Cheryl and I wrote monthly letters to each other, but the chasm between us had grown wider, and there was less to say in our letters. The only thing she told me that was of great interest was her ongoing search for our parents. Where I had spent about a month of weekends and quit, Cheryl wouldn’t quit. I worried. Then in May, I got a letter in which she indicated she had finally given up. I was relieved. I didn’t know what she would have done if she had found our parents. I hadn’t even wanted to think about that possibility. Now that she had ended her search, I no longer worried about how shocked and disillusioned she would have been. My conclusion about alcoholism was that once an alcoholic, always an alcoholic. And if one’s own children weren’t enough reason for one to recover, then there could be no reason at all.
Her letters started to arrive less and less often. She wrote about her education and her work at the Friendship Centre. I found myself again in the position of envying her. She had a reason for being. She was her own person. I merely existed: comfortable and surrounded by socially prominent people. But I felt that I really didn’t belong. That feeling grew worse as the months went by. I didn’t belong because I didn’t care—not the way the others did. I was quite content to let Mother Radcliff and Bob run my social life. I performed all my duties as expected.
That September, I picked out a very expensive IBM Selectric typewriter for Cheryl’s birthday. That was something she could appreciate. I even thought it might be nice to go back to Winnipeg to spend some time with her. I tried phoning, but found that the service had been disconnected. I wrote Cheryl immediately, offering financial aid if she needed it. She wrote back that she was hardly ever home and didn’t need a phone. As if to emphasize her point, she also told me that she had been invited to Brandon over the Christmas holidays. I felt as if she were abandoning me, because I read between the lines that she didn’t want me in Winnipeg.
Christmas passed, New Year’s 1971 came, and I still couldn’t shake my blue feeling. Actually, I don’t know why they say “blue” when it’s more like grey. The year 1971 was to hold many changes for me. My feelings of inadequacy and boredom turned to resentment and jealousy. I came to hate how Heather and Bob could laugh so easily, and suspicions set in. I began nagging Bob in private. Meaningful conversation between us had all but disappeared. I guess all he could see was my totally negative side, and he couldn’t see any reason for it. I couldn’t have explained it to him at the time anyway, since I didn’t quite know what was going on inside of me. Mother Radcliff even showed an open disgust for me, because on different occasions I had rebelled and refused to perform my social duties. But that was okay, because I was just as disgusted with her and her snobbish friends and her card games and her charitable works, done only so she would be identified as a philanthropist. All these people lived for one of two things: money or power. They were hypocrites, all of them. Charming to each other when they were face to face, but get them into separate rooms and their tongues could cut like knives. They were such superficial people.
I became quite good at it, seeing all the negative sides and criticizing them to high heaven to myself. It came to me that I had criticized the Native people, and here I was doing the same thing to white people. Maybe that’s what being a half-breed was all about, being a critic-at-large.
I suppose things could have continued like that for a long time, but in August, I overheard a conversation between Mother Radcliff and Heather that roused me out of my passive state and got me fighting mad. Our bedroom had a closed-in balcony that overlooked a private garden. A few days earlier, Bob and I had had a big fight. To make up for it, Bob had decided to take time off work and take me out for the day. We had planned to start out right after breakfast. I was amused at Mother Radcliff ’s obvious chagrin. But then Bob and I had another difference of opinion in our bedroom that morning, and he left in his car without me. I was so embarrassed that I hid myself in my room and planned to stay there until Bob got back.
It was about noon when I heard a car drive up. I looked out and saw Heather walking up to the front door. I wondered what on earth she was doing there. I knew she and Mother Radcliff didn’t have that close a friendship that they would have lunch together. I went back to the balcony to return to my book, wondering all the time what was going on downstairs. I didn’t have long to wait. They came out into the garden below, presumably to have their lunch there. Their voices drifted up to me, and I could hear clearly everything they were saying.
