Why Did It Have to Be Me

Susan has finally broken through her own self-imposed barriers but her encounter with Charlene is not the culmination of something but the start of her journey. Author's note, 'root' is to have sex in Australia, I had a root, did you have a good root last night? I feel like a root, she was rooting her instead of him etc.

Sunday 30 September, 2001

Most people can remember where they were on September 11, a moment in time similar to JFK's assassination, the Apollo 11 mission and Princess Diana's death. Differences were set aside and for a brief period of time they were united.

Susan and Charlene were in Charlene's bedroom and she'd just had a shower after making love yet again, when Gary came into the bedroom without knocking. It was unusual but Charlene didn't get a chance to say a word about that because he blurted out, "people just flew a jet liner into one of the big towers in New York."

Over the course of the next couple of hours they sat in the lounge room watching the drama unfold. Sandra Sully was reading the normal late night news when the news broke. Many would remember her calmly talking them through each update and for the first few days there was a lot of confusion. They finally named a Saudi, Osama bin Laden as the mastermind and Al Queda as the organisation who carried out the attacks.

It was the same week Susan finally learned another name, Bridget. She was a singer in a band that worked the pub circuit in Melbourne. Four out of the five members of The Bogans were locals but their lead singer Bridget was from Chicago, Illinois. She moved to Australia on a working visa and stayed, she was now a part time legal aid lawyer and at night she sang her heart out in the pubs and clubs. Susan laughed out loud at the name when Charlene suggested going to see them, bogan was a word used to describe a redneck. However redneck had been somewhat romanticised by Hollywood over the years. Bogan was the Aussie word for a subculture rooted in hard drinking, misogyny and weapons grade stupidity and ignorance.

They went to see the band when they played the Pier Hotel in Frankston, hoping for something that had style but instead Susan found she was surrounded by drunken bogans. Granted Charlene could keep them at bay but she was glad to get back to the car a few hours later.

"What is it about bloody Frankston?"

"What do you mean by that?" Charlene looked across at her, "it's got a lovely beach."

"I know but it's a bogan magnet, there should be a sign, bogans prohibited."

"I didn't know what that word meant until recently, we call them chavs in the U.K."

"We used to call them hoons and back in the seventies we had sharpies, skinheads and surfers and bikies, but bogans aren't playing with the full deck," Susan replied.

"The band's good though," Charlene glanced at her, "what did you make of Bridget?"

"She's hot," she closed her eyes as she recalled the lead singer. She had long thick blonde hair and a slim physique. Their sound was a little like The Angels but because their singer was a woman they had been compared to The Divinyls, both bands were famous for hard rock and gritty lyrics. Bridget certainly came across as confident and Susan wasn't sure if that was because she was American or if it was part of her on stage persona.

"Oh, she's fucking hot. She could have any man she wanted."

"I didn't see her with a guy in between sessions, most of the guys have girlfriends."

"I don't know, maybe I'll ask her one day. They've played the Dorset a few times."

It was the first hint she had that Charlene was on a first name basis with the singer. By then she had missed a few church services but still helped at the foodbank, something she really enjoyed because it didn't involve preaching or extolling the virtues of faith. One day she would admit it and lose her membership. They'd still need volunteers at the foodbank and other community programs, and even if they asked her to leave that foodbank she could always go to the next church. What bothered her more though was work. She'd thought it was mentioned in the rules but after reading her handbook she still didn't know if they let gays look after kids, it wasn't even mentioned. Obviously no one had thought that a kindergarten teacher might be gay. It seemed a curious omission but her mother reckoned it was an old handbook instead.

"It's probably from the eighties and it's just been updated every ten years and a lot of people had no idea how to treat gays and transvestites."

A casual question asked of one of the older staff seemed to suggest her mother was right. Ellen had been a kindergarten teacher for fifteen years and even back then she'd thought it slightly retro and outdated but it was a basic handbook, not a bible.

She'd resolved to visit the Citizens Advice Bureau in Croydon about it. Her mother and stepfather took it in their stride and her mother invited Charlene for dinner the next night. She'd felt odd at the time sitting next to her girlfriend. Valerie told her she was welcome to come over anytime. Charlene stayed over at her place a few times, sleeping in her bed. Penny and Robyn were encouraging and even invited them both up for dinner in November.

