Chapter Eight
Zoe
I stare at Joel, my phone in my hand. I’ve just Googled the Montgomery Hotel and looked up how much it costs to book one of these villas.
“What,” Joel asks, amused.
“This place costs four thousand dollars a night.”
“I got a discount,” he says.
“A ninety percent one?”
He laughs. “No.”
“Joel!”
“What? I wanted to treat you.” He gives a nonchalant shrug and walks through to the kitchen. “It’s stocked with beer and wine. Nice.” He comes back in and waves a Steinlager. “You want one?”
“Joel!”
He gives me an impatient look. “Will you stop stressing?”
But I stand there, unable to voice the anxiousness bubbling inside me. Eventually, as he opens the beer, he walks into the living room. “What’s the matter?” he asks.
“You’re seriously telling me you’ve spent twenty thousand dollars on staying here this week?”
“It’s my money. I can spend it on whatever I like.”
But I stand there, resentment and anxiety tightening my throat, the words stuck behind my teeth like boulders against metal railings.
He studies me for a moment. Then he puts down his beer and comes to stand on the other side of the coffee table, hands on his hips. “Spit it out, Zo.”
“I don’t know what you’re expecting,” I say stiffly. “But it’s not going to happen.”
He frowns. “What do you mean?”
“You can’t tell me a guy is going to spend such a significant amount of money on a girl and not expect something in return?”
“A thank you might be nice.”
“Joel!”
He stares at me. Then he says, “You think I’ve done this because I hoped it’ll guilt you into sleeping with me?”
“Well, yeah.”
“Jesus Christ.” He looks a mixture of alarmed and exasperated. I’d have laughed if I wasn’t so upset.
I rub my nose. “That wasn’t the reason?”
“Zoe!” he exclaims, appalled. “Of course it wasn’t the reason. When… how…” He waves a hand around, agitated. “Why did you develop this opinion of me?”
I hesitate, feeling the first twinges of shame. “It’s not an opinion of you, particularly. More of men in general.”
“Are we talking about Charlemagne?”
“He was just the last in a long line.”
He puts his hands on his hips. “Well that’s not what I’m like. We’re friends, aren’t we? We’ve been friends for years. I know you’re on a tight budget, and I thought you’d enjoy a little luxury.”
I’ve joked often about there being too much month left at the end of the money. Fraser pays me a decent wage at the museum, but after the rent and other bills, and the fact that I sometimes give my siblings a few dollars to help them out, I rarely have much left.
It’s his turn to hesitate then. “And I know you used to go with him to nice restaurants and hotels. So I didn’t want to take you to a rundown B I know what men are like.
He looks back at me and says, “I don’t know if you’re aware, but when scuba diving with a dive buddy, if a person runs out of air, their first instinct is to grab for the dive buddy’s respirator and take it out of their mouth.”
“I didn’t know that.”
“When you can’t breathe, you panic, and all thoughts go out of your head except to reach for the thing you know will sustain you.” His eyes, which look dark blue in the fading light, stare into mine.
“You’re saying that’s what you do with religion,” I conclude. “When you panic, you reach for God.”
He shrugs. “Religion is kind of baked into you when you’re young. It becomes a part of your DNA. And when you grow up, it’s incredibly hard to separate yourself from it, even if you want to.”
“It’s why people flock to church whenever there’s a national disaster.”
His eyebrows rise as if he’s surprised that I understand. “Yeah.”
We sit there for a little while, listening to the jazz music playing quietly, drinking our Champagne. Joel tips up the bottle and finishes it off, some in my glass, the rest in his.
“So why did your dad call you?” I ask. “Did he want you to do something about Linc?”
“No… he wanted to know whether I knew he’d sent Linc away. I think he was nervous about my reaction.”
“What was your reaction?”
“I was angry with him, but I didn’t say that.”
“Why not?”
He shifts in his chair. “It’s not the way I was brought up.” He watches my expression, and the corner of his mouth curves up. “That puzzles you.”
“I understand that you respect your father, but I don’t quite get why you wouldn’t express your frustration. I respect my dad too, but I’ve yelled at him many times when he’s made me mad. You shouldn’t bottle up your feelings. That just leads to resentment and stomach ulcers.”
