15
I decided to go to Italy for a few days between jobs even though I couldn’t really afford it. Going to Italy really whacked my budget. I wanted to go on a tour though, because it’s pretty crap travelling on your own. Didn’t realise I’d be stuck with the grey hair brigade. Someone had suggested Contiki but I thought it would be full of Australians.
When I got back from Italy I had another awful fight with Dad on Skype. He’d said one of his stupid, racist, right wing pieces of Murdoch press rubbish and I’d pretty much bitten his head off. Then he did his hurt silence number and Mum took his place and tried being all jolly. And I could tell they were thinking, Oh, she’s young; we all have our radical phase, as if it’s like getting pimples or braces.
Now I wish I could have had just one more conversation with him, say I’m sorry, tell him I loved him.
Mum said “Don’t come home for the funeral.” She said he wouldn’t have wanted me to ruin my big adventure. That it cost so much to go to Europe and that I might never get another chance. I think she was just being crazy, trying to be super brave and do the right thing. I shouldn’t have listened to her. I’ve been kicking myself ever since. She said we could have a memorial service when I get home but it won’t be the same. She sent me a DVD of the funeral. Can you believe they do that! It was so sad. My aunt and uncle getting up to speak. My cousins carrying the coffin. They must all think I’m the most selfish bitch in the world, or that I don’t love him, or that I’m still holding grudges.
Now I’m stuck for another four months. I can’t come home early because that would make it seem even stranger that I wasn’t there for the funeral. And I know Mum is lonely and I know she needs me and I have to continue with this farce that I’m having the time of my life.
. . .
I had a real conversation today. I’m working at this little book shop at the moment, looking after the internet orders and making up packages to post. The woman who owns the shop is only twenty-five. She’s so cool. Her name is Tasha and she said “Hey it’s the first day of spring, let’s grab lunch and go hang out at St. James Park’. She turned the sign over to ‘Closed’ and we headed for the café. Of course by the time we ordered lunch it was raining so heavily we couldn’t even get out the door so we sat in a