Rebecca
Has an interpreter in her head. Constantly telling her what's going on, and occasionally adding his own peculiar little insights, which she laughs at. I suspect that this interpreter is a very cruel and deceptive chappy.
I was four days into my mission of seeing most of New Zealand on my dole of $125 a week, and getting laid. Life at home was so quiet, dismal, parental - and now the freedom of the backpacker's realm had me once more.
Said goodbye to recent acquaintance Doug, and hitched from Taupo to Wellington. Nothing spectacular happened, and I was pleased to make my deadline with 30 minutes to spare. The South Africa/Australia rugby test. Following the guide book instructions, I climbed a small hill on the edge of downtown, and headed for Beethoven House. As always I was curious about the place, and hoped that the vibes would be good. The gate merely had an anonymous BH on it. Climbing thru the steep front garden I saw several No Smoking signs. Basking in the winter sun, a skinny girl in a summer frock was reading on the front doorstep. She looked kinda hippie and I smiled. She smiled and told me I'd have to go round the back. The front door was barricaded inside with furniture. Her name, I would later discover, was Rebecca.
Inside and out, the house is littered with knick-knacks, flower-pots, Woman's Weeklys and antique furniture. Like my Gran's place. A nice young Englishman is watching telly. He doesn't know where Allan is, but invites me to sit down and relax. The rugby will be on soon. Allan twirls in. He is a fifty-something camp Chinaman. Well, Singaporean, but "Chinaman" will present you with the right image.
"You have just arrived?" Yeah.
"Please take your luggage up to Rrrroom One!!"
"A Rrrroom with a view!!
"Breakfast is served at 8am!!"
"And is complimentary!!"
He wasn't looking at me but the ceiling, like a schoolboy remembering his lines. A most peculiar little man.
I'm unpacking my gear, sorting out what to wear after my much needed shower. Allan is suddenly behind me. "Oh!, I forgot...there is a flea market!" I explain that I'm about to watch the rugby.
"But why would you want to watch that?"
"It's my sport. It's what I play"
"Ooh, but I would've thought you to be a badminton player, lovey!"
"Ooh, imagine those big brutes running at you. And knocking you right over. A pretty boy could get hurt!!" This mini-tirade had all the appropriate camp gestures. Teapot.
So naturally I had a very quick shower, in case he decided to try and join me. Other people arrived for the game. A cool array of guests. A huge rough and ready Scotsman with an eloquent tongue. A geeky pom, James. A hip Jap guy completely in leather. And John, a fishmonger from Cannes. I let the Scot have a good measure of my vodka, and he gave me some beers. A couple of already pissed pom girls popped in and sort of asked me out to a pub. They were of the oh so common dumpy outgoing plain but buoyant lassies type. Sue and Sheree. I went to a Chinese smorgasbord with the guys. Couldn't really afford the $11, but was in the mood for some male bonding, and we had a fine time. Back at the hostel I drank more vodka and read more of "The Wasp Factory" with uncommon enthusiasm. Met Jo, an exquisitely pretty English gal who worked for Allen and at a nightclub. We exchanged backgrounds and chit-chat. Then the brace of pom girls returned, smashed and giggling, complaining that I had stood them up. I promised to party with them tomorrow. Excellent. The beauty and the beasts. All options open.
Rebecca had been flitting about. Talking to no-one. I guessed she was on an acid trip, from the way she was acting. I was interested in the pyschological purpose to her dead-end missions.
Tv was getting rather boring, and I was on the verge of bed. It had been a long day. The room was awoken by a breaking crashing noise in the hallway. No-one else could be bothered, so I investigated. At the bottom of the stairs was a broken violin. Probably just a small hole and strings gone, but violins look broken so easily. Coming down the stairs very carefully was Rebecca. She silently picked up the violin, and put it in it's case. And wandered off. The others said that it was hers, and didn't seem too surprised. Rebecca joined us and sat at the back of the room. She looked at the tv, but that was about it. When all the others had gone to bed we talked spasmodically.
"Have you been here long?", I asked.
"What star sign are you?", was her reply.
"Scorpio." And then a 5 minute pause.
"Do you like goldfish?"
"Only the orange ones", I answered, but could get no reaction from her.
