Changing gears, p.18
Changing Gears, page 18
“You’ve done so much work on this already.”
“Oh, no worries. Super simple, part of the job. But I want to get as much locked in as we can, as early as possible. The winter season’s busy and a lot of good accommodation gets booked out by Easter.” Abi detected something in the way Jen looked at her, because she stopped and her smile faltered. “You are still coming?”
Jen puffed her cheeks out. “I’m not sure. Abi, I…” She looked away, trying to breathe past her distress.
“Hey. What’s going on? What’s happened?”
The two weeks since her daring question to Abi about her sexuality had been a roller coaster. In what could not have been worse timing, Caroline had called the next day to tell her Mike had hit his wife, and the family was in crisis. On a group call, arguments erupted, her brother blaming Jen for his actions. He had been too worried and distracted by her living in sin as a lesbian in Sydney, and it had set him on edge so much that he’d just snapped with Ange.
Jen was flabbergasted by the ludicrousness of his excuse, but more so because her family decided to believe him. They fixated on the lie he spun, and soon her mother was railing down the phone about what a disappointment she was, and that she either needed to come home or go to church immediately. Jen’s only possible response had been to hang up. A flurry of texts followed, but no matter what she did nothing shut down the line of questioning.
Finally, she called Caroline to ask why they were choosing to believe such a blatant lie, only to be told Mike had walked her parents through her Instagram photos from France, and Abi’s professional feed. They had taken that tenuous evidence as an indictment on her sexuality. It had taken Jen nearly two hours on the phone with her mother to convince her they were misinterpreting what they’d seen, that yes Abi was gay but no, they were not in a relationship. The whole drama left her bereft and wounded, and she retreated into herself. She felt like a coward, but there was safety in hiding.
As Abi waited patiently for her to reply, she tried to formulate an answer that would make sense but wouldn’t turn her stomach. “Look, I…” she trailed off, and Abi’s face crumpled in sympathy.
“Jen, you can tell me what’s going on.”
Tears stung her eyes, and her throat closed over. “Abi. I don’t think I can go. I’m sorry. I…”
“Hang on, I’m going into the loo so no one can hear us.” The camera view bobbed. “Jen, say what you need to say. It’s just you and me.” Her voice echoed in the tiny bathroom space. “What’s been going on?”
The weight of expectation was so heavy Jen struggled to breathe. Abi’s unspoken questions were palpable. She wanted desperately to be honest, to divulge everything that had happened, with her family and within herself. But what was the point? Abi was half a world away, and her family was too close for comfort. Despondent, she finally found her voice.
“My family will be upset.… I’m not ready to poke that bear yet.” An honest half truth was better than nothing, but Abi’s silence was worse than a lie.
“All right. I’m going to push pause on this for a few weeks. But I’m not cancelling anything yet. Jen, I want you to come over. I really do.” Miles away, she took a deep breath. “I miss you. It’s stupid, but that week with you was more fun than I’ve had in a long time, and… well, I just miss you.”
Jen sat forward, covering her mouth with her hand, her eyes wide.
“But it’s up to you. So here’s what I’ll do. I’ll wait a few weeks. Take your time and have a good think about it. In my most humble opinion, getting away would be good for you. Put some space between you and whatever drama your family’s got going on. Come and have some bloody fun.”
“OK,” she croaked. “I miss you, too.” The admission came out a little strangled, but when they ended the call, she was glad she’d had the gumption to say it. Because hearing Abi tell her that made her heart sore.
Lying back on the couch, she grabbed a pillow, buried her face in it and let herself cry. The decisions she had made of late were odious and torn by compromise, and in that moment, she hated her family for their sanctimony. Hugging the pillow tight to her face, she screamed her frustrations until she was hoarse.
Sydney
Saturday, 21 April, 2018
By the time the sun up came, Jen was shattered. She’d hardly slept, too aware of the woman next to her to settle. The arrangement was an uncomfortable repeat of their Provence adventures, one she was none too keen to re-experience. She snuck out of bed to make herself a large coffee and retreat to the balcony to wake up with the day.
