Where Sea Meets Sky(85)

Well, I could try, anyway.

Then I’d have a great time relishing the failure.



We stay the two nights in Kaikoura at a holiday park by the ocean. It’s a beautiful place—wild blue ocean on one side, towering snowy peaks on the other. It’s like the marine mammal and aquatic shit capital of the country, and we’re there to go dolphin swimming. It was Amber’s idea and Gemma agreed to come along, but when we got up at five a.m. to go out on the boat, we discovered it was cancelled due to high surf.

We end up going for a walk on the Kaikoura Peninsula instead. It’s windy as hell and what looked like a quick jaunt is taking us hours of just walking along seal-strewn shores and sheep-covered bluffs. It’s pretty though, the contrast between the pebbled beaches and the blue-gray water peppered with whitecaps.

When we stop at a low stone wall on the bluff to eat the sandwiches we bought earlier, I take out my watercolor pencils and sketchbook and start drawing the scene. Eventually Gemma comes over and peers over my shoulder.

“That’s gorgeous, Josh,” she says softly. I look up at her and see the wistfulness in her eyes.

“Here,” I say, handing her the book and the slate gray pencil. “You try.”

Fear lines her brow. “You know I can’t.”

I shrug. “I don’t know. Maybe you can. It’s just a pencil and it’s just paper.” I can’t help but beg her with my eyes. Please, I tell her. “Come on.”

To encourage her, I flip the page so it’s nice and new and blank and I place it in her hand. I pat the grass next to me. “Sit, stay.”

“Play fetch?” she asks wryly, but sits down anyway. I get to my feet and join Amber by the wall, wanting to give her some space. It can’t help to have me looking over her shoulder.

She smiles at me shyly, appreciatively, then turns her head out to the view. The wind rushes up off the cliffs and tousles her hair. Her face, when it’s not hidden by her dark strands, becomes pensive. Then she’s slowly sketching. She’s beautiful.

I munch on my sandwich and Amber and I talk about sharks since shark diving was the other option for the day (in a cage and all, but no thanks) but my eyes rarely leave Gemma. She seems to be caught up in a battle, staring at the ocean, that thin line of the horizon, then back at her book, like it’s not matching up for her.

Frustrated, she throws my book and pencil to the side and puts her head in her hands. I exchange a quick look with Amber then go over to Gemma’s side. I crouch down and place a hand on her shoulder.

“Hey, baby,” I say softly and she whips her head to me in surprise. I’m surprised, too. I can’t believe I just called her baby.

I try and play it off. “Take it easy on yourself, okay?” I pick up the sketchbook and see a very rough sketch of the view. You can tell that she tried to be as detailed as possible but then got frustrated and started pressing the pencil harder until the end broke off.

“I can’t do it,” she says.

I close up the book with a snap and smile at her. “But you just did. Now it’s forever in this book. It’s immortal. The day has been captured and when I look at it, I’ll remember this. Isn’t that what the point of all of this is? To rewind life a bit?”

She looks unsure. I help her to her feet but I don’t let go of her hand once she’s up. Amber turns to look at us as she shoves the remainder of her sandwich in her fringe purse.

“Is this a new development?” she asks cautiously, pointing at our hand-holding.

Gemma tries to take her hand away but I only grip it harder and raise it in the air.

“I think I’ve finally worn her down,” I say to Amber with a cocksure smile.

Amber grins. “Took you long enough.”

But Gemma still manages to wriggle out of my grasp and walk beside Amber.

I know I still have my work cut out for me.

The next day is a long, arduous journey through torrential rain from Kaikoura to the ferry terminal at Picton. Any hopes of a beautiful view are obscured by fogged windows and the endless gray outside of them. The inside of the bus feels damp with sweat and everyone is cranky and uncomfortable. Even though we’ll soon be staying at Gemma’s mother’s place and it’s bound to be a bit awkward, seeing as it’s Christmastime for the family and all that, I’m actually looking forward to it. It will be nice to have a place to stay and unpack for more than a day. It will be good to get out of this bus and the constant Pink Floyd.

The clouds follow us across the choppy strait to the North Island, where we speed toward an unexciting-sounding town called Masterton. Once again we’re staying in a hostel and once again I’m cursing Gemma for booking us in another dorm. I know she’s doing this to save our broke asses money, but still.