Saving Jazz (21 page)

‘I'm going to miss you so much,' Aunty Jane whispered into my hair.

‘Shush,' I said, willing myself not to cry.

‘It's going to be so empty without you.'

‘Stop it,' I said, ‘we're still going to have coffee-and-paper every morning.'

‘You promise?' she said.

‘I promise.'

I got into the ute with Uncle Rob. We had the last of my things. I waved to her out of the window. ‘See you tomorrow. I love you.'

‘I love you too,' she said, waving madly. Within fifty metres Uncle Rob turned left onto the next street and pulled up outside an art deco unit.

‘You sure this isn't too close?' he said. ‘You know she'll be around here every five minutes.'

‘It was the closest one I could find,' I said, lugging my suitcase up the stairs.

I pushed open the door to hear the music of my favourite musician, Nials Wisher, filling the front room.

‘Hey,' he said, emerging from his studio, headphones around his neck, ‘need a hand?'

I shook my head. ‘Nah, all good.' I kissed Uncle Rob. ‘See you tomorrow?'

‘Tomorrow, kid,' he said as he left.

Frank and I made the decision to buy this two-storey unit when I finished studying. It hasn't been all smooth sailing — as I've learnt, life throws many challenges and tests along the way. But if you fail them, there's always a way to make amends. I was in third-year uni when Frank hit the big time. And I mean the screaming big time. He was picked up by a record label and played on commercial radio. He went from being an indie artist to an artist loved by the mainstream — he was playing gigs all over town and then he was scheduled for a world tour. I
couldn't go — well, I could have, but that would have meant postponing my studies and living the life of a groupie. But it was Frank's dream, and as he had never held me back from anything I wanted to do, I wasn't going to hold him back either. I cut him loose, so he could live the life of a rock star and not have to feel obligated to some girl back home.

‘You're not some girl,' Frank said, and I think it was the first time he was ever genuinely angry with me. ‘What you're suggesting is that I'm going to go out, get pissed and have sex with groupies.'

I shook my head. ‘I'm not suggesting that. I'm just making it so that if it happens, you don't have to feel like you've let me down.'

‘What about you letting me down?' Frank said, ‘by believing that is the kind of man I am?'

‘I don't think that at all,' I said, ‘I just know that long-distance relationships are hard. And your industry makes it even harder.'

‘You can break up with me if you like,' Frank said, ‘but for the record, I haven't broken up with you.'

When he left on his eight-month tour I was heartbroken. Chicco was not the same, not for me, not for the customers. Frank and I skyped a
few times, but that was too painful so I'd cut the conversations short. I missed him too much and I didn't want him to feel trapped by me. I might sound like I was being really selfless, but again, it was my own fears and insecurities getting in the way. Underlying all of that behaviour was the self-doubt: why would Frank want me, when he could have anyone?

He returned a week early. He'd cancelled his final gig. I wasn't expecting him and it was almost closing time at Chicco. When he walked through the doors my heart actually leapt — I know it sounds corny, but if it's ever happened to you, you'll understand exactly that feeling. He held open his arms. ‘Am I still welcome here, Shiraz?'

I snuggled into them. ‘Of course you are,' I said, ‘it's your father's shop.'

After that I decided that I didn't want to be apart from Frank for that long again. When he toured South-East Asia I went with him — who would turn down sandy beaches, perfect weather and lolling by a pool, when it was the middle of a miserable wet winter here? I found it was quite easy to study in
five-star accommodation and so I kept on top of my uni work too. When we were in Indonesia, I hopped across to Bali, and to Kerobokan prison.

What a place! It's quite agricultural in many ways. I remember doing a tour of Fremantle Prison with school back in Year 8 and the tour guide telling us that because it had been built in the mid-1800s its facilities were outdated and its accommodation not fit for human habitation. It was all I thought about when entering Kerobokan: if only this place was half as nice as Freo. Jack had been on death row since his trial and guilty verdict, but just recently the president of Indonesia had commuted it to life imprisonment. I spoke to Maria before I left and she gave me a list of things (basic toiletries, clothes, shoes, cigarettes — anything worth trading in the system) to take to him. I was sitting on a bench waiting for him to arrive, looking at the bleakness and hostility of the environment and wondering how he was able to endure it.

The person walking towards me was nothing like the Jack I'd last seen crawling with scabies. This guy's posture and gait were more like the old Jack. As he neared I realised that, despite being in prison,
he had put on weight. Gone was that emaciated and haggard face. When he smiled, however, I noticed his teeth hadn't fared well, but aside from that he was in pretty good condition.

‘Hey Jazz,' he opened his arms, ‘thanks for coming.'

‘Jack,' I said. Hugging him back, I felt his taut body. He was thin, but he felt strong. ‘You look good.'

‘I know,' and then he laughed and screwed up his eyes like he used to. I nearly cried. ‘Ironic, isn't it. I've been on death row for the last five years, yet it's actually saved my life.'

‘It's incredible,' I said. Maria had told me of Jack's turnaround. Even in the early days, when death by execution squad hung over him daily, he had started to recover.

‘I realised there was every chance I was going to die,' Jack said, ‘and that was my epiphany. I didn't want to die — despite the fact I'd been doing everything in my power to fast-track myself there. And if I was going to die, I wasn't going to be a junkie. It was hard,' he shrugged, ‘but really, what worth having in this life isn't hard?'

At that point another prisoner walked by and
shouted something to Jack in Indonesian. ‘Excuse me,' he said, and turned to the prisoner, speaking in fast Indonesian. The other man commented and waved, then moved off.

‘You speak Indonesian?' I said, amazed.

