Page 7 of Finding Tane (Foggy Basin Season Two)

Tane

T he next few days I visited the grocery store every day, saying hi to Dillon if he was around, chatting with Christian, his assistant and I even agreed to sign Ivy’s vinyl for her, although I did it as covertly as possible. It wouldn’t do to have other people notice me.

I had a little routine going, sitting on the same park bench to have a snack. Walking up and down Main Street, visiting the various shops. I even picked up some books and tried reading them.

In the evenings, I managed to fool around a little with my guitar.

Doing it in front of Dillon seemed to have unlocked the block I’d been having over music.

I didn’t make anything groundbreaking, or even particularly interesting, but I was having fun with it.

I couldn’t remember the last time I’d made music just for the fun of it, without thinking about if it would be marketable or not.

I ate out a couple of nights but there were really only two restaurants, and the premade sandwiches were great but I liked hot food in the evening.

Finally, I got up the courage to ask Dillon if he’d allow me to cook something for him. I’d done the necessary preparation for what I wanted to make, and the time was right.

It was awkward, because of course there was no stove or oven at the motel, so I was basically inviting myself over to his house, but we’d been friendly ever since I’d run out of his apartment in a panic.

That evening had got intense somehow, but it was in a good way. A frightening way, but good. I wasn’t sure what might have happened if Ivy hadn’t shown up.

It was Saturday when I managed to grab Dillon. “Hey, um, I wanted to repay you for dinner the other night. I’m not much of a cook but I thought I could make something Kiwi for you.”

“Kiwi?” Dillon’s eyes cut to the fruit and vegetable section. “Kiwi as in the bird, not the fruit. It’s what we call ourselves, in Aotearoa, although I don’t know why. It’s a stupid, round flightless bird, but there you have it.”

I bit my tongue. I was babbling.

Babbling! Like a nervous teenager chatting up his crush.

“Oh! That would be wonderful, thank you,” Dillon said after a moment. I guessed he’d needed the time to parse what I’d been babbling about.

“The thing is, I’d need to use your kitchen for it,” I said.

“Sure, of course.” Dillon nodded. “I’m here until six again but if you want to head up earlier, I think Ivy is there. She might join us, I don’t know if she has plans or anything.” Something flickered across his face, concern maybe, and I remembered how Ivy had looked upset the other night.

“Is she okay?”

Dillon’s smile only lifted one side of his mouth. “I think so. I don’t really know what’s going on there. She’ll be over the moon to spend time with you, though.”

I smiled, mentally bracing myself. “Okay, well, if it’s okay then I can head over this afternoon and get things started?”

Dillon took a breath. “It’s... the kitchen is... I like how it’s organised. Can you please be sure and return everything to the place you’ve found it when you’re done?”

I nodded. “Yes, of course I will. You can trust me. I’ll just pick up a few things first.”

Dillon breathed out heavily. “I’ll text Ivy and let her know to expect you, and again. I’m sorry in advance.”

Laughing, I waved off his apology. “I’ve dealt with fans before, Dillon, I’m sure it will be fine.”

I went to collect the ingredients I needed — while I was sure Dillon would have some of them in his kitchen, I didn’t want to risk messing things up with rooting through his supplies.

Better to take new ones and contain the chaos.

I wasn’t super confident with many dishes, but I was going to make some old favourites, and I was sure I’d impress him.

Trying not to think too hard about why I wanted to impress him so much, I took my groceries, collected a couple of things from the motel room and then made my way to Dillon’s.

I knocked on the door and Ivy opened it almost immediately.

“HI! Come on in, it’s so nice to meet you. Dillon said you’d be cooking dinner? That’s so cool, I can help if you like, I’m not really doing anything and I’m pretty okay in the kitchen, you know?”

I set the bags and my guitar down and looked Ivy in the eyes. “Ivy. Thank you, please breathe.”

“Breathe? What? I am breathing, I’m totally fine with global superstar recording artist Whetu being in my house.”

She fanned herself with one hand.

I gently but firmly took hold of her shoulders. “I’ll answer any questions you have, just please, take a breath in and let it out slowly. I don’t want you passing out.”

“Oh, okay.” Ivy took a few slow breaths and her shoulders relaxed under my hands.

I let go.

“You can call me Tane,” I said. “Now, what do you want to know?”

Ivy peppered me with the basic questions I was used to getting in interviews, as I gathered things up and we walked together into the kitchen. I answered with as much honesty as I could muster.

