Where Sea Meets Sky(31)
I nod and come over to her, taking my bag off my shoulders. She’s wearing white shorts that show off her toned legs, flip-flops, and a black tank top. Her hair is pulled back into a ponytail. She looks excruciatingly wholesome. This is going to be harder than I thought.
“Definitely ready,” I tell her as I swing the backpack onto the floor of the van and step inside. Gemma slides the door shut behind me and I see Nick in the passenger seat, giving me the head nod but nothing else. I nod back and then, hunched over, walk down to the bench at the back. A petite, curvy girl with a mess of blond curls and a pretty, angelic face is strapped into the bright blue seat and I ease my frame down beside her.
“Hey, I’m Josh,” I tell her, holding out my hand.
She gives me a shy smile, her eyes making contact with mine for only a second as she shakes. “Amber.” Her voice is soft and her American accent sounds strange after being around Kiwis and Germans for days.
I’m about to tell Amber something like “nice name” but Gemma struggles with the clutch as she pulls away from the curb and the van jerks forward. I quickly slip on my seat belt while Nick turns to her. “God, Gemma, ease up.”
“Sorry,” she snaps at him. “I’m not used to driving this old thing.” She gets used to it fast though, and we’re zipping through the city as quick as the van can go, which isn’t saying much.
It’s an old thing, but it’s pretty fucking cool. Her uncle must have taken really good care of it. There’s a sink, a fridge, a counter than runs the length of the back, seats behind the drivers, passenger seats that flip up, a table that pulls out in the middle, loads of cupboards, and colorful curtains at the windows. The bright blue seat Amber and I are on folds down into a bed, and above us you can see where the top pops out into a bunk. It’s surprisingly spacious considering there are four of us in here, and there’s a lot of distance between where I’m sitting and where Gemma is.
When we finally make our way out of the inner city, I lean forward on my knees. “Got any tunes?” I ask loudly, trying to see if they have an MP3 outlet for my iPhone.
Nick laughs. “The radio in this shit-heap is broken and we only have a cassette player. Total dodge.”
“But,” Gemma says, flashing me a quick smile in the rearview mirror, “my uncle left us all his cassette tapes. I hope you like Pink Floyd because he only has The Wall, Dark Side of the Moon, Wish You Were Here, and Meddle.”
I do like Pink Floyd, though I can tell the music will color the trip a little differently. But driving round New Zealand in an old VW van seems like the perfect time to listen to them.
After we pull over for “petrol” and get a few coffees to go with strange names like “flat white” and “long black,” we’re on the motorway heading south. Gemma slips in one of the cassettes and the sound of whistling wind comes over the scratchy speakers before the overly dramatic bass line of “One of These Days” kicks in. It certainly sets the mood, making the start of our trip even more epic.
“Nice,” I yell at her and she gives me the thumbs-up in the mirror.
I lean back in my seat and see Amber is staring out the window, lost in thought. She’s not one for small talk, which I don’t mind at this stage of the morning. I sip my coffee and am lost in the passing scenery and the psychedelic sounds. Despite the potential awkwardness of the four of us in this van, I’m curiously content. A bit anxious, a bit nervous, but I’m also happy. I try not to question it. I just relax and let the morning sun wash over us, coloring the passing fields a million shades of green.
Though Gemma and Nick occasionally chat up front, we’re all silent for the most part. By the time we pull into the city of Hamilton to grab a few egg “sammies” and quiche from a bakery, plus more coffee, Amber perks up and becomes more talkative. She tells me a bit about herself, how she’s been living at home with her parents in San Jose, California, since graduating from one of the state universities with a degree in English.
“Pointless degree,” she says quietly, shaking her head. “I really thought there would be jobs for me. I thought my work experience and my education would be good enough, I mean, I’m smart, I have a lot to offer, but it took me all summer to find a stupid office job. It barely paid and they let me go two months ago so they could hire fucking interns for free instead.”
She sounds bitter. I don’t blame her.
“Well, you’re definitely not alone in this,” I tell her, trying to make her feel better.
She sighs and sips her coffee. “I know. That almost makes it worse. I’m out there competing with a million other hungry grads. You know, they could have warned us in high school. Instead they told us we were all fucking special snowflakes and the world was at our feet. Such bullshit.”