We were watching a shite Irish murder drama, and I wanted to study her spontaneous giggles and mumbled sentences, to interpret them, but the tv was too numbing, so I went to bed. Sue's bunk was next to mine, and I was planning to have a fantasy dream about her. Until she turned the tables.
Sue and Sheree had earlier joked about jumping on my bed in the middle of the night and screwing me. They were still up, in the bathroom, laughing and hushing drunkenly. It was annoying, but I eventually got to sleep. Not too heavily, for I was woken by Sue whispering "Oh God..." in her sleep. And then she started tugging the end of my sleeping bag, pulling my foot. Oh shiiit! I was petrified and confused and dumbstruck so I pretended to be asleep, with my eyes flitting about beneath their lids. Her tugs became more and more insistent and I ignored each one. A guy got up and went to the toilet. Sue followed him. I went back to sleep.
I was awoken by seagulls at 6:30, and just as I realised that we weren't near the beach the soundtrack changed to Beethoven, the volume up a notch. I was slightly hung-over and had delightful metaphysical thoughts bouncing about, and when the dorm was empty I got up to follow them like an automaton. All the other guests were obediently up, creating a lovely family-ish atmosphere. Except Rebecca - no-one saw her all day. Allan was the house-mother, flitting around making toast and hot drinks for us all. We each got a special toasted cheese sandwich with a heart-shape punched out of the top slice. I decided not to take this proprietor too seriously. Then Allan made an announcement that an un-named couple had been "rather naughty" in the tv room late last night. "Would the naughty people ppp-llease stand up!". Everyone was staring at me, so I got up and washed my dishes. Instant reputation. Was Allan match-making?? It was all too bizarre and I stopped thinking about it.
Beethoven House was just that. Lots of busts and pictures of the man, and his music always playing. It was quite pleasant. The place had two old wise dogs, Crispin and Bessie, which I took to be Allan's most prized friends. He gave James and myself one each, and the dogs took us for a walk. They knew the way up the hill, thru the bush, down the other side, and back home. Guide dogs.
Allan invited me to help him shift an old gas oven from a demolished house next door. It appeared that he wants me to be on staff, but not yet, just testing me for future reference. I didn't care - I was feeling so free and happy to be on the road again that I'd help anyone, where, how. It became a full hour of back-breaking work, but my mood remained.
Went for a wander around downtown and ran into Doug. Hardly surprising after the same in Rotorua and Taupo. We went to Molly Malone's for Guinness, then Flanagans for more of the same. I took him to Beethoven House, where he met Allan and Jo. He agreed that Allan was strange, but wasn't as taken by Jo's beauty as I was. Probably just being devious. Unfortunately we learned that Jo was a teetotaller. That only leaves Sue and Sheree. I promised to meet Doug at Molly Malone's at 9, and I would drag the two girls along. Good plan. I walked Doug back downtown, where he was meeting his latest woman (i.e. free food, bed, sex). She seemed too sweet (especially for him), instantly liked me, and it became more of a night to look forward to....
In preparation I had a few vodkas, and got washed and dressed down. At 8:30 Sue and Shelley had a sudden change of heart - probably the sudden realisation that I planned to pounce on one of them later. Unfazed, I headed off on my own. Except that Rebecca was going out at the same time. Taking the dogs for a walk downtown, to pick up her walkman. She was going my way, and I was unsure if she was allowed to have the dogs out so late, unsure if they were safe with her. I walked Bessie. Did my best to get a conversation up and running.
"Were you on acid last night?, you seemed to be rath..."
"No I wasn't."
"Oh." She raced off down the hill, letting Crispin run. Bessie tore off after them, so I had to run as well. It took a while to catch up.
"So, we're off to pick up your walkman?"
"Yep."
"Did a friend borrow it?" She ran again.
"Is it being repaired?" My dog tangled the lead around a lamp-post and Rebecca stood very still and stared at me as if I'd just done the unthinkable. Then strode off quickly. Litle terrier Crispin was loving it. I needed a rest. She found her walkman. Smashed on the footpath (a smashoholic?). She put the pieces in a rubbish bin and kept the tape. Clannad. If it had been obnoxious pop I would've bolted. I decided to walk her back, feeling responsible for the dogs. I popped into Molly's to tell Doug I'd be in later. He wasn't there.
