by Max Howell
“As you know only too well, coach, there are no athletic scholarships in Australia. As a matter of fact, graduates can keep playing indefinitely on our University’s rugby and cricket teams. No one seems to care. They would not be competitive without it.”
“Well, it would not work here. Sport in the university is just too important, and young players would never get a chance if players could keep on a team indefinitely. That is what we used to have, and we discarded it. But enough of that! Well, Mark, what did you think about your first American meal?”
“It was a beauty, coach, a real beauty. I would not mind that diet for the rest of my stay in America.”
“We will try to provide a little more scope than that, Mark. There are some great Italian and Mexican places near here.”
“I better earn some money first, coach. I doubt if they will all be this price.”
“You are right there, Mark.” As George stood up, Mark noticed he left a $2 tip. He heard there was tipping in America, but it was practically nonexistent in Australia. He had never tipped in his life, and basically he was against it. The waiter had a wage, after all, and if he did not like it he should get another job.
As they left the restaurant, they thanked Larry Blake for his kindness, and walked back out onto Telegraph Ave. It had become much more active over the luncheon period, and Mark got a taste of the excitement of the place. “Another thing,” Mark said, “I cannot believe how the students dress. They wear T-shirts with CAL or UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA and ASUC on them, and there are a few rude ones as well. Then shorts, jeans and casual shoes or running shoes. They look like a bunch of slobs. It was not that long ago in Sydney that you would not dare turn up at lectures without a tie. The students in Australia are much more formal. They look so relaxed here that I can scarcely believe it.”
“When we are asked how many students there are at Berkeley,” replied George, “the standard reply is one in a thousand. It is only a joke, but I think your students work twice as hard as ours. All societies are different. Okay, Mark, let us walk another way. It is longer but you will get the feel of the total campus.” So they walked up Bancroft Way by the stately Hearst Women’s Gymnasium, and George pointed out the sorority and fraternity houses on the right. “I never was a big sorority or fraternity man myself,” explained George, “in my opinion they mainly foster immaturity. But it is an experience for life for most of the students. If you go into insurance or selling cars or a whole host of jobs, you have this whole bunch of fraternity brothers that you support. If you are going to buy something, why not off a friend? But like I said, many never grow up, and I am not a great fan of theirs. Even worse than the fact that they are adolescent havens, many of them have discriminatory practices, whether overt or concealed. If you want to start a good argument, ask them how many Jews and negroes there are in their houses? You may get the real truth from a few, and I have to admit that many drop out because of it. In my opinion the University should not allow any form of sexual or racial discrimination from people who have a connection to the University. It gives tacit approval by allowing it on campus, and no great university can allow that. History is on the side of change in this matter, mark my words.”
“We do not have the same thing,” said Mark,” but we do have Colleges. Most of them have a religious connection: Catholic, Church of England and so on. I am not aware if a person from another religion can be admitted, I think they can. But I do not think we get many aborigines, either. They do not seem to progress through the school system. I have never thought about it much until this trip, and I have never thought of Australians as having racial prejudices, but I am starting to conclude that they do.”
“All countries have an undertone of racial discrimination. It seems difficult to eradicate. Maybe the French are best of all, I do not know. Interracial marriage is the exception rather than the rule. The Japanese and Chinese rarely intermarry. The families put up blocks if one of their women tries to stray. Discrimination is not just common to the white race. In our country, we are starting to see black women marry white men, but you rarely see the reverse. It has been a tough struggle in America.”
They walked by the Stadium, and the gates were open, so they walked in. There was a rugby practice game going on in the 84,000 capacity stadium, and they stopped to watch. A slight, bespectacled man came over and introduced himself as the coach. His name was ‘Doc’ Hudson, a local dentist, and he in turn introduced his assistant, a beaming, genial man with no neck and a body that would be described colloquially in Australian as resembling a wooden shit house, ‘Truck’ Callum.
“Rugby is the only game, man,” interrupted Truck. “I played football as a guard, but rugby has it all. I could not believe it when I handled the ball. Never did in my whole career in football. How about playing with us, Mark?”
George came in quickly. “You bunch are too much. Do you think I would let a gold medallist knock heads with you maniacs?”
“Why,” laughed Truck, “what is the problem? You do not get injuries in rugby.”
“How come you can hardly walk, Truck?” retorted George.
“Slipped on a banana skin, coach.”
“Slipped my fat eye, Truck, I was at the game when they carted you off. So do not give me that baloney.”
“Just a bit unlucky, coach, just a bit unlucky.”
