Cheryl pulled her cardigan closer into her sides. The sun had disappeared a few minutes earlier, and she started to feel the chill in the air.
She looked across the bush clad gullies and surrounding hills sprinkled with white dots which turned out to be sheep. Everything about this place felt like home, even though she had only been here a few times. She turned around to face the small plot in front of her. The windmill was turning steadily in the breeze as if it wanted to keep up with someone who was in a rush. It would have been out of place with its helpless busy-ness and shiny surface, were it not for the boy who was buried beneath. Cheryl was surprised it had lasted the two long years it had spent on her son's grave, keeping him company, day and night, resting only on the rare occasions when the air was still.
She looked down on the plot, checking the colourful mixture of daisies, pansies and violets to make sure they were neat and trim. When she had first arrived earlier on, the plot had been covered in wilted petals and leaves, and the windmill had been on a severe lean, in danger of falling over any moment. The sight of the unkempt grave had brought on a first wave of tears as Cheryl despaired over her inability to visit more often. After this initial outpour of grief she got down onto her knees to clear the debris and rearrange the windmill and the little toys around the headstone.
She had only seen it once before. It had taken her a long time to find the strength to meet with Wayne to choose a headstone, and when they had finally decided on a simple flat rock with rough edges and a smooth front, the mason took nearly a year to add the names and date, and finish the stone.
After her clean up of the plot she sat down beside him and lit a candle. She had wanted to bring something along but everything she could think of seemed tacky or cheap and not good enough to join the trusty windmill. She left Auckland empty-handed, but at one of the petrol stations on the way down, she remembered to buy a candle.
It was time to leave. She could hardly feel her fingers, and her legs were stiff. The candle was still flickering despite the breeze. She had managed to shelter it by placing it near the headstone out of the wind. She bent down and touched the letters that were sunken into the headstone, tracing his name with her fingers before resting on the last A for a moment.
"I love you, Tama," she whispered before pushing herself up. Her eyes were dry, as if the wind had dried them up, or maybe she was just too cold and tired to shed any more tears. She walked down the hill, oblivious to the rows of plots on her side, because the only one that mattered was the one with her son's name on it.
Cheryl was nearly at the bottom of the hill when a truck pulled up behind her car. It was Wayne's. She froze on the spot and watched as he got out, pausing for a moment as if he was having second thoughts, before heading towards her. He kept his eyes on the ground, following an invisible thread that lead the way up to Tama's resting place. She was convinced that he hadn't seen her. Maybe he was filled with dread about this upcoming visit and the sorrow it would inevitably bring to him, and wanted to get up to the plot as quickly as possible. But suddenly, he stopped ten metres below her and lifted his head.
"I thought you didn't want to come," he said just loud enough for her to hear. He resumed his walk up the hill without waiting for her answer until he stopped by her side, his eyes searching in vain for hers.
"I changed my mind," she said, watching the sheep across the valley as they were trying to get away from two farm dogs. Judd leaned over to brush his cheek against hers, a touch so light she barely felt it, but long enough for her to register the warmth of his skin. She remained on the same spot, trying to hold on to his warmth before it evaporated into the breeze.
Cheryl had never thought it possible, but the hurt, humiliation and anger after his betrayal with her daughter had turned from a constant pain to a slow hum until they completely vanished, or maybe they had been absorbed by her body and morphed into a memory. All that was left was an acceptance of the past as it happened, and it was neither good nor bad. It had become part of her history like Wolf and Helena and Tama, and she didn't need to fight it anymore.
Maybe that's why she was at ease around Judd. Or maybe it was the fact that to nobody's surprise, Judd's relationship with Pascalle had fizzled out. She left the country for the shores of the Sunshine State with the goal to revitalise her career as an inspirational TV star for the elderly. For a few months after, Judd had kept his distance to the Wests as if he wanted to sever all ties with them, but in the last couple of months, he had returned to the occasional West-do as a friend of the family like Eric, albeit much better looking and far more pleasant to be around.
Cheryl wasn't interested in the details of their break-up. She assumed that the age difference had played a part, and their personalities had clashed after the initial loved-up feeling of butterflies and fluffy bunnies.
"You coming?" he called. Cheryl turned around to see him nearly at the top.
"Yeah yeah." Reluctantly, she started to climb back up the slope she had only just walked down minutes earlier. She was cold and hungry and didn't feel like spending another hour up there with him.
She tucked her hands further into her cardigan and carried on. By the time she had reached the top after a few minutes, her chest was heaving and she could feel the pounding of her heart in her throat. Some warmth returned into her body, at least, while she was trying to catch her breath. Dark clouds had appeared in the sky, and with it a biting wind which had extinguished the candle, after all.
