I'm Not Really Here, page 23
‘The world is all about rich people staying rich…’
‘Never, ever make your brothers feel like they’re not good enough…’
‘We look after you when you’re little, so you can look after us when we are old and grey…’
The tears come to my eyes, because I won’t get to look after Mum. She won’t ever get the chance to grow old and grey. She didn’t know she was going to die that day. Maybe she had plans. Maybe she had things she wanted to do that night. She’ll never get the chance to watch her kids finish school. She’ll never get the chance to miss us when we move away. It’s not fair. She didn’t get to really know me – she didn’t get to know that I’m gay. She never knew the whole of me.
I reach for my schoolbag on the floor, take out my notebook. I start on the last page of the book, press my pen down. Chloe wants me to write a letter, all the things I want to say to Mum. I don’t know how to start. I don’t know what I want to say. I look down at the little dot the end of my pen has made.
I write, Dear Mum.
A story. A good opening line. Something to write about.
It comes to me – all of it. It’s like fireworks are exploding in my brain, bringing with them the words, and I try to keep up with my fingers.
After dinner, I sit down at my desk in my room to start the Ancient History assessment that is two days overdue. Yindy is staying in my room, now sitting on my pillow with one of his back legs stretched out and licking himself.
I open my laptop and prepare myself for homework. I’ve only started my assignment today, and I’m three hundred words into a two-thousand-word essay on the fall of the Egyptian empire. I really thought I’d like Ancient History, but it turns out it’s a bore. I type away at the laptop and my phone vibrates on the desk.
Harley: I told my mum I’m bi.
Fuck the essay. I take my phone, wheel my chair towards my bed and rest my legs over my mattress.
Me: Really? How’d it go?
Harley: It was good. She hugged me and told me she loves me no matter what.
Me: Aww. I’m so happy for you xx did you cry?
Harley: Lol just a bit x
Me: I am really so happy for you. Honestly x
Harley: Thanks xx I told her about us
Me: Really? Does this mean we don’t have to hide anymore?
Xx
Harley: No. I mean I’m still not out to my friends. Sorry, I’m not ready yet.
Me: It’s okay. So what did your mum say about me?
Harley: She said you are a very cute boy and you’re also a nice guy. She then started asking me if we’ve had sex and if we’re using condoms, and she started rambling on about STIs and HIV and it got hilariously awkward lol.
Me: Wow. Well, at least she’s looking out for your health haha
Harley: Yeah true lol. She wouldn’t believe me when I told her we haven’t had sex or anything yet.
Me: Haha far out.
Harley: I mean, I wouldn’t be against it though.
Me: Against what?
Harley: Us having sex… or you know, going a bit further. I’m ready I think.
Harley: No pressure!
Oh my fucking god. I drop my phone to my lap. I was beginning to feel a little sad that we still have to hide, but now my heart is pounding so hard in my chest, I feel like I’m in the middle of a run or something. Harley wants to have sex. He wants to go further. I don’t know how to have sex – that shit looks painful. He thinks he’s ready, but I can’t tell him I’m not.
Me: Have you been with anyone before?
Harley: Kissed a few girls here and there, but that’s pretty much it.
Harley: I wish I was with you right now x
Me: Me too x
Harley: You’re really amazing. I couldn’t have told my mum if it wasn’t for you. I wouldn’t be acting in the Grease play if it wasn’t for you x
Me: Aww, you would’ve been fine without me xx do you think you’ll be ready to tell your friends soon?
Harley: I don’t know. Not yet.
I pick up Yindy and hug him.
What I feel for Harley is more than liking – it feels too good and too strong – and I feel like a dick because I wish he was out already, so I could hold his hand and tell everyone I know that I’m falling in love with him.
I’m thinking of Chloe’s advice. I hug Yindy tighter as I feel the ominous lump growing in my throat. He makes a whining sound and begins to squirm out of my cuddle. I let him fall onto my bed.
36
It feels like a hundred years have passed since the last time I was inside Gordon’s mum’s car, but it still has the same new-leather smell.
