“April, I quit university. I’ve got a lot more to tell you, but let’s not get into it now, okay? I’m tired.”
“Sure, okay, we’ll talk about it. Maybe tomorrow, if you feel like it.” I was shocked by what I had just learned, but I tried to cover it up. I left with a faked understanding smile on my face.
All the way back to the hotel, I thought about Cheryl quitting. Why did she quit? Had she failed, or given up? All the letters she had sent me: they were all about her courses and her work at the Friendship Centre. Were they lies? When I got to my hotel room, I took a bath, then got into bed with the television set turned on. But all I could think about was Cheryl. I speculated on different reasons why she may have quit, and what other things she had or hadn’t done, so that when she would tell me, I’d be at least partially prepared. As long as she didn’t tell me she was dying of some incurable disease, then I could accept anything. I turned the television off and got back into bed. What if she were an alcoholic? How could I accept that? That was an incurable disease—and one was as good as dead, if that were the case.
The next day, as Cheryl and I talked, we both avoided the issue. When evening came, I figured it might help if we discussed my marriage failure first.
Afterward, Cheryl said to me, “Well, at least you’ve experienced what you always longed for, and now you know that it’s not for you.”
“I know. I could treat the marriage as if it were one long holiday, especially since I haven’t been hurt by breaking up with Bob. It’s funny that I don’t feel more pain. I really thought I loved him when I married him.”
“Well, everything happened so fast that you never had time to find out for sure. And maybe you convinced yourself that you loved him.”
After she said this, Cheryl became thoughtful, and I wondered if she had been similarly involved with a man.
“Cheryl, have you ever been in love?”
She looked at me and smiled. She didn’t say anything for a few minutes, and then she sighed and said, “I lived with a man. I thought in the beginning that I loved him. I know that I wanted him. Before I actually met him, there was this great physical attraction between us. So, we moved in together. His name’s Mark DeSoto. I was living with him right up until I landed here. He doesn’t even know where I am.”
“Do you want him to know where you are? Do you want me to tell him?” I asked.
“Oh, no. I should have left him a long time ago, but I didn’t. I should have.” She seemed to be talking more to herself. “Are you serious about staying in Winnipeg? You’re not going to come back on account of me, are you?”
“Well, I haven’t any close ties in Toronto. And this is my hometown. If you wanted to come to Toronto, then I would go back. But I’m not staying here only because of you.” I smiled at her. “Should I try to say what I’ve just said in a different way?”
Cheryl laughed and said no, she got the general idea. Since she was in a better mood, I figured it would be as good a time as any to bring up the past. “About those things you didn’t want to discuss last night ... you feel like talking about them now?”
“I was—I wanted to tell you that I’ve been living with a man who wasn’t good for me.”
“Oh.”
“Well, what did you think I was going to tell you? That I was dying or something?”
“As a matter of fact, yes.”
Cheryl started to laugh, and I sat there watching her closely, trying to determine whether she was being honest with me. When she realized I wasn’t going to join in the laughing, she asked, “What’s wrong?”
“It’s the letters you’ve been sending me for the past two years. Why didn’t you tell the truth?” I asked, as tactfully as I could.
“Oh, the letters. Sorry about them. I just didn’t want you to worry about me. You seemed happy enough out there.”
“But why did you quit university? How come?”
“It wasn’t going very well,” Cheryl shrugged. “And the stuff I was doing at the Friendship Centre ... well, I believed I was accomplishing something at first, but then a lot of girls we were trying to help just kept getting into trouble. In different ways, it all boiled down to one thing: as a social worker, I don’t think I would have made the grade. So I quit and got a job instead.
“That was two years ago. April, it’s funny, you know; I was right about it not working out for you in Toronto, and you were right when you said the Native people have to be willing to help themselves. It’s like trying to swim against a strong current.
It’s impossible.”
“I thought if anyone could do it, you could.”
“You’re disappointed that I’ve given up?”
“After all the griping I did against it, yeah, I suppose I am. I used to envy you for having something so meaningful in your life. I mean, I couldn’t do it, because I didn’t believe it was possible: making a better way of life for Native people, giving them a better image. So what kind of job did you get?”
Cheryl made a face and said, “Oh, it doesn’t matter because I lost it. Mark and I used to party a lot, and I started drinking a bit. Anyway, the day I got fired, I had a big row with Mark, and then I went out and got all tanked up. So that’s how I ended up here. I feel so stupid.”
“Well, anyone who drinks goes overboard once in a while. I remember I got fuzzy once at a party, and then Bob’s mother poured a pot of coffee into me and .... I bet she thought I was getting to be an alcoholic, just because she knew I had Indian blood. When I think of it now, a lot of things make sense in the way Mother Radcliff treated me.”
Visiting hours ended then, so I had to say goodnight to Cheryl. On Tuesday morning, the doctor told Cheryl she would most likely be discharged on Wednesday. When she told me, I asked, “What are you planning to do when you get out?”
“You make it sound like I’m in jail or something. I don’t know. I don’t want to go back with Mark. I don’t even want to go back there to get my things.”
