Authors: Anita Heiss
'Maybe I'll just become a lesbian, it seems like it's easier
than being with men.' Then I looked around the bar.
'Actually you know what, I don't think I like this place. I've
just realised we've been here two hours and no-one's made a
pass at me. I must say I'm a little disappointed that no-one
here finds me attractive.'
'They all think you're with me, that's why.' Josie
winked.
'What? So now you're cramping my lesbian style.'
'Sorry to burst your bubble, love, but you are soooo
hetero, there's no dyke style going on with you at all.'
'Orright then, I think we've exhausted that conversation,
let's take my hetero style and get some food. What do you
want to eat?'
On Saturday morning I took Shelley's car out to Tullamarine
to meet James. He was already tired when he arrived because
of the four-thirty start he'd had to get an early flight. He
could only stay for one night.
James put his hand on my thigh as we pulled out of the
airport car park and a rush of hormones flooded my body,
blurring my vision. 'There's no more jewellery, is there?' I
said to him. 'Cos Shelley's away for the weekend and she
can't rescue us.' He cringed and laughed at the same time
and I pushed down on the accelerator, aiming to get us back
to St Kilda as soon as possible.
We spent the morning in bed – it was the natural way
for us to catch up. It was how we always caught up. When
things were tense between us, everything was always better
after a good night's sleep or a good shag, or both.
We went to Circa at the Prince for lunch. The decor was
crisp white, with kangaroo paw in pink glass vases, silver-grey
chiffon curtains and wicker lights throughout.
'So, babe, I've been wondering if . . .' and he paused. Oh
God, he was going to propose.
'Wondering what?' I didn't feel ready to deal with this.
'Wondering if you wanted to see other people while
we're apart?'
'What? No. Why? Do you?' I was confused: this certainly
wasn't the proposal I was expecting. I was relieved, but also,
I realised, disappointed.
'No I don't, but someone suggested to me that I should
give you some freedom.'
'I don't need freedom; I need support for my career.
Why don't you listen to
me
and not to
someone
– whoever
someone
is.' I was really taken aback. Had James actually met
someone else back in Sydney? Was it guilt that led to his
last-minute trip to Melbourne?
If James was anything, he was an honest, straight-up kind
of guy, and would tell me the truth if there was someone
else – but I wasn't sure if I wanted to ask.
'There's no-one else, in case that's what you're thinking,'
he said, as if he was reading my mind. He reached out and
held my hand.
After a moment's silence, he grinned at me. 'You won't
believe this. I've started surfing,' he announced.
'Really?' I was surprised. While James loved going to the
beach with me, I'd never even known him to bodysurf.
'Yes. I thought it'd be good to surf when I finally move
in with you beachside. Had a bad experience already though
– I nearly drowned.'
'What? Why didn't you tell me? When?'
'Two weeks ago. I had a lesson on Saturday down
Maroubra beach, and I surprised myself. I managed to stand
up within the first half an hour. I think doing gymnastics as
a kid gave me a good sense of balance.' I'd seen photos of
James in his gym gear as a child and he was so cute on the
balance beam – I remember falling in love with him even
more at that moment.
'I was so chuffed with myself, knowing that surfing is a
really hard sport to master and that I seemed to have a bit
of a gift, so straight after the class I went and bought myself
a board and went for a surf the next morning.' Oh God, I
could just see my little 'chuffed' gymnast out there with the
Bra Boys and I started to panic.
'And?' I was impatient, wanting to know about the
'nearly drowning' business.
'Well, I paddled out, feeling really confident, and rode
a couple of waves in – shaky, but I did it. I was good at
it, really.' As if he were trying to convince me. 'But then I
attempted a really big wave, and I ended up getting wiped
out and thought I'd broken my neck. I got swished around
beneath the sea for what seemed like ages. I truly thought I
was going to drown and all I could think was that I'd never
see you again.'
'Oh baby, how did you get out?' I gripped his hand tightly,
feeling guilty about not being there for him on the day.
'Lifesaver by the name of Mark came out on the jet ski
and towed me back. I was so embarrassed. I was out of
breath, out of pride and out $500 for the board.'
