buried her face in my shoulder, and the word is muffled by my tee.
“Hey.” I rub her back. “Everything okay?”
She nods. Then she looks up at me. Her eyes shine as she shakes her head.
“What’s up?” I lower my arms, but she refuses to let go, and in the end I hug her again. “Sweetheart, what’s going on? Is it your father?”
“No, he’s fine, as far as I know.” She clears her throat and moves back a little. “I’m okay.”
“Tell me,” I say firmly. “Is it about last night? Sabrina, and… what we did?”
“No, not really.” She takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly, a little shakily. “Ria and Tamati hooked up last night.”
“Ouch.” Did I say that because I can imagine how it’s hurt her? Or because it feels as if her reaction stabs me in the heart? “I’m sorry to hear that.” I lower my arms, and we separate.
She rubs her nose. “It’s okay, it’s stupid really, I mean it’s not like we were just on a break; it was definitely over.”
I tip my head to the side to look at her face as she studies her shoes. “Are you sure?”
“Oh yes. I had no intention of getting back with him. But it’s just so… final. It was a shock. I don’t know why.”
“Sometimes what we tell ourselves and what we feel aren’t the same thing.” I choose my words carefully. She still likes Tamati, and I think she was hoping they’d get back together.
But she insists, “That’s not it. I didn’t tell you, but I saw him outside the dress shop, and he was quite cruel to me. I didn’t want anything more to do with him. It’s more that it felt like the closing of a door, you know? The final page in a chapter. And I want to be a tough, confident, independent woman, and be made of rubber and bounce back without a second thought, but I’m not. I feel as if I’m made of porcelain or glass. I’m so weak, and I hate it.”
“Weak?” I stare at her. “You’re not weak. You’re the strongest woman I know. It’s been an incredibly tough few months for you, with your breakup, your dad being so ill, having to cope with Mark’s addiction, and all the financial issues that came with it. You’ve been under huge pressure, Chess. It’s no surprise you feel vulnerable and fragile. But that doesn’t mean you’re weak. It just means you need to give yourself time to heal and recover. You’re going to be fine. What’s that Japanese art of repairing broken pottery with gold? Kintsugi? It highlights the cracks rather than hiding them, right? It symbolizes that your scars are part of you, and they give you beauty and resilience.”
Tears well in her eyes, and she presses her fingers to her lips as she fights not to let them fall.
“You’re going to be fine,” I say softly, reaching out to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. “My beautiful wood nymph.”