We almost got back to BH when Rebecca suggested a walk in the park. No harm in that, I thought. Plus I was now in tag-along mode, the unravelling story was all hers. It was very dark, and at the back of the park she undid Crispin's leash. He was off. He raced away into the bush and disappeared. I tried hard to hold Bessie, labrador cross, but she slipped her collar and ran off as well. Now I was an accomplice and a desperate guilt tugged at my vodkafied chest. Rebecca was very pleased and ran like a schoolgirl after them. I followed. Up muddy slopes. Thru spikey bushes and wet grass. Couldn't see a thing. Each time I caught up to Rebecca she paused and then ran off again. The dogs were further away and probably lost forever. Two hours later, still a bit pissed, and with my lack of fitness trying to collapse me, I finally rounded the three up, and got a leash onto each dog. Shame I didn't have one for Rebecca.
All exhausted we lay in the damp grass, and looked out and over the city lights. We were sitting a few yards apart.
"Tell me something."
"Like what?", I asked.
"Anything."
I threw out interesting and bizarre anecdotes, straining my imagination, but she wasn't satisfied, and wanted more and more and more...
"If you could do anything possible or otherwise...?"
"What do you want to be remembered for?"
Then she prattled on about many disconnected topics including leaves, I think. Crispin heard something in a tree and went mental. He started attacking the bark at it's base. Rebecca was absolutely fascinated. I was lying on my back, looking backwards. My "it looks really cool upsidedown" didn't connect. Eventually she was cold and leant back between my legs for a while. There was no doubt that she wanted my arms around her but I just couldn't. I was thinking of Tanya and how my 3 weeks trapped in her psychotic devotion had begun on a hill. We started shaking from the cold, so went home. Got "home" at 12:30am and all the backpackers had gone to bed. She asked if I wanted coffee. I don't drink coffee. The only time I had ever said yes to it was with Larissa, and it had tasted marvellous. The gods only know why, but I said yes to Rebecca. And it was horrible. An omen for certain. I had mentioned meditation earlier and she wanted me to teach her. She left me in the pitch black tv room to meditate while she took a shower. Obediently I had a good trippy session.
And came out of it when I heard her enter the room. I only saw her when she sat down in the chair beside mine. I went thru the fundamentals of meditation, and she went silent. I sat still, patiently waiting for her to finish, that is if she was trying at all. If I was a better teacher I could've guided her thru it. Eventually she asked me if we could try the couch. I stretched out on it, and she snuggled up to me. She was only wearing a t-shirt and panties. She had brought down a duvet, and covered us. I knew what she was after, but couldn't be bothered. I tried to sleep.
She wouldn't let me. She commenced slowly running her hands up and down my body, slipping them under my shirt, and caressing me with great care and delicacy. I was uncomfortable so took her to the floor. There just happened to be two pillows there. Therefore I stripped (leaving my socks on because it was quite cold, and putting my glasses in a safe place). The build-up was slow and gradual as we teased, cuddled and groped closer to target spots. For some reason I was thinking of Tanya again. Rebecca touched my nose and make piggy noises, and she told me how wonderful my voice was (big shades of Tanya), and I started to get a little worried. Kept losing track of who she is. As if she transformed into somebody else in bed. Someone I know and am comfortable with. Someone I know intimately, yet cannot put a name to. Each time I touch her very flat chest I remember that it's Rebecca and what she actually looks like. A frightened anemic painted golliwog. Undernourished, very boney hips, tufts of hair that she surely cut herself, blue eyes constantly changing, hard sharp nose, thin cold lips. And then I get turned off. Each time I catch her face in a stretch of light she looks like any of 6 different fantasy characters, and like fighting a hallucinogenic drug I must try to stay logical, that she's the tall, gangly, gazing at space, laughing at nothing Rebecca. That I don't find attractive. She is very physical (like Tanya) and keeps pushing me into sexual positions, and using judo moves if I resist. Hours into it, and I still haven't entered her (in a penile fashion), she gets very PISSED OFF. I'm deliberately priming her up and not finishing (apparently). Why won't I fuck her!! All she wants is raw animal sex. So far she hasn't let me kiss her lips, tits or pussy; and the only position allowed is missionary.
