Chapter 37
Chapter Thirty-Seven
M y bus to Te Puke wasn’t until the morning. I had a whole evening to fill because I couldn’t go to sleep even if I’d wanted to. I had no idea whether I was tired or not; wired maybe? Una had warned me about the jetlag so maybe it was that.
I didn’t fancy the communal kitchen, besides, I had nothing to cook, so once I’d got downstairs (it took me half an hour) I made my way to the orange-haired girl and asked her where the nearest place to eat was. She pointed me down the road to a café on the corner and I thanked her but she didn’t look up. She kept her head in a magazine full of celebrities I didn’t recognise.
September was nearly springtime in New Zealand, and I couldn’t quite get my head around that because back at home winter was looming. It wasn’t like spring in Ireland. The wind didn’t have the sting of winter in its tail. It was warm, like Ireland’s summer in a good year.
I could see the café from the hostel entrance, which was great because it meant I couldn’t get lost, I just had to walk in a straight line and keep my eyes on where I needed to be. It was much like walking to Una’s salon to meet her for lunch; only I didn’t need to worry about red cars.
At least, I didn’t think I did, until I saw three in a row and I couldn’t get the thought of Una dying out of my head. Would anyone tell me while I was away? Or would they wait for me to get back to break the news? I managed a fair few steps before I caved in and turned around to start again, cursing Una and her bloody red hair all the way back to the hostel entrance.
I waited for the road to be clear of red cars and half an hour later, with my head down and my eyes fixed firmly on the pavement, I finally reached the café.
* * *
It made sense to sit outside for obvious reasons, but also because I like to people-watch, which is funny given that I don’t like being around people. Well, that is a lie. I do like being around people; I just don’t like what comes from them (bodily fluids, that kind of thing). I pulled out a wipe from my bag and ran it over the plastic stool at my table, relieved it was a stool and not a chair because then my back wouldn’t touch anything.
Una used to ask me how I coped when it came to sex, and I told her I coped just fine. But the truth is, I don’t cope well at all. The thought of anyone’s cum on me makes me want to be sick. It is why I am so happy to use condoms and never go on the pill, to never get pregnant, and to never have a boyfriend. That is, until I met Jack.
Jack. Did he want children? We’d not talked about any of that stuff. He didn’t strike me as the dad type but then what is that anyway? I know I can never have children. The thought of what that would mean – and I’m not talking about sleepless nights (I’m used to them) or crying babies – I’m talking about taking it to soft play and toddler groups, being around all those other snot-soaked, saliva-filled children and parents. I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t have a baby. I was too selfish. Besides, I wouldn’t want to pass on my OCD, which is possible, by the way, because it can be genetic.
I pulled out my phone and started to message Jack.
Hey! Is the sun still shining there?
I felt the warmth of it on the back of my neck.
Hey stranger! Bright as ever! How are you? Anyone else popped their clogs since I left?
Not that I know of…
It was true I didn’t know, although I’m sure Una would have told me if they had.
Ah that’s good – missing me much?
I am actually…
What can I say, haha! I had a great time with you – glad my car broke down.
Me too.
I would have carried on and we’d never have met!
I know, I thought that too. Wish you’d stayed longer...
You’ll have to come here next time!
Would you really want me to?
Of course!
Good, because I’m here!
Ha ha, I wish.
A tap on my shoulder interrupted me from full on telling Jack that I really was there in New Zealand. I wished people wouldn’t do that, wouldn’t feel the need to physically touch me to get my attention, a simple ‘excuse me’ would have been fine.
‘Hey,’ said the girl beside me. I should probably say woman, shouldn’t I? She looked about the same age as me and I was a woman not a girl, but the word didn’t quite resonate with me. I didn’t feel grown up enough for that title.
I had no idea who she was, yet she spoke like she knew me. I’ve noticed that about the New Zealand twang, how friendly and familiar it is. Maybe I thought Jack liked me more than he did – because his accent had made me feel that way?
‘Eve,’ she said with her grubby hand outstretched, and I knew I’d have to take it.