Nevertheless, church was on her mind that Sunday morning the 7th of October. Should she confess to a friend, an elder or just keep her mouth shut and put in an appearance? It'd been several weeks but last Friday one woman at the foodbank asked if she was okay. She'd said she was fine and had decided to take a break for a few weeks but was non specific about why she hadn't been at church yet. Susan stared at her reflection, she wore a cream blouse with a brown three-quarter length skirt and brown jacket along with black shoes. She'd put on high heeled boots earlier but changed them for flat heeled shoes later on. Her mother looked askance at her when she came into the room with a few clothes she'd washed yesterday.

"I thought you'd given up on church? Or are you going to see Charlene?"

"Later on," she turned around as Valerie put the folded clothes on the bed, "I haven't decided on the best way forward right now. Do I come out or just stay in the closet? No one has to know anything about my sex life, Penny and Robyn are right."

"True enough," she sat on the bed, "but are you under pressure from Charlene?"

"No," she looked past her at the bedhead, "which is odd because I half expected it but there's been nothing from her, she's left it up to me."

"Well it is up to you, no one can force you out. They act as if it's a monumental act that will change the course of history but it's not," she leaned back on her palms.

"We've had homosexuals for the entirety of human civilisation, even beyond recorded history. We didn't just invent it, it's always been there. What're Penny and Robyn saying?"

"That our sex lives in general are private unless you're an exhibitionist or insecure."

"Good point," she replied.

"Yeah, it covers everything, gays, bisexuals and straights," she looked at her watch.

"Shit, is that the time? I better go."

"Good luck and remember, I'm your mum. I'll always love you and support you."

"Thanks, mum," she gave her a brief hug.

Nevertheless, when she squinted at her shoes in the car she almost went back and changed them but then decided that it was just avoiding the inevitable. Who's going to be looking at my shoes? She slid the key into the ignition and turned it and the motor roared to life, she drove away a minute or two later with no idea what she'd say at church.

Fate however had thrown her dice and the topic of conversation at church that day was the death of their minister who'd suffered a fatal brain aneurysm last night. His wife had slept in another room because she was suffering from a heavy cold and didn't want to wake him. When she came in to see why he wasn't out of bed she discovered he was dead. The coroner's report wouldn't be done for a few weeks but the ambos who turned up half an hour later said it was probably an aneurysm, they'd probably know something.

Thus, no one was available to speak to Susan and even if there had been someone she didn't want to bring up her sexual orientation. In light of what had just happened it seemed crass. She stayed for a few minutes after church but then left and instead of heading home drove to Charlene's house, she hadn't seen her the previous night because she was working at the pub.

There was a white Ford ute parked out the front of the house but she thought it must belong to one of Gary's friends or possibly it was someone over the road. She nudged her glasses and squinted at a weatherboard house on the other side of the road as she mounted the front steps but stopped when she read a handwritten sign on the flywire door.

Just come around the back, I'm having a shower.

Susan frowned. It seemed an odd sign to leave, considering anyone could've walked up to the door and seen the same sign. She turned again to the ute. The vehicle looked to be a tradesman's car, the vinyl tarpaulin had been undone at the corner, meaning something had been taken out. But whose car was it? Gary's car wasn't there but he might be with the owner of the ute, she looked at the sign again and then made a decision that would change everything.

She decided to follow the instructions.

The side gate hadn't been properly latched and she paused to latch it again but just as she dropped the bolt into the latch she heard a shriek of laughter. Susan froze and a moment later walked around the back and came to a stop when she saw the back door was open. Charlene's curtains were open as well and she stepped onto the back lawn. Had she been wearing her high heels she'd have been forced to use the gravel path but instead she was able to cross the lawn undetected. She got to the window and her eyes widened as she saw Charlene.