As she sat and watched the local cockatoos and lorikeets swoop through the trees, she reflected on how quickly they had fallen into a familiar rhythm. But some things were different. The sleeplessness came not from a fear of being in the same bed with someone who could tear her life apart, but the very thrill of her. She had lain quietly, desperately hoping that every time Abi moved, an opportunity to touch her, to nestle closer, would present itself. She felt stupid in retrospect, but as the morning come alive, giddy excitement swept through her.
Abi didn’t wake until well into midmorning. She found Jen sitting in shorts and runners on the balcony, her nose deep in an e-book.
“Good read?”
Jen closed her phone and put it face down on the table. “Yeah, a good time-filler. Sleep ok?”
“Aye, I might almost be human again. Thanks for sharing last night. You didn’t have to.” She looked more rested than both of them put together.
“Makes sense.” She brushed her gratitude aside, doing her best to avoid looking at Abi’s long legs under her table. “Coffee?”
“Is the Pope Catholic?”
Abi followed her into the kitchen and leaned against the bench as she rustled about. They talked briefly about their plans for the day as Jen boiled the kettle. With coffee in hand, they headed back to the couch to sit with Abi’s itinerary.
“We need to talk about something, though. I promised myself I’d wait a few days, but I’m going to be distracted if we don’t clear this up. Is that ok?”
“Ah, I guess so.” Jen’s heart thundered suddenly.
“What happened that made you not want to do the Christmas trip? I mean, you seemed pretty upset, and you’ve never mentioned it again. I said I’d put things on hold for a few weeks, but honestly, I’ve been hoping you’ll tell me what’s going on. I get your family have expectations, but surely you can do one Christmas without them.”
Jen took a moment to collect her thoughts and settle on what she was willing to say. She took a deep breath, deciding to be honest. “Yes, and no. Mum has some pretty non-negotiable expectations. A lot of them, actually. Mostly about what kind of daughter I’m supposed to be. I’m not exactly ticking her boxes at the moment.”
“So you said.” Abi rested an arm on the back of the sofa, her hand on her shoulder. “I’ve seen you upset by your parents before, though. This looks different.”
She sighed. “They’re so damned judgy. I can’t breathe when I’m with them. But I can’t not see them either. It doesn’t work that way.”
“Hmm. Can you care less about what they think?”
“I would… I do, I guess. When I’m down here, everything’s fine. Mostly. But as soon as Mum gets on the phone, or I’m home…. My brother is such a fucking homophobe.”
Abi sat up straighter. “OK,” she replied slowly.
“He gives me shit for working at a girls’ school, and he winds mum up. Every time I see him, he’s accusing me of…” she trailed off, the words stuck in her throat.
“Accuses you of what?” Abi sat quietly, trying not to spook her.
“Of being gay. And Caroline has worked out you’re staying, so of course that’s fuel for the fire.” Her hands knotted in her lap and she stared at them, unable to meet her gaze.
Abi sucked on her lip for a moment, a thoughtful grimace drawing her brows together. “Is it just because he’s a prick, or because he’s right…?” She left the question hanging.
Jen lifted her chin and looked at her, tears burning her eyes. “I… don’t know.” It was as close as she could get to saying what she knew was true.
Abi scooted close and pulled her into a tight hug, her heart thumping as frantically as Jen’s. “It’s ok. You’re going to be ok, Jen.”
The rest of the day was a tempered one, Jen fragile and Abi treating her as such. They brunched down by the beach and walked Bondi’s golden sand, mostly in silence, their conversation superficial. The day was a wild one, with squally winds pushing wispy clouds about, keeping the gulls circling. Despite the mediocre temperature, they bought gelato and sat on the grass to watch the surfers and soak up some sun. Abi kept her distance, giving her the space she needed but didn’t necessarily want. By mid-afternoon they’d had enough and walked the hill towards her apartment.
Back in Jen’s kitchen, they avoided each other’s gaze as they looked at Trip Advisor on Abi’s iPad.
“We’re slated to do this next weekend, but today seems like a better day,” Abi announced
“Do what?”
“Dinner and a club. We need to boogie.”