And I know it sounds judgemental to assume she wasn’t hygienic but I have to be – it is a survival technique, you see. I have to always be one step ahead of everything. My mind works ten times faster because I need to know my next move, how I will avoid certain things (like handshakes) or people. I have to tread carefully like a bug in a Venus flytrap – Niall had told me about them – how they clamped shut on their unsuspecting prey and then gobbled them up. I hadn’t believed him until I’d watched a David Attenborough clip of it happening and could actually hear the flies squealing inside. They must have amplified the sound for extra effect but it was awful.
So, I have to judge. I have no choice. I don’t want to end up in a Venus flytrap (Eve’s hand).
Eve didn’t look like someone who washed much. She looked like she’d been travelling her whole life. Her mousey hair was matted in places and dreadlocked in others. It was partially up with colourful ties on the ends, and her eyes were blue like crystals. I’d never seen eyes quite like them, like they’d had blue dye injected into them.
‘Pearl.’ I shook hers back.
‘Top name.’ She smiled.
‘Thanks.’
‘Are you from the UK?’
‘Ireland.’
‘Travelling?’
‘Kind of.’
‘Where are you headed?’
‘Te Puke.’
‘Nice.’ She nodded. ‘I’m from Nelson, South Island.’
‘Ah, nice.’ I mimicked her because I had no idea where that was, or who she bloody was. I could still feel where her hand had touched mine.
‘Are you staying at Sky?’ she glanced back to my hostel.
‘Yes.’
‘Thought so.’ She grinned.
‘And you?’
‘My van.’
I thought of Bunty and wondered if she’d had dreadlocks in her hair too when she was younger.
‘I live in it,’ Eve added. ‘Just me and Ginger, my cat.’
‘You have a cat in your van?’
‘I found her rummaging around the bins outside your hostel two years ago and she’s been with me ever since. Can I join you?’ Eve pulled out a chair before I could answer. ‘The burgers are good here, aye.’
I didn’t know if she was asking me a question or telling me but I guessed telling me because I’d not ordered my food.
‘Fancy one?’ she said.
‘I’m all right, thanks,’ I said, but I was not all right, I was starving.
‘Go on, my treat. I need to show you how hospitable us Kiwis are.’
‘Thank you,’ I said as the hunger took over, and I felt guilty that I’d judged a book by its cover.
‘Great.’ She beamed and off she went inside to order our burgers.
And I poured my sanitiser over my hands as soon as she’d disappeared.
* * *
Eve was right, the burger was good, and it was even better that it came with no cutlery and pre-added sauce. I wolfed my food down while Eve told me all about her New Zealand adventures, how she was born in Wellington but left when she was seventeen to travel both islands with her then boyfriend and hadn’t been back since. She lived in her van that she’d bought in an underground car park where travellers bought and sold their vehicles.
Eve’s was fully kitted out and had everything she needed to live in it forever, which seemed like a very long time to me given I found out she was only twenty-two. But she’d managed it that long and I admired her for it.
Eve wanted five kids by the time she was thirty and when I asked her how she would manage living in a van she told me she’d buy one of those buses that people converted into homes and would homeschool her children on life. I liked her independence, she reminded me of Una, which I found comforting because I hadn’t had the headspace to text Una back since she’d said she’d slept with Shaun did everything and I was missing her more than I wanted to let on.
There was something about the familiarity of seeing the same faces, in the same places that I could only get from home. And I didn’t realise quite how much I’d miss those faces. It felt a bit like when you take the same route every day and then all of a sudden you have to go a different way and there’s that slight moment of panic isn’t there? Not that I would know because I couldn’t drive, but I’d felt like that on the bus a couple of times when the road had been closed and the bus had taken a detour. So I was happy to leave Eve where I’d found her because in the same breath she reminded me of Una, she also reminded me of how far away from home I actually was.
When we parted ways, she gave me a spontaneous hug and the thought of it exhausted me all the way back to my room, where I made a quick turn around to the bathroom to take another shower and change my clothes. By the time I climbed into the single bed in my box room, I’d made a promise to myself not to hug anyone else the entire time I was in New Zealand.
Apart from Jack, I would hug Jack.