“I wasn’t fired,” she snaps at me, her face starting to flush. “I was laid off.”
“Okay, take it easy, Gingersnap.”
“Gingersnap?”
I shrug. It’s fitting and I’ll use it again. “So company layoffs. That’s got to suck.”
“What I probably should have done is just not come here at all. Stayed at home and focused on getting another job, focused on getting over Chris.”
“You would have done that to your sister? Skipped out on her wedding?”
Her shoulders lift. “I don’t know. I don’t know if Lacey would care, to be honest. I haven’t seen her in five years, we don’t talk all that often anymore. Not like we ever did.”
She catches me looking at her and puts a big smile on her face, a practiced, easy smile, a smile that most people wouldn’t notice is fake.
But I do.
“Anyway, I’m here.” She sits up straighter, a forced chipper tone to her voice. “And I’m going to enjoy the hell out of this trip. Maybe all this shit that happened to me is a chance to start over, really find myself. You know, maybe I’ll take the advice that my old job was spewing all those years. Go on a spiritual journey and all that horseshit.”
I laugh. “Sounds like you’re heading in the right direction.”
She nods, returning the smile.
But I don’t think she believes it.
Four
Daisy
This has been, no doubt, the longest drive of my life.
I mean, four hours is pretty long no matter how you spin it, but four hours stuck in a cramped space with the grumpiest guy alive with his fresh ocean scent and big hands and growly voice, a guy that couldn’t hide his disdain for me even if he tried (and he wasn’t trying), pushed my sanity to the limit.
Not to mention a lot of the road was winding and my nausea reared its ugly head once again. Tai was probably grateful that I shut up for once, but the truth was I was trying to keep from being sick. The last thing I needed was to further embarrass myself. Can you imagine if I hurled all over his vintage truck? He’d probably have kicked me out and made me hitchhike without even a second glance.
Truth be told, I was almost tempted to do it. Just to piss him off.
Finally, we reach the cute town of Russell, with its quaint shops and people milling along the sparkling harbor with dripping ice cream cones in their hands. But we keep going and the road twists and turns again though forest until it opens on a narrow peninsula full of houses. We pull into a driveway and park.
I can’t get out of the truck fast enough, I practically fall out of it. Wedding party be damned, I hope that was the last and only time I’ll be stuck in such close proximity with Tai.
I take a moment and lean against the passenger door, immediately taking in a deep, calming breath. We’re at the end of a long gravel driveway, rolling green hills on either side that slip down to a wide, pale beach and the turquoise of the water beyond. If I had to describe New Zealand in one word so far it would be saturated. Every color, from the green of the land to the blue of the sky is vibrant and electric, almost like it’s been digitally altered.
And the air here! It’s so fresh that I think it’s curing my hangover.
I turn my attention to the big white house in front of us, and the bunch of cars parked on the grass around it. Tai gets out, reaches into the bed of the truck and pulls out the heavy suitcases effortlessly. His tanned muscles pop and flex and I have to look away before he realizes I’m ogling him.
“Where are we?” I ask, peering around the neighborhood of what looks like small summer houses. “I thought we were going to a hotel.”
“This is my parent’s house,” Tai says begrudgingly as he hauls my luggage through the gravel to the paved stone path to the front door.
“Your parent’s house?” I run after him. “Is this where you grew up? It’s gorgeous.”
And it truly is. The house is two-stories with a porch, boxes of flowers beneath each window. It reminds me of my own parents’ house in Oregon, except the white paint on this one is clean and shiny, and I think my parents painted their house once in in the ‘90s and left it to the elements ever since. My mom insists that it’s shabby chic, but I know that they’re just too busy with the farm to pay attention to anything else, like the house, or their children, for example.
Speaking of, while I’m gawking at the cuteness of Tai’s parent’s house, the front door opens and my parents step out onto the porch, my father leading the way.
“Well, well, well,” my dad bellows as he comes down the path toward us. “If it isn’t the early bird.” He gives Tai a nod. “Thank you for bringing her here. Wouldn’t have blamed you if you left her at the airport. I know what it’s like to have been Driving Miss Daisy.”
“Thanks dad,” I say with a roll of my eyes as Tai gives my father a disapproving grunt and disappears inside.
I haven’t seen my parents since Easter last year. My parents have always been religious, so skipping Easter with them at the local community church is akin to disowning them, though this winter I spent Christmas with Chris, which, in hindsight, was the wrong move.
My dad looks good. Relaxed for once. He’s always had a tan because he works outside so much, but the dark circles under his eyes have disappeared and his face looks rounder, happier.
“You look great,” I tell him as he pulls me into a hug. He smells familiar and comforting, and I hadn’t really realized how badly I needed affection from someone I love. “New Zealand looks good on you.”
“It’s the wine that’s agreeing with him,” my mother says from behind him, while Tai takes the suitcases into the house.
My mother looks the same as always, just as short as I am, but delicate-boned, like a bird, instead of athletic and curvy. She’s wearing khaki shorts and a plaid shirt, the same damn thing she wears at home all year long, though here she has Reef sandals velcroed to her feet instead of rainboots.
We couldn’t be more different. I don’t think she’s ever worn makeup, her hair is a long and frizzy grey, always held back in a ponytail. She has an ever-present ball cap on her head and glasses. She must look at me sometimes and wonder where the hell I came from.
She’s giving me that look right now, as she eyes me up and down. She’s not the type of mom to give some snotty or passive aggressive remark, instead she keeps things to herself and looks at me as if I’m an alien.
Right now I feel like one. It’s weird to see my parents here, in a foreign land, not surrounded by mounds of work and apples.
I go to hug my mom, and she pats me lightly on the shoulder. She’s never been very good with hugs or physical affection, which has probably rubbed off on me in some way. Still, I’ll take what I can get.
“I’m glad you’re here,” she says, then pulls back. “Are you okay? Jet-lagged? Did you sleep on the plane?”
“Kind of,” I tell her. “I’m just tired from the drive. And a bit confused as to why we’re all here. I thought I was staying at a hotel.”
“That was the original plan,” my dad says. “But everybody has been so easy-going, they decided that since the wedding is being held on the beach out back, might just be easier for everyone to stay here.”