“Ok.” Not normally Jen’s scene, crowds and music too loud to talk suddenly seemed like the ideal way to pass the time. “The city’s got some great bars.”
“Oh, no. None of that hetero rubbish. We’re going to The Palms on Oxford. Here.” Abi pulled up a long list of reviews and pointed a finger at a comment pronouncing the club as the gay capital of Australia. They stared at each other, Abi’s mischievous smile contagious.
“Screw it, let’s do this. What do I wear?”
Abi clapped her hands together with delight. “Excellent. OK, where’s your wardrobe? And I need an iron. And a miracle. This humidity is playing havoc with my hair!”
An hour later, they were ready to go.
“Too cute.” Abi looked her up and down, a final appraisal before giving a nod of satisfaction. She had dressed Jen in black pants and one of her t-shirts with a deep neckline. “I’ll need to keep an eye on you to make sure you make it home in one piece.”
Jen found them a restaurant on Crown Street, only a few minutes’ walk from Oxford Street, and they Ubered in. Abi spent dinner telling Jen about some of the best gay bars in Europe, her Instagram account a guidebook of neon and ecstatic faces.
“There’s nothing like an all women’s dance party,” she gushed, her meal half finished and forgotten. “Wall to wall women, no leery guys. A few leary women, to be honest,” and she laughed at herself. “But it’s different. Really different.” She gave her a crocked grin. “I think you’ll like it.”
Jen shrugged and chewed overlong on a mouthful of steak.
“Or maybe not,” Abi paused, suddenly solemn. “So, rules of the game. We stick together unless you tell me otherwise.”
“Why would I tell you otherwise?” she asked, wide-eyed.
Abi laughed. “Do I really need to spell things out for you?”
Jen’s appetite died, killed by a wave of anxiety-filled excitement. “Oh. Yeah, I don’t imagine that happening.” The only person she dreamed of going home with sat across from her. “But if you meet someone…”
“That would just be rude,” Abi admonished with a chuckle. “We’ll dance our socks off. I’ll ogle some cute girls. We’ll drink a bit too much, we’ll get home somehow and tomorrow we’ll try to remember what we did. That’s usually a good night.” She looked at her watch. “But if we go now, we’ll be the only ones there and we’re way too cool for that. Let’s go walk this famous Oxford Street.”
The pavements came alive with people looking for a good time as Jen and Abi walked their way to Taylor Square. They peered into clubs and bars, people-watched and soaked up the vibe, idling their way back towards the city. Abi made a list of places to return to as they strolled towards the Palms.
She looked lit up to Jen, almost vibrating with exhilaration as the crowds thickened. More than one a stranger checked Abi out, igniting her flirtatious side and her mischievous smile appeared again. By the time they reached the Palms, she was buzzing.
“Here we go!” and she grabbed Jen’s hand as they trotted down the stairs and into the basement club. “Stick close!” A wall of 80s music engulfed them as she pulled her along. “And if you’re not happy, tell me. We can bail any time!”
But that was the last thing to cross Jen’s mind that night. As the music thumped and the drinks flowed, any reservations or anxieties that might have stopped her from letting go were drowned out. When she wasn’t dancing her heart out with Abi, they were crushed against a wall, spectators as the packed room lost itself in abandon. And Abi had been right. The atmosphere was different. It wasn’t the women’s only vibe she had described, but something about being in a room with men who weren’t at all interested in her, and women who were, was exhilarating. She stared as everyone danced, laughed, embraced, kissed, and left together, hypnotised by their confidence and lack of inhibition. The longer they stayed, the more akin she felt.
“How are you doing?” Abi shouted. It was nearly 2:30 a.m., but the room was still jumping, ABBA throwing everyone into a frenzy of disco moves and singing. Jen retreated to the bar for water and a breath of air, Abi on her heels.
“This is insane!” Jen grinned, taking hold of her arm so they didn’t get pushed apart.
“Having fun?”
“God yeah!”
Abi laughed, throwing her head back. “Excellent!”
“Thank you.”
“What?!”
Jen stepped in close and pressed her mouth to her ear. “I said, thank you.”