‘Doc’ Hudson intervened, “No, Mark, we would have to obtain the coach’s approval. But rugby is the coming sport on campus. For a big game we have had up to 10,000. I am the only coach on campus who is not paid. I came out from New Zealand twenty years ago and played with Cal while I was going through dentistry. We have had a lot of Australians and New Zealanders play with us. Maxie Howell was the first, a Wallaby, and then we had John Harrison from Sydney, John Elworthy and Bill Sainas from Canada, even a captain of the All Blacks against the Springboks, Pat Vincent, Bob Familton and now we have another All Black, a full-back called Noel Bowden. That is him out there. He is as thin as a rake, but a typical New Zealander. It is the size of the heart that counts. For a little man I have never seen such kicking. We play on Saturday against the Olympic Club, mainly old graduates, and they always love to beat us.”
“I will come if I can,” said Mark, “but I start a job to-morrow with Bob Losey.”
“Bob Losey? There is another one who could kick the ball out of the Stadium. He loved his rugby.”
They bade farewell, and then wended their way along the north of the campus. The smell of the eucalyptus trees, the sight of the clock tower, the Campanile, and the hurrying backwards and forwards of the students, moved Mark. I can hardly wait to get going, he thought. I hate waiting this whole semester, but I need to salt away the money.
After they reached home and George’s children rushed out to greet them, Mark retired to his room and recorded his impressions for Faith. If only he could have her with him.
CHAPTER 4.
FAITH LIVES IN THE COUNTRY
Though Faith enjoyed the farm, she became depressed and more introverted as what she had done sank in. She knew it was the right thing to do, but the very thought of not seeing Mark again preyed on her every moment, and occasionally she would burst into uncontrollable sobbing. She tried to put on as brave a face as she could, but she could not hide her despondency. She helped around the farm as much as she could, realising that work was the best therapy, but every time she was alone the full impact of what had transpired hit home. She knew she had to steel herself for Mark’s inevitable reaction when her momentous letter reached him, and she had to remain firm in her resolve.
‘Toch’ Christensen started to come over every night, and increasingly she began to look forward to his company. He had a shy, country manner, and he did not impose himself on her at all. He seemed to be able to fit into her moods, and never questioned her about what was wrong.
He would sit with her on the open balcony, and they would peacefully watch the sun set, would listen to the continual noise of the insects, and wo
uld watch the cockatoos, galahs and kookaburras as they landed in the trees. Sitting with Toch, she would occasionally burst into tears, and it would take some time before she could gather herself. He would never say a word, just let her pour her emotions out, and ignore what was happening. She slowly began to feel secure in his company.
When he first suggested they go for a walk, she reacted quickly and even rudely. “No!” she cried, “I do not want to.” In her mind she at first thought going for a walk would be an infringement of her love for Mark, but after a while realised that she could not live her life in a cocoon.
Toch said, quietly and simply. “That is all right, Faith, do not worry. I do not plan to hurt you.”
“I know you won’t, Toch,” she said with tears in her eyes, “I can tell that. I am still a little girl when it comes to some things.”
“That is all right,” he drawled in a near whisper, “it would be nice to be a little girl forever.”
After she had thought carefully about her situation, one day she got up and said quickly, “I’d like to go for that walk now, Toch.”
“That would be nice, Faith,” he said, drawing up his large frame.
“You have the longest arms and legs I have ever seen, Toch,” she said, and smiled.
“So we can get a smile out of you, can we? Yes, I do have a long and lean frame. Come on Faith, let us stretch our legs. However you will have to take two steps to my one.”
They walked for miles, saying nothing. He walked by her side, slowing up for her, and never touched her. He knew instinctively that if he put his hand on her impulsively that all her fragility would collapse and their relationship would be over before it started. So they simply walked together and watched the rabbits, the sheep, the cattle and the birds, looked out over the undulating landscape, and no words were exchanged.
Every now and then she would burst into tears, and once even cried out, plaintively, “Oh my God, what have I done, what have I done?”
Toch’s heart was moved because of her torment, but he did not question her. He just let her feelings subside, standing with her as the dying sun filled up the sky.
CHAPTER 5.
FAITH CUTS HER TIES
Mark was up early the next morning so he would not be late for work. He strolled quickly through the campus, taking in the early morning sights. He was at work by 7.45 am, waited outside until exactly 8.15, when he burst through the door.
Bob Losey was working behind the counter, mainly dispensing coffee and doughnuts to what were obviously his regulars. He grinned as Mark came in. “Hey!” he called out, “I think you are a minute early. Anyhow, let us get to work. You are paid by the hour, and I do not want any loafing. Jennifer, take over the counter. I have to train a new bus boy who does not understand the language.” He casually threw Mark a white apron like his own, and said: “You will need this. Just pick up a new one each day. Now come behind here and I shall show you the intricacies of the dish-washer.”
