Page 28 of Wide-Eyed
“Totally.” I didn’t mention that it had been a platitude that no sensible person would have seized upon and flown for twenty-plus hours for, unless she was trying to salvage her career by posting aspirational content to make it seem like she had a loving family, enviably charming surroundings, and (tbc) a fulfilling sex life.
Mini Mike was leaning against my toes now, trying to itch. His ears were level with my knees where I sat on the fence. The tiny horse’s proportions were comical—everything on him was perfectly proportional, but shrunken. I reached down and scratched his neck, and he nibbled the air. When I stopped, he used his nose to shove my knees until I resumed.
“Chase and I were thinking of coming to New Zealand at the end of the month,” Caroline said. “If you’d told me you wanted to visit, we could have pushed our trip forward and traveled together.”
“So you two could canoodle while I pretended not to know what was happening under the airline blanket? No thanks.”
“Why are you trying to pick a fight with me, Lyssa?”
“I’m not.”
I was.
The truth was, I missed having Caroline’s full attention. I missed her living with me—although I’d made a point of treating Chase’s Chelsea apartment like my second home, so he was never surprised to see me on his sofa when he came home. But I missed her watching all my videos and being overly invested in looking after me. I missed my friend. I needed my friend.
“I said I was sorry I hadn’t watched your video.”
“I know.”
“How long do you plan to stay in Woodville?”
I replied vaguely. I hadn’t decided. I could stay here for up to six months without a visa if I wanted. All my income was from the States, so the Kiwi tax people couldn’t be mad at me.
“I’ll talk to Chase about our trip,” Caroline said. “and we can come sooner. I’ll get someone to cover a few of my slots at the club, and Chase can blog from anywhere. We’ll meet you in New Zealand. I just wish I was there now to show you around. Isn’t it awkward staying in my brother’s house?”
Only when he rejects my sexual advances.
“No.”
“Mike is physically incapable of replacing the toilet roll when he uses the last square. It’s like a sickness. And he will use every mug in the house. You deserve a better host. If only our friend Cilla’s place was up and running, you could have stayed there.”
“I met Cilla! She’s great. The place isn’t a vibe yet, but it definitely will be. It’s got all the right narrative ingredients—the aesthetic, the storied owner, the location.”
“Cilla was my dance teacher when I was little. I think I got the showgirl bug from her. She used to be a Rockette.” Caroline stopped suddenly. “Hold on. How did you get out to Cilla’s? How did you even get to Woodville? It’s an hour’s drive from the airport, and there’s no public transport.”
“I drove myself.”
There was silence. Then: “You can drive?”
“I grew up in Connecticut, Caroline. Of course I can drive.”
Didn’t anyone in my life watch my videos? I always used my stepdad’s car when I went home, and it was in a lot of them.
“Lyssa, you don’t understand. New Zealand is completely different from Connecticut. The roads are really twisty, you have to stay left, and you have to know the give-way rules and be confident following them.”
The rising panic in Caroline’s voice confirmed my earlier suspicion about why driving was a sensitive topic for the Hollidays.
Caroline never spoke about her mother—she hated when people felt sorry for her. All I knew was she’d been seven when her mom died, which meant Mike would have been four or five.
My heart broke for them.
I tried to make my voice calm and reassuring, like Caroline used to when I was crashing out about hat trim, or Root Beer clawing up my yarn basket.
“It’s okay, Caroline. I understand. I’m not going to drive that much while I’m here. Mike has insisted on driving me most places, and Woodville is small. When I do drive, I want you to know I’m very careful. I have a copy of the New Zealand road code now, and I know all the rules. Quiz me.”
“No, it’s okay?—”
“Quiz me.”