Charlene was propped on her elbows with her head between Bridget's legs, they were both naked and she felt the blood rush to her head. She felt stupid, embarrassed, angry and hurt and for a few seconds she contemplated picking up a pot plant at the back of the house and hurling it through the window. But then she thought of Gary and changed her mind. Instead, she walked back to the side path and went back to her car and wrote down the rego number for the ute. It was only then that she decided to write a word in the dust on the back windscreen.SLUT

She contemplated writingSEPPOin front of the word but changed her mind and got back into her car and drove down to the bottom of the road and did a screeching U-Turn and raced back up to the main road. Just before the road however she swung left onto a gravel service road and picked up her phone. Charlene answered on the fourth ring, she sounded out of breath.

"So, has your slut girlfriend come yet?"

"What? What are you talking about?"

"I saw you through the window. I never want to fucking see you again, you betrayed me you little bitch, I hope you're happy with your girlfriend. By the way, tell that fucking slut Bridget to check her car," she hung up and tossed the phone onto the passenger seat and pinched her nose. The text came through as she was silently weeping and she wiped her eyes and put her glasses on to read the message.

Charlene: Piss off! I can't believe you'd hurt me like this.

~*~

Susan and Sarah had both been past the Savoy a few years ago when they were on holiday with the girls after they graduated from high school. They had never been inside but had all seen one famous room, where William proposed to Anna in the movie, Notting Hill. So, there was a sense of déjà vu as they sat in the Savoy Grill, now owned by Gordon Ramsay. She felt a little guilty that she and Sarah had just dined on food paid for by a man they had never met. The food had cost £107, and she hadn't factored in the cost of the Beef Wellington that Janis had ordered. Tony had met them out the front of the Savoy and even took their pictures using Sarah's new camera. Tony was tall, dark and handsome and Janis laughingly compared him to their great grandfather who'd emigrated to the UK from Spain in 1850 to marry Anne Randall. Charlene and Janis took after their mother but Tony was definitely a throwback.

"If you see a picture of Tony and Giuseppe you'd swear they were twins," Janis grinned.

Unlike his ancestor though, Tony had money. He worked at the BBC as a producer and was on first name basis with famous BBC stars, although no one asked him to divulge secrets. Thus, despite her guilt, Susan was somewhat comforted after hearing about his job. What guilt remained was possibly just a natural reaction to being treated to dinner at a famous hotel restaurant. Nico, his partner came out to greet them before retreating to the kitchen. Judging by the body language, they were madly in love with each other. This allowed Susan to finish telling them about breaking up with Charlene and Janis shook her head and leaned back afterwards and exhaled.

"She was the champion of the absurd, as a kid, she could be caught with her hands in the biscuit tin and swear blindly I'd put her up to it. Mum used to say that she was more like our dad when it came to telling lies. He committed awful crimes but we didn't know about it until the police knocked on our door and mum was questioned for hours, they couldn't believe she knew nothing but dad was an expert liar. He could make it seem as if the girls had made it all up."

"I never spoke to her but she apparently pulled up outside the house one day, so dad told me, I was out with mum at Eastland but she kept on driving."

"So, what happened next?" Tony asked her.

"I ended up pregnant although by the time I found out I'd broken up with him."

"Who was he?"

"It's kind of embarrassing," she leaned on the table, "it was Mick, one of Charlene's old workmates, I think he was a barman but he looked over her first car for her."

"Oh," her eyes shifted slightly.

"I went out with him because I was secretly hoping it'd make her jealous," she glanced at Sarah.

"And did it?" Tony asked her.

"Nope, she'd shut me out completely. I may as well have been dead."

"If it's any consolation you wouldn't be the first," she put her glass down, "if anything it was a kind of turn on for her. If you'd ignored her and pretended that it was just a flash in the pan she may have given you an encore."

"Mick was a fucking disaster. We broke up three days after our first date when he learned Charlene and I had been lovers and the cheeky cunt asked for a threesome."

"Jesus," Tony ran a hand through his hair and grinned.

"Oh don't worry, I did mention that but he then offered to pay a prostitute to do us both at the same time," she picked up her wineglass.

"It was the only time I threw a drink in someone's face. Good scotch too, I slapped his face and then walked out... he tried to stop me at the door but I reminded him that my stepfather was a cop and he let me go," she had some wine.

"I was angry, admittedly it was a rare occurrence but I realised that I needed help and that's where I first came into contact with Sarah," she nodded at her.

