Where Sea Meets Sky

After we pull over for “petrol” and get a few coffees to go with strange names like “flat white” and “long black,” we’re on the motorway heading south. Gemma slips in one of the cassettes and the sound of whistling wind comes over the scratchy speakers before the overly dramatic bass line of “One of These Days” kicks in. It certainly sets the mood, making the start of our trip even more epic.

“Nice,” I yell at her and she gives me the thumbs-up in the mirror.

I lean back in my seat and see Amber is staring out the window, lost in thought. She’s not one for small talk, which I don’t mind at this stage of the morning. I sip my coffee and am lost in the passing scenery and the psychedelic sounds. Despite the potential awkwardness of the four of us in this van, I’m curiously content. A bit anxious, a bit nervous, but I’m also happy. I try not to question it. I just relax and let the morning sun wash over us, coloring the passing fields a million shades of green.

Though Gemma and Nick occasionally chat up front, we’re all silent for the most part. By the time we pull into the city of Hamilton to grab a few egg “sammies” and quiche from a bakery, plus more coffee, Amber perks up and becomes more talkative. She tells me a bit about herself, how she’s been living at home with her parents in San Jose, California, since graduating from one of the state universities with a degree in English.

“Pointless degree,” she says quietly, shaking her head. “I really thought there would be jobs for me. I thought my work experience and my education would be good enough, I mean, I’m smart, I have a lot to offer, but it took me all summer to find a stupid office job. It barely paid and they let me go two months ago so they could hire fucking interns for free instead.”

She sounds bitter. I don’t blame her.

“Well, you’re definitely not alone in this,” I tell her, trying to make her feel better.

She sighs and sips her coffee. “I know. That almost makes it worse. I’m out there competing with a million other hungry grads. You know, they could have warned us in high school. Instead they told us we were all fucking special snowflakes and the world was at our feet. Such bullshit.”

She swears an awful lot for being such a quiet little thing. She looks at me with big green eyes and seems abashed for a moment, as if she’s aware that she doesn’t know me very well. I smile back and she relaxes. “Anyway,” she goes on, brushing her curly hair behind her ear, “I decided to take all my savings and say, ‘Fuck you America, fuck you economy. I’m taking my money and I’m spending that shit somewhere else.’ So here I am.”

“Is New Zealand your first stop?” I ask her.

She nods. “Yup. After this I’m on to Australia, then Thailand, then Europe. My dream is to find a small village somewhere on the Mediterranean and teach English.” A wistful look passes over her eyes. “It could happen.”

“I’m a big believer in anything is possible if you want it bad enough,” I tell her, and my eyes briefly fly to the front where Gemma is concentrating on driving shift and eating at the same time. Nick is listening to his own music with headphones so he doesn’t have to put up with Pink Floyd—or us, I suppose.

“So what brought you here?” she asks me, and I have to watch my words. I can’t exactly say Gemma with Nick sitting up there with her.

“Curiosity,” I tell her. “That, and Flight of the Conchords.”

“Good choice,” she says appreciatively. She really is quite pretty. Maybe a little too innocent looking for my appetite, but she balances it out with a style that reminds me of Stevie Nicks.

She’s not Gemma though. She doesn’t have the mischievous eyes I keep trying to get a glimpse of in the rearview mirror.

“So, Gemma tells me this trip is pretty much all for you,” I say. “Which would definitely put her in the running for cousin of the year, wouldn’t you say?”

“She’s pretty awesome,” Amber admits.

“My ears are burning!” Gemma shouts from the front and flashes us a cheeky grin over her shoulder.

“I’m only saying good things,” Amber protests. She looks at me. “I said I would be happy going wherever Gemma wanted me to go, but she’s thrust all the responsibility on me. Now you’re here though, so you can choose.”

I shrug and lean back in the seat. “Honestly, I have no idea. Everything I’ve read about sounds amazing. I’m happy with pretty much everything, too.”

“Great,” Gemma says, “the plans are in the hands of the most indecisive people in the world. I thought you North Americans were all about enforcing your choices on people.”

“Well, I’m just being polite,” I say. “All the blame goes to Amber for being the American.”

Amber playfully punches me on the shoulder and giggles. “Hey, I resent that.”

I grin at her and sense Gemma watching us. I glance up and see her eyeing me briefly before looking away. For that one moment, she looks kind of bothered.

Gemma clears her throat. “All right, kids, since you both can’t make your own decisions, I’ll let you know what we’re doing. We’re heading down to the Waitomo Caves for two nights. I haven’t booked any of the tours yet, but the one I want to do is tomorrow morning so just give me the okay and I’ll call them. The cheapest one is ninety-nine dollars so I don’t know if that’s out of your budget.”