I'm Not Really Here, page 22
‘Well, congrats.’ They are a cute couple. I’m sad I missed out on hearing about it when it happened.
‘Thanks,’ Zoey says.
‘Where’s Tegan?’ I ask.
‘She had detention,’ Gordon says.
I peer up the pathway that leads around to the quad.
‘Do you know where she has detention?’
‘Mr Dudley’s Maths room,’ Gordon says. ‘Why?’
‘I’m going to make amends.’
I start along the footpath, headed for Mr Dudley’s Maths classroom.
When I arrive, I peer through the glass of the classroom door and see Tegan sitting in the back row, where me, Harley and Jack sit for roll call. She’s alone inside, scribbling in her workbook.
I tap on the window. Tegan spots me, rolls her eyes. She’s chewing gum, resting her cheek in her hand with her elbow on the table.
I step inside and close the door behind me. I’m feeling all shaky, like I’m a jigsaw puzzle about to collapse into a million pieces.
‘Are you lost?’ she asks.
I take a deep breath in through my nose and let it out of my mouth. I sit next to Tegan and place my sweaty hands in my lap.
‘I was with Harley that night when Zoey and Gordon visited you. I was so excited about it that I thought it was more important than being there for you. But you guys mean so much to me. I never really had a real group of friends before. I’m not used to it and I took it for granted. I’m sorry.’
Tegan sighs. ‘I was in a bad place, Jonah. A real bad place.’
‘I know. I’m sorry. I should have been there for you. And I always will be, from this point on.’
Tegan rests back in her chair.
‘So, are you and Harley, like, together?’
‘Yeah,’ I say. ‘Kind of. He’s not really ready to come out yet. So, it’s top secret for now. No one else knows, except for my dad.’
‘You like him? He likes you?’ she asks. I nod. ‘You know, Jack wanted to keep me a secret. I always thought he’d eventually ask me to be his girlfriend and I wouldn’t have to hide anymore.’
‘It’s not the same with Harley,’ I say. ‘He’s thinking of coming out to his mum tonight.’
Tegan smiles. ‘Wow. Go Harley. He better not hurt you, Jonah.’
We chuckle together and this is nice – I think we might almost be friends again.
‘Can I ask you something?’ I ask.
‘What?’
‘What do you see in Jack?’
Tegan’s cheeks fill with red immediately. ‘I don’t want a lecture, Jonah.’
‘Okay. No lecture.’
She leans forward and covers her face with her hands. ‘I really liked him,’ she says. ‘I liked him for years. I guess I was always … I don’t know … waiting for him to change, to realise the girl he wanted to be with was me. I know that’s not gonna happen. I just … I don’t know. I feel so stupid.’
‘I get it.’
‘He made me feel sexy,’ she says. ‘I don’t ever feel sexy.’
‘You are sexy.’
Tegan chuckles and we lean in to each other.
‘I finished Ghost Story, by the way.’
‘What did you think?’
‘Same as you. It wasn’t that scary – just a bunch of old white guys getting haunted.’
‘Ha!’ Tegan clears her throat. ‘Well, we’re both still signed up for that deb ball, which you know I think is pretty boring and so, so, soooooo outdated.’
‘Right. I thought you’d get someone else to go with you or pull out altogether.’
‘It’s true that the idea of getting dressed up in tuxedos and dresses and dancing to ancient music to announce your womanhood to the world is totally not my thing,’ Tegan says.
‘Definitely not your thing.’
‘But … well … they’re still going, Zoey and Gordon. The dance practice starts soon, and Zoey already signed me and you up. It might actually be kind of fun, if you still wanna go.’
‘Tegan, are you asking me to the debutante ball?’ I say, with a smile meant to tease.
‘Yeah. I don’t even want to go, honestly. But Zoey made out like it was really important for some reason. If you still want to go, then I’ll go.’
‘Yessss. I will go with you,’ I say. ‘Let’s do it!’ Tegan loops her arm around mine and sighs.
We sit there in our seats in the empty classroom until Mr Dudley returns with his sandwich and orders me out of the room.