Mother Radcliff was saying, “I’d like to get straight to the point. Is this affair you’re having with Bob serious, or are you just toying around with him?”
An affair? With Bob? Serious? I couldn’t believe I was hearing right. Not Heather. She was my friend. Bob was my husband.
“Of course it’s serious. You knew how we felt about each other when you broke us up. And don’t deny it. I’m not as naive as I used to be. No, it won’t be long before Bob asks April for a divorce.”
“Well, it doesn’t appear it will be all that soon when he starts taking time off work to spend it with her,” Mother Radcliff responded.
I heard Heather scoff at that and say, “Well, he’s taken a lot more time off for me, I’m sure. But I can’t help wondering how come, now that he’s married, you approve of Bob and me. I know you purposely went out of your way to have me at your New Year’s party. What do you have against April? She makes a nice, obedient wife. Why don’t you want her for a daughter-in-law?”
“Didn’t you notice her sister? They’re Indians, Heather. Well, not Indians, but half-breeds, which is almost the same thing. And they’re not half-sisters: they have the same father and the same mother. That’s the trouble with mixed races; you never know how they’re going to turn out. And I would simply dread being grandmother to a bunch of little half-breeds! The only reason I can think of why Bob married her after knowing what she was, was simply to get back at me. Anyway, I had my doubts as to how serious he was with you because of days like today.”
Heather shrugged it off. “Don’t worry. Bob’s a husband with a guilty conscience. He’ll realize the best thing for April is a divorce.”
“Yes, I suppose you’re right. Of course, we’ll give her a nice large settlement.”
You are so bloody right, I almost shouted. Perhaps they said more about me; I don’t know. With my face burning hotly and my heart thumping like a war drum, I headed downstairs to confront them. They were both surprised and off balance when I stepped out on the terrace to face them.
I had always treated Heather with a certain amount of awe and respect, and I had also given Mother Radcliff her due respect. But in that moment, I eyed them contemptuously, and they realized their secrets were out.
“What are you doing here?” Mother Radcliff asked.
I was still breathing hard. Ignoring her question, I said, “You two make me sick!”
I looked at Heather. “You, you pretended friendship all this time, and I gave you my trust. Oh sure, I suspected; I’m not blind. But I really thought it was only my imagination. Maybe I hoped it was my imagination. That Bob’s mother would rather have a person like you, a hypocrite, an adulteress, as her daughter-in-law, rather than risk a few grandchildren who would have Indian blood in them, well, that’s beyond my comprehension.”
Mother Radcliff started to cut in, but I turned on her and cut her off. “And you! You make everyone that comes within your reach into puppets. But thank you very much for cutting my strings. And thank God I didn’t become pregnant by your son. I wouldn’t want the seed of your blood passed on to my children.” With that, I turned my back on them and walked out.
A little while later, when I was up in my room, I heard Heather’s car start up, and she drove away. My heavy breathing returned to normal. My trembling rage subsided. I had to figure out what to do. Only one thing was certain: they were going to give me a large settlement. A very large settlement.
Well, I had seen through them, yet didn’t even know it. All my criticisms had
been justified. My big fight with Bob had been about Heather. Turned out, he was a liar, too. Just like my parents had been. Married me only to get back at his mother. Heather—deceiving me with friendship, while all the time she only wanted Bob. Mother Radcliff—making me call her “mother” when she so detested what I was. And then there was Cheryl. She had told me how it would be, but I hadn’t believed her. And although I had the same thoughts as Barbara Radcliff about children, it was unforgivable for her to tell them to my rival. I did have a fear of producing brown-skinned babies. How could I give my love to such children when I still felt self-conscious about Cheryl? Well, this wasn’t the real issue. I had to plan a course of action. First thing I’d have to do would be to see a lawyer.
I called Ronald Feldman, who I knew from the conversations at parties, was a divorce lawyer. He said he couldn’t see me for two weeks, but he suggested that if I were serious about getting a divorce on the grounds of adultery that I should cease living with Bob. I thought that meant I had to move out immediately.