'No, the board's not a waste – you should keep trying, it
sounds like you have a gift, and it was only your second day.'
'I don't know, it was really a terrifying experience.' James
looked at our joined hands intently, as if he was somewhere
else, as if back under the sea.
'I'm so sorry, I wish I'd been there for you.' I put my
hand on his.
'So do I. I really missed you that night, I needed some
of Peta's TLC.'
'Let's go back to Eildon Road and I'll give you all the
TLC you can handle.'
♥
We went for dinner at a new place on Fitzroy Street, so
uneventful I couldn't even remember the name of it the next
day. I ordered basic pasta.
'This food is fucken awful,' I said, spitting into my
serviette.
'You know, I've never said anything to you before, but
boy you swear a lot – I mean, for a princess.'
'Well, as Alice would say, the colonisers gave us a
whole new vocab, which I might point out also contained
profanities. So as far as I'm concerned, along with small pox,
bad language is just another colonial intrusion.' I pushed
the plate of tasteless pasta aside and just stared at him.
'I know colonisation has a lot to do with where your people
are today, Peta, but you swearing is your own doing.'
'Oh, this is a first, you talking to me about where my
people are at thanks to colonisation! If you know so much,
what are you doing to make some social change for us,
then? I mean, aside from dating a Blackfella?'
'What would you like me to do, Peta? What
can
I do?
To make change?'
'James, why don't you ask
yourself
that question?'
'Because I'm asking you.'
'I'm tired of being asked questions like that. I'm not at
work now, and you're not one of my clients. Do you know
how many times a day I'm interrogated by whitefellas
wanting me to have all the answers for them? Why do
Aboriginal people have to have all the answers
and
do all
the work? I don't want to have a cultural awareness session
over dinner with the man who is supposed to be my partner!
I don't want you asking me what you should be doing
to help.'
'But you always tell me you know what's best for you.'
'Exactly! I know what's best for me, Peta. I don't have all
the answers all the time for the 400,000 other Blackfellas
living right across the continent.'
'But you have a sense of responsibility to your people. I
see it in your work. That's why you moved to Melbourne,
isn't it?'
'This isn't about me, it's about you. You need to take
some responsibility for
you
and
your
people. Expecting us
to know everything about our people isn't perhaps the best
way to go. I don't ask you about whitefellas, do I?'
'Well no, of course not.' He looked browbeaten.
'Look, I love you, James, but I'm not your personal tutor.
You need to do more to educate yourself about these issues.
I would've thought that a man who wanted to marry me
would take more than a superficial interest in what I do, but
you hardly ever come to events with me in Sydney. You've
never even been to a rally!'
'You never ask me to go.'
'I shouldn't have to. I come along to lectures and things
with you all the time, and it's not because I'm really into
architecture! I do it because you love it, and it's your career,
and because it's important to you – but it's not who you
are. The issues I'm talking about are important to me, and
not just because of my work. This is who I
am
. Do you
understand that?'
'But I'm just an architect. I don't really have anything to
contribute.'
'Let's say you were a businessman, then I'd say you
could give some Blackfellas jobs and encourage other
businesspeople to do the same. If you were a journo I'd say
write a feel-good story, a positive story about Indigenous
Australia, and try to do it as often as you can. Maybe there's
nothing you can do with your skills as an architect but you
can still write letters to MPs and the newspaper and so on.
I bet you've never done that, have you?'
He just looked at his food and pushed it around on his
plate.
'Look, I'm not having a dig at you,' I said, a bit more
gently. 'I'm just trying to make the point that whitefellas
have to start looking at themselves and thinking about
how they fit into the world and can make change.' I sipped
my wine.
'You know, our office did hire a Blackfella but it didn't
quite work out. He kept going walkabout and the partners
couldn't bring themselves to hire another.'
'What the fuck! What are we doing here, Aboriginal
Studies 101?'
'Don't swear at me, Peta.'
'Don't
make
me swear. See what I mean? In all the time
we've been together you haven't learned even the basics.
