29. Chapter 29
Grace
The house rings with Nate’s absence. Usually, I’m the one who leaves—when I get up before he does, when I go walking with Mihi, when I need to work on my final project.
I’ve initiated every moment of separation so far, always coming back like the pathetic, needy thing I am.
He’s bound me here with the care and sex and affection I’ve come to crave. Now he’s gone.
And he took my phone.
The thought is enough to make my stomach hurt.
Nate and I have lived together for a month, and every single day has improved my health.
There have been no orange days and many turquoise ones, though I continue to track them in greyscale.
Most of my symptoms tapered after a period of ‘die-off’, which Eileen coached me through, usually on video calls with Nate in attendance.
Part of me still hasn’t accepted that the real reason for my healing is down to changing locations—and husbands.
Because, on top of all that medical care, there have been evenings with Nate.
And mornings. And afternoons. All those times I’ve let him touch me, take me, fuck me.
Each time erased more of my relationship with Nick, releasing the hurt I’d kept locked tight without realising it.
This past month, I’ve had more sex than the sum total of my ten-year marriage, and I’ve almost stopped keeping track of what I’ve consented to.
I give, and Nate takes—and I’ve never been better, despite how shame still twists me to its mould.
Now, here I am. Alone with it, already reshaping.
Mother’s absence is a wound that’s scabbed over.
I’ve only picked at it during weak, idle moments.
I’ve asked Nate about her a few times, and he’s told me the same thing for weeks: she’s being handled.
Now that he’s left me and taken my phone, all I want to do is dig right back into that old wound, and rip it open.
Restless, I leave the bedroom. I don’t have my phone, but I do have my laptop. I step into the office then pause. I don’t have to be alone for this. Heading to the kitchen, I call for Shep. The big boy is already at the door, as if he knew I’d need him.
“You can be my emotional support dog today, right?” I motion him further into the house. He hesitates in the corridor, dark eyes concerned. “Nate left, and that means we’re allowed to go anywhere we want. Come on.”
He gives a sniff and follows, though I notice how carefully he steps, as if he’s afraid to break something by treading too hard.
I lead the way into the office. Nate’s laptop is gone, but mine is in its usual spot on the desk.
We’ve taken to working across from one another—him on the app, me on my designs—and now he’s left me behind.
I wonder how long Nate has planned to leave me like this, abruptly enough to surprise me into compliance.
It’s a tactic he’s used before, mostly in bed, knowing that I’m not particularly good at saying no when something is sprung on me.
Well, Nate has a long drive to Auckland, which means he won’t be checking his spyware apps for a couple of hours.
I get to work. First, I check my social media accounts for the first time in ages.
There are a few messages from my old circle of university friends.
I spend a few minutes answering—mostly condolences of Nick’s passing, and questions about where I’ve disappeared to.
I tell them we had a private family funeral in the North Island, and that I’m staying here for the time being.
Then I check my privacy settings, confirming that Nate has blocked Mother on each of my accounts.
I hesitate.
Nate has protected me by bringing me here, and his protection has been ongoing; he’s kept Mother blocked on all my devices and socials, and I have no doubt that he has fielded any communications she tried through other channels.
But he left. And I am certain that Mother has been reaching out, though Nate says she gave up weeks ago.
He told me she has most likely moved on to tormenting someone else, getting her ‘supply’ from another victim.
What he and Eileen don’t understand is that Mother loves me.
I know her love has been wrong, but neither of them has seen just how kind she could be, how much she cared when I was hurting, and how deeply she knew me.
I still feel that knowledge sometimes, and I know it’s wrong to want her back in my life.
But we never had a moment to reckon with one another, for her to apologise, for me to listen.
At least, that’s what I tell myself as I find her name on the block list of my messenger app, and toggle it. The circle by her name goes green. Words pop into a window a second later.
Graciously? Is that you, lovey?
My stomach clenches so hard I retch.
Shep whines and puts his big head on my lap.
“It’s okay, boy,” I whisper, patting him. “It’s—it’s going to be okay.”
I put my hands to the keyboard, ready to type, though I have no idea what I’ll say.