“First of all,” he went on, “each waitress has an area, that is so many tables she is looking after. When someone finishes eating, she takes the dishes and cutlery and puts them in an aluminum tray in her section. If you have time, you can help the waitresses by clearing the tables. At rush hour about 12 to 2, it gets pretty hectic and tempers get a bit frayed. Just help as much as you can. Your job is to collect those trays, do a preliminary scrub if you feel anything needs it, put them in the dishwasher, turn it on, and when it is finished you return the plates, cups and cutlery to that section. As I said, it gets to be a bit of a rat-race, but only at certain times. One thing you must watch out for. Leave the tips on the table, or you are liable to have your hands cut off.”
Bob then patiently took Mark through the procedures. Mark felt a little awkward at first, but then realised how simple it was.
“At 3,” Bob went on, “you are supposed to be at swim practice. From 5.30 on you will be in the pool room, and if you want to you can work till it closes at 11. I will show you that routine at 5.30. Everything clear, Aussie?”
“No problem, Bob,” said Mark, and quickly went about his work.
“Grab something to eat about 10.30, before the rush, and 6 o’clock. We cannot have our resident gold medallist starving to death, or George would never forgive me. If you want, you can work a seven-day week. When University starts we will fit the work around your time-table. Okay?”
“No problem, Bob.”
At the end of that first day, Mark was exhausted, but he had worked 13¾ hours and had earned roughly 20 dollars. He was on his way, and continued the routine the following three weeks. He saw little of George and his family, and found the two hours of swimming each day a welcome relief after being on his feet so long.
With what little time was left he used to write to Faith, and every five days or so he would get a letter from her, and that would keep him going.
It was after about three weeks that his whole life changed. He got home about 11.30, and his heart skipped a beat as he saw a letter from Faith on his bed. George’s wife knew the importance of those letters, and when they came she immediately placed them where he could see them. He was tired so he decided to read it while lying in bed. He undressed, turned on the bed-side lamp, and opened the letter. Even seeing her hand-writing made him feel warm inside.
As he started to read the letter a chill ran through his body “… after heart-rending analysis I have concluded that our situation is not fair to you or I … THIS IS THE LAST LETTER THAT I WILL WRITE YOU … this is the only way I can set you completely free. As of this moment I give you your freedom. FAREWELL, MARK, FAREWELL. MAY THE LORD BLESS YOU AND LOOK AFTER YOU.”
He was bolt upright as he finished the letter, and his body was trembling. It was as if his heart had stopped beating. He suddenly let out an agonizing cry, “No! No!” Tears rolled down his face.
George rushed into the room, and called out: “Mark, are you all right?”, and was taken aback as he saw how distraught Mark was.
Mark could not answer, holding his head in his hands and weeping inconsolably. The letter fluttered to the floor. His whole body was shaking.
George sat down on the bed, endeavouring to console Mark, but he was unable to say anything for at least ten minutes.
Finally, Mark gathered himself, though the tears were rolling down his face. “I am sorry, George, I am so sorry for making such a fool of myself, but I cannot stop myself.”
“It is all right, son, whatever it is it will be all right.”
“It will not be, it will not be! It is … it is Faith! She has broken off with me! I just cannot believe it!” He had to pause as the emotion of it all overtook him again. “We were so much in love. I just cannot believe it! I just cannot believe it!”
“Mark, these things do not happen without a reason. There has to be a reason.”
“I know, coach, I know. I must have done something wrong. Maybe she was upset at one of my letters. There has been no warning! I just cannot believe it!” Again he took his head in his hands. “I will calm down in a minute, coach,” he said, shaking himself in an attempt to bring himself together.
“Just take your time, and we will talk it out.”
When he got a grip on himself, Mark blurted out: “I am truly sorry, coach, but I have to go back to Australia! It is just too important! Faith means more to me than anything! I have just messed things up somehow! I must go back!”
George put his hand on Mark’s shoulders. “Mark, I can see how much this means to you, but just listen a minute to the voice of experience. Just do not make up your mind in a hurry.”
“I must go, coach, I must go! You have no idea how much I love her! She is the only girl I ever had, and I am the only one she has ever known! It just does not make sense!”
“I know that, Mark, and it is for that reason I say do not do anything in a hurry. I have always said I will never give advice on love, religion or sex, but I am a lot older than you and I have been around a lot more than you
. At least listen to what I have to say.”
“I will, coach, I will! I am just so upset! Her letter just came out of the blue, and it has completely taken me aback!”
“I know, Mark, how you feel. I would feel the same if my wife suddenly got up and left. But just listen a minute. First, you should give it twenty-four hours and think it completely through.”
“But what is there to think through?”
“Mark, I hate to say this, but women can be very strange creatures.”
“But not Faith!”
“I know, Mark, I know. But just listen a minute. Put another way, there is many a woman who has said no when she means yes.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“Look, Mark, it is, after all, just a single letter. Maybe you inadvertently said something in one of your letters that upset her. Or maybe there was a newspaper article on you that said something that upset her. Maybe she is just testing you. She wants to know whether you really love her.”
“But I just cannot think of anything I might have done, and it would not be like her to test me.”