by Cathi Bond
“I want to separate the plants and spread the roots. Oh dear. The irises have really multiplied haven’t they?”
“I guess so.”
“You don’t like gardening, do you?”
“Not really.”
“You will one day.”
“I don’t think so.”
“My girl. Always got to have the last say.”
“So do you.”
Mom laughed. She had a smudge of dirt on her cheek. She looked pale. I reached out to wipe the dirt away.
“Are you feeling okay?”
“Just a bit tired. I’ve been out here all afternoon.”
The plants had been cut back, rotting leaves and stalks piled neatly in the corner. Mud spattered the front of Mom’s housedress. The dirt made me uneasy.
“What can I do to help?”
“Dig me some holes near the back of the fence.”
The spade mouthed into the earth, the ground already a bit harder from the cooler nights. Mom shook the dirt from the plants, carefully separating the roots as we quietly transplanted the flowers. When she brushed her auburn hair away with the back of her hand a ray of golden light illuminated her face.
“Did I ever tell you about where your father proposed?”
“No.”
“He drove me up to the top of a high hill near Granddad’s farm. The earth fell away in all directions. It reminded me of heaven.”
“I think Niagara Falls is like heaven.”
“Not for me –all that noise and crashing water.”
“I like noise.”
Something in the garden caught her eye. She leaned over.
“Look at that,” she said, yanking a withered beet out of the ground. “I missed some of the vegetables. Mother would have said, ‘Laura Gillespie you wasteful child.’ We grew up in the Depression, you know.”
I knew. I didn’t like beets and was happy if some of them were dead.
“I should have taught you how to can.”
“What?”
“Preserve. My mother taught all of us how to do that.”
“You can buy that stuff now.”
“It was something nice to do together.”
A train hooted in the distance. Mom glanced up, looking into the distance.
“Those were the only times I really got to know her –your Granny. We were always so busy working. Do you understand?”
I didn’t, but I nodded anyway.
“There was never any time for anything else. You fed the hired hands breakfast, did the dishes, milked and then gathered eggs. Once you’d done that you’d have to cook a big supper for the men, and then you went to bed and then it started all over again. When I was about your age I decided my life was going to be better than that.” Mom shivered. “Your grandmother thought it was shameful.”
“Really?”
“It was the only real argument we ever had. She said I was trying to rise above my station.”
“I can’t see Dad out in the cattle pens,” I said.
Mom laughed. “I’m being silly.”
She carefully tapped the earth down with her trowel. “How do you like your friends?”
“They’re okay.”
“Just remember, Maddy. A person is judged by the company they keep.”
“Betsy and Sandy are nice.”
She nodded. “Are there any boys?” she asked.
“No.” I prayed that she couldn’t tell I was lying again and that Frank hadn’t talked.
“Good. You’ve got plenty of time for that.”
She finished burying the bulb.
“And if you’re going to smoke, promise me you won’t do it on the street.”
“I don’t smoke,” I protested. Could she smell the tobacco from Frenchy’s on my coat? Frenchy’s was a hamburger joint where the older kids hung out, and I’d started going there with my friends after school.
“I know you’re not smoking, honey. It’s just that if you ever do, please don’t do it in public.”
She reached for my hand. “And please promise me you won’t spit on the street…and that you won’t say ain’t.”
“Okay.”
This was scary. What was going on? Mom brushed some hair out of my eyes.
“I’m awfully proud of you.”
I knew I wasn’t supposed to, but I couldn’t stop myself. I hugged her. I hugged her harder than I had in years. I hugged her the way I did the first day of school when I didn’t want to leave home. I hugged her the way I did when I got sent to church camp. The way I hugged her whenever I felt scared, only this time she didn’t push me away and tell me I was too big now. This time, she hugged me back.
Mom knew exactly what she wanted and, while it must have cost a fortune, the renovation was beautiful. The wallpaper was off-white with a faint raised moiré stripe, and the green broadloom reminded me of the sea. When the movers finally left and the last vase was positioned, Mom sank into her new pale green sofa, tossed her right leg over the left and proudly looked around. The main floor was perfect.