I miss you.
I’m sorry.
I hate you.
Nate is keeping me here.
Please come get me.
Shep whines again, then puts his paws on my lap so that his head blocks the screen. He looks deep into my eyes and I realise I’m crying. Sobbing. I hug the corso, who lets out a chuff and puts more of his weight on my lap.
“I’ll stop, okay?” I whisper. “I’ll block her again. Cause you’re right, sweet boy. This isn’t how I should spend my time alone here.”
Shep gives me a slobbery kiss then stations himself by my chair, tail wagging slowly.
“Yes, I think you deserve a reward, too.” I scratch under his chin. “I’ll just take care of re-blocking her, then we’ll go for another walk.”
I turn to the laptop, ready to take a quick look at what Mother has sent before I block her—and do a double take. The screen has gone blank. I touch the trackpad, then realise the thing has shut down. Sighing, I restart it, waiting for it to load. Once it’s on, the Wi-Fi refuses to connect.
“What?” I mutter, clicking the Wi-Fi on and off. Still nothing. The icon is greyed out, access impossible.
Spyware.
I knew Nate was watching my devices, but I didn’t realise he could shut down both my laptop and the house’s Wi-Fi from afar. The sense of unease I felt at seeing Mother’s writing inverts, turning on Nate. Beside me, the landline rings.
I pick up the receiver, my jaws clenched so tight my teeth grind together.
“Grace,” Nate says into my ear.
I say nothing. He left. He took my phone. And now he’s cut off the Internet. He wanted me contained and quiet. Well, that’s what I’ll be.
“Our devices are synced. I had to pull over to check what you were up to. Do I need to turn around, or are you done misbehaving for today?”
He pauses, and I hear what sounds like a car door slamming. I picture him on the side of the highway to Auckland, squinting angrily in the sun.
“That’s what I thought,” he says when I don’t answer.
“Fuck off,” I whisper, too angry to even consider what I’m saying.
“I already have. Tonight, we’ll have a long talk about this—right up close.”
The line goes dead.
I slam the receiver into its cradle. Shep whines and I smile at him despite my tears.
“Come on, boy. If he gets to leave, then so do we.”
***
It takes about twenty minutes to get to Mihi’s place, Shep bouncing along beside me on the sand.
I consider walking down the road, but that would involve navigating the gate, and something tells me Nate has locked it remotely.
I take my second walk of the day along the beach, my anger steady, my steps quick.
I’ve never walked this way before, and my eyes trace how the cliffs slope gradually into dunes covered in flax.
On the hills rising above the sea, Mihi's sheep are dots of white, grazing in the sun.
Her house is beyond a long stretch of dunes, a modest bungalow overlooking the sea.
I walk up the sandy path, my feet a bit sore.
I falter, realising that I’ve never approached her like this.
I don’t know if Mihi likes drop-ins; maybe I should have called first. It’s too late to doubt: she’s at the big sliding door, her smile wide and a bit puzzled.
“Hey Gracie-girl,” she says, the same words she greets me with each morning. Her smile falls when she sees my face. “You okay, honey?”
I definitely should have spent the walk over considering what to tell her. As it is, I’m scattered and high-strung, and there’s a shadow of the old air-hungry panic within my lungs.
“Sorry, Mihi,” I begin, “am I disrupting your day?”
“You’re lucky you caught me, actually.” She jerks her chin at the paddocks beyond her house. “I was about to take the quad into the hills to check on the ewes. What’s on your mind?”
I know I should probably turn around and head home, but Mihi steps forward, hand outstretched.
“The lambs can wait a few minutes. Come inside for a cuppa, yeah?”
I follow her onto the porch, wiping my bare feet on the mat before going inside.
At a gesture from Mihi, Shep lies down on the porch.
The house has clearly been renovated, and recently.
It’s a studio, with a new kitchenette to one side, a large living area in the centre.
A bedroom nook along the northern wall maximises the spring sun.
I notice a variety of textures, some clashing colourfully: a jute carpet in the living room beneath corduroy couches; a circular rag rug in the kitchen, contrasting with the red-stained hardwood floor; a bright pink duvet on the bed, next to a turquoise slingback reading chair.
