Chapter 20: Icecream and Flowers

The tattered vinyl stuck to the sweat on Marshall’s back. The air hung sour with the stench of the thousand passengers that had braved the bus over the course of the day. It had been a scorcher. Those who weren’t hiding away under air conditioning were at the beach, and those not at the beach roasted like spit-pigs in the shade. The doctor had arrived as regular as clockwork, but it had been so weak that the city remained suffocated beneath the stagnant heat. Black cliffs cloaked the sun ominously just off the coast and wet the air until it threatened to burst apart.

All the windows were open and the ancient air conditioning was chugging and shaking overhead but still the air inside the bus was clammy. Rivulets of sweat ran down faces, backs and legs. His mouth hung limply open like a magpie on a hot day. Marshall leant forward to peel his shirt from the vinyl, the two surfaces eliciting a disgusting muted rip.

Businesses drifted by through the haze as the bus crept slowly through the Mount Lawley snarl. Water from the air conditioner smeared down the bus windows, splashing through an open window onto the seat beneath and down onto the floor until it was transformed into a river that flowed backwards as the bus cleared the congestion. The disgruntled mob hurriedly lifted their bags beyond the streams.

Marshall hit the button and the bus slowed to a standstill. He swung his satchel over his shoulder and water flicked onto the seat next to him. The middle-aged woman looked at him with venom and Marshall shrugged an apology that was probably rejected, but he was already down the steps and out onto the footpath. He judged the speed of the oncoming cars and dashed behind the bus to the median strip, then on to the other side of the road. A van blew its horn.

He strode quickly along the footpath, his gaze flitting absently between passing cars, shop windows and the path ahead. The glass doors of the supermarket swished open and he was hit by a refrigerated blast. He opened his mouth to taste the air as it rushed past his teeth. He headed straight to the freezer section at the back, smiling as goosebumps coated his bared arms and legs. After mulling the options he selected a tub of triple choc swirl, then opened the fridge door adjacent and pulled out a large glass bottle of ginger beer. With his cargo chilling his armpits he took up a place at the end of the cue. As an after thought he picked out a posy of carnations.

The teenager who served him was suitably surly and the lack of even a glimmer of conversation suited him fine. He accepted his change and receipt, declined a bag and walked out the door, awkwardly stuffing the icecream and drink into his satchel with the flowers tucked under his arm.

He crossed the road again, more carefully this time, and followed the zigzag paving through the community centre and the car park beyond. Thunder growled in the distance and the sky half-heartedly spat down infrequent marble-sized drops. He stepped up his pace, but by the time he reached the house the rain had retreated as though god had only sneezed.

One side of a conversation drifted through Hazel’s window. Pilar was sprawled out on the tattered couch beneath the awning, Naomi Klein in her hands and bottle of white on the table, sans glass. She smiled ruefully over the top of the book.

“Hey. How you doin'?”

“Mmm. OK. That looks intimidating.”

“Yeah, it’s a big’n.”

”How is she?” he asked, concerned.

“Dunno. She sounds pretty upset.”

“Hmmm.” They both looked at the bricks forming the outside of Hazel’s bedroom wall. “It sucks.”

“Yeah. Poor thing.”

They sighed and grimaced smiles; Marshall continued to the door and Pilar returned to the sentence indicated by her finger. The door was swung wide open to allow what breeze there was to trickle in and cool the house, even if only imagined. He knocked softly on Hazel’s door and opened it enough to stick his head through. Tissues were strewn across the unmade bed and clothes formed discrete piles throughout the room. A stiff green suitcase was open on the bed with an assortment of clothes already thrown in. She waved distractedly at him with her free hand and kept listening to the phone. Her eyes were puffy and her cheeks stained with tears, but at least for now their flow had halted.

“I know, but I want to be there.... Can you book it for me...? I don’t have a credit card.... Can we sort that out when I get there...? Yes, I do.... I know.... When’s the next flight... Can you check...? Sure. Call me back.... Ta.... Bye.”

She breathed heavily and held her phone up to her forehead. Marshall moved towards her and pulled her close, holding her for a few moments as she composed herself and lost herself in the safety of his embrace.

“Hi. Sorry about all this.” She sniffed and wiped her cheeks “I’m a mess.”

“No. It’s OK. I understand.” He offered the flowers towards her.

She accepted them with a laugh. “Oh Marshall. You shouldn’t have.” Fresh tears began to build.

“I thought you could do with them.”

“It’s sweet.”

“How is he?”

“He’s in the hospital. They’ve rushed him into surgery. His heart gave out- just like that- at work. Luckily he was harnessed in coz he fell off the roof. He was just dangling there. Anne says they had a bit of trouble getting him down.”

They chuckled perversely. “I bet. C’mon. I also got you these.” He held up the icecream and ginger beer.

Hazel sniffed and wiped her nose as Marshall led her into the kitchen where he got a couple of spoons out of the cutlery drawer and glasses from the cupboard above. Hazel made a successful grab for the icecream and ripped the lid off, while Marshall cracked ice into the tumblers.

“Should we offer some to Pilar?”

Hazel screwed up her face and started towards the veranda.

“Pee-lar! Do you want some icecream and ginger?”

“Aww. I’ll have some icecream...”

Marshall hunted around for another spoon, but could only find a clean fork. “Ah, the joys of shared living.”

Hazel sat down next to Pilar and plunged her spoon into the tub. Marshall offered Pilar the spoon and she took it from him once she’d pulled her dress underneath her bum.

“Are you sure you don’t want any ginger?”

“Nah, I’m ‘right” She put down the tome and lifted the wine bottle to her lips and took a healthy swig. A trail of condensation ran down the green-black glass and dripped from her lip to her chin. She snorted and wiped it away.

Once they were all comfortable and the icecream had down its first circuit Marshall spoke. “So, are you gonna go back to Christchurch?”

“Yeah. For a bit. My sister’s looking into flights for me. She’s gonna call back when she’s done.”

“When are you wanting to go?”

“As soon as possible, really. Tomorrow?”

“Wow. That soon?”

“Yeah.”

They sat looking at the table, trying to take it all in and slukking on their dessert. Marshall alternated between thoughts of what exactly there was for him to do while she was gone, and feeling guilty about his own selfishness thinking of his own immediate future rather than that of his lover. He felt ashamed, but the thoughts persisted, swimming on through his selfish guilt.

“So how long do you think you’ll be gone?” Pilar finally asked.

“Oh. I haven’t really thought about it. A couple of weeks? It all depends on how Dad is. A few weeks, a month? Fuck knows.”

“Do you want us to do anything while you’re away?” Pilar didn’t have anything specifically in mind, but the thought of sitting there without at least trying to help in some tangible way appalled her. She had to say something to back up the embrace she buried her friend within.

“No no.”

“We’ll make sure we call every day, and look after Marshall for you. Look at him, the poor delicate soul.

Marshall put on his best hangdog expression. “I’ll miss you.”

“Aww, poor thing,” Pilar extended her hand toward him, beckoning him towards them. He leant over the table and put his arm around them. The tears redoubled down Hazel’s face, and the other two had to look away to prevent themselves falling prey to the emotion.