Thirty
JACOB COOTE AND I are finished. I know I’ve spoken about our fights before, but this time it’s definitely over because he came over here to tell me it is. I’ve been crying for ten hours and thirty minutes now. I think the fact that I’ve been listening to the CD Twenty Great Tearjerkers hasn’t helped.
He came to see me during the day because we’ve both finished school. I somehow thought something was wrong because Anna told me he was at Speech Night, yet he didn’t come up to speak to me.
But still he hugged me, so I lived in hope of a great explanation.
“It’s not your fault,” he told me.
“What’s not my fault, Jacob?” I asked, alarmed.
He sighed, shaking his head.
“I think we should have a break.”
That to me does not have a future. People say that because they don’t want to hurt their partner. What he really meant was that we were never going to be together again.
“Why?” I asked, grabbing his shirt. “What did I do? What happened?”
“It’s not your fault.”
“Stop saying that,” I shouted.
“Look,” he said through clenched teeth. “I just don’t want to get serious with anyone.”
“Jacob, where has this come from? You never told me that before.”
I wanted so much not to cry. I wanted to be such a liberated woman about it. I didn’t want to grab on to his shirt and plead.
“We’re so different. You’re an intellectual. I’m an idiot.”
“Don’t say that,” I yelled. “You’re not an idiot, you stupid idiot.”
“I was at your Speech Night, you know. You won about one hundred awards.”
“I won three.”
“Yeah, same difference. That means you were the best out of all those girls for three different things, Josie. I don’t even think I passed my HSC.”
“I can’t believe you. Since when have you been into self-pity? You’ve always been the most together person I’ve met. You’ve never had any illusions or delusions about yourself. Why are you doing this?”
“Because I’ve been fooling myself all this time. I used to be proud of not getting good marks. ‘Who cares?’ I used to say. Because I’m going to be a mechanic I didn’t care what kind of marks I got. But since I met you, it’s got to me. I’m aware of more things. I’m aware that I will never ever be as good as you or as smart as you. I feel like such a failure when I’m around you, and I hate myself for that. I need to work things out. Decide what I want out of life. But I don’t want you to blame yourself.”
I looked at him incredulously.
“You’ve just told me that I make you feel like a failure and I make you feel inadequate and then you tell me not to blame myself? I think you’re lying. I think you’re looking for something better to come along. Someone more your type who you can feel proud of in front of your friends. That’s what it is, isn’t it? You never once took me out with your friends. I only know Anton and that’s because he’s crazy over Anna.”
“Bull,” he yelled. “How about you and your grandmother? Still haven’t met her, have I, Josie? I’m not good enough. You’re the one waiting for
something better to come along. Maybe someone who wants a degree.
Maybe a reincarnation of John Barton.”
I gasped in shock.
“How dare you bring up poor John? He hasn’t even been dead a month.
Haven’t you heard of mourning periods?”
“No. Remember me? No rules, no regulations. No culture. Nothing. I just have to abide by the law. I have no guidelines. I’m not an Italian . . .”
“That’s it,” I yelled. “That’s it, isn’t it? It’s not because of how I make you feel. It’s because of what I am. Or maybe what I’m not.”
“You’re so emotional. Honestly, it drives me crazy. Pull yourself together,” he snapped, shaking me.
“I like being emotional. Italians are always emotional. You Australians are cold.”
“Be rational. You’re an Australian too.”
“I’m emotional, remember, Jacob. Emotional people can sometimes be irrational, and I’m not an Australian. I’m a wog. I’m only an Australian when you people want to label me one, and when you don’t, I disappear or I go back to limbo. That’s what this is all about, Jacob. My blood is too foreign for you.”
“I’m not a racist,” he argued angrily. “Don’t you dare label me one.
You’re just so confused about who you are that you feel that everyone is labeling you. I like that culture in you, Josie. It makes you different from people I’ve been around and that’s why I felt attracted to you. Because I’ve never met anyone like you. As bad as I said I feel when I’m around you, that doesn’t mean you made me feel that way. It’s my fault. You’ve opened my mind so much.
“Sometimes I’m with my friends and I feel as if I don’t fit in because of you. Because you opened me up to this whole new world out there. I don’t
want to become a mechanic and work all day long and then at night go to the pub and marry someone just like me and have two children and whine about housing payments and gas prices and the economy. I wanted that last year. No, that’s not true. I thought that’s what life was all about last year.
But this year I realized, because of you, that there’s more to life. I still want to be a mechanic, but I want to step outside my circle and look at the other options. I don’t want to do what other people think I’ll end up doing. I don’t want to be stereotyped because of the school I attend or the district I live in.
I want all the things in life that John Barton gave up because he was scared to step out of his circle. But I have to do that on my own.”
“What if we’d made love that afternoon?” I cried. “You said we’d be together for a long time. You said you kind of loved me.”
“I did . . . I do,” he whispered. “You were right not to let me make love to you. Because you’re you. Out of some misguided thinking you would feel the need to stay with me for the rest of your life, because you probably think that the first man you make love to is the man you have to marry. I’ve thought of that and it seems pretty freaky, but beautiful. My father was the only man my mother ever made love to, but she was sure of herself. You’re not. Jose, I’m not saying we haven’t got a chance. We have a great chance.
But now is all wrong.”
I cried in front of him, past embarrassment. The funny thing is that he was crying too.
“I’ll still take you to your grad,” he said quietly.
“Just go,” I sobbed in convulsions.
“I’ll ring you.”
“I won’t come to the phone. Just go.”
He tried to hug me, but I pushed him away. So he left.
I spent the rest of the afternoon crying. When my mother came home, I cried even more. She found the need to ring Michael, and when he came
over, I cried again.
“Maybe it’s for the best,” she said to me as I sat between them.
I looked at her in dismay.
“I feel so terrible, Mama. I’m more upset now that I’ve split up with Jacob than I was when John died. What kind of person am I?”
“You’re at a very emotional time in your life, Josie. Don’t question it,”
Michael said, handing me a hankie.
“You know what devastates me the most? He’s going to marry someone else one day. Someone is going to be his wife and it’s not going to be me,” I sobbed.
“One day you’ll get over it, Josie.”
Did she have to say “one day”?
I know deep down I will never get over it. Jacob Coote is not going to be in my life anymore. I will never fall in love again.
