Changing gears, p.17
Changing Gears, page 17
She groaned and rolled her eyes with a theatrical flourish. Michael never missed a moment to mock her. As far as strategies went, it was tired and unimaginative, and it irritated the entire family, not just her. Normally she would ignore him until he ran out of steam and moved onto something else, but today his sniping cut too deeply. Her anger flared.
“You’re such an amazing dad, Mike! Do you bully the kids like this? Do they know how lucky they are to have a dad who’s so good at homophobia and racism? No wonder Ange makes you sleep on the couch.”
The temperature in the room dropped as he shot her an icy glare. Caroline sat with her mouth open and Sally froze, staring like a deer in the headlights. Even her father dipped the edge of his paper to regard her over the top of his reading glasses.
“Sensitive much,” Mike snapped, his neck going blotchy red with rage.
“Grow up,” and she pushed her chair back to leave the room.
“What were you doing in there all morning, sis? Bit of mutual masturbation over the phone? Mum said you were giggling like a twelve-year-old.”
Sally coloured, more at the mention of masturbation than being outed as a gossip. Jen rolled her eyes again, his comments both tedious and mortifying. She would be forever haunted by that twelve-year-old misstep, no matter what she said, but she’d had enough of swallowing her anger.
“Wow, Mike, nice. Perhaps you’d be better off worrying about your marriage than my imagined sex life?”
“This is an unsavoury topic for the breakfast table, Jennifer,” Sally squeaked.
“Thanks mum,” she snapped, getting to her feet. “Mike gets to make all the homophobic jokes he likes, but as soon as I say something about his crappy marriage, I’m the problem. Nice.”
“Where is all this coming from, Jen?” Her father carefully folded his paper and set it down on the table. “Yes, Mike can be a little immature, but we expect more from you.”
Jen drew in a long breath, stunned by her father’s comment. Boys can be boys, but the expectations for her behaviour were in a different league, apparently. Her mind went blank.
“She’s had a big year, this year, dad. Right, Jen?” Caroline reached out and grabbed her sleeve, tugging her back into her chair. Her gaze was like a fire blanket, snuffing her anger out.
“Yeah, it has, dad.” She rubbed the sleep from her eyes and took another swig of coffee. “Sorry. Mum, Mike, sorry.”
Caroline’s sigh of relief deflated the room, and they all returned to whatever distraction was at hand. Her father’s paper flew back up, Mike stuffed more bacon in his mouth, Sally disappeared back into the kitchen. Caroline exited the scene and fled to help with the dishes. Jen pulled her phone out and opened a book, her thoughts anywhere but on the text she skimmed.
The altercation reminded Jen of why Abi’s presence in her life was so destabilising. She could put up with her mother’s Christian distaste easily enough. But in the twenty-plus years since that school incident, her brother had never ceased to hunt down opportunities to mock her. His homophobia was deeply wounding, unrelenting, and deprecating. What made matters so much worse was that no one did anything to protect her from him. No one defended her or corrected his behaviour. They sanctioned his behaviour through their inaction. The sense of otherness he provoked was painful, making it impossible for her to trust the people nearest to her.
As she calmed herself, she wondered why she bothered. Getting their approval was an impossible process. Their expectations were unspoken and unknown, and no matter how her life went, they always found something to berate her for—her career path, her decision to live in Bondi, her singleness. And what they couldn’t find, they invented. Her brother’s lack of imagination invariably meant he would rotate back to the one accusation he knew would cut her and make her react—being a lesbian. She wondered what he would do if he discovered that was true.
Sydney
Friday, 20 April, 2018
It was well before sunrise when Jen woke, too excited about Abi’s arrival to sleep. The proceeding week had flown by, every hour spent working through lesson plans or researching LGBT Sydney. She should have been exhausted, but instead she was wired.
Abi’s imminent arrival had given her a valid excuse to Google what it meant to be gay, and the more she read online, the more YouTube videos she consumed, the more her emotions and experiences made sense to her. Hearing other women—from Emily’s age to her grandmother’s—talk about the struggle of coming out, and the freedom, release and complications that came with that, resonated deeply.
