Through Different Eyes

by Karen Charleson

  Staying at the motel with her mother was not what Brenda had expected. Without needing to cook for everyone and clean up after the kids, her mother was more relaxed than Brenda had seen her in months. The transition was so obvious, Brenda could not help but notice it right away. In a carefree manner, Ruby suggested movies and restaurants. She even suggested having a picnic lunch out at Seymour Narrows at the spot where they sometimes stopped for a short break on the long drive home to Kitsum. During these excursions, her mother reminded her very much of Monica. Back at home, Brenda did not notice the similarity of the two sisters too often. That was because, she now recognized, her mother was always so busy being her mother. She acted “old.” Noticing the resemblance did not annoy or trouble Brenda. Instead, it was a source of comfort. It was like having Monica — the Monica of the days before all of this happened — there with them.

  Except during evening telephone calls home, Brenda had her mother’s full attention. It was not the smothering attention of home either, where it felt like her mother was treating her like a child, overloading her with maternal ministrations and advice while dealing with Junior or packing snacks for Becky and Millie’s field trips. It was a different kind of attention; more as though mother and daughter were simply two women taking care of one another. The comments her mother made, those that Brenda would ignore in Kitsum, seemed to make sense to her in Campbell River.

  By the morning of her third doctor’s appointment, her mother noticed that Brenda had “dropped.” She explained that the baby had moved down, and that the added weight would probably make her feel like she needed to pee every few minutes. Then in Dr. West’s office an hour later, what did the doctor say to her? That the baby had moved down into position to be born, and that she might feel increased pressure on her bladder as a result. Brenda could not believe that she had so casually disregarded the knowledge offered by her mother, a woman who had five children. She had loved and raised all of them without fanfare or even much in the way of acknowledgement.

  Brenda had advised her mother that she should wait in the truck instead of accompanying her into the doctor’s office. Returning there after her appointment, Brenda reached over and laid her hand on her mother’s shoulder. It was the first time in a long while that she had initiated such a gesture of good feeling.

  “I’m sorry,” she sniffled. “I’ve been so horrible to you. To everyone.”

  Ruby clasped her daughter’s hand. “It’s okay, Brenda. We’re your family and we love you. All of us, we know it’s been a hard time for you.”

  “Oh, Mom…” That was all Brenda could manage before she burst into tears.

  The day after that doctor’s appointment, Brenda ran into Marcie. Her mother had suggested shopping at the supermarket in the harbourfront plaza for lunch materials and Brenda had readily agreed. Sitting in restaurants got tiresome pretty quickly. Having strangers watch her while she was eating turned out to be more disagreeable than knowing the people who looked at her. She and her mother were carefully choosing fruit when Brenda spotted her best friend.

  Without thinking about any attention that she might attract, Brenda called out as she would have in Kitsum. Marcie spun around instantly. She was already chuckling by the time she stood in front of Brenda and her mother. After the hugs and a few jokes about Brenda’s by-now huge belly, Marcie was all questions. When did they get into town? When was Brenda due? Who was her doctor? Where were they staying? It scarcely mattered that they were in the middle of a crowded grocery store. Seeing one another again and sharing their news, that was more important than what any of those onlookers might have thought. Brenda glanced at her mother and, seeing her smile, she began to answer Marcie’s questions.

  After she had finished with her explanations, Brenda began to ask questions of her own. Where was Marsh living? Did she have a phone? Brenda had no number for her, and had been unable to contact her earlier. And where was Gabes?

  Marcie hesitated. She suddenly looked nervous, gazing down at her feet instead of at her friend. Brenda was impressed with her mother. She noticed Marcie’s reaction and excused herself to carry on with her shopping. Quickly, she began pushing her cart toward the opposite end of the store. Just like that, the two girls had their privacy.

  “Social Services took him,” Marcie said softly.

  “What?” Brenda sputtered. She was too shocked to remember to speak quietly.