Next, I phoned Bob at work. I wasn’t surprised to find him there, nor that he sounded cold and distant with me. I demanded that he come home at once as an urgent matter had come up. While I waited for him, I looked through the newspapers and phoned to inquire about different apartments for rent. The thought of living in a huge, empty place was depressing. I didn’t know anyone who would go out of their way to come and visit me. What I also needed was a job to keep me occupied. Still, I knew from past experience that evenings could be long and lonely. Maybe I would get so lonely, I’d join the ranks of women who frequented singles bars. I spotted a column under the heading of “Shared Accommodation.” That would be better than living alone. I phoned and was able to make some appointments for the following day. For now, I could stay in a hotel. I looked forward to a new life where I wouldn’t be controlled by anyone else. It felt as if the sun were coming out from behind the clouds, and it was a wonderful relief that there was still a sun. “Oh, I know you didn’t mean to, ‘Mother’ Radcliff, but you’ve made me a happy woman.”
When Bob finally came home, I must have sparkled with excitement, because he said, “I thought something was wrong, the way you sounded on the phone. But you look like the cat that swallowed a canary.”
“Well, Bob, I understand you’re about to ask me for a divorce. I’ll save you the trouble of having to ask.”
“Oh, not that crap about Heather again. Is that what this is all about?”
“Well, sweetheart, if you like, I could call a meeting of all those involved. ‘We are gathered here today to establish whether there is, or there is not, an affair going on between my loving husband, Bob, and my good friend, Heather.’ I was planning to be very bitter about it, but I’ve changed my mind. I’m going to be sarcastic.” I smiled as I watched Bob sit down, and the look on his face acknowledged the affair.
“How did you find out? Did Heather tell you?”
“In a manner of speaking, yes. And your mother told me. And in a lot of different ways, you told me, too,” I said. “I’d appreciate it if you took me to a hotel for now. I’ll look for an apartment or something, and then I’ll send for my things.”
“Don’t you even want to make any explanations to Mother before you leave?”
“I’m sure your mother knows why I’m leaving. I’ve packed a few things and I’d like to go. Now.”
In less than a week, I had found a place to my liking. It wasn’t far from the subway on Woodbine Avenue, so I had easy access to the downtown area where I planned to find a job. The rooms were in a large three-storey house, and the kitchen and dining rooms were shared by all the tenants. Most of the men and women who lived there were artistic types, and they provided me with long-overdue companionship, right from the first day I moved in.
Once I was settled, I turned my thoughts to getting myself a job. Money wasn’t a problem because Bob had given me more than I’d ever need—and that was just for one month. One of the other boarders, Sheila, suggested I do temporary work like she did. I signed up with her agency and was sent to different locations, filling in for absent secretaries. Mr. Feldman, my lawyer, told me in December that the court hearing was to be held on January 26th. He assured me that everything was going extremely well. We were both pleased with the settlement Bob had offered. I remembered the time I was starting at Red River Community College and I had eight hundred dollars in the bank. I had thought then that I was rich. Now, I knew, without doubt, that I was rich. And independent.
That same day, when the mail came, I found that the letter I had sent to Cheryl in November had been returned. On it was marked, “Moved. No forwarding address.” That was funny. Why hadn’t she written to me to let me know? Or she could have called. I had given her my new phone number, my new address, and had told her about my new situation. She should have written or called. After all her thinly disguised refusals and excuses why she couldn’t come, or why I couldn’t visit her, I began to feel like my own sister was giving me the cold shoulder. Did she think I was such a failure? On the other hand, I had always said she ought to go her own way and I go mine. Maybe that’s what was wrong.
Since Cheryl didn’t write to me about any Christmas plans, I spent it with those other boarders who also lacked families to go home to. On Christmas Day, we all went to an old folks’ home where Sheila’s grandmother was living. That’s when I got my first understanding of how Cheryl must have felt when she made somebody’s day a little brighter.