Judd stood in front of the grave, his head lowered and his shoulders trembling just enough for her to notice. She regretted following him up so quickly, but now she was here, she couldn't just leave him, could she?
She turned around to give him some privacy, but soon got cold and needed to move her feet. She slowly approached him until she stood by his side. They both looked down on Tama's plot in silence, and she listened to his sniffs as he fought the tears which kept running down his cheeks. Cheryl ached to comfort him, but if she followed her instincts, she would crumble like a sandcastle and end up in a heap.
After nearly two years of separation, a wall of silence and lost love divided them. They stood by their son's side and wept for him, like any parents that lost a child, but their grief was compounded by the fact that they had also lost each other.
As if the sombre moment wasn't enough, heavy drops of rain suddenly landed on Tama's headstone, leaving dark blotches behind which spread across its surface. The sky had turned dark, almost threatening.
"Let's go," she said, turning on her heels to start rushing down the hill, careful not to slip on the grass which had turned into a slippery slope within minutes. She didn't look back until she reached her car. She opened the door and sat down, Judd following her and sitting down in the passenger's seat.
"Bloody hell," she said, wiping her face with her hands. She looked across to him. His hair gleamed with wetness and his face was sprinkled with drops of rain.
"Might have to come back tomorrow," he said. "I didn't come all the way from Auckland to spend so little time here."
She was surprised.
"Are you staying?"
"Yes, down at the motel. What about you?"
"I'm heading back to Auckland after this."
His look told her that this was a crazy idea. It had been crazy from the start, but it was the only way she had convinced herself to make the long drive. Cheryl didn't want to spend the night here because it would mean another visit to Tama the next morning (she couldn't stay the night and then not go back the next day), and she didn't have the strength for that.
"You can't drive back now. Look at the weather."
There was no point arguing. To attempt to drive back to Auckland in this storm and her state of mind would be suicide.
"You should take a room and drive back tomorrow," he suggested.
"No way, I'm not going to spend a night in a fucking freezer room," she snorted.
"They do have heaters, you know."
"Still, they are dated and grubby, and there is no way I'm going to stay in one of them."
"So what are you going to do?"
"Don't know. I am hungry."
He took a deep breath as always when making a suggestion which he didn't know if it would be appreciated.
"Let's go to the motel, have a cuppa and dry off, and then have a meal at the Pub. Then you can head home, refreshed and in a better state of mind."
It was the most sensible thing to do. The thought of a cuppa was tempting, and it would be nice to change into some dry clothes.
"Okay, an hour, max," she said. "Then I'll be on the road."
He opened the car to get out.
"Follow me."
Judd pushed the key into the hole of the door and pushed the handle down, but it didn't open. Cheryl turned her head and pretended to look down the long dark corridor blinking away the tears of exhaustion which had filled her eyes yet again, much to her annoyance.
She had barely managed to follow Wayne's truck safely as tears kept on running down her cheeks, and her body shivered from the cold. Her cardigan was wet, and she could feel the cold seeping into her bones. The heater in her car had not managed to warm her up enough, and in between her fogged up windows and her blurry eyes she could barely keep up with Wayne. They had finally pulled into the motel, much to her relief, and on her way up the stairs and down the hall she had kept her head down to avoid looking at him.
"For fuck's sake, just open the fucking door!"
Her sudden outburst surprised her as much as Judd. She shook her head in annoyance, and when the door finally opened, she pushed in front of him to enter. A narrow entry with a door to the side led into the small unit. She took a gamble and lunged for the door to the side, hoping that this was the bathroom.
"Cheryl!"
His voice sounded more concerned than angry, but she wanted to be on her own and out of his sight. She looked at herself in the mirror. Her hair was damp and stuck to her head as if she'd slept on it, and her face looked dreary and old.
She wanted to go home, into her familiar surroundings where she had been able to rebuild her life with the help of her family and friends. There was nothing in here that could comfort her, and the weight of Tama's death pushed her down once again into an abyss from which she feared she couldn't get out of on her own. Why had she come to Whanganui? She should have stuck with her original decision not to visit his grave. She couldn't handle it. It was too painful to face, on her own, and the fact that Wayne was here only made it worse. Too much had happened in the past two years, and her inability to talk about Tama after his death still weighed heavily on her.
"Cheryl? Are you okay?"
She took a deep breath and managed to utter a short "Yes" which must have reassured him, for she soon heard the noise of a jug heating up water for a hot drink. On the verge of exhaustion, her hands cold and clammy, she sat down on the toilet seat, her wet clothes stuck to her limbs, and the weight of the past two years on her shoulders. She wanted to lie down and go to sleep, but the shower was just there, more tempting than the cold bathroom floor. Cheryl turned it on, and when the room was filled with steam, she took off her wet clothes, dropping them on the floor, and stepped into the shower.