Several nights later there was a flurry of activity outside my bedroom door.
“Teddy! Get up!”
It was Mom. I peered out and saw her bolting down the hall in her mauve dressing gown. Dad stumbled out of their bedroom in groggy pursuit. Frank appeared. There was a sound of rushing water. Tedder stood in his doorway rubbing his eyes as Mom flew down the stairs.
“Did somebody leave a tap on?” she cried.
Mom stopped at the bottom of the stairs, her hand clamped over the newel post, madder than I’d ever seen her, including the time I said “holy cow” in church. Water poured out of the ceiling onto the sea green broadloom. A pipe had cracked. The rug squished between our toes. Something Mom couldn’t control was boiling up inside her when suddenly out rolled the biggest “GOD DAMN!” I’d ever heard. I wondered if the house would split in two.
The broadloom eventually dried out and we didn’t even need to change the under-padding. The carpet man said we were extraordinarily lucky. Mom kept sniffing for mould.
“Do you want to go to the fairgrounds?”
Kenneth was walking me home from school. A series of dark clouds were gathering in the west and creeping across the sky, beginning to blot out the sun. Winter was nearly here. I’d recently turned thirteen.
“I’m cold.”
Kenneth pulled my hand. “Come on, it’ll be fun.”
I followed him up the dirt road towards the ball diamond. We climbed the boards and sat at the top where Brad had carved “Brad and Betsy forever” into the seat. Kenneth pulled out his penknife and started scratching “K + M” into the wood. Nobody had ever carved my initials into anything before.
“We’ve been going steady for a long time,” he said, giving me a sly look.
It hadn’t been that long. The sky was turning black and a drop of heavy rain struck my forehead.
“I don’t want to get wet.”
We bounded down the boards and jumped to the ground. The sky opened and the thunder clapped as the rain turned to hail. Taking off across the horse track that circled the ball diamond, we ran into one of the sheds that housed the animals for the Sterling Fall Fair. There wasn’t much inside. Just some old bales of hay, an empty cigarette pack and a couple of crushed 7Up cans. Kenneth guided me towards the bale, pulling me down beside him.
“We’ll go as soon as the storm passes.”
Hail drummed on the metal roof and the shed smelled of manure. Kenneth leaned over and kissed me on the cheek. I turned and then he kissed me on the lips. We’d made out before with Brad and Betsy, but this was the first time we’d been all alone. Kenneth wasn’t as shy as he used to be.
“Do you like it?”
I wasn’t sure, but I couldn’t say that, so I said I liked it and he kissed me again. The thunder was getting louder, the hail pounding the roof like fists. Kenneth put my hand in his lap and something moved in his pants. When I tried to pull my hand away he held it fast. Somet
hing was wiggling.
“Do you want to touch it?”
Leaping to my feet I ran for the door, out into the battering hail, through the slippery mud and bolted out onto McKenzie Street, running home to my mother as fast as I could.
She wasn’t there. Ruth told me and the boys that Dad had to take Mom into Toronto for a while.
“Why?” Frank asked.
“You’ll have to ask your father.” Ruth looked uncomfortable. “Why don’t you kids watch some television? I’ll get your supper on.”
We watched everything we wanted that night. Mom would never allow us to watch that much television. By ten, Ruth had tucked the boys into bed, but I wanted to wait up for Dad. Ruth went into the office to catch up on paperwork. Sometime near eleven I heard the car door slam and Dad walked in.
“What are you still doing up?” he sighed.
“Where’s Mom?”
“She’s going to spend a bit of time at Aunt Anne’s. A couple of doctors at the hospital want to examine her, and it’s easier if she’s there.”
“Doctors?” I asked, suddenly concerned. “What’s wrong with her?”
“There’s nothing to be worried about. She’s going to be fine.”
Dad, still in his overcoat, turned on the TV and sat down beside me.
“I’ll be going now, Dr. Barnes,” Ruth said, sticking her head through the door. “Come on, Maddy, let your Dad alone. It’s time you get to sleep,” she added, putting on her gloves.