  Marcie sighed. When she spoke again, Brenda had the feeling that it was only to avoid another outburst, or another barrage of queries. “You know how my mom and dad are. Well…they’ve been partying a lot since they moved here. But one day, they weren’t drinking at all, but it was pretty edgy in the apartment, with everyone cranky and all. So I went out to the mall, just to look around. I just wanted to be gone for a little while, that’s all. Mom told me to leave Gabes. She promised she’d look after him. She wasn’t drinking, so I left him. Anyways, while I was gone, this social worker showed up and I guess my mom had started sipping. I don’t even know where she got her stuff because I swear there was nothing in our place. Dad was gone somewhere. I don’t know what the hell happened. It sounds like Mom and the social worker got into some kind of argument. All I know is I got home and Mom was pretty drunk by then, and Gabes was gone.”

  “So what did you do?” Brenda could not believe what she was hearing.

  “Mom was blubbering about the welfare, so I kind of figured it out, but by then it was after five. Plus, we don’t have a phone. I went to their office the next morning. They made me wait all day there. Kept sending me to see different people, but mostly just made me wait. I didn’t know what else to do. I just wanted to find out where he was.”

  Marcie stopped herself for a moment. She looked at Brenda as though uncertain whether or not she should continue. Brenda tried to look encouraging. Marcie seemed to square her shoulders a little, and when she spoke again, her voice had a hard edge to it.

  “I’m getting him back though,” Marcie said. “They…Social Services…want me to get my own place. When I get that all set up, I can get Gabes back. I will too. I’ve already been looking around. Me and Dale. He’s a guy I’ve been seeing. He’s helping me.”

  Brenda did not know what to say. Too many questions that she sensed did not have the answers she wanted to hear flashed through her mind. She looked toward her mother for support, forgetting that she had already disappeared down one of the shopping aisles.

  “I’ve got to go,” Marcie said woodenly. “I’m supposed to meet Dale, but I’ll come see you soon.”

  Brenda repeated the name of the motel and the room number. Then she watched her childhood friend rush away. She could tell that Marcie was embarrassed and ashamed, just as she used to be when she was a little kid and her parents would miss the school’s open house or bake sale. Just like back then, there was nothing that Brenda could do to make the situation any better. Brenda hurried out of the store, hoping to catch Marcie on the sidewalk or in the parking lot. At least she could hug her friend. Her body, however, refused to move quickly enough. By the time she had managed to exit, it was her mother and only her mother waiting for her beside rows of discarded shopping carts. Marcie was nowhere in sight.

  Once inside the truck, she told her mother everything, or as much as she had gotten out of Marcie, anyway. “That’s too bad,” her mother replied. Brenda wanted her to burst out in anger or sorrow, or at the very least to offer some sort of advice, but her mother did not add anything to her bland response. Ruby had always liked Marcie, but she was certainly not sticking up for the girl now. How could her mother be so caring and loving yet also act so coldly?

  Brenda could not understand how Marcie could be so matter-of-fact about it either, or how she could talk about losing Gabriel with that distant voice. In a weird way, that was what bothered her the most. This was the friend she had shared tears and laughter and outrage and every possible emotion with since they were bo
th small children. How could Marsh talk to her like she was a stranger? Marcie was not the sort of person who could describe what had happened to her own son with so little feeling. That was not who Marcie was, and Brenda knew that.

  “Mom,” Brenda said as they were taking the bags into the motel room. “Where would they have taken Gabes?”

  “I don’t know, Bren. A foster home, I guess.”

  “Does Marcie even get to see him?”

  Brenda had heard of plenty of kids in foster care. You could not grow up in Kitsum without hearing about people’s kids being apprehended, or horror stories from those kids who had been in foster care. Michael, she could not help but think, had spent time growing up in foster care. But face it, his mom had been a drunk. It was not like she could look after him. What was Social Services supposed to do with him?