When Abi pulled back, something in the way she looked at her made Jen stop breathing. But she turned away as Kylie’s lilting tones filled the room and the dance floor cheered, leaving Jen unmoored.
“C’mon! I’ve got one more dance in me before my feet drop off,” and Abi yanked her back into the thick of it.
Sydney
Sunday, 22 April, 2018
Sunday morning was a very slow start for both of them. Jen woke far too early with a splitting headache and ventured to the bathroom for Panadol and water before retreating to bed to bury her head under her pillow. Abi didn’t even stir beside her. When next she woke, she was alone, and Abi’s side of the bed was cold. Jen found her curled up on the couch with a cup of tea in one hand and her phone in the other.
“Good afternoon, sleepyhead.”
“How long have you been up?” Jen mumbled, stumbling into the kitchen to fill the kettle. Somehow she had got herself into her pjs but she had no memory of that. They were back to front, and she wrestled with them whilst the water boiled.
“About an hour. I’ve been working, so all good.”
“You hungry? Do you need some Panadol?”
“No, I’m fine. What do you want to do today?” Abi sounded far too merry for the amount of alcohol they had consumed the night before.
Jen reappeared and slumped down beside her on the couch, tea and painkillers in hand. “Nothing that requires me to turn my head more that forty-five degrees.”
They opted for an afternoon in Newtown, Sydney’s gaybourhood, for a late lunch and some downtime. Traffic was bullish, but everything was an adventure for Abi, a levity that made a normally frustrating journey fun for Jen. They walked King Street from end to end, looking in shop windows and reading pub and bar events boards for drag nights to attend. Abi found the Imperial Hotel, Erskineville’s iconic pub and film location for Priscilla, Queen of the Desert. With some embarrassment, Jen admitted it was the one classic Aussie movie she had never seen, so they ventured inside for a beer on the promise they’d stream it with takeout before Abi flew home.
Their last stop was Camperdown Memorial Park to sit and people-watch. The green was a popular spot for Newtown’s bohemian population. People sat on the grass in clumps, some with dogs, others smoking and eating, laughing amongst themselves. Abi nabbed them a bench at the top end with a view of the length of the park.
“How good is this?” Jen nudged her, a wide smile in place. “Bit of a rainbow parade, eh?” She had visited the park before but never stayed, something about the vibe making her uneasy. The queer non-conformity and fuck-you attitude usually left her feeling out of place, but now it attracted her attention and piqued her envy. People were enjoying themselves and the company they kept, lounging without a care. Everyone looked comfortable in their own skins, and as at the Palms she yearned to embrace all of herself that unselfconsciously. Beside her Abi relaxed, in her element somehow, content.
“How did you know?” Jen stretched her legs out and buried her hands in her pockets, surveying the park from behind her sunglasses. After last night, asking the question she wanted to ask seemed easier.
“Know what?”
“You were gay.”
Abi stared at her a moment before turning her attention back to the park. “I’m not sure there was ever a moment when I knew. My parents let me get on with working myself out, and I suppose I just got here from there. I do remember the first time I was bullied, though. I had a wicked crush on a girl in primary school—I can’t even remember her name now, but she had the longest hair I’d ever seen, and she wore these pretty, flowery dresses. I wanted to kiss her all the time. But she had this older brother, and he’d worked me out pretty quick. He called me a dirty muff muncher, and he punched me in the face.” She paused, a reluctant smile in place. “My Ma was mortified. More because she had to explain to me what dirty muff muncher was,” and she laughed.
“God, that’s awful.”
“Eh. What do you do?” and her smile widened. “At least I knew who I was and what I liked. Things got a bit easier in secondary. A few of us little weirdos hung out together so the school couldn’t ignore us, really. And Da was none too shy about making sure they got their act together. Bless him.” She nudged her with her shoulder again and leaned against her in silence for a while. “But it’s not that easy for everyone. Look at this lot. What a mishmash of stories they must have. Some’ll be lucky. They’ll have parents like mine, who stood beside them as they dealt with all their coming out shite. But some of these kids will have been kicked out of home, or sent to conversion therapy.”