One Saturday morning in early January, I received a phone call at eight o’clock. Thinking it was probably the agency looking for last-minute secretarial help, I was tempted to let it ring. But I wasn’t one who could ignore a ringing telephone. In a second, I was wide awake. It was a nurse calling from the Health Sciences Centre in Winnipeg, asking if I were related to a Cheryl Raintree. Then she said that Cheryl had been brought in during the night. I immediately asked how serious it was, and the nurse said she was still unconscious, so they couldn’t be positive. Serious or not, I felt I had to at least be by her side. That afternoon, I was on a flight back to Winnipeg.
11
As soon as I arrived at the Winnipeg airport, I rented a car and drove straight to the hospital on William Avenue. There, the staff doctors informed me that Cheryl had been found in the early hours of the morning, suffering from hypothermia and possible concussion. They were holding her for observation. I thought immediately that she must have been assaulted, and I became resentful when the doctor asked me if Cheryl had a drinking problem.
“Why, because she’s part Indian?”
“No, Miss, but when she came in, she was highly intoxicated.”
“What about the concussion you mentioned?” I demanded.
“It does appear she may have been beaten,” he admitted.
I nodded curtly, and stalked off towards Cheryl’s room. Drinking problem! I was sure it was said because she was part Indian. I entered the room. Cheryl’s bed was at the far end. At first, I wasn’t sure it was Cheryl. I mean, I knew it was Cheryl but it didn’t look like Cheryl. Her beautiful, strong face was now puffy and bruised, and her cheeks were hollow. She had lost so much weight. Under the fluorescent lights, her skin was yellowish. Her arms, resting on the white covers, were thin. She really had lost too much weight. And aged! I stared. It had been two years since I had last seen her. Two years. It hadn’t seemed that long. It looked to me as if Cheryl had been possessed. A cold chill ran down my back. “... highly intoxicated.” Oh, God, please don’t let her be an alcoholic.
I pulled a chair closer to her bed and sat down. Maybe Cheryl had some kind of disease, and she hadn’t wanted me to find out about it, and that was why she had refused to come to Toronto and had put off my coming to Winnipeg. People did that. They would find out they had a terminal illness, and they didn’t want to tell anyone until the very end. Knowing Cheryl, that’s the kind of thing she would do. She’d try to protect me from that kind of truth. Cheryl stirred and woke up briefly.<
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“Cheryl, it’s me: April. Everything is all right. I love you, Cheryl.”
She gave my hand a squeeze and dozed off again. I left when the visiting hours were over and took a room in a hotel on Notre Dame, within easy walking distance of the hospital.
I returned the next day and found Cheryl fully awake. She didn’t seem to want to talk about what had happened, so I didn’t push her for answers. I sat there for the longest time, in silence. My mind was on what had happened to her, and everything else that might have been said was blanked out. It was Cheryl who started talking.
“I’m sorry your marriage didn’t work out, April.”
“Well, I’ve been thinking that maybe it’s for the best. Bob and I were never passionately in love or anything. And now I’ve gotten ... well, used to the idea.” I was almost going to tell her I would be getting a very large settlement, but for some unknown reason, I decided not to.
“Did you get a full-time job yet?” Cheryl asked.
“No, I decided to work for a temp agency. I’m not at all sure what I want to do once the divorce goes through. I’m changing my name back to Raintree. I was thinking of returning to Winnipeg for good, though.”
Actually, the thought had just come to me. It looked like Cheryl could use any support I could give her by staying. If I missed Toronto, I could always go back once Cheryl got a job as a social worker. In June, she’d be finished university. It wouldn’t be that long.
“Well, you’re almost finished university, huh? And pretty soon, you’re going to be a professional. And then I can brag to everyone, ‘My sister’s a professional.’ ” I smiled but she didn’t smile back.
In Search of April Raintree Page 12