And with that clarity, her feelings for Abi grew clearer and less terrifying. The realisation her attraction was more than platonic, and that what was happening for her was more than just Abi—she might actually be gay—stopped being unbearable. Hope began to ease its way in, though she still had a ways to go. Imagining her future with a woman was still terrifying. But for once, the need to be true to herself outweighed the fear of her family’s judgement and what they’d say to her if they ever found out about the deep truth making its way to the surface.
She busied herself about the apartment for the morning, burning off nervous energy by cleaning the place to within an inch of its life. By ten, she was ensconced on the couch with nothing to do. Abi didn’t arrive until after midday. On a whim she grabbed her bike and took off into the morning air, happy to be distracted by traffic and hills.
Arrivals was packed, and like dozens of others, Jen paced about, checking the flight arrivals board and monitoring the streams of people exiting customs. Her phone buzzed. “Landed!” Abi’s text read. She nearly jumped up and down on the spot. The next twenty minutes crawled by. When she finally saw her in the crowd spilling out of security, it was all she could do to stop herself from running over. They hugged each other fiercely, their embrace reminiscent of their last time together in Avignon, and when they finally pulled apart, they both grinned.
“God, that flight was awful. Get me out of here!” Linking arms, Abi propelled them towards the exit, describing the flight in lurid detail. By the time they reached her car, Jen had heard all about the American Abi had sat beside, his vain attempts to pick her up, and how she clocked nearly five thousand steps on the flight attempting to avoid him. “For god’s sake,” she laughed, throwing her suitcase in the back seat. “Why would you think you had a chance with a queer journo who’s here to write about gay Sydney?”
“Are you hungry? What do you want to do?”
“Oh god” Abi sighed and slumped back into the passenger seat, her eyes closed. “Can we go to your place? I’m knackered. Really, I just want to catch up. Is that ok?”
Jen couldn’t have been happier.
As they drove across Sydney, Jen pointed out landmarks and places of interest, taking the long way home to loop through Newtown, the city and up Oxford Street. Abi perked up with her commentary and stared out the window for the bulk of the journey. Sydney was such a new city compared to what she normally saw on her travels. The novelty invigorated her, but by the time they got to Jen’s apartment, her energy was waning.
“I need my pyjamas, a view and a wine,” she announced as Jen opened the door and let her in. Abi headed straight for the balcony. “Wow, this is nuts.” Her grin widened as Jen joined her and moved close to loop an arm around her waist. “It’s good to see you. In the flesh.”
Jen gave her a squeeze before heading into the kitchen for wine. When she returned, Abi was sitting with her feet up on the balcony wall.
“I forgot to ask you, do you have an itinerary?”
“Of course I do,” Abi grinned. “Do you not know who I am? I’ve organised myself down to the minute. But I fully expect to throw most of that out in favour of a lot of fun. And,” she swivelled in her seat as she took the proffered glass of wine. “I expect to be on one of those before the end of the week. Bloody hell, they’re fancy.” She stared back at Jen’s two road bikes, suspended from the wall in the hallway.
“That’s why I’m broke. I have another one downstairs for you, though.”
“You’ve got a third bike?”
“Five, actually. One downstairs and two more in Bathurst.”
“You have one arse and two legs. Why on earth do you have so many bikes?”
“It’s the rule of bikes. N+1. How many camera lenses do you own?”
Abi opened her mouth to object, but turned back to the view. “Point taken.”
They sat in the afternoon sun for a while, drinking and talking about Abi’s itinerary and other things Jen had planned for them. It didn’t take them long to realise they wouldn’t get through half of her must-see list, and as the wine flowed, Abi talked about changing her plane tickets.