  “Marcie spent all her time watching Gabes, you know,” she said to her mother. “She loves him. She never neglected him or took off on him or anything. So how could they take him away?”

  “We don’t know the circumstances, Brenda,” her mother answered quietly.

  Brenda resented her reasonableness. She glared at her mother. Didn’t she care?

  Seeing that her daughter was not about to let the matter drop, her mother relented. “It’s her parents, I’m guessing. More than Marcie. Marcie’s young. The welfare, they look out for that. I know she’s a good mother, but where is her support? Half the time in Kitsum, her mother and father were gone, leaving her alone with her son. And she did a good job, sure, as good as she could. But, think about it, Bren. Auntie Kate said that she had to get some of the guys over to her place to cut wood for their stove. Her parents left her at home in the middle of winter without even enough wood for Marcie to keep the stove going to warm the house. Kate had to give Marcie a food voucher for Jimmy’s just so that she could get diapers and some food in the place. I’m guessing that the welfare workers here in Campbell River are not as understanding as Kate. They don’t know Marcie from a hole in the ground. All they see is a young mother with alcoholic parents and they automatically think she’s irresponsible or negligent.”

  “I’m scared for her, Mom.”

  Her mother nodded. “Yeah. Me too.”

  “You know, Marcie was miserable in Kitsum sometimes. All alone at home, not being able to go to school anymore or do much of anything outside her house. But you know, she was happy too. I don’t know if she can take care of herself here in town. I mean, does she even know how to rent a place by herself? Where is she going to get the money? And who is this Dale anyways?”

  “I don’t know, hon.” Her mom shrugged and turned the television set on.

  Brenda ignored the loud blare of an ad for dish detergent. “I knew she was getting pretty frustrated watching Gabes all the time by herself. I guess I’m worried that maybe now she’s got her freedom back, she won’t try all that hard to get her son back. But she loves him. I know she loves him. And Marcie sounded so weird. Not like herself at all. She sounded so different. God, I hope she comes over. Maybe, you can talk to her, Mom? Would you?”

  “Okay, Brenda.” Her mother sighed. “Sure.”

  What she did not say was that Marcie was not coming over. Not today and not the next day. They both knew that.

  TWENTY

  By the time the rest of Brenda’s family arrived on the Pacific Queen, it seemed like she and her mother had already been staying in town for much longer than the ten days that had actually passed. Brenda knew that the journey around the northern end of the Island took one day and one night, and she imagined the trip as though she had travelled with them. Becky and Millie would have slept for a lot of the way. Junior, for sure, would have alternated shifts steering with Martin. Thomas would have taken shorter shifts when the others were making coffee or cooking something to eat. Brenda had been on the Queen since she was a baby — and perhaps since before she was even born. She knew the routine on board as well as she knew the routine of their house in Kitsum. She could easily picture her family running up the West Coast, around the Brooks Peninsula, past Winter Harbour, and then around Cape Scott. They would have cruised by Port Hardy and then down the inside passage between the eastern side of Vancouver Island and the Mainland.

  When they were not sleeping, Becky and Millie, and probably Thomas too, would have sat on the hatch cover, watching the expanse of ocean and the distant shoreline and the silhouettes of mountains. In the cabin, Dad or Junior would have been in the skipper’s seat, one of them steering while the other sat in the deckhand’s seat, watching out the front windows. The days had been almost summery; the cabin windows would have been open to the cooling ocean breeze. The water would have been a deep blue-green, glimmering in the sunlight. Maybe, in this late stage of pregnancy, she was becoming overly emotional. The thought of being out on the Queen — instead of cooped up in a motel room that appeared increasingly dingy and less exciting with each passing day — nearly made her cry.

