Witi Ihimaera - The Thrill of Falling - Stories

Colby considered the invitation, wavered, then screwed up her face. ‘I’ve seen your place but … okay.’

They made love, efficiently, careful not to get too sentimental about it. Afterwards, they lay in each other’s arms. ‘There’s a question I’ve been meaning to ask you,’ Drake began. ‘How did you know about the hula girls?’

‘You sing in your sleep,’ she answered, teasing him. ‘Sweet leilani, heavenly flower …’

‘Yeah, well,’ Drake countered, ‘you whistle through the gap in your teeth.’

‘Are you trying to pick a fight, Maori boy? And I was thinking that this was going to be the beginning of an interesting relationship.’

‘Perhaps. Hey, I’m not objecting. Doesn’t a gap between the teeth mean a lascivious nature?’

She laughed, tossing her head. ‘Lascivious? Now that’s a long word for a hori helicopter honcho.’

He pretended wounded pride. ‘You’re not the only one who went to college.’ He motioned to his bookshelf.

She picked up Moby Dick . ‘Looks like you’ve read it,’ she said doubtfully, ‘but one book does not a bright boy make. And seeing as we’re complimenting each other, did you realise you have one blue eye and one brown eye?’

‘It comes in handy for showing my Maori side, and then’ — he turned — ‘my Pakeha side. So which side do you like?’

‘Don’t tempt me.’

‘What are you going to do with your money?’ Drake asked. They were snuggled into each other after making love again. ‘Are you still planning to buy that bathtub?’

‘And bathe in asses’ milk? Sure am.’ Colby pursed her lips and began to intone, from Shakespeare’s Antony and Cleopatra , ‘The barge she sat in, like a burnished throne burn’d on the water …’ She gave him a look, then kissed him. Of course they had kissed before, the kind of teeth-grinding, lip-mashing, tongue-searching kisses that came when they were climaxing. But this one was tender, sweet, gentle.

‘What did you do that for?’ he asked.

‘I was wondering if you’d like it.’ She kissed him again. ‘Feel anything?’

He tried to change the subject. ‘So what’s in your future, Colby?’

She knew he didn’t want to talk serious, so went with him. ‘I’ll do this for a couple more years. If I’m lucky, I’ve a hankering to settle down with the right man and make a baby.’ She gave him a quick glance. ‘Correction, seeing as you know my history. Another man.’

Drake tried to make it easy on her. ‘Second time lucky?’ He knew that she was thinking what he was thinking: to start again and fill the hole that had blown up in her life when her husband had died in China. ‘Not me, I gather?’

She took his hands in hers and flipped them palms up. ‘Oh Drake, one of these days I’m going to see hair growing here.’

He tried to look shocked. ‘You wound me deeply.’

In many respects he knew he wouldn’t be any good for her anyway. He’d never get over his other life. He’d always be wondering: if only he’d taken Georgina and Mona with him on the trip before the solar flare. And even if he did ever marry again, they would always be there, waiting for him, waiting.

‘What I mean is,’ Colby continued, ‘I don’t think you’re one of those guys who are into commitment with anybody else except yourself. Apart from which your heart is as big and warm as that ice cube out there.’

How long was it before the telephone rang?

‘Yes?’ Drake asked, disentangling himself from Colby’s arms.

‘Kia ora, Francis,’ Kuia began, her voice sounding mysterious. ‘Is Colby there with you? You might want to come down to watch your berg being melted. There’s something curious in the ice.’

It didn’t take them long to get dressed and take the lift down to the ice melting area where Kuia and a crowd of others were watching.

The mass. The inconsistency.

The light was refracting through the berg. The shape within morphed from one image to another: a giant mosquito from an antediluvian era; a Tyrannosaurus rex ; an ancient artefact from some sunken Antarctic Atlantis; a legendary waka that had missed Aotearoa and ended up girdled in ice. An alien spaceship with its navigator, a thing from outer space, trapped inside.

Maybe it was Captain Ahab himself, wrapped around Moby Dick when he’d gone down to the dark depths of the sea.

‘What is it?’ Colby asked.

A rotor.

‘Stop.’

Drake’s heart was thudding as he walked quickly through the crowd to the ice wall. ‘Turn out the lights.’ With the lights off, everyone could see the shape within. Trapped inside the berg was a helicopter. Around it, the hawsers that had lashed around the chopper as it had crashed into the berg and been taken down into the sea.

Drake peered in. Colby joined him: inside, two people, a man and a woman. The man was cradling the woman in his arms.

The name of the helicopter: Pequod .

Drake showed not a quiver of emotion. ‘The berg was too big,’ he said. ‘The pilot and crew must have tried to reverse the cable and, when it came back it whipped around the rotors and pulled it down, lashing them to it.’

‘Thus, I give up the spear!’

The harpoon was darted; the stricken whale flew forward; with igniting velocity the line ran through the groove — ran foul. Ahab stooped to clear it; he did clear it; but the flying turn caught him round the neck, and voicelessly as Turkish mutes bowstring their victim, he was shot out of the boat, ere the crew knew he was gone. Next instant, the heavy eye-splice in the rope’s final end flew out of the stark-empty tub, knocked down an oarsman, and smiting the sea, disappeared in its depths.

Then, on the intercom, came Bazza’s voice:

‘Get your ass up here, Drake. You think you brought in a big one? Well, there’s another just turned up on the horizon.’

Drake looked at Colby.

Destiny.

‘Don’t go out there,’ Kuia whispered. ‘I’ve grown very fond of you.’

‘We’ll be fine,’ Drake answered, kissing her on both cheeks. Then she pulled him close and pressed her nose against his in the hongi.

Taking Colby’s hand, Drake led the way to the helipad.

The news had travelled fast. As they stepped out, Queequeeg, Samurai Sam, Starbuck, Flask, Czar and Hari were waiting for them. ‘This is our date, not yours,’ Drake said as he and Colby kitted up.

‘Oh yeah?’ said Samurai Sam. ‘Well, we’re coming along just to make sure the date doesn’t go bad. You’re coming back, you hear?’

‘Wa-hey,’ Flask said.

‘Wa-ho,’ Hari responded, punching the air.

Drake could swear there were tears in Samurai Sam’s eyes — nah, just spangles of snow, melting on his eyelashes.

Drake and Colby walked out to the Pequod . Just before they took off, a sudden radiance shimmered over the sea: an auroral display of such blinding beauty that it took Drake’s breath away.

A karanga: ‘Haere mai.’

Colby brought him back to the present. ‘Say, Drake, do me a favour? Kiss me just once as if you meant to marry me?’

And this kiss was even sweeter than the one in his room. But he was leading, not her.

She opened her eyes, surprised. ‘Wow, Drake, you’d better watch out. I might have to think twice about you and the commitment word.’

He kissed her again, this time, more passionately, to shut her up, to stop even thinking about what might be possible.

She laughed, pressing herself against him. ‘Just our luck, big boy. You know … now that we know the future, you and I haven’t exactly got a long shelf life, right?’

‘That depends,’ he said, jerking his head towards the other choppers, ‘on whether or not they can bring us back alive.’ Then he smiled, remembering the mangled helicopter in its crystal cave of ice and the two people inside it, cradled in each other’s arms. They looked happy.