As early evening approached and the sun dipped, Abi’s attention span dropped with it and they headed inside to get settled. Jen had propped her suitcase in a corner, along with towels and bedding. After spending days turning herself inside out over sleeping arrangements, she decided to act as though Abi was anyone coming to stay, and allocated her the couch. If Abi’s expectations were different, they didn’t show, and Jen breathed an audible sigh of relief as she showed her through the apartment, pointing out where things were so she could make herself at home. She left Abi to shower and change while she made them a light meal and set up her bed.
“Gah, it’s only 6p.m. This is going to be a struggle.”
Jen drew the blinds to block out the last light of the day to help Abi unwind. “It’ll be dark soon. I figured you’d be a master of jet lag.”
“Judge me tomorrow,” she quipped.
Tomorrow arrived at 1am.
Jen woke to the sound of Abi pacing around the lounge. She found her, wired and sweaty, perched on the edge of the couch. The answer was obvious.
“Well, it’s not like we haven’t done this before,” Jen shrugged, trying to be cavalier. “I’ve got blackout curtains and air conditioning.”
Ten minutes later, Abi was tucked in bed beside her, fast asleep.
FaceTime
Wednesday, 31 January, 2018
Abi had been texting through pictures of St Anton Am Alberg for the last few days. She’d spent a week exploring the charming Tyrolean town before hitting the slopes nearby. When she finally FaceTimed, it was from a chairlift.
“I know I keep telling you, you need to come over, but honestly, the skiing here is amazing. Look,” and she panned the camera around before turning it back to herself and the two strangers seated with her. “How’s the skiing, guys?”
“Wunderbar! Yes, you must come here,” the man beside her grinned, his white-zinced cheeks as bright as the snow beneath him.
“I’d be there in a heartbeat. It’s forty degrees here.” Jen stood on her balcony in a T-shirt and shorts, trying to cool down in the light evening breeze. She flipped her camera to share bright blue skies and lush treetops.
“Sunshine!” Abi squawked. “I miss the sun! Europe has been wet and cold this year. I can’t wait for summer and the Med. Hang on, getting off the lift.”
The image from Abi’s phone swung around and she got a first-person view as the bar rose and she skied off the chairlift and across the top of the slope. Her face appeared again suddenly. “How’s work going?”
“Ok, actually,” Jen replied, walking back inside to sit in front of a fan. Sweat trickled down her temples, and she blotted it away with a towel. “I’ve got a year twelve class, which is a bit of a step up. I think I told you?”
“Yeah, yeah, you said. They’re senior girls, right? Last year?”
“Yeah,” Jen grinned, happy she remembered. “It’s exams year, so it’s full on. But three of us make up the teaching team for HSC, and I really like who I’m teaching with. And Karen has been great. And the girls are great.”
“Are they all new students for you?”
“Most of them. I’ve a couple of girls from Year 11, but mostly they’re all new. It’s going to be a hell of a year!”
“Which means you’ll need a decent break! When are you getting on a plane again? I can only harass you for so long. Look!” and she panned her phone around again, revealing a staggering vista of snowy mountains and St Anton down below. The view looked like a fairy-tale.
“I know, I know. This year, absolutely. I’ll need to recover. And I’ve decided I’m done with spending Christmas with my family. So yeah, Europe for December.”
Abi’s face split into a wide smile, and she wiggled happily. “Finally! Yes! Where are you going to go? I’ll meet you! If you want company?!”
“Of course!” A giddy ball of happiness warmed Jen’s stomach, sending a tingle through her. “I can be on a plane by about the twentieth. I’ve got a good four weeks before I have to be back for prep. Where should I go?”
“Brilliant. We can do a tour through Germany, Austria and Switzerland. Austrian markets for Christmas, Munich for New Years, and Switzerland for a week or two. Ooh, oh, can you ski? Actually, it doesn’t matter. We’ll hire a car…” she drifted off for a moment, planning an itinerary in her head. “God, sorry.” She snapped back to reality. “I’ve just planned your entire break, and I’m assuming you want to spend the whole time with me.” She pulled a face, but her ski goggles hid most of her expression.
