When Dad finds him, Adam is sitting on the steps at the entrance to the hospital, looking out into the dark. Adam would’ve shot through, but where would he go? You can’t hide from yourself. Anyway, without a car it’s a long walk back to Tauranga.
‘Marilyn reckons maybe it was time we had a bit of a talk,’ Dad says.
Swiping at his tears with his sleeve, Adam swings around expecting to see his old man’s girlfriend, but the only silhouette is Dad’s.
‘Where’s Marilyn?’
‘I gave her my car keys. She’s gone back to Tauranga with Wendy Gordon. I said we’d head back later with Brian. He’s going to be about half an hour finishing up some paperwork.’ He jerks his head. ‘Let’s walk this way, shall we?’ Burying his hands in his pockets, Adam follows Dad down the hill away from the hospital. They cross the road to a park. The streets are quiet. Without passing cars, only the glow of the street lamps lights their way.
In the park, Dad says, ‘Look out for any fenced-off areas. There are thermal sink holes all over the place. Hot as a witch’s cauldron, some of them. Come on, I think the foot baths are over this way...’
After some stumbling around, they find one. It’s in a small clearing: the shallow rectangular pool sheltered from the wind by a circle of trees. By day, this part of the reserve attracts lots of visitors: mums with kids, tourists, retirees, hospital staff and office workers, come for a free open-air soak and a chat. But tonight there is no one, just the murmur of leaves in the sulphurous night air. Dad steps onto the timber surround and tests the water.
‘Feels good. Let’s have a soak, shall we?’
Sitting down on the planks, they take off their shoes and socks and roll up their jeans. Then they drop their toes into the warm water of the little pool.
‘Oooh geez, that’s nice,’ Dad says as he lowers his legs into the water. ‘Although, these boards could be bit softer.’ Adam’s eyes have adjusted, but with only a half-moon and the coiling wafts of steam, Dad remains a vague shape on the other side of the pool.
The shape says, ‘We used to come here a bit when you were little. Mostly did the train rides.’
‘I remember.’
‘You were mad on trains back then. Your mum’ll have some photos somewhere.’
Adam flinches at the mention of Mum. For a time, the pair of them don’t say anything, the quiet only broken by the occasional splash of the water as it slaps against the edges of the pool. The thermal waters around here have therapeutic effects. It’s to do with the warmth of the water and its special mineral content. Adam doesn’t know how the minerals are meant to help; absorbed through the skin perhaps, or inhaled in the swirls of steam that curl off the surface. Or maybe it’s a kind of hypnosis caused by the lapping of the water. Whatever the reason, it seems to work: immersed in silky warmth up to his knees, Adam starts to feel calmer.
‘I bet this feels good after your boot camp, aye? That Riley is a pretty tough taskmaster.’
‘Reece.’
Dad gives a little laugh. ‘I never get it right, do I?’ And straight away, Adam feels like shit again.
‘Dad, I’ve got to tell you something. I didn’t actually go to camp. I went to Aussie with a friend.’
‘You what?’ Dad says, suddenly still.
‘Yeah, the Gold Coast. Skye’s dad took off before she was born and we were trying to find him,’ Adam says quickly. ‘I’m sorry.’ His voice is just a murmur.
‘You went to Australia?’ Dad whips his feet out of the water, and they thud dully on the boards. ‘Without telling anyone? For Christ’s sake, Adam, you can’t be serious!’ Dad’s shout carries through the night.
‘I said I’m sorry, okay?’ Jesus! Hunching forward, Adam folds his arms across his chest. He curls his toes in the water.
‘What about the girl? Did her family know?’
‘No.’
Dad’s shape gets up, the silhouette black against the grey sky. It paces to the edge of the clearing and says, ‘For crying out loud, Adam, I ought to lock you in your room and swallow the blasted key!’ The shape widens, arms akimbo.
He ought to?
‘What am I supposed to say, Adam, aye? What’s a bloke supposed to do?’ Moving back to the pool, Dad sighs deeply. ‘Just before I left the hospital, Brian said I should try and keep my cool. I’m guessing he already knew about your little jaunt.’
Adam’s nod is invisible. ‘He picked us up from the airport.’