34
After the final siren sounds to end the school day, I start along the pathway to meet Harley at the gates. Among the crowd of leavers, I feel someone tap my shoulder. I turn to see Francis. I have to look up to meet his eyes.
‘Jonah. Hi,’ Francis says. ‘Sorry if I scared you.’
‘No, you didn’t.’
‘I’ll walk out with you.’
‘Okay. What’s up?’
We fall in behind the Year Seveners rushing to get to the steps. Buses wait just outside the school gates, lined up all the way to the traffic lights. I see Harley through the steel fence at the bottom of the steps.
‘I was wondering …’ Francis begins. ‘We haven’t really talked, and I know you’re the only other out gay guy in our year, apart from me.’
Oh god. I hope this isn’t going where I think it’s going. He better not ask me to join a club or something.
‘Well,’ Francis continues, ‘I was wondering if you wanted to get a coffee or a hot chocolate or something sometime.’
‘Oh?’ Okay, not exactly the way I thought it was going. ‘Are you asking me out?’
We arrive at the top of the steps, and I stop because I don’t want Harley to hear. He’s waiting for me at the bottom and all I want to do is get out of this conversation.
‘Yeah, I guess you could say that,’ Francis says.
‘Wow,’ I say. My stomach is feeling sour suddenly. I don’t want to harshly say no, but I definitely don’t want to say yes. This is so out of the blue and I honestly never thought for even a second that Francis would be interested in me. ‘I’m kind of already seeing someone. Sorry.’
‘Oh. Ohhhh,’ Francis says, looking down the stairs to Harley, who has turned and spotted us at the top.
‘Sorry,’ I repeat, not sure what else to add.
‘It’s okay. Forget I said anything.’ Francis smiles, then starts down the stairs ahead of me. I worry for a moment that he’s figured out there’s something going on with me and Harley.
‘What was that about?’ Harley asks as I arrive at the bottom of the stairs.
‘It was nothing,’ I say.
As we walk into town, my hand brushes Harley’s, and I want nothing more than to hold it. I’ve never held a boy’s hand while walking in the street before. The thought of it excites me – knowing everyone could see us holding hands and walking happily.
As we turn from the main street into one of the side streets, and pass all the buildings filled with doctors and dentists, my stomach feels hollow and shaky, like there is someone in there poking about.
‘You’ve got this,’ Harley says.
‘I know.’
We arrive at the small brick building. Harley follows me onto the path up to the door. The door slides open for us and I walk to the counter, where an old woman with grey curls and red lipstick is sitting.
‘Hi,’ I say to her. ‘I’m here to see Doctor French. My name is Jonah King.’
She studies her computer screen, clicks her mouse a few times.
‘Ah, Mr King. Please take a seat. I’ll let Chloe know you’re here.’
Harley walks with me to the seats at the other end of the room, where a man is flicking through a magazine from the table beside him.
‘I’ll head off to rehearsals then,’ Harley says. ‘You sure you don’t want me to give you a lift home later?’
‘It’s fine. Dad’s picking me up. Thanks for coming.’
‘That’s okay.’
He stands there and I feel like we should hug or something. ‘I’ll text you when I finish,’ I say.
He leaves through the sliding doors and I sit down on a chair. I check my phone for the time – 4:03. My psych is three minutes late. As soon as I have the thought, a woman approaches from down the hallway.
‘Jonah King?’ she calls. I stand and walk towards her. She smiles and leads me into a room. The back wall is painted a dark blue.
She closes the door behind me, gestures to the couch on the other side of a coffee table.
‘Please take a seat, Jonah. Make yourself comfortable.’
I sit down. There’s a bowl of apples and grapes on the table, so I take some grapes and put them in my mouth. She falls into the white recliner on the other side of the table.
The counsellor smiles, gazing at me through glasses with black frames. She has short brown hair and red lipstick, and is wearing a grey blazer. She’s young – I’d say in her late twenties, early thirties.
‘You look a bit young to be a counsellor, Doctor French,’ I say.