I'm very tired and cramping and would really rather have some sleep.
She bites and digs nails into my back. I have to fuck her. She's manic.
I try making excuses: I'm tired; she reminds me of someone I have sad memories
of; I'm getting cramp; it's been a long time etc. Just as I was running
out of excuses I got a hard-on and ripped into her. After all that fore-play
I only lasted 4 or 5 strokes. Later I last a bit longer. She enjoyed writing
invisible messages with her finger on my chest. Even during sex, and expecting
me to understand what she wrote. More sex. She suddenly thinks I'm marvellous.
And it's nearly daylight. Allan is up, and has turned on the radio (classical
station of course). He flashes the tv lounge lights on and off. Signalling
that he knows, and is giving us a chance to disappear. Rebecca wants to
stay. We put our clothes back on, but secretly, under the duvet. She has
reverted to daylight mode and I'm not allowed to see her naked.
Ordinarily I would've gone to bed and had a long deep sleep. I lay in
bed wide awake for an hour. Then showered. Then breakfast. Same as yesterday,
Allan declares that "someone took advantage of poor dear Rebecca last night",
and no-one said a word in response. At 9 Rebecca has put on her most respectable
trousers and jacket and we leave together. I had promised to attend her
10 o'clock court case.
A woman walked with us, said something to Rebecca, then strode off ahead
of us. She's wearing a sports jacket, looks very officious, I guessed that
she was a social worker. She seemed very pissed off that I was coming along
for the ride, a spectator to laugh at the strange Rebecca. After a taxi
ride to the courthouse, they had a chat with the duty solicitor, while
I pondered on how one goes about twiddling his thumbs. They then went into
Courtroom 1, but not before the woman had approached me.
"Hi, I'm Mike. And you are?"
"Robert."
"Well, Robert, there won't be much to see. I think it would be best if you just waited here."
"Sure."
I was itching to see the case, to find out what she was charged with
etc, but I did as I was told. I'd never been to a court before. It wasn't
so bad. I just looked at all the people waiting, and tried to guess their
respective crimes. Would make an interesting tv game show. 15 minutes later,
Mike came out by herself.
"What happened?"
"It's not good. Rebecca refused to answer any questions. She just laughed."
"She laughed?", I'm holding back a smile.
"Yes. Quite hysterically. Loudly. She was probably acting, but I don't know. They took her away for a pyschiatric examination."
Finally we got talking. Her attitude towards me changed when I hinted at having spent the night with her. "Mike" is an old friend of Rebecca's, from Timaru. Rebecca was up looking for work, so came to Beethoven House to stay. Mike is a long-term resident of BH, studying at uni. She's very upfront, well spoken, cold. Very boyish looks, definitely a dyke. But she does seem to be very concerned about Rebecca, although won't tell me too much. The charge is wilful damage. She smashed the windows in some guys house. It's not the first time she's been in trouble. She is schizophrenic.
Rebecca returns, Mike talks with some men in suits. The case will be reheard in an hour. I'm asked to "keep an eye on her", and Mike leaves us. Rebecca looked very disturbed, almost a different person, her schizophrenia having fully taken over. She keeps wandering off. I followed her, but she just bugged people on the street for cigarettes, and showed an old man her legs. Mostly she just walked in circles, then back inside. She made some very loud squelching noises by dragging her finger along the plastic seat. No-one complained, she was very obviously deranged. She had the capacity to scare.
Second hearing was quick. She wasn't required to speak or answer questions. Because of her "condition" they almost sent her to the loony bin - but she isn't quite bad enough. Yet. No fine, just a $670 reparation, which her parents will pay for. Mike went to uni.
