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“Yeah.”
“You’re really trying to piss your father off, aren’t you?”
“I don’t need to try to do that.”
He laughs. Then he smiles. “You really like this girl, don’t you?”
“I do. I’d like everyone to meet her. She’s nervous about coming though.”
“Well, yeah. You said she doesn’t leave the commune often, so I get that. We’ll all make sure she’s welcome though. I’ll get Marama to look after her.”
“Oh, she’s back?” His sister has been traveling and working in Europe for the last few years.
“Yeah, she landed yesterday.”
I’m pleased. I like Marama; she’s warm and friendly, and I’m pleased to think she’ll be here to meet Scarlett.
Kingi heads off to a meeting, but I have ten minutes before my next one starts, so I take out my phone. I messaged Scarlett earlier. To my disappointment, she hasn’t messaged back.
Wanting to hear her voice, I call her. It rings half a dozen times, then goes to voicemail.
I leave a brief message saying I miss her and I hope she’s having a good day. Then I go off to my meeting.
When it finishes, I check my phone, but there are no missed calls and no messages.
I text her again, telling her I miss her and I hope to hear from her soon. I wait for a moment in case the three little dots appear to announce she’s typing. They don’t.
Eventually I slide the phone into my pocket, frustrated. She could be busy with her yoga classes, but I have a horrible feeling she won’t even have the device on her.
I attempt to put it to the back of my mind and head off to a meeting with Kingi and some business associates from Australia, which continues over dinner and drinks. By the time I leave my office it’s after ten, and there’s still no message from Scarlett.
I’m not sure what time she goes to bed, but I text her a third time, telling her I’m heading home, and drive to my apartment.
No reply.
I head straight for the gym, run for thirty minutes, and do some weights. Then I go back to my apartment and take a quick shower.
Still no message.
Disappointed, frustrated, and a little bit cross, I pour myself a whisky and take it into my study, where I sit on the sofa, looking out at the city lights. I glance down at Doyle’s empty bed and feel a sharp pang of grief. I’ve spent the last six years with him glued to my ankle, even at work, because I made sure to train him so he wasn’t a problem in the office. I do miss him during the day, but I’m so busy that it’s only at nighttime that the loss really sets in.
I sip my whisky sulkily. At least a dog is dependable and loyal. A dog would send you a message every minute of the day if it could.
I take a deep breath, then let it out in a long sigh. I miss Scarlett, despite not wanting to. A lot of the women I meet socially, attracted no doubt to my money and position, fawn over me, saying what theythink I want to hear. Scarlett doesn’t, though. I like the way she teases me and stands up to me. I like that she’s different, I love her boho look, her strange views on things, her warm heart. She’s like a daisy growing in a nuclear wasteland, a glimpse of nature in a city of concrete and metal and glass. But she’d be easily crushed in that city. She’s right; I can’t imagine her in my world, any more than I can imagine existing in hers. Meditating and lighting candles and eating kale. My lips curve up at the thought of what she’d say to that. Then my smile fades as I glance at the blank phone screen.
Eventually, I go to bed, but I leave the curtains open and lie awake for a while. I look out at the moon, remembering the feel of her warm body and wishing she was here with me.
It’s late before I finally fall into a dreamless sleep.
*
The next day is Saturday. I work at home for a couple of hours, then meet Kingi and a few old friends for brunch at a favorite cafe. It’s Kingi’s twenty-eighth birthday, and we celebrate over Eggs Benedict, full English Breakfasts, and coffee, reminiscing about our university days and talking about our businesses.
Afterward, I head over to Waiheke to the Midnight Club and spend the afternoon working in my office.
By late afternoon, I’m panicking. I haven’t heard from Scarlett, so I don’t even know if she’s coming to the party tonight. I’ve texted several times and I’ve rung her twice, but I’m convinced she’s flung the phone away and it’s slipped down the back of the sofa.
I call the landline in her house, but she doesn’t answer. Finally, I call the commune’s main office and ask to speak to her. They send someone off to track her down, but return to say they can’t find her, and they think she might have gone off for a walk somewhere.