‘So when do we get to hang out with Harley?’ Zoey asks as she climbs into the front seat. Gordon’s behind the steering wheel.
‘I don’t know. He’s told his mum but he’s not ready to come all the way out of the closet yet. I think he’s getting closer.’
‘Cute,’ Tegan says. ‘Now, can we talk about how shit Zoey is for roping us into the deb?’
‘I did not rope anyone into anything,’ Zoey snaps back. ‘Well, except Gordon.’
We drive to the cafe, where Tegan, Gordon and Zoey get iced coffees. I get a chocolate milkshake, then we drive around town aimlessly until five o’clock when we arrive at the showground.
The showground is a big oval surrounded by a white wooden fence. The road surrounding the oval field is all dirt and people are training their horses around the grassy grounds. Gordon parks near other cars at the side of a big hall. There’s a crowd of adults gathered outside.
We walk inside the hall together and I see Harley and Erin next to the wall, smiling about something near the wall. Ashley and Jack are nearby, talking with Rodney, the F-word-dropper, and another girl.
An older woman with grey hair walks into the hall and calls for the girls to follow her to a back room, while the tailor gets measurements for the boys in the hall.
‘Here we go,’ Gordon says to me as we part from Zoey and Tegan. Erin’s hand brushes Harley’s arm before she leaves. I pass her and she offers me a smile. I return it, imagining I’m shooting laser beams from my eyes while intensely thinking KEEP YOUR HANDS OFF MY MAN.
Jack and Harley and Rodney are joking about something to do with footy, while me and Gordon and two other boys are standing back quietly. The walls of the hall are loud with the echoes of their voices.
The tailor is a short man with an elegant moustache. As he takes his measuring tape to Jack, Gordon taps on my elbow, stepping away from the group. Harley glances back at me as I step away with him.
‘Sup?’ I ask.
‘I was talking to Erin earlier in Physics,’ Gordon says. ‘I thought I should tell you – she has a massive crush on Harley. Has for years.’
‘Oh. Really?’
‘Yeah. I thought you should know. She thinks he’s going to ask her out sometime. She thinks he likes her too.’
‘I see,’ I say. I’m feeling dizzy suddenly. I stare at the doorway, knowing there is a back room where Erin is right now, smiling and telling the other girls how her and Harley are gonna be together. God, I’m feeling jealous. I wonder if Harley thinks she’s attractive. I reckon she’d look pretty hot to a straight or bi guy. ‘Thanks for letting me know.’
‘Yeah, sure,’ Gordon says. ‘I should be thanking you, really.’
‘For what?’
‘I was nervous about telling Zoey I liked her. You told me I made Zoey smile. I never thought I had a chance with her until you said that. And even after I failed, you still encouraged me to try again. You gave me the push I needed. Took me a while to get there, but it was all thanks to you.’
‘Really? Well, I’m glad,’ I say.
We join the rest of the group. I stick with Gordon mostly, and Harley sticks with Jack. I can’t help it: I feel jealous of Erin. She gets to smile and laugh with Harley in public. She gets to brush his arm with her hand, and blush. For now, I can only watch.
‘Next,’ the tailor calls from behind his curtain, as another boy walks out. It’s my turn. I step behind the curtain and the tailor readies his measuring tape.
‘Name?’ he asks.
‘Jonah King.’
He scribbles something on his paper, then takes his tape to my arms, to my neck, across my chest, down my torso and around my waist. I watch him write the number for my waist measurement. It’s not the number I want to see. It’s a big number. Even I know it’s too big a number.
When I leave through the curtain and rejoin the group, I feel so big, so fat. I want to leave, but that’s not an option. After the fittings, the girls return to the hall and the older woman steps into the centre of all of us.
‘Okay, young’uns,’ she says. ‘We have six weeks to learn these dances, so let’s get crackin’.’
She plays the music and we begin to dance, with her croaky, too-many-cigarettes voice walking us through every step.
We finish at six-thirty and begin to filter out of the hall. Harley sees me leaving and times his exit to perfectly coincide with mine.