The hot water nearly burnt her, and she cursed under her breath because she was dying to get under the hot water, her whole body covered in goose bumps, but it was too hot until she had worked out how to adjust the shower mixer. She stepped under the shower head and let the water run over her hair and face, mindful to keep her hands out of the stream of hot water so they could get used to the heat slowly. It took her a long time to warm up and relax.
After what felt like an hour she turned the shower off and reached for a towel in the steamy bathroom. She dried herself off and rummaged through her bag to find her spare clothes crumpled, but dry. When she came out of the bathroom, a wall of cool air hit her.
Judd was sitting on the bed, leaning against the headboard with a pillow tucked in between his back and the board, his eyes on the TV. She sat down near him, pulling her feet up to dry them properly, listening to the weather at the end of the news headlines where more rain and flooding was forecast.
"Feeling better?" he asked.
She nodded and gladly accepted the cup of tea he handed over. It had gone lukewarm, but when he offered to make a fresh one for her, she refused. They sat in silence, watching the afternoon programme. The hot shower had replaced the feeling of heaviness with an overwhelming tiredness. She struggled to keep her eyes open as she tried to listen to the instructions on screen on how to build a raised garden bed. She put the cup down on the bedside table and lowered herself onto a pillow. As soon as she closed her eyes, the commentary from the TV show turned into a soothing mumble, sending her off to sleep.
Cheryl woke up when she tried to pull up the blanket, realising that she was lying on top of it. Her body had cooled down since her shower, and she started to feel the chill from the cold motel room. It crept up her arms, covering them in goose bumps and making the hair on them stand up. She opened her eyes to look around for a blanket.
"Cold?" he asked, looking at her bare arms.
"Mmh."
"Hang on," he said and got up to walk around the bed. "You need to move off the blanket."
She rolled over while he pulled the blanket from under her body, and as he leaned over her, his arm brushed against hers. It was a touch so faint, she barely felt it, but it was enough to awaken her senses. She closed her eyes, trying to ignore what was right in front of her, fighting the unthinkable, but when he reached over her to cover her with the blanket, he came close enough for her to pick up his scent, a smell so familiar she longed to immerse herself in it, memories included. Cheryl was overcome by a need for his warmth, as if it was the only way to reassure her on this bleak day that life was worth living.
She leaned her head against his arm, closing her eyes while the warmth of his skin seeped through to her cheek, and the smell of him took her to a place she had forgotten about, but now that she found it again, she couldn't understand how she'd ever been able to be without it.
Without spending any thought on what was happening, she reached up and pulled him down on her, for this was what she was meant to do. At the very moment when the weight of his body pushed her down into the mattress, it hit her like a bomb how much she had longed for him ever since the day she went to jail. An ongoing ache in her finally came to an end, and her heart burst from anticipation and excitement.
She opened her eyes, and he was there, his eyes a lighter shade despite the fading daylight outside, his face close enough to feel his breath on her, and she only hesitated a second before reaching up to his lips, a softness longed for over months, but only fulfilled now, when she kissed him long enough to lose all awareness of time and place. No matter how much she had hurt, nothing was more natural than for her to seek comfort in him on this day, in this room, at this moment.
Afterwards Cheryl wouldn't let go of him, her legs wrapped around his, her arms around his back and her forehead below his chin. They hadn't spoken a word since he had offered her another cup of tea. The only thing that counted was to feel his stomach rise and fall against hers as they lay in bed, holding each other, waiting for sleep to come.
When Cheryl stirred later on, she was surprised that it wasn't morning, but pitch black both in and outside their unit. She shifted her arm which was getting numb under Judd's body, trying not to wake him. Everything about lying in bed with him at this moment was right, and she didn't want to disturb the bubble of belonging that was wrapped around her since she had pulled him on top of her. She opened her eyes, but it was too dark to see him. She lay in the dark for a while, listening to his regular breathing. After a long battle of wills trying to ignore her bladder she stole herself out from her warm nest and made it to the toilet. Her stomach was rumbling, reminding her that her last meal had been lunch many hours earlier. On her way back to bed, she looked around in search for a snack, but apart from the usual array of teabags, hot chocolate and instant coffee powder, there was only a small bottle of blue top milk and sugar.
She crawled back under the covers to warm up against Judd's body. He stirred and pulled her arm in.
"What is it?"
"Toilet," she said.
He sighed before getting up as well and disappeared into the bathroom. When he came back to bed, it was her turn to warm him up by cradling him with her stomach, his back against her.
"I'm bloody hungry," she said.
He chuckled. She gave him a nudge.
"You could find some food for us, can't you?"
He turned on the light and picked up his watch from the bedside table.
