I wrote it all by heart, but I think I got it right—our song. I want you to know this is how I feel about you, the most wonderful person I have ever met. I can’t wait for you to get back home.
Write back soon.
Love you,
Reese
I added his letter to the pile with all of the others, counting myself lucky to have Reese, yet cursed because we could not be together. Every letter from Reese pulled me in two directions: they lifted my spirits, yet dragged me down, worsening my case of homesickness.
* * *
My host family surprised me with a triple layer cake for my birthday, inviting Megan to join us. And when we hung out in my room afterwards, Megan noticed the birthday card Mother had sent, in my trash can. “This fell off your desk,” she said, beginning to read.
“Put that back.” Tears started welling in my eyes as I remembered being ostracized and made fun of because of the things Mother had done. Nineteen eighty-two was a particularly bad year and now Megan held a similar repeat in her hand.
“How long have you known that the world was going to end on Christmas day?” she asked. But the way she asked had stripped all of the torment and seriousness away. I had to laugh.
“I just found out.” I laughed again. Mother always said laughing was better than crying.
“It says here that witnessing the Rapture on December 25th will make this the most glorious Christmas ever and that your mom looks forward to the next time she sees you, in Heaven.”
“I’m not so sure Heaven is where she’s headed.” Mother was a regular comedian. I threw myself across the bed, rolled onto my stomach and began pulling at the yarn ties on the quilt. I became silent.
“Mother’s always told me I’d be damned to Hell.”
“Your mother’s weak, Camryn.”
“Weak?”
“Yes, weak.” Megan spoke as if she, herself, was an angel. Wise. Not sixteen.
“I always thought she was stupid,” I said, then we both burst into laughter.
* * *
Halloween passed as a non-event, not really celebrated in Oz. I had pizza for Thanksgiving and a fancy roast ham on a blazing hot Christmas day, my host sisters fighting over the crackling. My home chapter of Rotary sent me a bundle of checks and Christmas wishes. I sent them a card with an original poem.
The Relativity of Christmas
The snow up North is beautiful,
That it’s plain to see.
Bitter cold and ice outside,
Huddled in with tea.
Here the sun is blazing,
Sunscreen is on me.
Strolling down the beach today,
Shorts above the knee.
Christmastime is relative,
That it seems to me.
Everyone around the world,
Views Christmas differently.
Reese sent me a necklace. The delicate heart of gold with matching chain never left my neck. He also sent three Christmas cards and enclosed a mini license plate with his name on it. He said that meant I owned him.
I spent Christmas holidays with my dysfunctional host family up at Avoca Beach, just North of Sydney. Lisa and Candy both brought friends along for company on their two-week-long sun bake. Sun baking, not sun bathing. They lay on their beach towels reading books in between gab sessions. I lay on the beach writing letters.
Dear Reese,
You would absolutely love it here. I’m lying on the beach as I write to you, catching some rays and recovering from the heavy-duty pummeling I received from seven-foot waves on the ocean. The water was so nice, I kept swimming out, but then couldn’t get back in to shore. It was really scary. When I finally did catch a wave, it pounded me into the sand. It was awful and I thought I was going to drown. As soon as I’d figure out which way was up, another wave would come along and pound me into the sand again. Nobody seemed to notice I was struggling. Eventually I washed ashore and haven’t been in since. I have a cut on my knee from scraping the ocean floor, and sand all over inside my swimming suit. The waves basically washed my bikini top off too. Yikes! That might not be too different around here though. My host sisters sun bathe without their tops all the time—even around their dad. Eeeooo. This place is definitely more liberal than at home.
Lisa’s friend, Preita, is from Finland. They are way different there. The girls were telling me that in Finland, when the female exchange students arrive, they are issued birth control pills. Can you believe it? Preita said that she has boys sleep over all the time in her bed and her parents don’t care. She said they’d rather she be home where she was safe than out somewhere where they didn’t know where she was. I guess they have a point, but . . . . Then they asked me if I was on birth control pills and did Americans do the same thing. I think they thought we were really backward when I said most teenagers’ parents don’t support that kind of thing.
Other than that, spending two weeks on the beach is pretty good. The sky is so blue here you wouldn’t believe it. I’d love to go to the Barrier Reef. Maybe you and I could go someday. We could snorkel and see if we could get fish bites. Ha ha. Megan’s family took her to the Barrier Reef. I can’t wait to hear all about it.
When I get back, I’ll turn around and go to a sheep station near Bathurst. They are going to send me on a train to meet family friends on the other end and stay with them for a couple of weeks. I’ll get to see sheep shearing, see kangaroos, and other cool stuff like that.
Well, I’d better go. I have to turn over and roast the other side of me now. I hope you are enjoying the snow. Ha ha ha.
I miss you a whole bunch and love you more,
Camryn
* * *
The train trip to the sheep station took seven hours. Of course I wrote letters on the way, and read books to pass the time. The family I met on the other end, the Blackwell’s, were nice. Marie and Albert had a grown son, Jim, with a swank Australian accent. He always came over for dinner, but didn’t live at home anymore. Then there was Misty, who was grown, but still lived at home. She had a nasty habit of sucking her fingers—all the way past the second knuckle—while watching television; and the boyfriend she constantly hung all over and who spent the night often, didn’t seem to mind.