“Ruth’s right. You get up to bed. It’ll be morning before you know it.”
He gave me an absentminded kiss. Reluctantly, I left the room and climbed the stairs. The front door closed behind Ruth as Irv Weinstein asked, “Do you know where your children are?” I wondered what Mom was doing. Normally people didn’t need to be near a hospital unless they were really sick.
“We get to eat Sloppy Joes every night,” I said. “And watch all the TV we want.”
Sandy said I was lucky. Her mother would never go for that. Betsy, Sandy and I were crammed into our booth at Frenchy’s. Kenneth and Brad sat at the counter. When Kenneth turned and flashed his sly dog look I turned away. I was worried about his uncontrollable urges and didn’t want to be alone with him. Brad glanced at Betsy with a secret smile that made her beam. She stuck her left hand out, placing it on the table. There was a silver signet ring on the wedding band finger, which officially meant going steady.
“It’s beautiful,” I said. Secretly, I was jealous and wanted one too. The signet was engraved with “B&B”. That meant undying love and you’d be together forever. A ring like that would make it acceptable to touch a penis.
Mom had been gone for weeks and we rarely saw Dad. When he wasn’t seeing patients, he spent all his time in Toronto and got home really late. One night I decided to wait up. The boys were always asking me about Mom and I wanted to know too. Christmas was coming, and the television announcer said Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer would be on TV the following week. When I heard the door open, I got up and flicked off the set.
“Hi, Dad,” I said, walking into the foyer.
“Hello, honeybunch,” he replied, automatically placing his fedora on the hat rack. Mom had trained him to be neat in the house.
“How’s Mom?”
“She’s in the hospital.”
I thought she was staying with Aunt Anne. “What’s wrong?”
“She’s going to be fine.”
“We should go and see her.”
Dad just shook his head. “It’s not going to help if you get yourself all worked up.”
“I’m not worked up. I just want to see her.”
“Mommy just needs plenty of rest.” He looked at his watch. “Isn’t it time for you to get to bed?”
“Okay,” I said, trudging up the stairs.
Something didn’t feel right, but I knew my parents wouldn’t lie to me and I was probably worrying for nothing. Sometimes people simply needed a hospital stay to get things straightened out. Dad said it was occasionally part of the cycle of life.
“Look who’s here!” Aunt Anne called, opening the front door. It was the night before Christmas.
Dad helped Mom over the threshold. She stood in the hallway in her good tweed coat while Tedder and Frank jumped all over her, making her promise she wouldn’t go away again for a long, long time. She was too thin and her skin was paler than the new walls.
“How’s my Maddy?” she asked, smiling tiredly.
“We’ve set up the tree just so. Come and look,” I said, pulling on her hand.
Frank, Tedder and I had especially selected the tree from the lot downtown and dragged it all the way home ourselves. It was a tall, bushy pine with warm welcoming branches. The scent filled the entire downstairs and made the whole house feel jolly. We’d spent the day decorating the Christmas tree the way Mom liked it. You couldn’t see the electrical cords behind the twinkling lights, and we hadn’t just tossed on clumps of tinsel. Every single shiny silver strip hung perfectly straight, and the ornaments were positioned so they balanced.
“Tedder made the angel for the top,” Frank said.
Tedder beamed up at her, his arms wrapped around her legs. “I think you’ll really like it, Mommy.”
“I just need to lie down for a bit,” Mom said, putting her hand on Dad’s arm, signaling it was time to go up to bed. “I’ll look at it tomorrow.”
Dad helped her up the stairs.
“Santa’s coming,” Tedder sang. “You better be up in time.”
The next morning Frank and I tore down the stairs to see what was under the tree. Tedder was speeding around the living room on a new red tricycle with a big bow on the bars. All the other presents were wrapped, and Frank and I were both desperate to see what we got. Aunt Anne arrived in her housecoat carrying mugs of steaming hot chocolate.
“Where are they?” Frank asked, curiosity getting the better of him.