Dad gives a little snort. Adam imagines his head shaking. ‘Well, that figures. He made a point of telling me you were a good kid facing a tough situation.’ In the darkness, Adam grins. Detective Pūriri is a bro. Dad goes on, ‘But I didn’t think he was telling me that because you’d gone off on some wild goose chase. I thought he was talking about your reaction back there at the morgue—about you thinking that body was your mum.’
A morepork calls from somewhere nearby, its pure notes carried on the drifting steam.
‘I wanted it to be her,’ Adam says, his voice barely audible. The morepork ululates again, making Adam shiver. No wonder the Māori believe the mournful little owl has connections to the spirit world.
‘I’m sure you didn’t mean it,’ Dad says. Not so sure, Adam’s grateful for the steamy gloom. The silence stretches out. Dad sits down and drops his feet into the water again. Eventually, he says, ‘So you went looking for someone else’s dad, huh?’
‘That someone else is my girlfriend, actually.’
‘That so?’ Dad flicks water in Adam’s direction. ‘Your girlfriend, huh? I’ve really dropped the ball, haven’t I? Look, mate, I’m sorry I haven’t been around much. I know I’m not the world’s greatest parent. You know what I wish? I wish you’d come with an owner’s manual. That way, I could look up troubleshooting. I mean, what’s a parent supposed to do when their kid goes off AWOL to Aussie?’
‘I don’t know,’ Adam mumbles.
‘Nor do I, mate. And since you didn’t come with a warranty either, I guess we’ll just have to live with it.’
Adam brushes the water droplets off his sweatshirt and smiles.
Can’t sleep. Wish I hadn’t nodded off in Pūriri’s car.
My alarm clock says 4:47am. I’ve been lying here trying not to think because thinking leads me to pale waxy corpses laid out on stainless steel benches, severed body parts in bin bags... don’t think!
Shit. I’m scared to think.
Try remembering instead, something safe... There was that time, I must’ve been eleven and I caught some bug—I don’t know what—but I was hot and shivery and my head felt like it’d been hardboiled. I woke up in the night with snot crusted on my face, my eyes full of grit and my mouth feeling like my last meal was a pile of dry Weet-bix. I didn’t turn the light on. I knew it’d stab at my eyes and make my head worse. I padded down the hall in the dark to Mum and Dad’s room. I went straight to Mum’s side of the bed. I always did. Even back then, I knew Dad would be useless. Whatever it was, Mum would fix it. I gave her a shake. She woke up and felt my forehead with the back of her hand.
‘Oh darling, you’re burning up!’
She got up, telling me to hop back into bed while she rustled up some paracetamol. While she was gone, I turned my pillow over, away from the snot and drool that’d leaked out of me earlier. Mum came back with supplies: Pamol, water and a bucket.
I’ve never been good at taking medicine. Mum sat on the edge of my bed and poured a tiny graduated cup of sickly red liquid, holding it up towards the hall light to check the measurement. She handed the cup to me. I held my nose and swallowed half of it. Disgusting.
‘Drink it up, love,’ Mum said. ‘It’ll make you feel better.’ I held my nose again and forced myself to drain the cup. The liquid was thick and slow-moving. It took ages. When I handed the cup back to Mum, I added a little shiver so she’d know how brave I’d been.
‘Good boy.’ She offered me a glass of water to chase away the taste of the syrup. ‘I’m going to leave the bucket here, just in case you need it later.’ I thought she was going to go back to bed then, but she didn’t. Instead, she said, ‘Shove over.’
I wriggled over towards the wall and she squeezed in beside me, propping herself up on the pillow and pulling the sheet over the both of us.
‘Come here, then.’ She dragged me up on her belly. It took some shuffling because I was nearly as big as her; my shoes were already a size larger. I lay across her with my face nuzzled in her neck feeling the rise and fall of her chest. She smelled of soap and the perfume with a red lid that she kept on the bathroom vanity. My nose was clogged though, so maybe I imagined that. I sighed deeply, letting her know that I was only letting her cuddle me because I was sick. She kissed me on the forehead, smoothed my hair and lifted the wet tendrils off my neck. Then she slipped her hands under my BMX pyjama top, and I sank further into her as she smoothed away my fever with her velvet strokes.
Up and down, along my spine.
Up and down, tracing my breath.
‘Shh, sleep now, my darling...’ she whispered in my ear...
Oh God, Mum, I miss you so much.