‘Had to,' Jack said. ‘Once I got here I realised I was the minority. If I didn't learn to speak their language I wasn't going to survive. In fact, that's what I do here. I teach English. It's partly what helped get my death sentence commuted. I also have a mentoring role, to the younger lads who are here for drug offences. It's a real passion of mine. And it feels good, you know. To actually contribute to bettering someone's life.'

When I left the prison I promised I'd return. And this time both he and I knew I meant it.

These days Frank and I schedule a stop in Bali on the way home to Perth whenever we've been overseas. It's not hard to fit in at least two visits a year with Jack. Frank sometimes goes out to Kerobokan on his own — he and Jack have their own friendship now. And I guess Frank was right, the friendship between Jack and me never ended. It suffered and it changed, but there is no doubt it still remains.

As for Tommy, I never saw him again after that day at the dealership — we move in totally different circles, so I have no idea if his life continued on its upward trajectory. But I can tell you now I hope it did. Reading back on the hatred I felt for Tommy makes me feel so sad for that young Jazz. Hating Tommy was like drinking poison — it only hurt me. Letting go (as Casey once said) was the only healthy thing to do. And as for Casey, we remain in contact via email. She's turned her jetsetting life into a permanent lifestyle. I never know where in the world she might be, until I receive a message from Kabul, or Goa, or Egypt. And whenever she's in town, we catch up. She is the only source of information I have on Annie.

It would be nice to say Annie eventually made a complete recovery, but she didn't. She improved a lot, but still remains in her parents' care and always will, unable to look after herself. I don't allow this information to make me hate myself anymore. I've done enough of that to last me a lifetime.

I accept Greenheadgate and the consequences of that night. All the wishing in the world never
changed a thing and all the hating in the world fuelled the memories and kept it a strong force in my life. I talk about that night sometimes with people — students, patients — as an illustration of how one event, no matter how catastrophic, takes on a different meaning over time. I think the cliché ‘time heals all wounds' is untrue. It doesn't heal them as such, but it does allow for growth and reflection. It changes them into something that can be made more positive.

And as for Jasmine Lovely, the rapist, I now want to state for the record I don't see myself by that label anymore. Nothing will ever change the events of that night, nothing will ever undo the damage and nothing will ever make me stop feeling remorse for everything that happened to everyone as a result. But that Jasmine was a phantom I created, and the real me survives today. I am able now to forgive myself for that one stupid drunken night. I now accept that I made a terrible mistake, one I thought I'd never recover from, a mistake I truly believed would plague me for the rest of my life. But I'm happy to say that nothing is unsalvageable, that with
time things do improve and sometimes your biggest weaknesses can become your greatest strengths.

This closes Greenheadgate. A night that had ramifications beyond expectation, but also a night that opened the way for new experiences and relationships — for what are we if not the sum total of all we experience?

And so on that note, this time, dear reader, I finally, actually, really and truly, sign off.

The end

If you are being bullied and/or sexually harassed there are many people who may be able to help, including parents, friends, older siblings, teachers and counsellors.

Some helpful websites:

• www.kidshelpline.com.au
  
• www.bullyingnoway.gov.au
  
• au.reachout.com
  
• www.esafety.gov.au
  
• www.eheadspace.org.au
  
• www.lifeline.org.au
  
• www.youthbeyondblue.com
  

Social media platforms have safety resources that you can use to report online bullying, such as:

• Facebook
  www.facebook.com/safety
  
• Instagram
  help.instagram.com/safety
  
• Snapchat
  www.snapchat.com/safety
  

I have to thank my students at Sacred Heart College who ‘willingly' participated in early readings of the manuscript and gently guided me through the use of technology and current language. In particular, my Year 10 Academic Extension class — who made it part of their year's work to read and review draft copies — Tess, Eva, Olivia, Kate, Bianca, Dillon, Medbh, Nadya, Meg, Miranda, Alyssa, Steph, Dylan, Matt and Elijah, and also thank you to my colleagues in the English Department for your time and feedback.

To my sister and my mum, thank you for your raw and honest feedback; Jane — I'm sorry this didn't come with an emotional warning and Mum, yes, sadly, this is a world you don't know. Thanks always to Savannah and Willow for helping me navigate Snapchat and Instagram and ignoring the unwashed clothes building in the laundry and ‘fend for yourself' dinners. Thank you Nick for being
my constant supporter, for your feedback, love and continual encouragement.

To Cate Sutherland, as always, I'm grateful for your vision when I pass over the rather dodgy manuscript — you always possess the ability to see what it might become. Naama, your precision and diligence is certainly what whipped this manuscript into shape, it has been an absolute pleasure working with you on this. To all at Fremantle Press, thank you.

While all my work is fiction, the events I write of are shaped by happenings to real people. The worlds of my stories are familiar to many, and totally alien to others. And so, dear reader, I thank you. I appreciate the opportunity to explore them with you.

Kate McCaffrey, 2016.

Kate grew up in Perth's northern suburbs. She has a degree in English and Art and a diploma in Education.

Kate is the author of award-winning novels for young adults:
Destroying Avalon
(2006), winner of the WAYRBA Avis Page Award for older readers and the Western Australian Premier's Book Award for Young Adults;
In Ecstasy
(2008), winner of the Australian Family Therapists' Award for Children's Literature;
Beautiful Monster
(2010), named a 2011 White Raven, selected from newly published books from around the world as especially noteworthy by the International Youth Library in Munich, Germany; and
Crashing Down
(2014), winner of the Australian Family Therapists' Award for Children's Literature.

Find out more about Kate and her work at
katemccaffrey.wordpress.com