Grandpa pats my hand. “And you’ll come too.” His gaze slides from Trent and back. “It’s where my grandchildren planted their nikau—you have to come and water it.”
Trent: “The rain does that, Grandpa.”
He tsks. “‘Water it with your dreams’, as you used to say.”
I sneak a look at Trent, who’s rested his head on the table and let the newspaper flop over him.Trenty. Before you bottled everything, you were a kid with dreams.
“Well,Idefinitely think we should water it,” I say lightly. “But can we go in two weeks? I’m off to Palmie the day after tomorrow.”
Trent sits up; the paper falls. His eyes find mine and hold. His body asks what he can’t say. What he has no right to say.You’ll see your ex then?
I nod. “I’ll be gone ten days.”
He quickly looks away.
Grandpa lifts his cane and prods it towards Trent. “You’re leaving me here with the stickler?”
I pull a smirk and take in the wall of beaches looming beside the table. “How ‘bout I send a postcard every other day.”
Grandpa sighs and grumbles. “Fine, fine. I have beef with this one anyway. I’ll use the time to set him straight while you’re gone.”
“Not too straight,” I say flippantly and then hear it. I tense, but thankfully Grandpa’s rolling right along with it.
“Ha. Romance would be good for him. I won’t damage his chances.”
I don’t dare look over at Trent. Instead, I stand, stretch. “I’m off for the afternoon.”
No sooner have I kicked into the hall, Trent chases after me.
“Ika, wait.” He catches my arm as I’m slipping on the denim hat.
I like this struggling grip of his. I fiddle with the hat, settling it just right. I shouldn’t offer. Don’t. “You can come if you like.”
His grip doubles. Like he knows he should resist too.
We head to the studio.
He paces while I print lines for the school holiday play Moana wrote. I send pictures to Moana where I have the lines all stacked.
Moana messages back, bemoaning:
Leaving me with all the little tamariki! You better come back famous
Me:
Did Holly sign up in the end?
Moana:
Yes. Don’t worry, I’ll take good care of your pet. Hey, I have whanau in Palmie. Want me to hook you up a place to crash?
Me:
you saviour
Moana:
dinner - we’ll sort out the details
