It was the Picton ferry trip that first started Carol thinking. She had been living with Kevin for a few months after he suggested that it made more sense for her to give up her flat and move in with him. Came Christmas and he decided a South Island holiday was just what they both needed. The ferry was very full and there was a scramble for seats as they came on board. Kevin chose some seats at the edge of a circular section that had some of the window seats marked "RESERVED" with a wheelchair symbol marked on the cardboard signs. They watched as people came to sit in the reserved seats, saw the cardboard signs, and moved away again. Kevin kept a running total on the side of a travel brochure, shaking his head as it moved higher. "God, we're an obedient society," he muttered as the total reached sixteen. Finally a young woman suggested to her partner that they sit and see if any disabled people arrived. Her partner over-ruled her, shaking his head emphatically. They moved away, lugging heavy packs. Not long after that a steward came up and removed the cardboard signs. Several people nearby immediately leapt forward and claimed the seats. "See that, " said Kevin. "Only one person evaluated the situation correctly. Obviously intelligent. But what happens? Dominated by her partner, who is not as bright, but emotionally in control of the relationship." "So?" Carol queried. "So they lose out. Don't get the good seats. So she'll continue to lose out while she's with him." Carol nodded, and began thinking about relationships, past and present. Kevin got up and wandered off "to explore." He came back with two cups of coffee and two muffins. Carol thought that people watching might think how considerate of him, but he hadn't asked her, and she was worried about being seasick. She then felt obliged to eat and drink, so she did. When they had finished there was an announcement that a film would screen in five minutes. It was "ANTZ," an animated comedy, so she turned to Kevin. "Shall we..?" she started to ask, tentatively. 'Kids rubbish," Kevin snorted." I read a review that said it was just a platform for Woody Allen jokes inside a Disney storyline. Waste of money." Carol sat back. The ferry started to sway a little. "We'll have a game of Euchre, should help pass the time," Kevin announced, producing a deck of playing cards from his pocket. Carol wondered if Kevin remembered the story she had told him about how her parents used to play cards for hours on the family camping holidays at the beach each Christmas. How fights and arguments would erupt over who played out of turn, who was allowed to sit next to the weakest player for the best discards, and who was failing to hold their cards up properly so that players either side could see them and get an unfair advantage. How she had learnt to disappear as soon as the dishes were done before the cards came out of the games box from underneath the canvas stretchers. How she came to despise competitiveness in general, and card games in particular. Such family dynamics did not register with Kevin. He had been an only child whose parents separated. His mother raised him on her own, choosing a monastic existence when it came to the male of the species. Carol was only partially aware of the growing stockpile of her "allowances for only-child behaviour." She sat back in her chair with a sigh and picked up the hand dealt to her. She knew how much Kevin liked playing cards: he spent so much time at the blackjack and poker tables since the casino had opened. As the ferry reached Cook Straight it swayed more, but Carol was able to fight back the nausea. She thought how the film would have been a distraction. Later some people came back from the film saying how marvellous it had been, how wonderful the special effects, how clever the dialogue. She knew she would have liked it. She sat and thought a little more about their relationship. Kevin was studying the South Island map. He told her he would drive the first section, she could drive the last stretch into Christchurch. The following day was a Saturday and they set out to explore what the travel brochures described as the" Garden City of the South. "Driving along one of the main streets Kevin spotted a crowd of people in what seemed to be a large carpark with a lot of tables and stalls set up. Flags flapped lazily in the breeze and a canopy of balloons graced the entrance. "It's a flea market! Gotta check this out," Kevin announced,parking in the street. The pair strolled through into the market place and Carol enjoyed the sensation of bumping bodies and the hum of conversation, the colourful displays of scarves and home made jewelry, old junk and new pottery, bright fresh vegetables and second hand clothes. She returned the eager smiles of stall holders and wished she could buy something from all of them, keep the current of commerce flowing and the mood buoyant. Kevin stopped in front of one of the bric-a-brac stalls behind which stood an anxious looking Asian, his arms folded tightly across his chest. There were pots and pans, audio tapes, old cutlery, wallets, purses, shoes, paperbacks, garden tools and cardboard boxes full of more discarded household items. They were set out on a slightly grubby white sheet spread out on the ground in front of a small table covered with watches and rings. Kevin examined a picture that was propped up with others beside the table, marked "$20 each." The scene was a mountain one with a stag by a stream. Then Kevin picked up another with strange looking rocks and began to bargain with the stall holder, offering him $25 for the two, saying he only really wanted the frames, one of which was slightly chipped. The stall holder looked more anxious and shook his head, and tried to do a sales pitch in broken English on how good they would look upon a wall. Kevin finally beat him down to ten dollars for the rocks one and left the stag. The stall holder wrapped it in some newspaper and took the money. Kevin pointed to the sky clouding over and suggested it was time to leave before it rained. Back in the car Kevin carefully placed his purchase in the back seat and then thumped the steering wheel. "Ya hoo! What a coup!" he yelled and started the engine. "It's a Smithers. Silly bugger didn't know, and nobody else in this hick hole had spotted it." Carol realised this was her cue, time to flatter the male ego, and politely asked what was a "Smithers." Kevin explained that he was a famous New Zealand painter and an original work was worth hundreds, possibly thousands. She asked him why then had he beaten down the stall holder a further ten dollars, as she felt her mood altering. "Didn't want him to get suspicious. All part of the game." "Game? You play games with someone who has to make a living selling junk in a flea market?" "Yep, you bet. Survival of the fittest is the law of bartering and trade. Doesn't matter what level." "Even for someone whose English isn't very good, probably a Vietnamese refugee or something and ten dollars would probably make a big difference to the family grocery bill?" "He's trading. In this day and age you have to compete for every dollar. Do the same thing to me if he knew how, or had half a chance." Carol chose not to argue. She nodded and responded briefly as they walked through the lush green Botanical Gardens, but initiated no further conversation. In Auckland two weeks later grey clouds spread across the city with a menace of rain, as the humidity climbed and Kevin's scowl deepened. He sat outside the Grain and Grape, hand clamped around a beer, while his friend Mike sat opposite making efforts to cheer him up. Mike observed that his friend was about as much fun as a Mormon at an atheist's picnic. It was then that Kevin admitted that he had come home the previous night to find Carol had packed up and left him, without any explanation whatsover. The only thing she had left behind was a brochure advertising a seminar the following weekend. He pulled it out of his pocket and showed Kevin. The seminar was called "Self Knowledge and Success - How to Achieve Power and Control" The two men examined it , shaking their heads, and then both agreed that there was no understanding women.

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