Mutuwhenua by Patricia Grace

Mutuwhenua by Patricia Grace

Author:Patricia Grace [Grace, Patricia]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781742287904
Publisher: Penguin Random House New Zealand
Published: 2011-05-21T00:00:00+00:00


12

A cold wind was snapping at the streets and every gust had on it a hint of rain. In the meantime, since the rain had not yet arrived, the wind whipped up the street’s debris, shuffling it along the footpaths and gutters, tossing it out on to the roads, flattening it against walls and fences, then snatching it away again. The old tickets, pie bags, lolly papers dodged here and there at the head of the wind like mice in a maze and came to rest finally huddled against the wall of the waiting-room, in the long grass that had grown up through the gravel and old tar. Along with the smashed bottle and oil patches, and the little spurts of pee from dozens of dogs. The loaded cars were heading for the main road, their occupants watching the sky and hoping. The buses bumbled in and out, bringing some, taking some, and all of them looking at the sky to confirm what the wind had already told.

The letter in my pocket told me what time Graeme’s bus would arrive, and the day before I had looked forward to this moment. All week I had been impatient for this time to come. But now, sitting in the waiting-room where the wind explored every corner, where people came and departed with their bundled belongings, and buses trundled in and out, I began to wonder what we would have to say to each other.

I had expected to see some of his family waiting for him but now I was glad there was no one to know my foolishness. Because I had forgotten what he looked like. Trying to picture him in my mind all I could see was a size and a shape. The letters which had meant so much to me over the past weeks suddenly seemed the only real things. If we came face to face right then we would be strangers to each other. Foolish to be sitting in the half-light of a cold and cloudy afternoon waiting for someone you didn’t know and who wouldn’t know you – whose face you could not recall and whose voice sounded only from a bundle of pages. Waiting for the rain to come.

But it was too late to walk away. The bus had opened its doors and he was getting out, waiting for his luggage. His face, which I remembered after all, was thoughtful, even sad, as he waited, not looking about him, for his luggage. Not looking for me and not expecting anyone, but it was too late to walk away.

I sat quite emptily, wondering what would happen, wondering what could be between us.

‘Hallo, Linda,’ he said.

‘Hallo.’ But I don’t know whether I spoke the word aloud or not, and we sat like two sad people who have nothing to say to each other, who have forgotten what there was between them. Greeting each other politely, and sitting, not closely, staring out at the dejection of sky leaning heavily into the grappling wind.



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