Once those questions were out of the way, she relaxed a bit more.

“Thank you for that,” she said. “So um, if you don’t mind me asking, why the hell are you in Foggy Basin?”

I chuckled as I pulled out the rēwena bug and started measuring flour.

“Wait, before you answer, what the hell is that?”

“It’s a rēwena bug? Think like a sourdough starter, but it’s for Māori bread. Really I should have made the dough last night and let it rise but... I don’t have bowls and stuff at the motel.”

Ivy started sorting the rest of my groceries, finding an onion. “Should I chop this?”

“Please.” I swallowed, mixing the bug in with water and a little sugar.

“You asked why I’m here? I don’t know why I chose this town in particular, but it all got too much back in L.A.

I felt like I couldn’t breathe, everyone just wanted so much, like they were in this massive crowd, yelling and reaching for me and I was standing there, shaking with nothing left to give. ”

“Ooof.” Ivy nodded. “That’s a lot.”

“So much.”

“Has it been better since you’ve been here?”

I laughed, unable to stop myself. “Yes. Like, I can remember how overwhelmed I was, how my head ached, and if I even think about turning on my old phone I get heart palpitations, but everything is so quiet here. I’m actually sleeping close to seven hours a night, it’s so quiet.”

“Ugh, tell me about it.” Ivy pulled a face. “It’s too quiet for me, sometimes. A lot of the time. Glad for you though.”

“What are you studying?” I found myself liking Ivy, she was so easy to talk to. Like Dillon, she had a whole aura of safe around her that I relaxed into.

“I’m a writer, so I’m studying literature and journalism, but I really want to get into writing and publishing novels,” she said.

“What kind of novels?”

“I don’t know... I’m still working that part out.”

I’d mixed the dough and floured the countertop to turn it out and start kneading it. “So, does your brother have someone special in his life?”

Ivy laughed. “Smooth, very smooth and casual. No, he’s single. He’s dated before but nothing serious, and yes he’s very gay.”

I grinned at her, working the dough with muscle memory. She grinned back, and then something about her experience grew troubled.

“Listen, if you’re not going to stay in town, please don’t mess around with him? He’s not as tough and together as he looks, and I don’t know what he’d do with a broken heart.”

Biting on my lower lip, I nodded. “Yeah, I hear that.”

“I don’t mean to assume, although you weren’t exactly subtle just now.”

“I’ve been thinking about it,” I admitted. “It would be nice to have someone as... stable as him in my life. But I really don’t know what my plans are. I’ll be careful, I promise. Just friends.”

“Thanks.” Ivy went to set the table.

She was sweet, looking out for him like that. I wondered what had happened to upset her the other night, and wondered if I could ask. We were apparently being straight up with each other, which I appreciated. When she came back into the kitchen, I figured I might as well ask.

“Are you okay, after the other night?” “Hmm? Oh yeah.” Ivy’s voice lacked expression when she replied, not convincing at all. “I’m just going through some... I dunno, I guess you could call it questioning.”

“Want to talk about it?”

She shook her head. “Nah, still processing things. Thanks though.”

She excused herself soon after and left me to cook. I put on some lofi music on my phone and lost myself in the simple art of cooking, thinking only of what my hands were doing, and sending thanks to my grandmother for teaching me this recipe.

Dillon

Nervousness fluttered through my chest as I locked up for the day and headed home.

I knew Tane meant well, and I was touched that he wanted to return the favour like this, it’d be nice not having to cook for myself.

But I was also unreasonably worried that I’d return to find my kitchen messy, not just messy but destroyed.

Okay, maybe I had some trust issues... or control issues.

Ivy had said something like that to me before.

But things being out of place just rankled.

I couldn’t concentrate until it was set right again.

I hoped beyond hope that Tane had stuck to his word and kept things neat.

I knew I couldn’t relax and enjoy dinner if I knew there were ingredients and dirty dishes left strewn around.

It was a silly thing to worry about, but knowing that didn’t make it any less stressful.

I slowed down on the walk home, taking my time, delaying the inevitable.

Letting myself into the apartment, I was immediately greeted by the most delicious smell imaginable — baking bread. Warm, sweet and the epitome of homey. A knot in my stomach unravelled.

“I’m back!” I called out.

“Welcome home!” Ivy poked her head out of the living room. “Table’s all set.”

“Hope you’re hungry!” Tane called from the kitchen.