‘Hey,’ he says.
‘Hey.’
We walk outside to a cool breeze blowing strong through the town of Patience.
‘Jack was gonna come to the gym with me, but he can’t anymore,’ Harley says. Jack is in front of us. ‘You want to go?’
‘To be honest, I’m a bit tired,’ I say. I look to his face and fall into his brown eyes, as he winks at me. ‘Fine.’
‘Sweet. I’ll pick you up from yours in about thirty minutes.’
Harley rushes to his car. I go with Tegan, Zoey and Gordon, and Harley is gone by the time Gordon reverses us out of our spot.
‘Saw you two conversing about something,’ Zoey says, looking over her shoulder to me as we drive back through town.
‘Never you worry,’ I say to Zoey. I’m feeling nervous as we turn into my street. My heart is racing and my palms are sweaty. Harley winked at me. He winked, like when he asked me to go to the gym, he was actually asking me something else. I don’t know if I’m ready for something else, but a part of me is dying for something else so I can cancel Erin out of our equation completely.
When we arrive at my house, I swear I’m out of the car before Gordon has even come to a full stop. I hear Zoey and Gordon laughing as I race up the driveway. I didn’t even close the car door.
Inside, Dad’s helping Zeke and Luke with their homework at the dining table. Dad opens his mouth to speak when he sees me enter. Before he can ask me to do anything, to help them with their homework or something else so he can do whatever, I say, ‘I’m going to the gym with Harley.’
In my room, I drop my backpack on my desk, rip off my school clothes and leave them on the floor. I go across to the shower but stop. I can’t have a shower before I go to the gym. That would be suspicious. Instead, I spray my body with deodorant. I lift up my underwear and spray again. The spray stings like burning needles. Beneath my underwear is all on fire, so I rub and rub until it settles down.
‘Did you ask Harley if he’ll come round for dinner?’ Dad asks from the living room.
‘Not yet,’ I call back.
Back in my room, I pull on one of my oversized shirts, then some sports shorts, and finally my hoodie. My phone dings and it’s a message from Harley to say he’s out the front. I slip on my shoes and rush down the hallway. Dad says something to me but I don’t register it, because I’m out the front door and across the lawn in record time.
Harley’s headlights cut through the darkness. I’m catching my breath as I approach, one step at a time.
Take it slow. Don’t say anything weird, anything stupid.
Harley’s listening to the radio when I get in his passenger seat. He turns it down as we drive away. He’s dressed in a tank top and sports shorts that leave his thighs exposed to the shine of the streetlights that we pass under as we drive out of my neighbourhood.
We drive through town, neither of us talking. The radio host this evening is a slow-talking old man with a deep voice. He’s talking about some auction that’s happening soon, something to do with livestock.
Words are gathering at the tip of my tongue. What’s going to happen? What do you want to do? We haven’t been alone – like really alone – since we shared a bed on grand final night. Being alone with him is all I want. I’ve thought so much about the things I’d want to do with him when we were alone, but now that we’re here, I feel frozen. I want to tell him I’m not ready. The words are on the tip of my tongue, but I can’t speak.
We drive over the bridge in the north of town, cross the roundabout and pass the gym. We continue out of town, past the THANKS FOR VISITING PATIENCE sign.
We drive up a hill. Harley’s engine roars as we climb, summoning all of its power to get us to the top. Harley takes a left turn onto a tarred road, over a cattle grate.
We drive to the top of another incline where an empty row of parking spots await before a picnic table on the grassy hill. Harley parks and we look down at all the distant lights of Patience below.
‘This is not the gym,’ I say.
‘This is the Patience lookout,’ Harley says as he shuts off the engine. I gaze down to the town. The lights look so far away. So many people are in their houses, watching TV, having dinner, while I’m sitting in Harley’s car with him all the way up here. The town looks still, sleepy.
Harley’s hand falls onto my thigh. I turn to him. The moon has broken through clouds, lighting the side of his face. I lean in and kiss him. I kiss him hard and he kisses me back. This is different to those kisses under the fireworks – this is like an action movie.
