The Lighter Side of Large (17 page)

“Aye, laddie,” I shoot back with an equally broad accent. “And ah like a man in a kilt playing the pipes.”

“You’ll take the high road…” Jae starts to sing in a mellow baritone.

I join him, soprano. “And I’ll take the low road/and I’ll be in Scotland a-FOOOOOOOOOOOOORE ye! But me and my true love will never meet again/on the bonnie, bonnie banks of Loch LOOOOOOOOmond!”

We end in a fit of laughter. Each time he shifts the gear, his hand brushes my leg. “Oh, sorry,” he says. “There I go again, making passes at you. If you slap me, I deserve it.”

I laugh. “I promise not to slap you. Speaking of which, what about you? All I know of you is that you like fruit and vegetables and grab strangers an awful lot.”

Jae shifts the gear and brakes at a stoplight. “I grew up in Wellington, went to Victoria University, got a degree in Business and Commerce Administration, and then moved to Nelson about seven years ago. Been in business since then, but now I want to do adventure tourism full-time. That is, if I can make it profitable.”

“I’m sure you will,” I encourage him. “So what’s your other business?”

He shifts the gear and hits the accelerator as the light turns green. “Marketing. It was fun and challenging for a while, but the whole sell-sell-sell, come up with a new kitsch phrase to persuade people to buy, is wearing me out.”

“Which is why you yearn for the great outdoors where you can do crazy fun stuff, hey?” I laugh. I wonder if he does the marketing for AmandaE, which would explain his presence in the store the other day. He doesn’t mention it and because of my experience there, I am loath to bring it up.Jae laughs and nods. “You’ve got me spot on.”

“So, do you have family around here? Siblings?”

“No siblings,” he replies. “All my family’s back in Wellington, but, sad to say, I do have a lot of ex-family in town.”

“I hope it was amicable,” I say, referring to his divorce.

He shrugs. “It was. I wanted a family and she wanted to keep climbing the corporate ladder and we grew apart. She spent more and more time away from home, traveling on business. One day we came to the conclusion that we really weren’t married anymore, mentally or emotionally, so we made it official.”

We turn onto the Wakefield-Kohatu Highway and the Jeep picks up speed. The ride is a bit bumpy, Jeeps not being known for their comfort and smooth ride, but the drive affords us a lovely view of the ocean as we leave Nelson behind and later wind through fertile fields with lush forests and soaring mountains nearby.

Jae asks about my kids and I don’t hold back in bragging on them. I also talk about my crazy friends and invite him to join us for coffee at our weekly conclave.

“It must be nice to have a group of friends with whom you can just be yourself,” says Jae.

“Don’t you have friends to pal around with?” I ask, surprised.

“Yes, but they’re not real.” I giggle as he realises what that sounds like. “I mean, not that they’re imaginary; I mean they’re so fake, so stuck on themselves. All they care about is their looks and places they go to be seen and even the coffee shops they patronise have to be THE trendy establishments. I walked into a meeting once with a cup of coffee from a convenience store, and you would have thought I’d brought in a cup full of leprosy. Everyone else had cups from a certain very popular coffee shop chain and their expressions made it clear that I had committed a major It Factor transgression.”

“And they are your friends because?” I query.

“They’re business friends,” he admits. “You know how you naturally hang out with the people you’re around the most, so that’s how I ended up with a bunch of fashion-obsessed, model types whose focus is, well, the very fickle world of fashion.”

“I thought you said you were in marketing?” I ask.

“I am,” he replies a little too quickly, like he let something slip that he wishes he hadn’t. “Marketing for clothing.”

“My friend Riyaan, will be glad to meet you. He’s obsessed with fashion. He’s the most fashionable of our group, which normally would say a lot because the rest of us are female. But Sands lives in gym clothes and Cat is, uh, well, she’s homeless, so her style is very vagrant.”

Jae laughs. “I can’t wait to meet them.”

An hour later we reach our destination. It’s a rustic one-story log cabin building which looks brand new. Next to it is a large metal barn with the sign, “Go 4 It Adventure Centre.” A sign on the cabin lists activities: quad biking, cycling, hiking, boating, canoeing, rock climbing, bungee jumping, skydiving, horseback riding. “Wow,” I say, “This place is amazing.”