It’s cosy, despite being rather stimulating.
“Ah yes,” Mihi says over the sound of an electric kettle heating up, “I see the architect coming inside and judging my house. Well, what’s the verdict?”
I try to laugh at the sardonic question, but it doesn’t come.
“I like it,” I say. “You’re using contrast in a way that should make it feel busy in here, but it works.”
“Too right it does.”
She pours boiling water into a pair of cups then waves me into the lounge area. I take a seat on the squashy couch and Mihi turns the slingback chair to face me.
“What’s on your mind, then? And,” she blows into her steaming mug, “why didn’t you go into town with Hadley?”
“He told you he was leaving?”
“Of course. I was meant to check in on you this afternoon, but you’ve brought the check-in to me. Is everything alright?”
I set the hot mug aside, my stomach too sensitive even for rooibos tea. If I’m going to tell Mihi what happened, I need to frame it honestly. “I wanted to go to town with Nate and he said no. He took my phone and left.”
She regards me, her expression complex. I’m not sure what I expect her to say, so I sit and wait.
“That mother-fucking arsehole,” she says, then she takes a long sip of tea.
I stare, too shocked to answer. I’m not sure what I expected her to say—Nate is, after all, Mihi’s employer as well as her neighbour.
She continues her quiet invective. “And taking your phone on top of it, what an absolute, sodding son of a—” she cuts herself off, her lips pressing together in frustrated disapproval.
“He said nothing about being such a dick to you, or I’d have had words with him.
Hell, I’d have come to see you straight away. ”
“Yeah,” I whisper, choosing my words carefully, “he’s definitely overstepped.”
I hint at the situation rather than saying it outright.
If Mihi were to apprehend the truth beneath everything—a truth I myself have been ignoring—then she might feel she has to rescue me.
And that’s not why I’m here, especially if it would endanger her livelihood.
So I let out a slow breath and stand, knowing I need to go.
“It’ll be fine,” I say. “You were right, all those weeks ago: I’ve got to draw some lines with Nate and enforce them. Today proves that beyond a doubt.”
I’m about to take my untouched tea back to the kitchenette when Mihi speaks up, her voice a little louder than usual. “You want to stick with me for the day? There’ll be lambs to cuddle.”
I hesitate. “I don’t want to get in your way.”
“Oh, you won’t, so long as you’re not afraid to get your hands dirty.”
Mihi sidles up to me, plucking the cup from my hands.
She rinses it out quickly and puts it on the draining board.
I feel myself smile, feeling more at home in her little kitchen than I ever have in Nate’s oversized one.
The mish-mash of colours—earth tones alongside shocking pinks and blues—shouldn’t work, but it does.
“I’d love to get my hands dirty,” I say truthfully, “and take my mind off everything.”
“Done and done.”
She leads me outside, where Shep waits for us, and we get started.
We drive right into the rolling coastal hills, and the day brings sun and work enough that I can set aside the morning.
I watch Mihi tend her sheep, each of whom has a name, one of whom drops her lamb just as we’re arriving.
It’s a singleton rather than a twin, and its cries sound like a human baby’s.
I cuddle newborn lambs. I get my hands very dirty.
I learn about grafting lambs and treating mastitis.
And I cry a little when Mihi says that some of the babies won’t make it.
Finally, the sun gets low on the horizon, and Mihi sends me home with a hug and an invitation to come back and help her anytime.
I don’t know how to thank her for what she’s done—for both acknowledging Nate’s bad behaviour, and then letting me leave it behind.
But I don’t need to. She gives me a final look of deep understanding, and declares she’ll see me tomorrow morning.
I walk in the growing twilight, the sea at my heels, Shep sprinting over the sand.
Mihi knows I’m going home to an empty house, but she doesn’t know that I’m also going into the next moment of a marriage that has been fucked up from the beginning.
It’s been a month since all of this started and, in between staining my hands with iodine, wiping lambs covered in afterbirth, and seeing my friend comfort a ewe who bled out as I watched, I’ve realised that it’s time for another negotiation.
And this one, I have to win.