He rubs his abdomen as if he can feel one forming, his brows drawing together. “Yeah.” he sighs. “He was worried that Linc’s going to talk her into bed, then abandon her.”
“Do you think that’s likely to happen?” I ask curiously. It surprises me that Joel and his father think that Linc can walk back into her life one day and seduce her into bed the next.
“He might have a point,” Joel says, “but I told him she’s old enough now to make her own decisions. It might be good for her.”
“To have a fling, you mean?”
He shrugs. “She hasn’t been out with anyone since her assault. I’m not sure why, but I presume it’s something to do with trust. She trusts Linc. I don’t want her to get hurt, but equally he might be able to convince her that dating again is possible.”
“I’m guessing your father didn’t feel the same way.”
His lips twitch. “No, you could say that.”
“He wanted you to talk her out of seeing Linc?”
“I think he was probably hoping I’d do that, yes.”
“But you won’t?”
He has a mouthful of Champagne, then sighs. “Fraser and I told Linc about Elora’s assault. And I said that she’s vulnerable, and she’s been through a lot, and asked him not to break her heart again. I don’t see what more I can do.”
We fall quiet again. It’s about eight thirty now. I can hear Isamu in the kitchen, cleaning up. He’ll be heading off soon, no doubt. It’s been a fantastic meal. I’m incredibly lucky to have had the opportunity to stay here and have a real chef cook just for me.
I wish I could think of a way to thank Joel for it, but other than the obvious, nothing comes to mind. I lean on the table, my chin on my hand. He’s playing with his spoon, frowning a little, preoccupied. He seems sad. My fault, no doubt, for bringing up the phone call with his dad.
I think about the fact that Atticus rang him at the awards dinner to talk about Elora. That must have hurt his feelings that Atticus hadn’t remembered where he was going.
“Did you tell your dad where you were when he rang?” I ask.
He nods.
“Did you mention you’d won the award?”
He nods again.
“What did he say?”
“That’s great, Joel. Well done.” His voice is flat.
“That’s all?”
He nods and looks away.
From what I’ve seen, he has a great relationship with Fraser. Together with Elora, they shared an apartment when she first went to university. Now, Elora lives with me and Joel is usually away on excavations most months, but when he does come back to Wellington, he continues to share with his brother. I’ve never seen the two of them argue, and from the stories Elora’s told me, they’ve always been supportive of each other, always friends.
It must have been hard for Joel while growing up, though. He’s smart, and he’s achieved a lot considering he’s only twenty-eight, overseeing all the North Island offices of MOANA, as well as the impressive dive records I’ve only just found out about. He must be doing well if he’s up for Director of Operations.
But Fraser is clearly the apple of their father’s eye. He is… an unusual guy. He looks conservative and a little old-fashioned, and if you didn’t know better, you’d be forgiven for thinking he’s probably on the spectrum, and more comfortable in a library with his head buried in a book.
But Fraser is the one who graduated top of his cohort, which is no mean feat in a big university like Otago. He got a job at the failing National Museum of Wellington as Development Officer, then apparently did such a good job that two years later he was promoted to Director of Development and Fundraising, focusing on securing funding through donations, grants, and partnerships, overseeing fundraising, and looking after donor relations. Not long after that, when the person in charge of the whole museum retired, Fraser applied for and got the role of Museum Director. He’s almost single-handedly responsible for turning the museum’s fortunes around, and now it’s thriving, and one of the most popular tourist destinations in Wellington.
He’s dynamic, highly ambitious, driven, and super smart. Elora has told me that her father is immensely proud of him. And now, I wonder whether, between Fraser’s success and Elora’s traumatic past, Joel has somehow fallen by the wayside where his parents—and especially his father—are concerned. It must be tough to stand in a sibling’s shadow and feel that it doesn’t matter what you achieve—it’s never going to be as important or as impressive as what your brother has done.
My heart goes out to him, because he’s loyal, trustworthy, and hardworking, and he’s kind and generous. He’s a good man, and he deserves better.