“Wait till you see the views,” Jae says, placing his hand lightly on the small of my back and sending a tingle through my body. Let’s go inside.”

Jae introduces me to the Chuck the manager, an old university buddy of his. “Nice to meet you, Bella,” Chuck shakes my hand. “You two know each other from where?”

“The grocery store,” I reply.

“She grabbed me in the fruit section,” Jae adds.

Chuck squenches his face in an attempt to not laugh. “Was it by the bananas or kiwis?” he wheezes.

We burst out laughing. Jae smacks his forehead. “That’s not what I mean! Bella, what is it about you that makes me say everything with double meanings?”

“Don’t blame me,” I gasp between guffaws.

Chuck wipes tears from his eyes. “I will always remember this day, the day Mr. Perfect, Mr. Has-It-Together-and-Never-Says-the-Wrong-Thing, says something completely out of character.”

“That’s not true,” Jae defends himself. “I just say them around Bella.”

“So is that what he was like in college?” I ask Chuck. “Always had it together?”

Chuck rolls his eyes. “Drove me barmy. You know, I think he even ironed his underwear. He’s very fastidious. If you looked up the definition of impeccable, Jae’s picture is next to it.”

“At least I wore underwear,” Jae grins at him. Chuck picks up a baseball cap with “Go 4 It Adventure Centre” embroidered on it and flings it at him.

They chat for a minute and I’m glad to see their easygoing interaction. Though friends, Chuck obviously respects Jae as his employer.

Chuck gives us coveralls and rubber boots to wear - I’m given an XXXL men’s coveralls - and we walk to the barn to choose our quad bikes. Jae gets an electric blue one while I get a red one with matching helmet. With quick instructions on how to drive the thing and a couple of turns around the parking lot to prove my ability to handle it, we’re ready to go.

“Whoops, almost forgot the picnic basket.”

Jae jogs to his Jeep and pulls a waterproof duffle bag from the rear. “We’ll be gone a few hours, so I packed us a late lunch, early dinner.”

A few hours?! What a date,
I chuckle to myself.

He attaches the bag to the back of his quad bike with bungee cords and put on his helmet. “Ready?”

“Let’s do it!” I laugh, and away we go. Jae speeds off and I try to keep up, at first along a gravel track which quickly turns into a dirt track. We dodge through a natural pinball game of boulders and trees, then through a pine forest, ducking under low branches. I’m not quick enough and get smacked in the helmet several times, but I don’t mind. The speed and danger of the trail is exhilarating.

We splash through a shallow creek before sailing over bank after bank of small hills. At the crest of each one, I nearly fly off the bike, shrieking with laughter.

After half an hour, Jae stops. “Are you all right? Want to keep going?” he shouts over the quad bike engines.

“Yes!” I reply and off we go again. We come to another shallow creek but instead of crossing it, Jae steers into it, creating wings of water on either side of the bike. At one point my bike gets stuck in a hole. Jae helps me off it and through the shin-deep water to the bank, where I watch him hook a pulley from his bike to mine and slowly ease it out.

When he finishes, he takes off his helmet. “Need a break?”

“Yes,” I say, taking off my helmet.

Jae points to the hill behind us. “There’s a beautiful view up top. Are you game?”

I eye the rocky hill dubiously but don’t want to say no. “Sure.”

Jae grabs the duffle bag off the back of his bike. As we ascend the hill, Jae quizzes me on our trail ride, wanting to know which parts I liked best, if there was anything too tame or too scary, what would I change, and the like. This is, after all, an experiment for his business. Soon the questions cease because I am short of breath. I stop for a break, then resume the climb, unable to talk and sweating profusely.

“Halfway there,” Jae says cheerfully but my heart falls. I know I can’t go much farther. I take another break.