  Her father had used the excuse of needing to paint the bottom of the Pacific Queen. That was why, he had explained weeks ago, he was bringing the boat to Campbell River. He needed to get the boat out of the water and hoisted up on the marine ways there. Then he and Junior could scrape the barnacles and grass that grew on the wooden bottom and repaint it with fresh copper paint. While he was at it, he could put the new propeller on. “Have to get the Queen ready for fishing,” her father had said. It was exactly what he said every year. Brenda smiled at the familiar voice inside her head.

  Brenda knew, just as her mother knew, that her father did not have to bring the Queen all the way to Campbell River just to paint. He had planned to travel all those extra hours just to be with her and her mother, and so that everyone in their family could be there. When he arrived at the motel room, with Junior, Tom, Becky, and Millie bunched behind him, Brenda hugged him hard. It was the first time she had hugged her father in a very long time.

  The quiet motel room was filled with the hustle and bustle of the entire family. Suddenly there was a surplus of not only noise, but also movement. There was constant talking and laughter. In the small room, or for that matter in the cabin of the Queen, Brenda found herself as excited as her younger sisters. During the short time she and her mother had been away from Kitsum, she had missed everyone terribly. How could she have ever wished them away?

  It happened on the second day. They had all been down to the marine ways to see the Pacific Queen being hauled out of the water. She and her mother had watched as even Millie took her turn at scrubbing a year’s worth of growth off the bottom of the boat. They had eaten buns from a nearby bakery that were stuffed full of cheese, sandwich meat, lettuce, and tomatoes. They had washed them down with cartons of apple and orange juice. Brenda had felt cramping since early that morning. She shifted and changed position as she had grown used to doing. Her hips were sore. Her back hurt. She tried to ignore the pains that had become a part of her daily life.

  It was not until they were all sitting at the Chinese restaurant where her father had brought them for supper, that Brenda started to wonder if her “cramps” were in reality the “contractions” that her doctor and all the books talked about. She had no way of really knowing. Formerly, she had held a low opinion of all those young women who had claimed they were in labour, only to be sent back home by the doctors and nurses to wait additional weeks and months before they could actually have their babies. Now she knew the question that they all had wrestled with. How are you supposed to know the real thing when it happens? There were so many pains and cramps — which was the particular pain to watch out for? She made up her mind that she would ask her mother if the pains continued into the evening.

  The kids dove into their meals. Her mother and father exchanged more news from the past week. They talked on the phone every evening. Brenda wondered how there could possibly be anything left to discuss. She fidgeted where she sat. As soon as she was semi-comfort
able on the cushioned chair, her hip would begin to ache or another pain would make her want to stand. She assumed that her mother was not paying attention to her; those eyes and ears that had been hers alone were now diverted by her husband and her other children. However, it was Ruby who paused over her plate to ask if she was all right.

  “I’m okay,” Brenda said as she felt her belly cramp again. “Lots of cramps today.”

  That, of course, caused everyone to stare at her. Even Millie quit eating. She immediately wished that she had omitted the last bit about the cramps, but now it was too late.

  “Let’s go to the washroom,” her mother suggested. Brenda rose from the table without delay and followed her mother to the rear of the restaurant, silently thanking her. Even the short walk felt better than sitting. Once they were inside the restroom, her mother began to time the “cramps.” Brenda realized that it was for exactly this reason that her mother had insisted on buying herself the wristwatch with the second hand when they had first gone shopping in Campbell River.

  “Tell me as soon as another one starts,” her mother instructed.

  Four minutes apart, her mother determined. Almost exactly four minutes. Were the pains getting stronger?

  “Just since we got to the restaurant,” Brenda admitted.

  Her mother smiled broadly. There was no trace of the panic Brenda had seen on television shows. Her mother was excited, but she remained calm. “I think baby is coming,” she told her daughter.

  When Brenda and her mother returned to the table, her father and brothers and sisters all stared up at them. They waited for Brenda or Ruby to say something. Martin and Junior looked especially ready to jump. Still with a grin on her face, her mother announced to her father, “I think it might be time to bring Brenda to the hospital.”