Twenty-Three
I DON’T KNOW
what it is about nostalgia and the past that can make you feel so depressed, yet so drawn to it. Nonna seems obsessed with it. She’ll talk about it constantly. Maybe when I’m her age I’ll speak about my past constantly. I know that when I’m with my friends all we seem to say is “Remember this and remember that.”
I guess it’s the photos that I’m really drawn to. Mama always says that if we ever had a fire the first things she’d grab would be me and our photo albums. Because photos are a testimony that someone did live. A reminder of a past we may have loved or hated. A piece of our lives.
Nonna’s photo of Marcus Sandford fascinates me. That look about him. The 1940s Australian look. That he could today have wrinkles and be old seems unbelievable.
“He was in love wit me,” Nonna told me quietly on Wednesday afternoon.
She didn’t boast about it. Neither did she giggle.
I looked at her and nodded. “Were you in love with him?”
“Don’t be silly, Jozzie. I was married.”
“It’s funny that this man in the photo exists more to me than Nonno Francesco did. I feel as if I know Marcus Sandford more.”
“I did see him again after Robertino died,” she said quietly.
“It was when Zia Patrizia and Zio Ricardo and the children moved to Sydney and during my last Christmas in Queensland. Zio found a building job. He was doing so well for himself that he wrote to Nonno and asked him to come down to work wit him. That way Patrizia and I could be together. Nonno had bought half of a sugarcane farm by then, and a lot more Italians and Europeans were being allowed into the country, so North Queensland was full of Italians. I had no children, so I could work. I was secretary for the Italian cane cutters’ organization.”
“Did many Italian women work?”
“No, not really. Francesco left in November to go to work on a farm farther north so we would have enough money to settle in Sydney, and he came back in February and we went straight down. I was alone for four months.”
“You were alone for Christmas?” I asked horrified.
She nodded.
“Francesco couldn’t afford to come home and then go away again. It was a very busy time. I was sad without Patrizia and the kids.”
“But you had Marcus as a friend.”
“But, Jozzie, it is not like friends of today that you can have over and nobody talks. Oh no. You could not be friends wit Australian men. Not even Italian men. Women were friends wit women,” she said with a definite nod of her head.
“One woman,” she whispered (Italians are so used to bitching about people that they tend to whisper a lot even when the person is one thousand miles away or even dead), “they talked about so much that she killed herself.”
I looked at her disbelievingly and she nodded solemnly.
“Just because of a bit of talk?”
“Talk could break you, Jozzie.”
“I wonder if those people who talk and mind other people’s business go to hell,” I said.
She shrugged.
“He came to see me, though. He said it would break his heart if I would leave. I could see it in his eyes. But I knew that if I stayed I would break my heart.”
“That’s so romantic. I wonder if he ever married.”
She shrugged and told me more.
It was the time of the proxy brides. A number of Italians were married by proxy back then. Some to sweethearts they had left behind and wanted to bring out to Australia, and others to people they didn’t know. Nonna told me horrible stories of men who sent their photos over to Italy and then when the girls got off the ship they would find themselves married to much older men who had deceived them with younger photos of themselves. Or else the Italian proxy wife would have too much fun on the ship coming over and arrive lacking something very important to the old-fashioned Italian male.
The stories, like most of the things Nonna has told me in the last couple of months, are really interesting. Stories of another way of life. Stories of another person who I know but I don’t know. Katia Alibrandi, what happened to you?
Just sitting there patiently listening to her made me realize how much I had changed. I would have been bored by it all a year ago, and because of my past feelings toward her, I would have ignored every word she said. Whereas I’m beginning to realize that my feelings are changing and we’re establishing quite a good relationship. I like that a lot.
So Nonna found that the world had grown smaller. She moved to Sydney and lived with Zia Patrizia and the kids, but after a while they bought a house in Leichhardt and that’s where my father’s family comes into it.
Leichhardt was at its prime in the 1950s. The gates of immigration had opened and relatives and friends from the same Italian towns found themselves bumping into each other in the streets of Sydney.
Communities started up: the Italians in Leichhardt spreading to Haberfield and Five Dock. The Greeks went to Newtown and Marrickville. A different Australia emerged in the 1950s. A multicultural one, and thirty years on we’re still trying to fit in as ethnics and we’re still trying to fit the ethnics in as Australians.
