Where Sea Meets Sky (33 page)

She’s upset, chewing on her lip angrily. “That’s Grant Richardson.”

“Yeah, I got that much. Who the fuck is he to you?”

She sighs and keeps walking, but slowly, so I walk beside her. “I used to go out with his son in high school. Remember I said I stayed at the hostel in Paekakariki with an ex? Well, that was him, Robin Richardson.”

“Why is your mom friends with them still?”

“They were friends with my parents before my dad passed. Robin and I dated for a few years. It was inevitable. You know how high school is.”

“So what happened? Does he hold a grudge or something?”

She exhales noisily through her nose. The back of her head is lit by the golden setting sun. I’m hanging on to her every word.

“Yes,” she says, “though he shouldn’t still. After high school, Robin went away to university in Australia and I found someone else. It was wrong, but I was young and stupid. Anyway, Grant saw us together and questioned Robin about it. Poor Robin had no idea. I felt terrible, I still do, though I know Robin is engaged in Melbourne somewhere and it all worked out in the end.”

“I see,” I say, understanding a little bit but not really liking this fact about her. “That was a long time ago, though, right?”

She nods. “It was before Nick. I think he wants me to get my comeuppance. Sounds like he wants you to do the same to me as I did to his son.”

“That’s a bit fucked up.”

“Well, they were a pretty fucked-up family. Still are. He’s a lush and his wife is a doormat.”

“And Robin?”

“Actually, he was quite nice,” she concedes thoughtfully. “I shouldn’t have done that to him.”

I purse my lips for a moment before saying, “Then why did you?”

She looks away and shrugs. “I don’t do long-distance relationships well. I don’t do relationships well, period. You saw me and Nick.”

I did. But I can’t help but notice that her mother was the one who mentioned the term
relationship
. Obviously that notion had to come from somewhere, whether it was accurate or not.

“You’re a complicated little woman,” I say, deciding not to bring it up.

She raises her brow. There’s some relief in her face that the conversation is over. “Who are you calling ‘little’?”

“Most women want to be called little.”

“Not this one.”

“And that’s what I . . .”

She gives me a sharp look. “Why you what?”

What the hell was I just about to say?

“Want to fuck you senseless,” I finish, wrapping my arm around her waist and holding her to me.

She laughs. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but no. The next time we fuck, we’re going to be in my bloody bed. I’m tired of having your cum dripping down my leg.”

“That’s definitely something I have never heard before.” I slide my hand down the back of her shorts.

“Well, it’s a problem with us,” she says.

“Not a bad problem to have,” I say, “but fine. Next time we fuck, it will be in your bed. You know I’m happy fucking you anywhere. We could do it on the kitchen table right now, give your ex-boyfriend’s father a little show.”

She grabs my hand and starts to pull me toward the beach. “Come on, let’s watch the sunset from there.”

“You don’t want to go back and finish that extremely awkward dinner?”

She grins at me. “We’ll go back for dessert.”

I wag my brows excitedly but she was being literal. After the sunset dipped behind the hills and valleys, tinging the vivid ocean with gold and pink, we came back to find the Richardsons gone and a meringue dessert called pavlova on the table.

No one brought up the weirdness from earlier, and things continued on to the living room, where we sipped brandy and drank beer and slipped into an easy comfort. But in the back of my head, I couldn’t help but worry. If she didn’t do relationships, what were we, really?

What would I be to her when I left?

It’s quite obvious to see whose presents are whose the next morning. Mine are wrapped in a plastic bag and Amber’s are done up in a backpacker magazine about New Zealand, which includes a rather inappropriate ad for a campervan company:
Our prices are so Emo they cut themselves.

I haven’t had a fun family Christmas in a long time. Actually, I’ve
never
had a fun family Christmas, except for that time we were at the Big White Ski Resort and Vera and I climbed onto some condo’s roof to use their rooftop hot tub.
That
was fun.

Here, though, it’s nice to just relax as Keri and Kam hand out the presents, pretending to be Santa’s elves, even though they’re way past the age to believe in him.

Amber gives me a small sketchbook for writing on the go, which is pretty awesome of her. The art store was certainly the place to be yesterday. She loves her flask, too, and said she’d use it often. I believe her.

She then opens Gemma’s present, which is a
pāua
, or abalone-shell, necklace, which fits right in with Amber’s hippie-dippie style. The present she bought from us for everyone ends up being a giant box of very fancy Kiwi chocolates. Like, actual kiwifruit chunks covered in decadent dark chocolate. Keri and Kam go nuts over it and I give Amber the thumbs-up.

Somehow Gemma and I end up saving our presents for each other for last. She takes mine first, sitting down among a battleground of torn wrapping paper. She keeps wrapping and unwrapping the plastic bags I stuck together until she comes to the card at the middle.

She slips it out of the envelope and her features soften as she takes it in, reading it over. She looks at me with bright eyes and says, “Thank you.”

I point at it. “But you know that the real gift is coming later, right?”

She smirks at that and I know her mind has gone the perverted route. “Yes,” she says. She then shows the card to everyone else and they ooh and ahh over it, which makes my face grow momentarily hot.

Justine looks at the card and then at me. “I think you embellished your muscles a bit, Josh.”

Everybody laughs and I shrug. “Artistic license,” I say.

Suddenly Gemma grows serious, maybe even a bit nervous, and hands me a small, wrapped box. I take it from her, feeling the slight tremor of her left hand and the eyes of everyone on me.

I slowly unwrap it to find a black jewelry box. The first thing I think is,
I hope I like it,
because honestly, I’ve never been given a piece of jewelry that I’ve liked. I’m a picky guy and I hope to god I don’t have to hurt Gemma’s feelings. She can see right through me.

