Chapter Twenty
DAN
‘When Ron left his wife to move over to Australia to be with me, naturally I felt bad,’ Jean explains to me when I’m at her house early Saturday morning. We usually meet on Sundays, but I told her that Pride is today, and I might be a little too tired tomorrow to see her.
‘It would’ve been so exciting, though, right?’ I ask her. ‘Like, he moved across the world to be with you.’
‘Yes, he did, and after all those letters – a year’s worth of letters – the anticipation was incredible,’ she confirms. ‘I’d never waited so long for something like that.
But I guess, when there’s a deep love involved, you’ll do anything for it.
It’s a powerful feeling. And when he got here, it just felt right.
We were right where we left off, except this time, we weren’t at war.
We were at peace. We married, had three kids.
Watched the city grow around us as our daughters did.
They grew up, two moved away. One stayed but moved down to the Gold Coast. It’s funny – you create this life and this family, and then there comes a time when you’re no longer in charge of it.
It just operates on its own. Expands. Rolls over. ’
This makes me smile. Because although it’s more compli cated having a kid of my own, I see the beauty in it. It might even be something I want to have one day.
‘What was life like when the kids left the nest?’ I ask Jean.
Her face brightens as she looks through a photo album.
It was like they were young again, she tells me.
And all the things they couldn’t do – or rather, didn’t want to do – with the kids; they finally did.
She tells me how they bought a caravan, travelled around Australia for almost five years.
Lived the nomad lifestyle. And then, how Ron’s health deteriorated, so they moved back to Brisbane to find out he had lung cancer.
‘He was a smoker, you see, and it got the better of him,’ Jean says.
‘He passed, and I was lost, distraught without him. And that’s when I got into books, filled my time with all the worlds at my fingertips and in my imagination.
I’d already been a reader, even when I was a little girl, but I started reading a lot more when Ron passed. ’
Heat blooms behind my eyes. ‘It’s beautiful that books could do that for you when you needed it the most.’
‘They still do, dear.’ She snaps the photo album shut. ‘My family, they have their own families and priorities, so I don’t see them that often, only on holidays. But I’ve got plenty of found families in this house. They’re just paperbacks and hardcovers.’
‘Is that going to be the final words on your story?’ I ask.
‘Well, we’ve come to the present now, haven’t we? What else is there to say?’
After our hour-and-a-half session, I stop the audio record ing on my phone for the final time, given it’s the last of our interviews.
‘Thank you for telling me all of that, Jean,’ I say after a moment. ‘You’ve lived such an amazing life.’
‘I love telling stories, Dan.’ She then shrugs. ‘I’m just low on people to tell them to these days. But no, thank you. ’
‘How often do you see your family?’ I ask. ‘Off the record.’
‘Uh, my daughter on the Gold Coast, once a month or so. And my other two daughters, who live down Sydney way, at Christmas time. That’s about it. We talk on FaceTime often, but it’s not the same.’
‘You go all that other time without seeing people?’
She flicks her hand past her ear. ‘It’s like you’re trying to say I’m lonely or something.’
‘Well, are you?’ Empathy strikes at me like a lightning bolt in a drought as I watch Jean think about this one.
‘We’re all a little lonely, aren’t we?’ she winks at me. ‘Good thing I like my own company. And if I want to be with people, I go to the markets or fucking bingo at the pub.’
I chuckle, softly, for no other reason than because it’s something similar to what my nan would say, though she never once tried to hide her loneliness when she lived alone as a widow.
‘Now we’ve got my love life out of the way, what about yours, dear?’ Jean bites into her croissant. ‘Have you met anyone fine here in Brisbane?’
I think about the fact that Kallen now knows I’m gay, and whether it will change anything. ‘There is som eone I’m interested in,’ I admit, after mulling it over in my brain. ‘But I work with him, so I’m not sure if it’s acceptable or appropriate.’
Jean’s eyes widen. ‘According to whom?’
She’s right, though I shrug it off anyway. ‘Dunno. The societal norms. And our boss.’
‘Oh, dear, if there’s anything you can take away from my story, it’s that going your own way can lead to unexpected magic.
Imagine if I would’ve taken the advice all those years ago and ignored those letters from Ron, in fear of what, losing my job?
’ She pauses before continuing. ‘Jobs come around often. Love, however, doesn’t come knocking as often as you think. Not that kind of love, anyway.’
‘So what you’re saying is, I should just say how I feel, consequences be damned?’
‘If it’s what you want, then yes. Life’s too short to not be honest about what we want.’
I nod, allowing a ‘maybe’ before looking down at my phone. ‘Oh shit, I gotta go meet friends at my apartment for Pride. I’ll start writing up the story properly next week when I get back from Noosa.’
‘No rush, dear, whenever you can,’ Jean says. ‘I’ll be here. Have fun at the Pride march. I can remember my first time at Mardi Gras like it was yesterday.’
A hit of excitement runs through me as I rush to the door. ‘See ya, Jean.’
‘See you, love.’