I think my family has come a long way. The sad thing is that so many haven’t. So many have stayed in their own little world. Some because they don’t want to leave it, others because the world around them won’t let them in.
All this information I’ve gathered from Nonna and Mama, who was a child of the sixties, I’m going to try to remember it.
So one day I can tell my children. And so that one day my granddaughter can try to understand me, like I’m trying to understand Nonna.
Twenty-Four
WHEN I GOT
off the bus on Thursday afternoon Jacob was waiting for me. He had his sports clothes on and his hair tied back in a little ponytail. When I looked down at my long uniform, black stockings and black shoes, starched blazer and conservative tie, I wondered if we’d ever find a niche together.
He wrapped his arm around my shoulder and waited till we were off Parramatta Road before he kissed me.
“You smell sweaty.”
“Soccer,” he explained.
“When I was in Adelaide I had to watch soccer. My father is a fanatic. It’s the only time I see him lose control.”
“You should see Anton. I think it’s his European blood. He runs around hugging and kissing us.”
I laughed at the thought of Anton kissing another man.
“So how are things going with your old man? Does he still ask questions about me?”
“My father says you have sex on your mind,” I told him truthfully.
“And how does he know that?”
“Because he said at your age he had sex on his mind.”
Jacob laughed at that and kissed my ear. “He’s right about that.”
I felt embarrassed like I did every time Jacob expressed sexual tendencies toward me, which was quite often. But at the same time I felt great.
“He has a girlfriend, you know. I heard him speak to her on the phone yesterday,” I told him, trying to steer the conversation along. “I haven’t met her but Michael says she’s attractive, intelligent and well-spoken.”
“Worried?”
“Kind of,” I said truthfully, looking up at him. “He’s going to go back to Adelaide next year. Just when we’re beginning to get on really well. It’ll never be the same. We’ll become really stilted with each other and awkward. For the first time in my life I feel cheated by his absence.”
“You’ll see him for holidays, Jose. I’ll drive you down myself.”
“I think my parents are attracted to each other, Jacob. I mean, I haven’t seen them together a lot, but when they are together it’s a look here and a look there. Michael even blushes.”
“Why shouldn’t they be attracted to each other? They were once.”
“It’s weird, I’ve never shared my mother with anyone. Could you imagine if she ever got married?”
“I can’t believe you would never expect her to get hitched. I mean, she’s pretty hot for a mother.”
“My mother? Hot?”
“I’d go for her if I was in my forties.”
“Do I remind you of her?”
“God, no.”
“Thanks,” I said drily. “Does that mean I’m not hot and you wouldn’t look at me if you were in your forties and I was in my thirties?”
He shook his head, grabbing my arm and pulling me closer.
“You’re different. You come across all tough and fearless, while deep down you’re a softy. She comes across a softy, whereas deep down she’s tough and fearless. I mean, a lot of single parents botch up and she didn’t. In fact she did a great job.”
“Meaning I’m perfect.”
“Not quite,” he laughed.
I stopped outside the terrace and cursed.
“God, my grandmother is here.”
“So? I get to meet her finally.”
I shook my head against his shoulder. “Not now, Jacob. Another time.”
He looked angry, folding his arms stubbornly. “What’s the big deal?” he asked.
“There’s no big deal. I just haven’t told her about you and we’re beginning to get on. She’ll be angry with both Mama and me.”
“You haven’t told her about me?”
“She wouldn’t understand why Mama’s letting me out with someone she hardly knows.”
“What’s wrong with that?” he asked, exasperated, throwing his hands up in the air.
“It’s not their way. I’m young as far as she’s concerned. Girls just don’t go out with anyone just for the sake of it.”
“You’re seventeen, Josephine, not five.”
“My grandmother wouldn’t understand, Jacob. Give it time. She was brought up in another time and place. I know it’s hard for you to understand. It’s hard enough for me.”
“No,” he said, shaking his head and pushing me back. “I understand what you’re saying, Josie. If I was an Italian there wouldn’t be a problem, would there? Or maybe if I was John Barton.”
“That’s not true,” I shouted. “Well, about John anyway. Of course she’d understand more if you were Italian. That’s the way older people think.”
“Let me meet her. You might be surprised.”