But when I flip open the box, I discover there’s nothing to worry about. Lying there, attached to a black leather cord, is a brightly-colored greenstone, or jade, pendant. It’s not too big, not too small, in a simple twist design. I’d actually wear it proudly.

Jeremy gets up to get a better look. “Awh, that’s choice, Gemma,” he booms in his deep voice. “You know what that means, bro?”

I shake my head, taking it out of the box and holding it up. The sunlight catches the edge of it, making it glow like a green sea.

“It’s infinity,” Jeremy says. He looks at Gemma and smiles softly, then sits down without saying another word.

“Infinity?” I ask.

She nods at it and a hint of color forms on her cheeks. “Put it on.”

“This isn’t some Maori curse or something, is it?” I joke.

“Nah, mate.” Jeremy laughs. “The curse is if you stick around long enough, you have to put up with us.”

Best curse ever
, I think to myself. I put it around my neck and make sure it’s lying flat. Again, everyone ooohs and ahhhs over it. Then they all separate, gathering their gifts and looking over the stash.

I remain on the couch with Gemma. She’s tucks her feet under her, sitting like a mermaid.

“I’m glad you like it,” she says. “Even if you didn’t, greenstone is one of those gifts that’s good luck to receive. It’s not custom to actually buy one for yourself.”

I cup her face in my hands and kiss her forehead, her nose, her chin, then her lips. I know this is the first public display of affection we’ve shown in front of her family, but I don’t care.

They know. They would know from our gifts alone. We may not be in a
relationship
but whatever we have, it’s something special. Something worth holding on to. I want nothing more than to take her upstairs and make love to her on the bed, like she asked.

But this is not the time or place. I just put my arm around her waist and haul her to me, grinning like an idiot. She laughs, burying her face into my neck. I’m lucky, so lucky, just to have this.

It’s the best Christmas I’ve ever had.

Chapter Nineteen

GEMMA

It’s Boxing Day and already hot as hell by nine a.m. We’ve—and by that I mean my mother, Auntie Jolinda, Uncle Jeremy, Keri, Kam, Josh, and I—have gathered in the driveway to say goodbye to Amber. Josh and I are still taking her to the airport but everyone else has to give her hugs and wish her well; Uncle Jeremy even tries to demonstrate the Maori tradition of the
hongi
, pressing his nose and forehead against hers and shaking her hand. She does it and manages to keep a straight face, too. Not that she feels much like laughing.

In fact, she’s kind of a weepy mess all the way to the airport, which makes me feel like crying, too. I manage to hold it together, though, but just barely. I’m really going to miss that girl, and she’s right—I’m going to think of her every time I hear Pink Floyd.

I park Mr. Orange in the temporary car park and it’s hard to even get her out of the bus. When she does emerge, she runs her hands down his tangerine sides and pats him like you would a horse on the rump.

“Thanks for the memories,” she says to Mr. Orange. She stares at him for a moment, like she’s waiting for him to reciprocate, then joins me and Josh as we head toward the airport.

The Hawkes Bay Airport is small, so there’s not much waiting around. She checks in for her flight, gets her tickets, and then we have to say goodbye.

I give her a big hug, bigger than I normally do. Josh does the same. She holds back the tears in her eyes and says she’s going to miss us. She adds “heaps” at the end, proud of her Kiwi phrasing, then turns just as she’s about to sob, hiding her tears and scurrying away to security, her kimono jacket flowing behind her.

She’s going to be just fine in Australia. More than fine. I can’t wait to see her updates on Facebook.

Instinctively, I grab Josh’s hand, feeling the loss of her already. We were four, then we were three, and now we are two. It’s just me and him, and I’m both excited and scared. There’s pressure on us now that she’s gone—on how we’ll act around each other, what we’ll say, how we’ll get along. The dynamic has changed.

I loop my fingers through his and he pulls my hand up and kisses it, his mouth warm and real, his eyes looking deep into mine. His eye contact can be so unnerving at times, like he really is searching for my soul, but I’m growing used to it. He’s starting to feel as close to me as a second skin.

There’s a heaviness in the air when we get back to Mr. Orange, the result of Amber’s absence. It feels weird, so I pop in Mr. Floyd to help balance the mood. “Fearless” starts playing, as it has
many
times before, but now it makes the short drive back from the airport a dreamy trip, green flying past us on one side, blue on the other, sunshine streaming down the middle. I curl up into the song, wishing I could be fearless.

I’m starting to think I’m losing it a bit. When I saw his Christmas present, I could have cried. It was just a drawing and a promise of more to come, but it was everything to me. When he put my greenstone around his neck, I nearly ran out the door from fear.

But it was a sweet kind of fear. The fear that hope hinges on.

I knew that Uncle Jeremy wanted to explain what the necklace really meant, but I’m glad he left that up to me. It’s true it’s a symbol of infinity, the twist going on and on, like a snake eating a snake eating a snake. But what it really means, for me anyway, is that he put his stamp on my heart, and no matter what happens in the future that won’t go away. It’ll go on and on, for infinity. This trip, this last month together, it can never be taken away from us. It means that, though we might take different paths, we will always be connected.

He’s wearing it around his neck right now and the green shines subtly against his tanned skin. The design even matches the swirl of some of his tattoos. It’s masculine and beautiful, just like him.

My Josh.

I blink a few times, trying not to think that way. But it’s hard. He really does feel like
my
Josh. We’re so undefined, so fleeting and fragile and new, but I don’t think he could belong to anyone else, and I couldn’t belong to anyone else but him.

So, for the next while, he’s still mine.

Later that night, after we get back, we fuck in my bedroom. Uncle Jeremy and the kids have gone back to Aramoana, and my mother and aunt have gone to sleep. We finally have the place to ourselves and we waste no time. I’m barely through the door before Josh is trying to tear my clothes off and I’m doing the same to him.