“That’s a lot of time off work for you,” Jen conceded. The idea of a month with Abi was thrilling but unrealistic.
“That’s fine. I can always spin something out of it. Anyway, not working over Christmas would be amazing for a change. Hey, how come you’re ditching your family?”
Jen had kept news of the Christmas fiasco to herself. After the argument at the table, the holiday had progressively deteriorated until she had packed her bags and left early. She’d not spoken to her brother since, and texts from her mother were few and far between. Caroline kept in contact, but only to relay how often family dinners devolved into discussions of how unsatisfactory Jen’s life was, and why that might be. Mike, of course, remained unsullied.
The situation was an uncomfortable contradiction for Jen. Her family continued to be an acidic source of pain, whilst her connection to Abi seemed to be strengthening. They called and texted each other more than ever, and Jen had let go her resistance to the fact her feelings for Abi were more than platonic. She felt both defiant and relieved, and hadn’t realised how exhausting the continual struggle of denying herself had been.
“I’m done for a while,” and she shrugged. Letting go of an internal struggle was a world away from disclosing painful events and her feelings to Abi.
Abi pushed her goggles up and squinted at her in the glaring light. “Ok, whatever’s going on, tell me when you’re ready.”
Jen swallowed. Abi’s ability to read her, even over a phone call, continued to catch her on the back foot. “Can I ask you something?” A lump rose in her throat, but she was determined to broach a topic she needed to talk about with someone.
“Sure?”
“How old were you when you knew you were gay?”
A cautious smile danced across Abi’s face and she paused for a moment. “I think it was more about knowing I wasn’t like most other people. When I fancied anyone, it was always a girl. But it took a while before I realised that wasn’t how things usually work. I was about eleven or twelve when I had that revelation. What makes you ask?”
“Oh,” and Jen shook her head, retreating from her moment of bravery. “I teach at an all girl’s school. We’ve got to have at least a few queer kids, like you said. This year I want to do better. I’ve been reflecting on what being gay at St Millies would be like. It’s not exactly the most progressive place.”
“Oh, ok,” and she sounded disappointed. “Well, I’m happy to talk about that. I’m not sure what insights I can offer, given the school, but whatever you want to know…” Her goggles slid back down.
“Thanks, that would be good.” An awkward silence followed.
“Right, I’m going to hit the snow! Speak soon?”
Jen poured herself a large wine and settled into a chair on her balcony to wait out the sunset and settle her nerves. The G word never left her mouth, but she’d finally mustered the courage to ask Abi. Not quite the question she needed answering, but it was a start. Hopefully, she could get confident enough to ask her how she knew. How did she know she liked girls? How did she know she was gay? The notion was terrifying—the asking and the answers—and she gulped down a mouthful of wine to calm her nerves. What if this was part of who she was? What if her brother’s bullying cut so deeply because he was right?
The four weeks of sparse contact with her family had been some of the happiest she’d spent in a long time, in part because Abi filled the void. If she couldn’t have both of them in her life, making a choice between her family and Abi didn’t feel that hard of a sudden. But if that reflected who she was, that made Mike right. For the first time, imaging the consequences of being out so she could be with Abi didn’t frighten her, but having to manage her family’s response was another matter entirely.
As the sky turned, Jen wondered if she was courageous enough to front up to the repercussions coming out would have on her relationships and career. Imaging a different life was one thing, but bringing it into reality was a completely different ball of wax. Her hand trembled as she raised her glass, and she realised that at that moment the answer was probably no.
FaceTime
Tuesday, 27 February, 2018
“Did you get the itinerary ok?” It was six in the morning, but Abi wanted to ensure they had a good amount of time to talk. “I’ve started with dates from December 21, but we can move them around a wee bit. Dates for the markets are sticky, but everything else we can juggle.”
Jen had received pages of information the night before. The amount of work Abi had put in since they mooted the idea of holidaying together a fortnight ago was astounding. The more Jen read, the more anxious she became, and about halfway through she put the print-out in the rubbish.