Dear Megan,
Gosh, I’ve missed you. I hope you had a great time at the Barrier Reef. I’ve got so much to tell you. First, and most importantly, Reese sent me another letter (nothing new, right?) This one had a playing card in it. It was the ace of hearts and he drew an arrow through the heart, you know, like a cupid arrow. Then he wrote on it, ‘You are the Ace in my life.’ Is that not the sweetest thing? I’ll show it to you next time I see you. I’m keeping it in my wallet alongside our prom picture.
Right now, I’m on a sheep station near Bathurst. Albert, my temporary host father, took me out in the middle of nowhere to ride horses. It was cool because I saw some kangaroos, but the horse and I didn’t get along too well. Then we had a cookout of sausages and he left me to walk home alone. He said I could really get to know the land that way. It was actually a good time. The sun was setting and I could see kangaroo silhouettes hopping in the distance beyond waves of wild yellow grasses. Thankfully, I didn’t encounter any snakes, because you know there are a jillion venomous snakes in Australia. On my walk back, I stopped and sat in the tall grass, having a moment listening to the soft wind blow through, and watching ‘roos. It was surreal.
When I got back to the house, no one was home, so I got on my bikini and went to lay out in the sun and then Jim showed up. I’ll have to back up now and tell you more about Jim. He’d been making google eyes at me ever since I got here. One night he took me to the RSL Club for a drink. It was really smoky and disgusting. Well, of course since I don’t drink, I had an orange juice. He was surprised, but didn’t bother me about it too much. So, we talked and had a reasonably good time. He was so interesting, and that voice of his! Very masculine. Shame on me. Anyway, he didn’t take me home to his folks’ house, he to
ok me home to his house. Next thing I knew, I was lying on his waterbed staring at my hand in the air above my face, yet it seemed like it wasn’t there. And Jim was right there next to me propped up on his elbow looking at me with big eyes, and the palm of his other hand was resting on my stomach. Not my stomach, really, but that soft space below your navel and just above your pubes. I don’t think anything happened. I told him no, but I was pretty out of it. I felt drugged or something. I think he drugged me. When we got home, Albert and Marie asked to speak with Jim alone. I felt really awful, in a guilty sort of way, but I hadn’t done anything. I think they told Jim to stay away from me. Jim talks a good talk and apparently, I fell for everything he said over the last week, but in talking to Marie, I found out he’s a compulsive liar. I fell for all of it. I feel so stupid. Come to find out, he’s been in jail too.
Back to the sun bathing incident. Jim shows up and I run into the house to throw on some more clothes, but he caught me in the kitchen as I was pulling on my T-shirt and said, “Why are you putting your shirt on?” I just said, “Because.” And then he put his hands up my shirt and started to feel me up. Thankfully, his parents came home just then and I was able to get away.
Albert just informed me that he’s cutting my stay short and sending me home to the Freeman’s. Can you believe it? They are cutting my sheep station vacation short because their son’s an asshole!
On top of all that, the other day I was at the local Rotary lunch meeting and one of the men came up to me and asked if I heard that the space shuttle had just blown up. I thought he was kidding and then I saw the news. I can just imagine what it must be like at home. I’m sure it is all over the news, with a cloud of collective bereaved awe hanging over the country. Here there was just a tiny two-paragraph bit in the paper.
See you soon. Yeah!
Love, Camryn
* * *
Reese sent two cassette tapes in the month after Christmas, both with him acting as DJ, spinning hits in the background while he talked to me. “You’re the Inspiration” came first, turning me into sentimental mush every time it played. I listened to the tapes over and over again, memorizing every word, every song—in order—so that each time I heard Sammy Hagar sing “I Can’t Drive 55” I also heard Reese say, ‘Time to spin some more hits!’ then Reese’s singing along. He even recorded the Chicago Bears’ “Super Bowl Shuffle,” stopping to explain each football shuffler, their position, and what they really sang, just in case I didn’t understand the words; preserving for me the Bears’ super bowl hysteria, from which I was more than ten thousand miles removed and nearly missed.
He sent three valentines that year—a variety: humorous, sincere, and loving. Wanting to tell Reese exactly why I loved him—because he was funny, gentle, and kind; made me feel special and cared for, valued and loved; because being with him made me happy all over, inside and out—I sent him a valentine poem of my own creation:
When I Say I Love You
When I say I love you
I mean I love you in more than a sentimental surface sort of way
I mean I love to laugh and joke with you
to have fun with you
to be with you
I mean I love to have you to talk and share with
to have quiet time with
to play with
I love to hold you in my arms and be held
to be whole
to be loved
So when I say I love you
The love that I express, extends beyond, three small words.
* * *
“Your mom send any valentines?” Megan asked, picking through my trash can.
“You’re such an idiot.” I playfully knocked her in the head.
“I was just wondering what happened with the end of the world not coming through and all.” I sat next to her on the bed, my head on her shoulder, staring at the wall, not saying anything.