We walked to the dole office, and she signed on. Back at the hostel we sit, I write to Wendy, and Rebecca reads a page from my journal, from one year ago, romantic waffle. She seemed impressed. I went for a lonely wander around downtown. Looking in bookstores, but primarily searching for Doug. The guy I always bump into, except when I want to. (This appears to be some kind of magical rule, circles only happen when you don't expect them. One expectant thought and everything falls apart). Would've liked someone to talk to, but never mind. Bought a 6-pack of Steinlager, which lasted 2 hours, then back to the vodka. Showered and watched telly. Nine new people had arrived, and they stayed up until 12:30. Then Rebecca and I were alone once more, and the fire was still going, and she had her duvet and pillows. This is a common fantasy component; on the floor before an open fire. So I decided to make the most of it. Became as primal as I could. 6 hours of rampant, all 4-cyl sexual gymnastics unprotected (fingers crossed). With this girl, condoms just tear to shreds, it's too impractical. She seemed clean enough (except for her feet, a funny green colour, I avoided them). She's very supple, finally let me kiss her, and we traversed many sexual territories. I wasn't exactly Mr. Perfect, though. No sleep for ages - no decent sleep for 6 nights.
She tells me more about herself, able to be candid in the dark room. She is a nymphomaniac, and I don't doubt it for a moment. No man has ever given her an orgasm, and she really really wants one. I wasn't much use. I asked her about the court case. Her story: she went to a male mate's place with a bottle of rum, got drunk, they sexually assaulted her, she smashed all their windows with a brick. My interpretation: ditto, except they refused to have sex with her, so she smashed windows. I wonder what would happen if I refused. No, not me, I'm gonna get as much as I can, while it's available. I need the experience.
Thor's Day
We got up by 7. Avoided breakfast. My pentangle chain had broken during sex, easily repaired, but a sign? Elbows and hips bruised. Lips and mouth dry. Body knackered. Not in love. I feel used.
Rebecca wanted to come with me to Picton, we could hitch around the South Island together. But then she disappeared. Oh well, never mind. Allan drove me to the ferry terminal, and shook (stroked?) my hand goodbye. He said he'd miss me, what a lovely nice caring boy I was, so sweet, do come back....
The crossing was predictably dull, with a bit of nice scenery, only 3 hours. There were 3 hostel vans hawking for business. My guidebook listed 4, so I walked to the unrepresented hostel, the Flying Kiwi. An extended family of probably christians, except they became new-agers instead. Naked toddlers running around, Apple Mac, no meat. I'm the only guest, so I get a 3 bed dorm to myself. So far, so good. Mope about, fish and chips for lunch, some writing, almost finished "The Wasp Factory". The next ferry arrived at 7. I watched it unload, no Doug, no Rebecca. Not good, I want to travel with someone (other than me) for a change. Back at the Flying Kiwi the toddlers are having a fourth birthday party. Little kids with no pants, vegie food, parents in baggy outfits, names like Benu, Luka, Miki and Mila. I had been looking forward to some relaxation, but the little-uns kept involving me in their games, offering me muesli snacks. Wish I could handle hanging out in empty dorms, but I cannot progress on my own.
10pm. The final ferry. I'm falling asleep waiting for it, it's late. So tired. Watched everyone traipse off. No Rebecca. Not so bad I guess. Probably for the best. Should find me a sane girl. As I was leaving, I noticed a solitary uncollected wicker-basket, recalled her mentioning one. And sure enough, it had her name on it. But where was she? What the?, hey - maybe she committed suicide, jumped off the ferry. I was both excited and upset at the same time. The official told me that everyone was off the boat. I wait 5 minutes, then ask if I can go on board, she's probably fallen asleep somewhere. He lets me thru.
Luckily I knew the layout, I always explore all of a ferry out of boredom. She wasn't anywhere, not passed out in the ladies, nor in the bar. The cleaner is as puzzled as I. We go outside, the only remaining possibility (except I'm sure she's jumped). It's raining in waves, very windy, very very cold. Dark. There she is, singing to herself. Totally spaced. And she didn't want to leave, I had to drag her. By the arm, all the way out. Her basket is enormously heavy. We carry it between us, but my body is crying out, please, god, no more. She reads my mind, and is quite happy to leave it in someones garden. Mostly contained wigs and costumes, from her failed attempt to become a prostitute. The Wellington brothels knew of her, didn't want her. Of course not, she's not good looking enough, but for her it's the Conspiracy Theory.
