Looking for Alibrandi

  I met her at one stage in the ladies’ and I realized that she wasn’t Poison Ivy any more. She was just Ivy. As scared as I was of what it meant to be out of our uniform. She smiled hesitantly and I smiled back, and I saw tears in her eyes.

  “I’m only valedictorian because I didn’t want you to be,” she told me. “I worked harder because of you. You got on my nerves a lot.”

  “Yeah, well, I only excelled in English to beat you.”

  She laughed and wiped her hands.

  “I’m a bit scared, you know. My father really wants me to be a doctor.”

  “Yeah, well, my grandmother wants me to marry one, so we have heaps in common,” I tried to joke.

  We stood looking at each other and I wanted to say so much to her and that surprised me. Because in the past I had to make up things to say.

  “I feel lost without . . . John as a friend. I always felt he was going to be there pulling me up when I was down,” she blurted out.

  “I really wanted him to be with me while I did law. I don’t think I can make it without him now,” I confessed.

  I wondered why we were standing there just babbling out all our fears, and then I remembered what John had said about us being similar.

  “It wasn’t our fault, Josie. Not yours or mine. It was John. But I feel like crying because people will always remember the way he died and not the way he lived.”

  “But we’ll remember.”

  She nodded and started to walk away.

  “Ivy?”

  “Yes.”

  “If we go to the same university and we bump into each other one day, let’s have a cappuccino and talk.”

  And she hugged me and it was with her and not my best friends that I could cry about what had happened in the last few weeks.

  Michael took me for a pizza that night.

  “I was proud of you tonight,” he told me, looking at my certificates. “So was your mother. I thought she was going to stand up on her chair and chant, ‘Josie, Josie, Josie.’”

  “But that doesn’t count. You’re my parents.”

  “Yes, I like the sound of that.”

  I looked up at him and smiled.

  “We never say it out loud, do we?”

  “No, because we’re both stubborn people,” he laughed, reaching over to touch my face. “When you were saying your speech, I know I was pretending to sleep, but I thought you were poetic. Just like your mother used to be.”

  “My mother poetic?”

  “She loved poetry. Elizabeth Browning was her favorite. She was going to go to university and study English literature and become a poet.”

  “How embarrassing. My mother was going to do an arts degree,” I joked. “Come on, Michael, my mother has never had a desire to go to university.”

  “What do you know of your mother’s desires? She wanted to be the greatest poet around. She’d recite to me constantly. I hated it.”

  “Then why didn’t she tell me?”

  “Maybe she thought you’d blame yourself. I mean the reason she didn’t go was because of me and you.”

  “Why, why, why?” I asked. “I would have gone. Why don’t people do things they want to do? I’d never let anyone or anything stop me.”

  “How the hell do you know that, Josie? You haven’t begun to live life. Come back to me when you’re forty and tell me that you’ve done everything you’ve wanted to do. When I was seventeen I wanted to be a pilot, but we moved to Adelaide and the move depressed me and I forgot everything I had wanted in my life. People change. Circumstances change them.”

  “Were you passionate about being a pilot?”

  He looked pensive.

  “I’ve been passionate about two things in my life. One was Christina Alibrandi. The other is Josephine Alibrandi.”

  “How sad that you’re no longer passionate about Christina Alibrandi,” I said.

  The food came and we began to eat.

  “How about we get contacts?” he asked me after a mouthful.

  “Contact lenses? But then we’d be good-looking. I couldn’t handle that.”

  “If you get them, I’ll get them.”

  “We’ll be twins.”

  He put down the pizza, looking pretty nervous, which was weird, because Michael Andretti is always in control. He took my hand and squeezed it.

  “I’ve discussed this with your mother.”

  “Oh my God,” I shouted with joy. “You’ve been seeing each other behind my back and you’re getting married?”

  “Be serious for once,” he said. “What I discussed with her is that I’d like you to be . . . an Andretti.”

  “By marriage?”

  “Can you calm down. God, Josie, what do you think life is? Easy? I want to adopt you. I want you to have my name.”

  “And Mama?”

  “I can’t adopt her.”

  “I could suggest one way of changing her name,” I said slyly.

  He looked at me, shaking his head in amusement.

  “Don’t be offended if I ask you for time,” I said honestly. “It’s not just me involved here. It’s Mama and Nonna. But if it helps, I’d be so proud to be an Andretti . . . Dad.”