My physical distress is evident to Jae. “Let me help you,” he says and takes my hand. As sweet and exciting as it is for him to take my hand, the thrill is lost in my effort to breath. Together, we climb the rest of the way to the top. Jae goes slowly and encourages me without making it sound like obvious encouragement. Finally, we stop. “We made it,” he says. “Would you look at that sky? Marvelous!” Jae breathes.

I place my hands on my hips, gasping for air, and look in the direction Jae faces. We stand on a cliff top, fields and forest and mountains spreading out underneath us. To the north, clouds are breaking up, revealing a soft blue sky and beams of sunshine.

“This is my favourite view in all of New Zealand,” Jae confesses.

“I can see why,” I pant and sit down on a nearby boulder.

Jae joins me and opens the duffle bag. In it is a small wicker picnic basket. From it he pulls a bottle of water and hands it to me, then grabs one for himself. As I regain my breath and energy, he spreads out a small blanket and empties the bag.

“We have chips, trail mix, sandwiches, fruit, and” He pulls out a container with something unidentifiable in it “...cake. Homemade by yours truly.”

“An adventure tourism director and a chef. You are multi-talented.”

Jae polishes his nails on his shirt. “I don’t mean to brag, but I slaved over this cake all morning. Yup, I opened up that package and dumped in the eggs and milk and ta-da! Double chocolate truffle supreme.”

I smile at him, but resolve to not eat any. I am not going to screw up my diet.

He pulls out a thermos. “Still feels warm,” he says, feeling the stainless steel metal. “Coffee?”

“Yes, please,” I nod.

He pours a serving into the thermos cap and hands it to me, then pours a cup for himself in a styrofoam cup. “Sugar and creamer,” he says, handing me a plastic spoon and covered sugar and creamer containers, which look like they’re made for campouts and trail rides.

We eat for several minutes in silence, me finally breathing normally and enjoying the view, which truly is spectacular. And enjoying each other, I hope. At least I am enjoying being in Jae’s company. Even in silence, it is comfortable being with him.

Halfway through the meal, I sigh. “My hands are just twitching.”

Jae’s brow furrows. “Is something wrong?”

“No, they’re just twitching to draw. I wish I had my charcoals and sketch pad with me. I’d sketch this scene. It’s so beautiful.”

“You’re an artist? Do you paint? Have you ever had an exhibit?”

I whoop with laughter. “You give me too much credit. I’m an amateur at best. I doodle cartoons, caricatures. Did it mostly in college but haven’t seriously pursued it since then. Being a single parent eats up a lot of time.”

“I’d like to see some of your old stuff. If you have a love for drawing, you should cultivate it. If it makes you happy and helps others, do it.”

“That sounds like a motto,” I laugh.

Jae looks thoughtful. “You’re right, it does. But you know what? That’s how I want to live from now on. If it makes me happy and helps others, do it.” He jumps to his feet. “Here, I can take pictures and send them to you.” He pulls out his phone and holds it up to take a shot of the vista.

“Thanks,” I say, pleased that we will be in contact after the date via email at least. That was promising.

Jae takes several shots. “There. Put them all together and you’ll have a panoramic view.”

We chat about Nelson and all its arty stores and events which have a home there. It turns out we have a lot in common when it comes to the arts. After we finish the meal and swallow the last of the coffee, we climb back down the hill - which is a thousand times easier than going up it - and hop on the bikes. “Another hour and we’ll be done,” Jae informs me.

The trail is bumpier as we continue through dense forest. I don’t think my bladder can handle many more bumps when we emerge from the trees to another gorgeous sight. Jae stops his bike as I pull up next to him. Across the valley floor runs a wide river and a metal bridge spanning it a thousand feet up. We can see a group of people on the bridge when suddenly one jumps off. I hear a scream echo through the river gorge. Then the person bounces up and I realise what they’re doing.

“Bungee jumping,” says Jae. “Have you ever done it?”

I shake my head. “No way. Have you?”

He nods, a sparkle in his eye. “It’s the most terrifying thing I’ve ever done but also the most fun. Standing on the edge, knowing you just have to push off and go plummeting at breakneck speed - talk about a leap of faith. Then you jump and fall and suddenly you’re jerked back up and bouncing upside down. Afterward you feel like you can accomplish anything.”