She kept wandering off. Still carried her duvet, and a wee suitcase. The violin had gone overboard. It's very cold, my patience thin, so once more I have to take her by the arm, and lead her to the Flying Kiwi. Book her into my room, as my "girlfriend". She took a very long shower. Without a towel. A lot of the time would've been pulling her tight jeans up her wet body. She looked a mess, and fortunately the owner never saw her. I read some more, hoping that she'd go to sleep. I couldn't handle any more sex. Too, too tired.
She comes out into the lounge. She's wrapped silk undies around her ankles and toes. Looks stupid. The owner tries to converse with her, and she tries her hardest to straighten out, but she can't. Too spaced. He wants to know if it's a foreign concept, the wrapped feet. She just stares at him. I go to bed, and try my hardest to fake sleeping, snoring, because this woman has me scared and exhausted. Enough! Enough!
She shakes me until I have no choice but to "wake". She's wearing undies over her face, looking thru the leg holes. I have to share her bed, she's lonely. More sex. Eventually she falls asleep, and it is safe for me to do the same. Half expected her to fetch a knife, cut my dick off, but sleep overcame fear.
Managed 2 hours sleep. Rebecca was awake, watching me suspiciously.
"What will you do about your basket? You should take it home." She nooded yes.
"How much money have you got?"
"Hundreds, my parents are really cool."
"So, you can taxi to the train station? Train to Timaru? Good. I'll have to hitch, I'm broke. I can meet you in Timaru, we can travel from there."
She gives me some Dunedin phone numbers, people I can leave a message with. And I pull on my pack, say goodbye, walk outside, and away. Free. Weeeeee!!! What a fuckin' relief. Hitching again, feels great. Five minutes, and a gay writer wearing sorta Turkish clothes and a hat, took me to Blenheim. We stopped to see his potter mate, proudly showing off his new kiln. Then as the guy, Evan, was dropping me off, he came on to me in such a sweet inoffensive way, I almost said yes! To coffee at his place. But I was intent on making Christchurch.
Blenheim is known as a hitching graveyard, lots of etched messages on walls, the days of waiting. Not I, took me just 10 minutes. A nice dude, 12 years of travelling, just spent 3 months in a spinal unit after a surfing accident. The ride lasted 4 hours, and we yakked the entire way. In Ch'Ch' I immediately find James, the cheeky pom. He's watching the wizard and gives me directions for his hostel, Charlie Brown's, only a five minute walk. My good luck continues. Everything has been going my way, lots of excitement already, and it's only been a week.
The hostel is cool. A big old building, and cheap too. I might stay a while. To celebrate I went to an Irish bar, The Loft, live band, pint of Guinness. James and John the Frenchman turned up and announced that Rebecca had just checked in at Charlie Brown's. Shit. I drank the next two pints slowly until the bar closed, then walked around town, putting off returning to the hostel. Back at 12:30. and there was no sign of her, so I slept deeply.
Saturn Day
It's national schizo awareness week, which fits, for I'm now feeling as lost and confused and transient as Rebecca always maybe is. I drifted about the South Island. I'm looking for a new place to live, a new beginning. A job would be nice. Yet each town I stay at I find myself wandering aimlessly, but secretly hoping to bump into Rebecca. Tried wanking, as I was about to explode, but no amount of abstinence helped the cause. Maybe she's sexually ruined me for weeks/years/life. Doesn't feel like much of a loss just now. I'm not feeling very alive.
Doug still seemed to be trailing me like an annoying fly, and my bourbon disappeared. My hitch-hiking took me to Dunedin and he was there waiting for me.
Sun Day
I ignored Doug and looked around the streets for Rebecca. Don't really know why. Boredom? Masochism? Sex? Maybe I should phone her? Or should I just go home with my tail between my legs? Or? Or? I tossed a coin and it said yes...
Phoned the Tuckers, the old couple who live next door to the beach cottage where Rebecca's family take their holidays. She arrived from Timaru on Thursday and hitched into Dunedin yesterday for supplies. And never returned, they were worried. I left them my number, said I'd look for her.