“Are you listening to me? It doesn’t matter whether I’m seven, seventeen or seventy. She won’t want me walking into the house saying, ‘Meet my boyfriend.’ Jacob, she’s been confiding in me so much lately. If I spring you on her she’ll wonder why I haven’t been confiding in her.”
“Why haven’t you been confiding in her about it? We’ve been going out every weekend for the last month or two, Josie. Do I mean that little to you?”
“Give me time. I’m so unsure of things, Jacob.”
He shook his head in disbelief, turning away.
“You know something? I had no hassles in my life before I met you. Now everywhere I turn I face a brick wall. I’m always giving you time. I can’t sleep with you because you need time. I can’t meet your grandmother because you need time. What the fuck are you waiting for?”
“I knew it,” I shouted angrily. “This is why it’ll never work between us, Jacob. We live two different lives and you can’t understand that. Why can’t you understand my life? Things aren’t as easy for me as they are for you. You can do whatever you please but I can’t because there are some things that could offend people I love. You live with such freedom, Jacob. You live without religion and culture. All you have to do is abide by the law.”
“You think you’re the first person to ever suffer. You think your life is so difficult. But it’s
you
who makes it difficult. Break away from those rules, Josie. Make your own.”
“That’s so easy for you to say and so difficult for me to do,” I told him quietly.
“I want to meet your grandmother,” he said stubbornly, looking up at the terrace.
“Why?” I said through clenched teeth. “I had to drag you to meet my mother. Are you doing this to spite me?”
“If you introduce me to her I’ll know you’re not ashamed of me. Your grandmother is one of the most influential people in your life. I want her to know that I’m another person in that same life.”
“Not today, Jacob.”
He looked at me, nodding with rage.
“Then I can go back to my normal happy life again. Thank you.”
I watched him walk away, hating him so much for not understanding, and yet when I thought about it again, I couldn’t understand it either. What was my hesitation? Maybe I was unsure about Jacob as much as I loved him? I knew Nonna would take one look at Jacob and be unimpressed with the way he dressed, the way he spoke and the way he didn’t fuss. To girls my age Jacob is impressive. To grandmothers he represents the downfall of their granddaughters. I didn’t want to go back to the way things were between Nonna and me, yet I didn’t want to lose Jacob.
The next afternoon I went to his place. It was the first time I had done this and I was nervous about someone else answering the door and nervous about him answering it. I had no speech prepared. No feelings to express to him. I just didn’t want us to be apart.
I had never walked through Redfern before. A lot of people looked at me because my uniform seemed out of place. They sat on their front porches watching me closely, and because I was ignorant about them I was scared. Until I saw some girls my age. They were dressed in a uniform too and were sitting on a front step. They could easily have been Lee, Anna, Sera and me. I smiled and they smiled back.
He answered the door, still in his school uniform and looking as unaccommodating as I thought he would.
“Let’s not be angry with each other, Jacob.”
“I’m angry with you, but I can’t understand why you could possibly be angry with me,” he said.
“Listen, be thankful that I swallowed my pride and I’m here,” I said angrily, taking the wrong approach.
“Thankful,” he spluttered. “Give me strength.”
“Can I at least come in?” I asked, trying to look past him.
“No. I’m not ready to introduce you to my father. I haven’t told him about you. He could be offended that I’m going out with a non-Australian.”
“Very funny.”
“But you understand, Josie. It’s his way.”
“How can you mock what I was trying to say yesterday, Jacob.”
“Oh, you were trying to say something constructive yesterday, Josephine? I thought you were babbling as usual.”
I stood looking at him with such anger.
“Forget it, Josephine. We’ll both be happier. I can associate with my kind and you won’t have to put up with some cultureless Aussie with no heart and soul.”
“Jacob, you have more heart and soul than anyone I know,” I told him.
“Eh, what’s going on out there,” I heard someone shout.
I looked past Jacob to see a tall lanky man walking down the hallway toward us.
“What’s going on, eh? Are you shouting at this little girl, Jacob?”
“Dad, this is Josie,” Jacob introduced me reluctantly.
“Josie?
The
Josie? Come in, come in. You’re all he talks about,” he said, taking my hand and pulling me in.
Jacob has inherited his father’s eyes, but apart from that I didn’t see any resemblance until he smiled. That twitching smile that is always followed by a mischievous grin.