“Mother said it was God’s dress rehearsal and that we’d be ready next time. Last week’s trash, so you can stop looking.”
“Okay.” She put the trash can down.
“Megan, do you go to church?”
She stroked my hair, just like my sister Karla used to do. “No.”
Lucky, I thought. “Why not?”
Megan was one of the most Christian people I knew.
“My dad was raised Baptist and my mom’s Catholic. They just decided not to. It was easier to be no religion together than to cause a rift in the family.”
I nodded.
“Grandma still took me to Sunday school sometimes when I was little.” Megan thought about that for a moment and then asked, “What does your dad think of what your mom’s doing?”
“Not much. Why do you think they’re divorced? International wars have been fought over less.”
“Mmm. They have,” she said.
* * *
“We’re skipping school tomorrow,” Megan said into the phone. “It’s authorized this time.”
“Seriously.” The butt chewing from our last beach adventure remained fresh in my mind.
“Seriously. Mr. Walker has business in Canberra. We’re going. I only had to bat my eyelashes three times.”
Before I could freak, Megan interrupted, “I’m kidding. No eyelashes. It’s ANZAC Day weekend and he said we could go.”
“ANZAC Day?”
“It’s like Memorial Day. Now go tell Stanley you’ll be away for a few days.”
Many kilometers later, we lounged in our own hotel room, left to our own devices.
“I’ll have a pizza sent over for you gals,” Murray said, then arranged room service.
“Thanks, Dad.”
“Dad?” I questioned.
“Well, they are like a Mum and Dad to me,” Megan said, well-spoken in Aussie vernacular, her second language. She continued, wistful as she reflected on their generous hospitality, “So nice, those two.”
“Yes, it is nice that they gave you the whole second-floor living suite, harbourside for your bedroom.”
“Well you have a bed partner to keep you warm,” Megan teased.
“You want him?”
“I’ve had him.”
“Well, have him again. Take him home with you. I’m tired of smelling like dog,” I said, flopping on the bed. “I’d rather sleep with my snuggle bunny.”
“There you go again, lusting after Reese.”
“I’m not lusting, I just miss him,” I said. “Did I tell you about the last letter he sent me?”
“You mean the one from yesterday?”
“Yeah.”
“No.”
“He mentioned something about Air Force Recruiters calling him all the time and pestering him to enlist.”
“Is he going to?”
“I don’t know. He hasn’t made up his mind. He wants to be a pilot.”
“Isn’t he kind of tall for that?”
“They measured him and he barely made it. Just a hair under.”
“You’ll be the wife of a jet setter,” Megan said, then started to hum “Waltzing Matilda” as she always did.
“We haven’t even kissed!”
“I know, but I’ve seen how you caress his envelopes and take in his every written word. Not to mention obsessing over the mailbox daily. Weekends must be really long for you, no Sat-day post and all.”
“Oh stop. It’s just that he’s my . . .” I searched for the right word. “Life.”
“Okay, enough of this sap. I don’t want to lose my appetite.” She teased again. I knew she didn’t think my friendship with Reese was sappy. She’d seen the heartfelt letters to and fro and heard all the tales. On the one hand, Megan wished she’d find someone so attentive too, but on the other, she was glad she didn’t have that person right now, complicating the enjoyment of her life abroad.
Pizza we ate. And then talked nearly the whole night. The next morning we dressed in our badge- and novelty-pin-laden exchange student blazers for the ANZAC Day parade. Thousands of Aussies l
ined the boulevard leading up to the Capitol building, paying their respects. A guest appearance by the Queen of England and Prince Phillip drew more of a crowd than usual. We pushed our way through to the barricade where Prince Phillip was shaking hands. He shook ours and even spoke. “You look like you’ve been in a lot of wars.”
Megan replied, “We’re exchange students, sir.” And he moved on to the next eager hand.
I’d have never thought to address him as sir. Megan always handled herself well and knew just what to say. Well, except for that lapse in judgment when she snuck away one night, meeting up with some other exchange student friends her host father disapproved of and explicitly told her not to consort with. She wound up making out with a Swedish bloke, literally on a Sydney street. And got caught. Pops wasn’t happy with her then.
* * *
Dear Camryn,
Did you get my graduation invitation my mom sent out? I wish you could come to the ceremony, but I know you can’t. Did you like the pin I sent with my picture on it? That was my mug shot for golf team. Ha ha. It won’t be long now until you come home. I’ve enclosed the first blue ribbon I ever won in track. It means a lot, so I’m entrusting it to your care until you return to me safely.
Sorry you haven’t gotten any letters from me lately. I had four all ready to go and my mom forgot to mail them! I was upset with her, but they are old news now. I’ve been very busy with end-of-school-year activities—track, golf, chorus etc. I stopped to see your folks; they’re fine. Did I tell you that I was asked to join the volunteer emergency search and rescue team? They wanted someone who could scuba dive, but the thought of recovering bodies made up my mind. I said no.
That Air Force recruiter calls me up nearly every day. I might join. I hope you are having fun. I’m sure you are. Tell Megan hello from me. You talk about her so much in your letters that I feel I know her too. Stay happy.
Love you, Reese
Love, Carry My Bags Page 10