Don't you hear me when I talk to other people about this
stuff? Blackfellas go
walkabout
for a purpose. Ceremony,
trading, food, water, sorry business. Blackfellas in the city
don't go walkabout. Whitefellas just say we do. We drive
cars, catch buses and trains when we've got business to do.'
'Why are you getting so angry with me?'
'Because white Australians like you point out
my
responsibilities but don't recognise your own, or the fact that
you benefit every day from the dispossession of Aboriginal
people. You mightn't be responsible for the past, but you
benefit from dispossession every day. And you sit here
asking me,
What can I do?
'
James just sat there stunned. We had never had a
confrontation about political issues before. In the eight
months we had been together back in Sydney he had always
been so lovely and kind and nice that we'd never had a fullblown
argument. We hadn't talked politics at all, really.
It wasn't his fault. We'd both been working hard, and at
the end of long days and weeks we went to movies and
chilled out and I tried to recharge my batteries. What we
did together was fun, but not deep or intense. I did talk
about issues that had come up at work sometimes, but he
didn't challenge or correct me and I just assumed he agreed.
The argument just proved Alice's point: it was best to get
the important stuff out of the way on the first date, not
eight or nine or ten months down the track. But it wasn't
even an argument: James didn't disagree with me. He just
hadn't thought about the issues before.
After a long silence, both of us just staring at our dinner,
James said, 'You're going to think I'm an idiot, but I still
don't know what you want from me.'
'Sometimes I just want you to listen, James, that's all.
Right now, though, I want to get the bill.'
Reconciliation Week kicked off that night with a
reconciliation football match between the Swans and
Essendon, but even though I'd been looking forward to
going to my first live AFL game, it seemed more important
to spend some time alone with James. I didn't even mention
the game to him, as football was nothing that either of us
had been keen on when I was back in Sydney, and the last
thing I wanted him thinking was that I was only interested in
looking at the long lean bodies in tight shorts – and knowing
James, it was something he would think, even if he never said
anything. So I decided that we'd spend the night at home
and I made a kangaroo curry with a recipe Alice emailed me
as a joke. It wasn't as good as hers, but it was okay.
I got up early the next morning and called her. 'You
should have heard me at dinner with James yesterday. I
behaved like a bloody lunatic. If I were him I'd give up on
me for sure. I was a crazy woman. If he still wants to marry
me I should just do it, because no-one else will ever have
me. I don't even know why he puts up with me. I must be
his
reconciliation project and he doesn't even know it.'
'You're not crazy or mad. You're a passionate, feisty,
gorgeous, intelligent Black woman,' she affirmed. 'Who
cares about her community and doesn't suffer fools easily.'
'But James isn't a fool – he's a nice guy who's trying hard
just to keep me right now, I think.'
'Then crawl back into bed and apologise for your tone,
or your manner, but not what you said, okay, because you're
not sorry for what you said, are you?'
'No, not at all. I meant every word of it. But it wasn't
really intended for him. He just wore the brunt of what I
want to say to some of the bureaucrats I work with, and
probably a few members of the police force.'
'Right,' Alice responded. 'So it wasn't about James at all,
then?'
'Well, some of it was, he needed to hear it. We need to
be able to have discussions like that. But mostly it was about
other people.'
'So tell him that, tell him it was a dress rehearsal for the
people who really need to hear it. He's the forgiving type.
He'll be cool for sure.'
'You're right, it'll be fine.'
'But if that fails, just give him a blow job!'
'God, now you're sounding like me. I'll call you later in
the week.'
So I crawled into bed and all was forgiven.
We had a late lunch down at the Stokehouse, which felt
a bit weird as I hadn't been there since the episode with
Mike. We got a table at the window and just sat staring at
the sea. It was an overcast day and cold.
'You're beautiful.' James moved closer and put his arm
around my shoulder. It felt safe and good and normal, like
it did back in Sydney when there was no pressure on us.
'I know I don't know everything about you and your
politics and everything you want out of life, but I do know
that I want to be with you. To be around you. To love you.'
'I love you too,' I said easily.
'And I know with all your passion you'd make a great
wife and mother, and you'd make sure our kids were the
most socially aware students in their classes.'