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After another day of working alone on the farm, Wiri used the supplies he bought from the local supermarket to fix avocado on toast for dinner. Every movement caused him pain, the cacophony of internal groans dulling into the buzz of white noise. He’d spent over an hour herding the cattle away from the paddock surrounding the water tank. They’d tasted the lush grass and no sooner than he’d closed the gate, four of the steers broke through the wire fence. He cursed whoever had let them in there in the first place.
His stomach growled as he sliced up the avocado and laid it on top of the lashings of margarine. Phoenix called him mid-way through his preparation and he put her on speaker. Her voice echoed in the kitchen, reverberating off the cupboards and stainless steel fridge. “What are you eating?” she demanded as his knife clattered onto the breadboard.
“Avo on toast.” He licked his index finger and closed his eyes against the comfort of the familiar taste.
Phoenix giggled. “We had spaghetti carbonara. It’s Mac’s turn, and he burned the spaghetti and ate most of the bacon. Mama made the cheese sauce, and it was the only decent part.”
Wiri snickered and imagined the scene. He’d thought he craved freedom, but discovered he missed the routine and familiar boundaries of the Du Rose household. Mac hated cooking, but Hana insisted all the children learn simple meals. The teenager could run a muster with his eyes closed and his hands tied behind his back. But he couldn’t cook to save his life. The kid could burn water.
“Your ma’s cheese sauce is nice,” Wiri admitted, frowning at the green gunk staining the gauze on his left middle finger. “What did your pa say?”
Phoenix’s sigh whistled through the speaker. “You can still call her Ma, you know,” she said, her tone soft and filled with regret. “Don’t lose everything because of me.”
“But she’s not my ma.” He swallowed, thinking of Anahera incarcerated for her crime and for her own safety. “My real ma doesn’t want to see me.”
“Well, mine does!” Phoenix’s voice rose. “I can’t watch you just burn everything so we can be together. We’re not brother and sister, but she raised you as though we were. It’s not incest just because we grew up in the same house, Wiri! For that, you’d need to share a parent, which we don’t.” She sighed and continued the well-worn arguments he’d used a million times on her. “Your father and mine didn’t even have the same mother. They’re half siblings and we’re half cousins.” Her voice faded as she ground to a halt. The difficulty of their situation chased away the humour in the conversation. Wiri’s fingers twitched, and he ached to touch her, to brush her curls aside and press his lips to her cheek. He needed to act, to retrieve the call from the dark side it had strayed into, but the words wouldn’t formulate in his aching head.
Like the left shoe in a tattered pair, Phoenix did it for him. “How are you liking the farm you’re working at?” she asked. “Are they actually part of our family or just friends of Papa’s?”
Wiri faltered. He wished she’d picked a different topic for her segue. “Not sure.” He eyed the green slices of avocado slipping sideways off the toast and regretted his choice. The boulder matched its movement, compressing his stomach and chasing away his appetite. He stared through the kitchen window at the mountain rising like a forbidding spectre behind the house. His view should encompass a seascape and gentle rolling hills.
But he hadn’t gone where he’d claimed.
“How is school?” The question popped into his head, and he gulped in relief.
“Good.” Phoenix sighed, and he imagined her stretching out on her bed, her tanned toes nestled against the bedspread Nonie quilted for her last birthday. “I think I disappointed Papa because I don’t want to follow in his footsteps. Can you imagine anything worse than teaching a group of sweaty teenagers?”
Wiri snorted. “Not really. What happened to your dream of becoming a vicar?”
Her voice held a wistfulness. “It died in summer camp. I think I still like God, but his followers suck.”
“Yeah.” Wiri lifted a section of the toast between finger and thumb. He glanced at the digital clock on the microwave and estimated he had another hour before Jet returned home from work. He took a bite and his stomach growled as though not able to wait for him to finish chewing and swallow.
“What about you?” She turned the conversation towards his future and he winced. He couldn’t see a way forward beyond making enough money to return for her on her sixteenth birthday. He’d made the promise but realised he didn’t even know if she’d go with him.
“Phoe?” He gulped as he swallowed. “I meant what I said. I’m coming back for you.” He remembered her kiss at the edge of the graveyard. She’d stepped from the sacred space of her own free will and stood on tiptoe to press her lips over his. It felt as though she’d traversed barbed wire in her bare feet to reach him. He recalled the sense of weightlessness it induced in his chest. He stumbled over the sentence. “Is that what you want?”
“Yes.” She sounded so sure. A flame flickered and burned in the space beneath his ribs and Wiri dropped the toast onto the plate. “It’s always been you and me, Wiri. I don’t want to fight it any more. I should have let you speak to Papa, and things would have been different for both of us.”
He grunted, not able to affirm her statement. Logan Du Rose held his family in a vice like grip, not through dominance but care. His own awful history meant he’d never accept Wiremu for his daughter.
Not Phoenix.
Not in a million years.
“That wasn’t my question, anyway.” Her voice grew muffled, and he frowned before realising she’d held her hand over the speaker. “Please don’t, Edin!” she growled. “Put my jeans back right now or I’ll tell Mama.”
Wiri didn’t hear his half-sister’s argumentative reply. She was the family magpie, helping herself to whatever shiny thing took her fancy. He shook his head and distanced himself from her influence. The Du Roses had given her a home as they had him, but he doubted Edin felt any loyalty or gratitude.
A sense of judgement bit into his psyche.
The Plan made him appear no different to her.
From tainted stock.
Hana should have walked away from them both.
A door slammed in the background and Phoenix sighed. “I meant, have you given any thought to your future? You’re clever, Wiri. You could be anything you wanted. We were so proud when you won first place in the school awards at the end of last year. I thought Mama would burst. You’re in the top one percent of all students in Australia and New Zealand.”
He pursed his lips and buried his own dreams in favour of The Plan. The words came with practised ease. “Farming is fine for now. I’ll make enough to set us both up somewhere and then we can think about our future. You should go to university and do whatever makes you happy.”
“What if I don’t know what that is?” Her voice sounded so small and faint, it caused Wiri physical pain. He wanted to hold her, to offer comfort and reassurance. The distance between them seemed more than just kilometres, but a spiritual and conventional void of pitfalls and hazards.
“You have time.” He infused confidence into his voice. “We both have plenty of time to make choices.”
“You’re right.” She exhaled, but her tone grew tight. “Papa is home. I wish you were here, Wiri. There’s so much to talk about and you left before I could say any of the things in my head.”
“It’s okay,” he promised, making himself believe his own words. “We’ll sort everything out once I have the money to support us both.”
“Wiri!” her voice rose in an agonised hiss. “We won’t need to hide, though, will we?”
“Hide?” He eyed the soggy yellow puddle spreading out from beneath his toast. “What do you mean?”
“Hide from Mama and the family. You’re going to make them understand, aren’t you?”
“Right. Yep.” He kept his answer brief, not wanting to descend into yet another lie. Their conversation had revealed to him the utter cruelty and selfishness of The Plan. He knew then beyond any shadow of a doubt that Phoenix Du Rose, in her innocence, didn’t understand its far-reaching ramifications.