"Past midnight."
She sighed.
"I'm going to have to wait till tomorrow morning, won't I?"
"Looks like it, babe."
Judd turned the light off again, and they lay together in the darkness, listening to the rain outside their window. She pushed any thoughts about the next day out of her mind, relishing in the comfort of his body next to hers, and the warmth they created together in this cold and damp motel room. Her eyes were closed and she was waiting for sleep to come, but when he pulled his arm out from under her, his hand touched her breast.
Her body responded instantly. In the complete darkness around them, every sensation was amplified, and she savoured his touch without the distraction of her sight, grateful to have another chance to be with him.
Later, she lay in his arms, contented, the only worry in the world how on earth she would get to sleep with the rumbling in her stomach.
When she woke up, it was still dark outside. She stepped into the cold room and walked to the window, pushing a curtain aside to see that, in fact, the day was dawning. A strong wind lashed the trees across the forecourt, and rain fell from the sky in big sheets, leaving puddles behind on the cracked parking area.
Cheryl turned around and went into the bathroom. The floor was cold enough to make her stand on her tip-toes. She washed her face, got dressed and put some makeup on. It had barely taken her five minutes to get ready to leave, and it wasn't even seven o'clock yet. She came out of the bathroom to see Judd standing by the window, looking outside into a grey day.
"You're leaving?" he said, and before she answered she knew he wouldn't believe her.
"No, I was getting dressed."
She saw the disappointment in his eyes as he stared at her for a moment before turning around, shaking his head. It annoyed her that he made assumptions without listening to what she said.
"I really need something to eat."
Judd shrugged his shoulders.
"Obviously. Don't wait for me, then."
Cheryl walked around the bed to pick up her bag.
"Fine," she said without looking at him, and left through the door, down the stairs, to the cafe across the road.
She sat down at a table, feeling guilty about leaving Judd behind, but irritated about his suggestion that she was trying to sneak out without waking him. When a waitress approached her table, she ordered coffee and bacon and eggs for two.
When the coffees arrived, she took only a couple of minutes to finish hers before starting on his. Half-way through the second cup Judd turned up.
"I'll get you a fresh one," she said. He sat down opposite her, his hair wet and his face freshly shaved. He looked so good, she wanted to reach out to touch him, but instead Cheryl got up to order another coffee. When she returned to their table, the food had arrived. They both dug into their plates and ate without talking. Other people came in and bought take-away coffees, but they were the only people who occupied a table. Cheryl started to feel better, but the driving rain and strong wind outside did little to disperse the feeling of a miserable day.
"You okay?" he said when he had finished, pushing his plate into the middle of the table and picking up his cup. Cheryl put her fork down. Despite her hunger, it was too much for her to finish it all.
"Yeah, of course. You?"
Judd studied her for a while before answering.
"Yeah good." Without asking he took her plate and finished the rest of her breakfast.
They got up and paid for the meal before leaving through the front door, both walking in the same direction where their cars were parked. Cheryl got out her keys and unlocked her car, wondering how she could leave without a big farewell. He stood a few metres away, watching her.
"I better go," she finally said, looking down onto the wet ground.
"Drive safely," he replied.
"You too."
She sat down in her car and drove off, lifting her hand to wave goodbye as she drove past. The only good thing about the long drive back was that she had many hours ahead of her, and by the time she would arrive in Auckland, she would have had enough time to put this night behind her and pretend it never happened.
It was a gruelling drive which took all day. Cheryl found herself torn between elation about the night with Judd and frustration that she had allowed him to get so close. She smiled when she thought about the way he had touched her, and she got irritated how he accused her of leaving him in the morning. Her heart grew heavy as the distance between her and Tama increased, but she couldn't wait to get home into her own four walls. For every emotion she experienced, she went through an equivalent opposite within minutes.
By the time she drove along the North-Western Motorway, she knew how it all came to be: both she and Wayne were vulnerable after going through more sorrow for Tama on the hill. The time spent outside in the cold breeze coupled with the heavy rain had turned her into an ice block, and by the time she had arrived at the motel, she was so cold and emotionally exhausted that any comfort was welcome - a hot shower, a warm bed, and a human who had been through the same anguish as her. What better way to recover than with sex, sleep, and more sex?
In the morning reality set in, combined with her sickening feeling of hunger and a desperate urge to get home. The night with Judd had only been a temporary relief. It hadn't solved any problems; in fact, it had created new ones.
She was relieved that no one was at home when she pulled up late in the evening. She poured herself a Rum and Coke and sat down in front of the TV, glad that she had made it back safely. When she sunk into bed, she had convinced herself that the night with Wayne had been a physical reaction to their needs at the time, and that there was nothing more to read into it.