‘I get that a lot. You can call me Chloe,’ she says.
She sits there quietly, comfortable, with her legs crossed, staring at me with a half-smile.
‘Well, I’m very pleased to meet you, Jonah. Why don’t you tell me a little about yourself?’
‘Okay, well, umm, my name is Jonah. I’m seventeen, Aboriginal, gay. I live with my two little brothers and my dad. We moved here from Rushton, up the coast, in April.’
‘How long did you live in Rushton?’ she asks.
‘My whole life. Mum and Dad were living there for two years before I was even born.’
‘Changing towns is a pretty big deal. How do you feel about the move to Patience?’
‘I feel fine about it now.’
‘How did you feel about it when you first moved here?’
‘Umm, I don’t know. I guess … my childhood was in Rushton so it kind of felt like I was leaving home.’
‘You must have missed your friends.’
‘I only really had one.’
She hums to herself.
‘I saw a counsellor before,’ I say, ‘when I was twelve. I feel like he talked more than me though.’
‘Really?’
‘Yeah. That guy couldn’t wait to ask me questions.’
‘I have my own therapist,’ Chloe says. ‘He’s not a big questioner though. Do you get annoyed when people ask you too many questions?’
‘Is that another question?’
Chloe chuckles. I smile. My back loosens and I ease into the couch. I didn’t realise how tense I was feeling.
‘Was it your choice to see a counsellor before?’ she asks.
‘No, it was Dad’s idea.’
‘Do you remember why he wanted you to see a counsellor?’
‘Yeah. I was having these nightmares,’ I say. ‘After my mum died.’ The lump is rising in my throat.
‘I’m so sorry to hear that, Jonah.’
‘You know my mum died, though. My dad told you when he booked this appointment.’
‘That’s true,’ she says. ‘Do you know why you’re seeing me, Jonah?’
‘Yeah. You’re a grief counsellor.’
‘I am. I’m here to listen, maybe provide some advice. Do you talk about your mum much?’
‘Nah. Not really. I … I can’t.’
‘You can’t talk about your mum?’
‘Whenever I start to,’ I say, ‘it’s like this block comes up in my brain. It won’t let me talk about her. I used to write stories in a little book about this boy and his mum who get stuck in a fantasy world. That was what my last counsellor got me to do to cope with Mum.’
‘Did it help? The writing?’
‘Kind of. The nightmares stopped.’
I reach for the tissue box on the coffee table. I wipe away my tears and blow my nose.
‘It’s so difficult to lose a parent,’ Chloe continues. ‘Especially difficult when you’re a child. It’s hard to understand, to accept. Our brains are these amazing things and when something hurts us, they put things in place to protect us. It might be a bit hard, but I’d love to talk to you about your mum, if you’d like. Would that be all right?’
‘We can try,’ I say, sniffling, breathing the lump down in my throat that I’m begging my brain to make go away. I think the tears have subsided for now, but I keep the tissues grasped in my hand just in case.
‘What was your mum’s name?’ Chloe asks.
‘Monica.’
I can’t fucking help it – my eyes are burning and the tears begin to leak again. I wipe them away in silence.
‘Monica. That’s a lovely name,’ Chloe says.
‘I suppose.’
‘You know, we all have tools we can use to work through our grief, to understand it better. It sounds like writing might be a good one for you.’
‘Dad talks to Mum sometimes, when he thinks no one can hear him.’
‘Talking to a loved one who’s passed away can help some people. And writing can be very therapeutic. Does writing help you, when you think about your mum?’
‘I don’t know. Maybe.’
‘I want you to write a letter to your mum,’ she says. ‘Do you think you could do that?’
‘A letter about what?’
‘I want you to tell her about moving to Patience. I want you to write to her and tell her about your life now. I want you to write all the things you want to say to your mum.’
‘Sounds kind of weird.’
Chloe chuckles. ‘I understand. It can feel weird at first. You might realise it doesn’t help at all. I’d still like you to try. You don’t have to let me or anyone else read it, but I’d like you to write it. Do you think you could try?’
‘I guess.’
