8. Gray

8

GRAY

W hen we arrive in Auckland, Chris is bleary-eyed and tense. I lead him through the airport to customs, then to the baggage claim area because he's not paying attention to where we are. He's a shell of his normal self, and I'm worried.

What if Revv's nest is a sad homage to Chris's pebbles? Or worse, what if Revv can't build his nest because he can't find the pebbles?

I don't know if Chris will ever forgive himself, even though it isn't his fault.

The baggage claim area is crowded with people waiting around the flat carousels spitting out suitcases. The New Zealand airport is surprisingly dark with low ceilings and old fluorescent lights.

Chris stares off into space while I watch for our luggage.

An older woman walking with a cane approaches us. She has white hair and enough smile lines to suggest a life well lived. She waves at Chris who startles next to me.

"Lillian! Sorry, I didn't see you."

She smiles. "I noticed. Who is this young man you're traveling with?" Her accent sounds half-Australian, half-British.

"Oh, right. Lillian, this is my… Gray. Gray, this is my aunt Lillian."

His Gray? Are we going to pretend we're not mates in front of his aunt? I thought Chris was openly poly.

"You mean he's your mate," Lillian says.

"I… uh… I'm so tired, Lillian. Do you know where Revv is?"

"You mean your other mate?" she asks.

Chris's shoulders sag. "I know it isn't what you wanted for me. I just need to get to Revv, okay? I won't bother you with my lifestyle again."

His lifestyle? He must be tired if he's calling it that. I thread his fingers through mine and squeeze his hand. He looks so defeated.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Lillian asks. Her voice is patient and kind. I don't think she cares about our "lifestyle" as Chris so indelicately put it.

"I know you and my dad don't approve?—"

She reaches out with a gnarled hand and grabs Chris's wrist. "No, son. I am not your father, and I am happy you've found two men to love."

The vulnerability in Chris's eyes breaks my heart. "You're happy about this? But I thought…"

"I imagine you and I have a lot to clear up. We need to sit down and have a proper conversation about this after you get some sleep. You look knackered."

"But Revv?—"

"Don't worry about Revv. He's a box of birds. The last time I brought him food, he was making some very interesting projects. I'm sure he'd love to show you."

I'm not sure I follow. "A box of birds?"

"He's well. Let's go see him."

That's when I notice both our suitcases have made it onto the carousel. I grab for mine, and Chris is alert enough to get his too.

Thank the Ice for his aunt. The salve of her support might be enough to get him through this.

Lillian turns around and starts slowly walking toward the glass doors that lead outside. "Come now. I think it will do you good to see Revv."

"Where is he?" Chris asks.

"Doing permanent damage to my craft store. But at least he's having a good time. He's endearing. Like a vulgar puppy."

That is… very accurate. It makes me wonder what kind of sculptures Revv is making. I suppose we should consider ourselves lucky he hasn't thrown some kind of orgy in the craft shop.

Then again, there's still time.

We follow Lillian outside and to the parking lot. She unlocks a tiny red car that has a steering wheel on the right side. That will take some getting used to.

We cram our luggage into the trunk, and I get into the back seat. My knees have to bend at an awkward angle in order for me to fit, but that's fine. We're going to see Revv. Very soon, Chris will finally be able to rest, and we'll have an egg to cuddle.

Everything is smaller in New Zealand. The roads, the shops, the little homes on the side of the road. Lillian does not live near Auckland, so we have to drive for a while. Chris falls asleep almost immediately, apparently placated by Lillian's claim that Revv is happily nesting in her craft store. I, on the other hand, have questions.

"It's a Tuesday. Is your craft store open?"

"We're closed on Sundays and Mondays. That was when Revv got started. I'll keep the store closed until he lays the egg."

"Did he try to find Chris's pebbles?"

She presses her lips together. "Yes."

There's clearly more to the story, but I don't think she wants to tell me. It makes me wonder if Revv is actually okay or if she said that to make Chris feel better. We drive another twenty minutes before she finally parks next to a shop called Threads and Such.

Chris opens his eyes and shakes his head, probably trying to wake up. I climb out of the back seat, my legs singing with relief.

"Here is a key to the shop. You'll need it until the egg arrives," Lillian says, handing Chris a key connected to a bright yellow chain.

We walk up to the front door. There's a bright blue sign with the silhouette of a penguin and the words Notice: penguin shifter nesting. This place of business will be closed until the egg-laying in approximately 3 days . The three is written in black marker, while the rest of the text is in printed Times New Roman.

"Three days? How do they know?" I ask.

"Oh, they don't. But the assessor came, and that was his guess." She unlocks the door with a key of her own. "The two of you should go in without me. I don't need to see his project again."

"Thank you, Lillian," Chris says.

"Call me when you're settled and ready to talk, okay?"

"Okay."

We watch her walk away, leaning heavily on her cane. It's Chris who finally grabs for the door. "Should we see what Revv has been up to?"

He swings the door open and steps inside.