Bought a 1.5 litre Ruby Red Port, 14%, $12. Good drinking value. Drank
half of it watching some rugby on tv, then another night at Rosie's with
Doug and Tony. It's not as packed and claustro as the night before, and
the beers go down well. Then the barman and bouncer confront me. I had
pissed into the big ashtray on the floor, they said. No way!! But they
swear that someone saw me do it. I promised to drink up and leave, only
if they promised to serve me tomorrow, and that was fine. Didn't leave,
but tied my hair up, put my jumper on, and took off my specs. It worked,
I'm now someone new. So I got newly drunk. A beautiful woman (actual, not
via alc) approached me, strode right up to me, and before I could even
comprehend the possibilities she gave me a free aftershave sample, and
continued circulating. I really started to enjoy myself, but by 1 I was
chucking big time and went home alone.
Moon Day.
Watched "EastEnders" with Tony. Doug slept 'til 4. Then back to Rosie's but I figure we were all bored with the drinking and with each other, so we were home early. The Tuckers phoned me. They were now very worried about poor Rebecca, who still hadn't returned. So I phoned the other number I had, her pal Caroline, who said that Rebecca had hitched to Queenstown and then Christchurch, looking for me...Oh-oh, sounds obsessive. The next day Doug & Tony took the Magic Bus to Ch'Ch'. I caught a cold. Read and watched tv.
Then another day of boredom. Went to the library and window shopped. More port, which I thankfully can't taste because of my cold. Rebecca phoned! she's in Timaru, will be down in a day or two. I should be avoiding her, but what else is there. Maybe I can help her, break her, open up her emotions, get some tears running, be her analyst, mentor, saviour. Who knows, but at least it's something. She wants to make a movie with me. Or write a great novel. Phones again - arrives at 2:10 tomorrow, then Caroline will drive us out to her cottage, it's very beautiful there, remote and secluded. She'll get lots of wine and dope and food. We can build a love nest. Sounds like a suicidal hibernation pact. Cool.
Wednesday.
Pack and do some laundry. On the news there has been a train crash, 1 fatal and 6 serious, before it got to Timaru. Rebecca phones, she'll now take the bus, which passes near the beach. She'll phone from there. Beautiful sunny day. At noon I have no options, just waiting for her to call. Best scenario: Caroline drives me out, and she is a babe. As promised she phoned again at 2. I'll have to hitch out and meet her there. Fate still intervening. I hope she's worth it. Dutifully I walk out to where the motorway starts and start to hitch. Walking helps one think, and I waken up too. What am I doing? The girl is psycho. She could actually kill me, it's in her eyes. Free living for a week sounds great, but at what cost? I think deeply then throw my future onto the pyre of fate. I decide that if a babe picks me up, and is going to Ch'Ch', then I will too. Otherwise Rebecca.
After 5 minutes (isn't it always) a middle-aged lady in a Mazda stops (not babe, doh!). I'm saying "Just to Wai"...but she interrupted, and that if I could do some driving we were going to Ch'Ch'. Her 20-yr-old daughter, 6 months pregnant with her first child, was in the train crash. In a state of shock, mum was not dealing with it too well. Visibly distressed. She was very tired, and her hubby bastard had left her 2 years ago. She was only just coping as it was. I got earbashed much, but also told her my woes. She was a teacher/journalist. We listened to Beethoven and Carole King. I drove for hours, towards dark Christchurch. Past the gas station where Rebecca was waiting for me. I could've stopped and explained, but didn't. Cruel? It was strange driving after all this time, and I took it very seriously, burning my eyes out concentrating. We stopped at a cafe, and the proprieter let us watch the 6pm news on his tv. She saw her daughter, cheered her up some.
She dropped me off near the centre of Christchurch, very very thankful for all that I had done, and all I could think was thank you for saving me from Rebecca. Fate is a wondrous beast. Charlie Brown's full, so I checked into the more expensive "Backpackers in the Square". Very rude receptionists. And bed bugs (many bites next morning, grrrr). And it's above a bar with very late, very loud music. And the walls are thin, so all I heard all night was the drunks returning.
Found Tony in the bar below. Had a drink with him and a girl he was chatting up, Mari from the USA. He was convinced that he was in, until she mentioned that she was off to do volunteer work in Antarctica for 6 months. He escorted her to the 10pm bus that took her to the airport. Played some pool and early to bed, except I didn't sleep much, did I?
Doug flew back to Scotland an hour before I had arrived.