  Reaching over the table, I hugged him hard, thinking of what my name would sound like, over and over again. Although I had no real ties to the Alibrandi name, it belonged to Mama and Nonna and I belonged to them.

  “I’ll miss you when you go back to live in Adelaide.”

  “I’m not going back. I’ve bought a house in Balmain.”

  “Balmain?” I screeched.

  “Everyone is looking,” he reminded me.

  “Oh my God. When did you buy it?”

  “The sale is going through now.”

  “Oh God, this is great. It’s so close. I can stay over and we can refurnish it and everything.”

  He rolled his eyes, biting into a piece of garlic bread.

  “Does Mama know?”

  “I think I’ve mentioned it.”

  “On one of your secret dates?”

  “You are so obnoxious.”

  “What about the accountant in Adelaide?”

  “Mind your own business.”

  “Well?”

  He sighed, shaking his head.

  “You’d have to be the nosiest person I know. We decided to split up. It was amicable.”

  “Oh gosh, I’m devastated to say the very least.”

  “You sound it,” he said drily. “It was a hard decision, but I had to get my priorities right. I ran away from commitment eighteen years ago. I should never have done what I did to your mother. I can’t run away again. Because I’m older and I run slower. I want to have my time with you now.”

  “So this has nothing to do with your great passion for my mother?”

  “Jos-ie,” he said in frustration.

  “The accountant wasn’t your type. You said she ate spaghetti with a fork and spoon.”

  “I told you good things about her as well.”

  “Oh, like what?” I scoffed. “That she was attractive, intelligent and successful. For God’s sake, there’s more to life than that.”

  “I’m blocking my ears.”

  We ate the rest of the meal without me tormenting him, and he then drove past his house to show me what it looked like from the outside. Balmain has the loveliest pubs, bookshops and inexpensive restaurants and there’s a strong sense of history attached to it. Michael’s house was a small sandstone house, even tinier than ours, with a room added on top that Michael said would be mine when I stayed. It had the most enchanting garden and I pictured being able to do so much with it.

  He dropped me off at home. I was walking toward my gate as he was leaning against the car and I turned around and walked back to him.

  I hugged him and felt his arms come around me.

  “I love you, you know.”

  “That’s because I’m lovable.” He grinned, pinching my face.

  “That’s something I’d say.”

/>   We sat on the doorstep for a while that night. Not saying much. We didn’t need to. I remembered the same time last year, when Michael wasn’t in my life. It was the scariest feeling in the world.

  Mama was watching TV when I came in. I sat beside her without saying a word and we just cuddled up for a while.

  I didn’t know how to approach the subject of the adoption or my change of name. Mama, not knowing about the Marcus Sandford story, had no idea how little the Alibrandi name really meant to us all.

  “Have you made a decision?” she finally ended up asking when there was a commercial break.

  I looked up at her and shrugged.

  “What did you first think?” I asked.

  “I cried.”

  “I feel that by accepting the Andretti name, I’m rejecting you and Nonna,” I told her honestly.

  “But I know in my heart that you would never reject me, Josie. So I know that it’s not a rejection, and seeing Nonna has now accepted Michael, she knows it’s not a rejection. So I can accept any decision you make, but it’ll still make me cry. Because you’ve been all mine for so long and now you’re his as well.”

  “If I do it,” I said, looking at the images on the television set, “I think I’ll be doing it more for him.” I looked up at her. “I think it’d make him feel so much better about what he did if I’m an Andretti by name. Last year I would have said, ‘Who cares what he wants?’ But now I’d like to ease his guilt. I know Michael, Mama. I know he crucifies himself.”

  “Whatever you want,” she said.

  “But I don’t want to be adopted,” I said adamantly. “Changing my name is one thing, Mama, but I don’t need to be adopted. People get adopted because their mother can’t look after them or because they don’t have anyone. But I have you and I can still have Michael without him adopting me.”

  “He’s a very lucky man,” she said, taking my hand.

  I sat back against her and sighed.

  “We all are, Mama. We’re all very lucky people.”

  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 fi
rst 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.

  Thirty-One

  I FOUND IT very cruel that the sun shone and the weather was perfect during the darkest of my days. I sat in front of the fan in my T-shirt and undies and adopted the European lifestyle of taking siestas at two in the afternoon for five days when the exams ended, until I noticed that even my mother had a tan compared to my pasty, tear-blotched face. So I finally emerged from the house and had pizza with Lee, Anna and Sera. To celebrate the end of the exams. Not that I was in any mood to celebrate.