"Sarah was my therapist," she continued.

"Your therapist?" Janis's eyes widened appreciably, "now I have to hear more tomorrow, but we've got to get going, I've got to take Missy and Princess for their walk."

"Who're they?"

"Her very well fed French poodles," Tony grinned.

"Oh, they eat better than me," Janis smirked.

"So, what's a seppo?" Tony asked.

"It's a shortened version of septic tank," Sarah picked up her glass, "rhyming slang for yank, the cheese and kisses is the missus, bag of fruit is a suit, etcetera," she drained her glass.

"Ah," Tony smiled crookedly, "thank you for explaining."

They left some ten minutes later but Janis made her promise to fill her in on what happened next.

"It helps to fill in the blanks, there were so many holes in her story," she bowed her head, "we'd not talk for months, once or twice we didn't talk for eighteen months or two years and when it came to you I only ever got one side. Of course after she got sick she did mention you in a positive light but she also had other demons to put to rest, like our father for example."

"Of course," Susan nudged her glasses, "I'll do my best."

"Thanks," she squeezed her arm, "until tomorrow then," she smiled.

"So, where are you off to now?" Tony asked, "the hotel?"

"Um," she glanced at Sarah.

"Sarah and I were hoping to get some night time pictures of the Tower of London, what train gets us there quicker?"

"The Central," Tony and Janis both replied in unison and then Janis chuckled.

"I can walk you to Embankment, I'm going there anyway."

"How long does it take?" Sarah wanted to know."

"About fifteen minutes, give or take," she nodded at Tony.

"Don't make it so long next time," she gave him a brief hug and released him.

"The only time we seem to catch up is at weddings, funerals and the like."

"Of course, I've been meaning to catch up but you know how it is. There's always a fire to put out at work, if it's not stars being dramatic, it's stars getting caught with their pants around their knees," he winked.

"It was lovely to have met you both, I'll get Janis to pass on my personal email so we can keep in touch," he shook their hands.

"That's rare for Tony," Janis commented as they walked towards the station, "he tries to keep a low profile. People assume that if he works at the BBC that he can pass on a message to Fiona Bruce or Laura Kuenssberg. He's passed them in the corridor a few times but he doesn't know them."

They reached the station a few minutes later and she directed them to the right platform first before giving Susan another hug.

"Thank you again and I'll see you again tomorrow? We'll do the museum again and now you've got a map you can decide which bits you want to see next."

"For sure, looking forward to it," she smiled.

As they sat waiting for the next train she let her mind go back over the years to that encounter with Kerry, which if she'd chosen, could have seen her take a different path.

~*~

Donvale, Friday 5th October, 18:05 hours.

It had been weeks since she'd been to Kerry's unit, the last time was that night when Charlene had driven her back from the club. She'd been tipsy and hadn't really paid much attention to the block where the unit was located. Looking at it in the light of day she could see it was a long block, one of several in this street. Some of the blocks still had one house with larger than normal yards but a few had been converted into units by developers. It'd become a common practice thanks to the negative gearing used by those on the property ladder to decrease their tax burden and hoard more wealth. Combined with generous breaks for inheritance tax it'd created a widening gulf between the haves and the have nots. In a country where most lived in coastal cities or towns within driving distance of the coast it had become controversial. Some saw it as a license to print money, others saw the greed of landlords in all its ignorance. However, governments on both sides had steered clear of criticising negative gearing for fear of enraging the grey vote.

She stared at the units on Kerry's block, there were four units, other blocks had six or eight units, so these units were slightly bigger and probably had larger yards. Many units had a postcard-sized yard if there was enough room, and a strip of grass out the front. The four units were all the same from the outside, Kerry's was owned by a German woman along with another unit and the other two were owned by her son. Knowing the way the system worked, she'd have bought the other two and then sold them 'at a loss' for a tax refund.

Normally Susan would've ventured into fantasy land, where she'd confront the greedy landlady and give her both barrels, metaphorically speaking, or if not her, then the Victorian premier or even the Prime Minister John Howard. At heart she despised the glorification of greed when all about her she saw people struggling to make ends meet.