‘Tell me something else about you,’ she says. ‘Something I didn’t learn from your dad when he booked this appointment.’
‘Umm,’ I begin. ‘Well, I dunno. I … I kind of have a boyfriend-ish thing.’
‘Boyfriend-ish? Can you tell me his name?’
‘Harley.’
‘And how long have you and Harley been boyfriend-ish?’
‘Well, we’ve been seeing each other for, like, a while. But it’s a secret. He’s not ready to be out yet, which is okay. It’s fine.’
Chloe sits forward, adjusts her legs. ‘How is it?’ she asks. ‘Are you happy?’
‘Yeah, I spose.’
‘Spose. Your eyes darted to your lap when you answered that question. Did you feel something just now? Something you want to share?’ she asks, and dammit, she is right.
‘Well,’ I say, clearing my throat. ‘Yeah, I mean, it’s okay. He’s not ready and that’s fine. So … we’re a secret, which is okay. Well, it was okay for a little while, but …’
Chloe smiles at me again and nods, like a sign of encouragement for me to keep going.
‘I guess I just …’ I say. Why is it so hard to tell her what I’m feeling? ‘I don’t want to hide forever. I’m waiting for him to be ready, and I don’t mind waiting. Really. I would never force him to come out, but I’m getting kind of over the secrecy and the hiding. I want to hold his hand and cuddle him and kiss him. And I feel shit about myself because a part of me wishes he would … you know … hurry up. I don’t like being this thing he has to hide from other people.’
Chloe’s voice is soft when she offers her advice. She tells me that I need to tell him how I’m feeling, that I need to prioritise my own feelings and not hurt myself waiting for a day that might not come for a long time. She can tell I don’t like what I’m hearing, because she slides the box of tissues closer to me over the coffee table. I take a tissue and wipe my nose.
35
Dad’s got Zeke and Luke in the back of the car when he pulls up outside my counsellor’s building. When I get in, I smell dirt and sweat exuding from Dad’s body.
‘How was it?’ he asks.
‘It was okay,’ I say. ‘I like her.’
‘Good. Good. I’m glad you’re seeing her.’
‘Oh. By the way, I’m going to the debutante ball with Tegan.’
‘Really?’ Dad asks. ‘I did that when I was in high school. When is it?’
I shrug my shoulders. ‘I think it’s in October. But the dance classes start soon.’
‘Okay. Just let me know how much it’ll cost to hire the suit and whatnot. Oh. I was thinking we could invite Harley over for dinner sometime. Maybe next week?’
‘Umm. Yeah. I’ll ask him.’
‘I’ll cook steak.’
‘Okay, Dad.’
I check my phone and there’s a text from Harley.
Harley: How was the session with the counsellor?
Me: It was okay. She wants me to write a letter to my mum.
Harley: A letter about what?
Me: That’s what I asked haha.
Harley: Well I’m proud of you xx.
Me: Thanks xx
Tegan is also texting me as we drive home and it’s hard to keep up with both of them.
Tegan: Zoey said we have our first dance class next week, and we’ll get fitted for suits and dresses. You still up for it?
Me: Yeah, I spose. I’ll look pretty hot in a tux. You looking forward to the white dress?
Tegan: LOL. I am only doing this because Zoey wants to. I’m just being a good friend lol.
Me: Okay, sure haha.
When we get home, I go straight to my room. Yindy is sleeping on my bed. I peel back the sheet and he gets up, stretching. I cocoon myself in my blanket, feel the texture of the sheet on my skin. Yindy lies back down at the foot of the bed and rests his head on my ankle like it’s a pillow. But I’m not really here.
I’m thinking about Mum, trying to remember conversations we had, things we talked about. I remember once we went to the movies to watch Finding Dory and afterwards we talked about how her mother had lost her in a shopping centre when she was little. Mum said an old man and woman stayed with her and she remembered feeling lost and hopeless, thinking she’d never see her parents again. She said when her mum finally found her, she felt like she was ten years older. She said she grew up that day.
I can’t really remember any long talks we had, only things Mum said at different times.