Our seatbelts come off. Harley’s hand moves between my legs. I grasp his curly hair. Feel his saliva on my lips.
The heat in the car is fogging the windows as Harley kisses my neck, still holding me in my lap. I swear a volcano is about to erupt in this car.
I reach to Harley’s lap. He’s as hard as I am. He’s touching me and I’m touching him and this feels like a dance – an actual ritual we are performing. When he kisses me, when he touches me, it’s a heavy metal concert in my body. My skin shudders like there is a pulsing heart in every cell and not a single other thing that matters.
Bright light shines in through the window – the headlights of a car. The shine pierces my eyes and I fall back into my seat. I take my hands off Harley and he takes his off me. He sits back, and we are both catching our breath as the intruding car parks a few spaces up from us and shuts off its engine. We watch it through foggy windows – an old Ford Falcon station wagon, carrying two people who probably know what we were doing.
‘That was pretty hot,’ I say, my breath almost recovered.
‘Yeah,’ Harley says.
‘Oh, Dad wanted me to ask you over for dinner sometime,’ I say.
‘For dinner? Does he know about us?’
‘Yeah. It’s cool. He probably just wants you to come over so he can interrogate you about your intentions.’
‘My intentions?’
‘No pressure, though,’ I say.
Harley’s breathing settles with mine and we look through his windscreen at the lights of the town. They’re murky through the foggy glass, and I think it’s actually prettier this way.
‘Do you think you’re ready yet? To come out to everyone?’ I ask.
‘I don’t know,’ Harley says. ‘I knew Mum would be okay. But telling my friends … everyone knowing … that’s so scary. What if we wait until after we graduate?’
‘After we graduate?’
‘Yeah. Then it won’t matter what other people think because we won’t have to see them every day.’
‘Do you think your friends are gonna disown you for dating a guy?’
‘I dunno.’
I move my hand to Harley’s lap, but instead of grabbing his penis again, I slide my hand under his and hold it tight.
‘I won’t rush you,’ I say. ‘But, I need to tell you …’
I release his hand and clasp mine between my knees. My back is stiff and I’m so cold suddenly. I thought I would make him ready, but maybe not. What if coming out to everyone is something he will never be comfortable with? In my head, he comes banging out of the closet with me by his side. But maybe that’s not going to happen.
‘I don’t like being your secret,’ I say. ‘It hurts. Every time I’m near you and I have to pretend we’re just friends and listen to your friends encouraging you to hook up with chicks … or watch you flirt with Erin … it’s hard. You told me to tell you if it gets too hard for me. It’s too hard.’
‘I’m sorry,’ Harley says. A tear leaks from his eye. ‘It’s hard for me too. I feel shit that you have to pretend because of me. You already had your time in the closet. I feel like I’m pushing you back in.’
Harley’s words break me and the tears come. I stare at the side of his face, begging him with my eyes to tell me that we won’t be a secret anymore. I don’t want to rush him – I really don’t. I feel like the worst person in the world because I’m not as strong as I thought I was.
‘I think we should take a break,’ I say.
‘A break?’ he asks. ‘Is this because of Francis?’
‘What? Francis?’
‘I know he asked you out,’ Harley says. ‘At least you wouldn’t have to hide with him.’
‘It has nothing to do with Francis,’ I say.
This all feels like a steam train crashing into my chest, dragging me beneath its wheels. ‘I’m sorry,’ I say.
He wipes his tears as mine rush down my cheeks. I wipe them away with my wrists as Harley turns on the car and tells me he’s going to drive me home.
Maybe this is the right thing. He’s not ready and I don’t want to be a secret.
But how can it be right if it hurts this bad?
My stomach is knotting, twisting and churning. I’m going to be sick. I’m going to cry hard. It’s all I can do to hold it in until I’m back home and in my room. I hope I’m making the right decision.
37
A week has passed since I broke up with Harley. Is it really a break-up if you weren’t out and official? It sure feels like one.