“He’s been dying for me to meet you,” he said with a wink.
I felt like such a bitch then, but I knew that I wasn’t ashamed of Jacob. I just needed time before I introduced him to Nonna. In a way my fascination with Marcus Sandford was because he reminded me of Jacob. They both took an interest in women whose backgrounds weren’t similar to theirs. They were both tolerant. I knew in my heart that Nonna would see that too.
I sat down in his kitchen while Mr. Coote made a cup of tea.
“And what are you going to do with your life, Josie?”
I looked at Jacob and then his father and shrugged. “I don’t know.”
“She wants to do law,” Jacob snapped, eyeing me.
“Law? And you’re wasting your time with this airhead,” he laughed, tugging Jacob’s hair.
Jacob stood up and stormed out of the room, and I ended up having afternoon tea with Mr. Coote, who treated me like a queen.
“Moody little bugger,” he said, tilting his head in Jacob’s direction.
I smiled because I could imagine Jacob saying those words.
“No, it’s me who puts him in those moods.”
He looked amused at that and shook his head.
“Naw, Jacob is different to others. He’s aware of more around him. Of what he can and can’t do.”
I nodded and put my teacup in the sink, asking him where Jacob’s room was.
He was lying on the bed reading
Popular Mechanics
, flicking the pages and ignoring me.
I walked to his mantelpiece and saw a photo of his mother.
“She was pretty.”
“She was the most beautiful woman in the world. If she was alive I’d probably be a better person.”
I sat on the floor next to his bed and leaned against it.
“You’re good enough, Jacob,” I whispered.
I lay there for a while and then I felt his hand on my hair. “I’ll take you home. It’ll get dark soon.”
I sat up on the bed and put my arms around him, kissing him slowly. I felt his hand come up across my cheek and I realized that was what I loved about him. He was a loving person. His need to touch my face or hair made me feel closer to him than if we were making love.
“You’ve never made the first move before,” he said. “I like that you did.”
“I wish I could make you happy and me happy,” I whispered against him.
We lay down holding on to each other, touching each other’s faces.
“I suppose your grandmother wouldn’t understand this?” He grinned.
“We’d have to take her to the hospital because she’d have a cardiac arrest,” I told him soberly.
We both burst out laughing, holding each other as tightly as we could, and I felt comfortable with the freedom he had. I would never have been able to do that in my home.
His hand came up under my school shirt and I felt callused flesh rub against me. I was embarrassed. Just say he felt a bit of flab and it turned him off. I wished my skin felt like silk, just like the heroines in the novels. I wondered what he thought about the size of my breasts. But he didn’t seem to care.
He pulled me on top of him and put an arm around my waist. I kissed his neck and it felt weird going over his Adam’s apple, because it bobbed up and down. I felt his leg push itself between my legs and flinched.
“What’s wrong?” he asked quietly.
“I just don’t trust people who have bodies that change with their moods,” I told him, feeling his hand on my breast and cursing myself for wearing my worst bra.
“Well, then you’ll never trust the opposite sex again.”
He unbuttoned his shirt and took my hand and I was surprised that he had hair on his chest. Jacob with his shirt off was white-skinned and bigger than I imagined, and I leaned forward and kissed a clear patch on his chest.
He shuddered and it fascinated me that I could do that to him. When I think of it now I can’t remember clearly what happened then, except that I was bolder than I ever imagined I would be and at one stage we kissed for so long that I felt my lip bleeding.
But then when his hands went up my uniform and I felt them between my thighs and I looked up to see a poster of a motorbike that said “Get something between your legs” on it, I realized that I could be losing my virginity in Jacob’s bedroom with his father in the other room, completely without thinking.
“No more, Jacob,” I said trying to catch my breath.
“Oh, come on, Josie. It’ll be okay.”
“I just think we should stop now before we go too far.”
“What’s wrong with going too far?” he asked, kissing my neck.
“A couple of things.”
He helped himself up on his elbows and looked down at me.
I felt his breath on my face.
“I’ve got something.”
“What?”
“Something to take care of things, dummy.”
I shook my head and pushed him away, trying to pull my skirt down.
“Look at me, Jacob. Look at us both. We’re in our school uniforms. Your father is in the other room. My mother expects me home in five minutes. How romantic can this be?”