Country Life

Jonathan looked both ways down the street, noting the approach of a small grey car.  He sighed, feeling his heart sinking to the pit of his stomach.  He always did when he crossed the street that he lived in for the 20 years of his life.  Changes in the street, if they happened, were small and slow and reflected his life perfectly.



         The trap, he reflected, was that the town was only small - 3,000 from the last census - and they all knew him well.  Most of them were his relatives in one way or another.  None of them were willing to let him be who he was.  All he wanted was a website to help him or a TV to show him what he wanted to be, why he was bigger than the town, where he should start.



         He looked for them, watching with envy the shows on TV and forums on the internet, watching, listening and reading the lives of others who lived in bigger towns and cities - watching  how they could express how they felt and acted on who they were, exploring all possibilities of who they could be with little or no harassment.  Not needing to conform to society’s expectations of them.  No need to live up to the image of what makes a “man” or “woman”.  No need to deal with memories of being “that sweet boy Jonathan” or “Paul’s boy; the quiet one.”



         He had tried to talk to his parents about how he felt, but they didn’t understand, or had forgotten what it was like to be his age.  Born and bred in the town during simpler times, they couldn’t understand why he wanted to leave.  They grew up in a time with no internet and little television coverage, dominated by Burt Newtons, Paul Hogans and Hey, Hey its Saturdays and soap celebrating the country-town lifestyle.



         As soon as they were able to drink - or years before if truth be told- they spent their Friday and Saturday nights at the pub, the women dancing with each other to songs about boy meets girl while the guys sat around the bar and discussed the cricket and football, the world-wise ones occasionally mentioning things like tennis and other exotic sports.  Marriage for his parents began in the back of a ute one night after his father introduced his mother to Southern Comfort.  Wining and dining was a fantasy that happened in Mills & Boons - not real life.



         It wasn’t just their generation. It was his as well.  Those he went to school with were following in their parents’ footsteps.  The pub still rocked at night, utes still shook and kids he played cowboys and Indians with were buying Nerf bows and arrows for the next generation.  He felt sorry for the young ones, they had yet to grow and realise the lives they lead.



         When he mentioned that he wanted more than his life, he always got the same reply, “so what is it you do want?”



         That was the problem.  He didn’t know.  The internet had given him a world of options and no real indication of which one he wanted.  Even reality TV had shown him what ambition could achieve should he have a goal, and the audacity to backstab someone.  But that required him to know what he wanted, to have a goal.



         The grey car passed him, his cousin Beth waving from the driver’s seat with a broad smile on her face.  He waved back.