We weren’t allowed to open our gifts until Mom and Dad came down. Tedder swooped around the room on his tricycle in accelerating circles.
“It’s time they come down!” he squealed.
“Go and get a broom,” Aunt Anne said.
I got one from the hall cupboard and Aunt Anne turned it upside down, striking the ceiling with the wooden handle.
“It’s time to get up!” she yelled.
“Get up, get up, get up!” we all called as Aunt Anne kept banging the broom.
Finally we heard Mom and Dad coming down the stairs, but when we saw her enter the living room all the joy blew out of the day. She collapsed on the sofa, put her feet up on the new coffee table and tried to smile, but all she could do was wince. Poor Mom, she must have been feeling really bad. Tedder gave her a gift to open, but Dad had to do it instead. After we’d finished quietly unwrapping our gifts, Mom went back to bed. She said she’d be down for Christmas dinner, but she never returned. All day she just lay beneath the green satin eiderdown, and every time I poked my head in to say hello, her eyes were closed.
Kenneth came over the day after New Year’s. Frank answered the door. I peeked out from the living room. Kenneth was wearing a new coat and looked spiffy.
“Maddy?” Frank called sweetly. Then he yelled, “It’s your boyfriend!” I rushed out of the living room and scowled at him.
“Would you please leave?” I hissed.
Frank sauntered by, returning to paint a model boat.
“Hi,” I said leaning up against the newel post, trying to look nonchalant.
“Hi,” Kenneth replied, staring at the floor, shifting his boots back and forth as bits of wet snow and mud flecked off onto the new broadloom. I wanted to tell him to stay on the rubber matt, but didn’t dare.
“It’s nice outside,” he said nervously.
“Yeah,” I agreed, looking through the window. It was miserable. The sky was leaden and there was a good foot of snow on the ground.
“Do you want to go for a walk?” he asked.
“Where?”
> “How about down by the gully?”
We were sitting on the big rock at the bottom, banging our boots against the stone. Clods of white snow fell out. Kenneth was nervous. He had his hand in his pocket. What was in there? I prayed it wasn’t the penis.
“What have you got there?”
Kenneth pulled out a pretty little white box with a red ribbon and handed it to me. Carefully I opened it. Inside, on a bed of white tissue, rested a silver signet ring just like the one Brad had given Betsy. I couldn’t believe it. Somebody had given me a ring. I pulled off my mitten.
“Will you put it on?”
Kenneth slipped it on the ring finger of my left hand. It was a bit too big and wasn’t engraved, but I didn’t care. I had a ring. Glancing at me for a split second, he darted in for a kiss. His tongue probed around in my mouth, striking enamel. Kenneth was trying to French me! I unclenched my teeth, closed my eyes and was letting his tongue slide in when I heard her.
Mom was standing at the top of the hill screaming my name. Her mauve dressing gown, now much too big for her, was clutched around her body, and her skin, white as chalk, stood out against the flat grey sky. She wasn’t wearing a coat. She hadn’t taken the time. Mom must have heard us downstairs and followed us across the field. She wasn’t even wearing boots.
Mom called again as the wind tore open her housecoat. I didn’t know whether to run up the hill or head toward the horizon running as far and fast as I could. Kenneth jumped off the rock. We both shook with cold and fear. My mother looked terrifying up there, so skinny, like a white scarecrow that might take flight and swoop down, plucking out our eyes. She raised her arm and pointed her finger down at me, the mark of ultimate damnation.
“Laura!” Dad’s voice.
Coatless as well, he swept her up in his arms and glanced down at me, then turned his back and they vanished.
Kenneth pulled his toque down over his ears. “I didn’t know your Mom was sick.”
“She’s not sick!”
He tried to take my hand, but I didn’t want anyone touching me. I didn’t want to talk. I told him to go. Everything was still. Everything except the wind.
I stayed there on the rock. My head was cold. I hadn’t worn a hat. But I was too scared to go home. What Kenneth said about Mom being sick. I started to breathe fast. She wasn’t sick. She was just having tests.