“When I woke up, a nurse was there. I couldn’t bring myself to ask. I desperately wanted them just to tell me: Beth’s safe. Fine.
“I think I already knew.
“There were murmurs after that. Accident. Collision. Two fatalities. The mother went into early labour. Father unreachable.”
I stare out onto the road and laugh. Sharing this, in a vehicle. It feels like the place I should feel least comfortable. Ironic.
“Later, days later, a mate visited from school. I asked him to tell me what happened.”
Trent breathes out so carefully, like he’s afraid to make any sound.
I’m telling you, so I’ll tell you everything.
“Mum had a difficult birth. Ended up a few days in hospital. Nurse found out for me; a baby girl. Holly. Mum would be fine.
“When I was discharged, that mate came again to collect me. Mum had my stuff outside on the veranda, waiting.
“Didn’t answer the door. I could hear Holly crying.
“They’d held Beth’s funeral two days before. Without me.
“I called for Mum to please open, please. She spoke calmly through the door. Said I was eighteen now anyway. Not her responsibility. I was the reason Beth died, I could live with the consequences. She never wanted to see me again. Have a good life, were her last words.”
I tighten the sunglasses against my nose.
“I dropped out of the last half year of school. Had enough credits to get into theatre. Got a loan, moved to Christchurch to study, then came back. Tried to contact Mum.
“She had a neighbour tell me not to contact her again. She was happy now, she’d started over, a new life without me. Look.
“And when I looked, I glimpsed Holly over the fence running around the yard, Mum chasing her with the hose.”
I catch my reflection in the sideview mirror. There’s a strange, stiff smile on my face.
None of it makes sense.
I glance at Trent carefully watching the road, carefully attuned to every single word.
“I felt... It was Beth. Her spirit got reborn into Holly.
“I still believe it.
“And this time, I wanted to do right by her.”
My throat is sore, but I keep filling every silence. “How much do you hate the one responsible for taking Ika away?”
Trent’s throat juts; his eyes tighten on the road. Then his voice takes over. “I used to hate them. But... How can I hate...” His voice keeps breaking. “Hate doesn’t change anything.”
The road hums under us. His eyes keep sliding to mine, and like that first moment I saw him... I taste the scent of an oncoming storm.
It’s thickening now.
tangaroa, god of the sea
Water is energy. It upholds life, and it can take it away.
From the road. To Grandpa. To school. Unease simmers inside me as we file into the hall and claim our places.
“Nobody brought popcorn?” John whisper-cries.