“Are you scared or something?”
“Oh, no, it’s not that. He might want me to stay and then there’d be a scene, maybe.”
“I could go and get your things for you. Just tell me the address, and I could go tonight. Then you could come and stay at the hotel for now, until you get a permanent place.”
“Are you sure you wouldn’t mind? It’s in a rather rundown section of the city.”
“If Mark is there, will he give me any problems?”
“No, just explain that I’m in the hospital, and you’re going to look after me for a while. He looks tough, but he’s okay. When he laid into me, he was drunk, and I pretty well asked for it. Besides, I’m sure he’ll be out. Oh, April—” Cheryl’s face had a guilty look on it.
“What?”
“You know all the things you left me? Well, I sold them. I’m sorry.”
“That’s okay, Cheryl. If you needed money, though, you should have asked me. I would have sent you some.”
“No, I couldn’t do that. You see, I was kind of supporting Mark. He’s out of a job. Anyway, it would have just gone to him.”
Cheryl was looking down at her hands and nervously twisting her fingers together. “Two suitcases should do it. All I’ve got is clothing. Our room is right at the top of the stairs, to the left. And there’s two boxes under the bed with my papers and books in them. You can just take them.”
That night, I had supper before looking for the address on Elgin Avenue. I had a lot to digest about Cheryl’s past. I had thought mine was full of turmoil and dark secrets. By the time I got to the address, I was thinking of the future. With the money from Bob, I could buy a house in Winnipeg. Maybe we could even rent out some rooms, and that way, we’d have an income every month. On second thought, Cheryl would probably insist on taking Native boarders. Besides, people make up creepy stories about two sisters renting out rooms. It wasn’t very classy. Heck, with the money I had now, I could buy two houses and rent out one. No, then I’d be responsible for the taxes
and repairs, and what if someone couldn’t pay their rent? I’d end up letting people stay for free all the time.
I spotted a parking space not far from the house. It was too bad I couldn’t get a spot right in front. I got out of the car, and a cold gust of wind struck me. I shivered. The temperature seemed to have fallen. I looked around. Cheryl hadn’t been kidding when she said it was in a rundown section. It was spooky. And dark. I got to the gate and wondered why on earth they would have a gate that closed when most of the fence had fallen down anyway. At the same time, I was wondering if Mark would be home. And what was he like? I had to take my glove off to fiddle with the latch.
Suddenly, a male voice close to me said, “Can I help you with that, baby?”
I jumped. Where had he come from so suddenly? I looked up at him and he seemed to be leering at me. This couldn’t be Mark. Maybe I should get back to the car.
Before I had a chance to move, an arm came from behind and grabbed me by the front of the neck. There were two men! I stepped back into the first man, ramming my elbow into his side as hard as I could. He released his grip. The other man was now grinning.
“You bitch. Oh, no, you’re not going to get away from us.”
He grabbed my arm, but I twisted loose and pushed against him. We were on a patch of ice and he slipped, lost his balance, and fell backward, all the while swearing. This all happened in a couple of seconds, and I was able to run back toward my car. I didn’t know what their intentions were, but it was my intention not to find out. I opened the car door and was about to jump in when one of them reached for me and got hold of me. They were yelling to someone to bring the car up. Headlights were turned on, and I saw the two men clearly. I struggled desperately to free myself. The other man who had fallen reached our side, and when the car was beside us, he opened the door and shoved me in the back seat and got in beside me. The other one closed the door on my rented car and got in beside the driver.
Like a helpless animal, I was trapped and terrified. They meant to kill; I was sure of it. Otherwise, they would have disguised themselves or something. They whooped it up and congratulated each other on their “catch.” I figured if I was going to die, I was going to go down fighting. But then I thought I’d have a better chance if I watched for a police car. I watched for one at the same time as I kept an eye on the man beside me. They were crazy men, and now they were probably aroused from chasing me. Crazy men with crazy grins. The one beside me put his hand on my breast. I hit it away. He hit back much harder, as if he had a right to do whatever he pleased.
“So, you’re a real fighting squaw, huh? That’s good ‘cause I like my fucking rough.” He laughed at that.
The driver said, “Hey, we’re only supposed to give her a scare. You’re talking rape, man.”
“Shut up, dummy. And slow down. We don’t want to get stopped now. You’re in this as much as us,” growled the man beside me. So he was the leader, I thought.
The other man in the front snickered and turned to eye me. I wondered how he knew I was part Indian. Just because I had long black hair? I didn’t pay too much attention to what the driver had said about just giving me a scare. I figured that this had started as a lark to scare women, and now the leader and his accomplice wanted to rape me. Maybe I could count on the driver to help somehow. And maybe they weren’t out to do any killing. I just didn’t know. I hadn’t been in Winnipeg long enough to know whether there had been a rash of rapes and strangulations going on. Maybe that’s what was going to happen to me. And if they had knives, it would be a whole lot worse. They could torture me to death, cut me to pieces, or beat me up and leave me to die in the cold somewhere, all bloody and broken. Oh, God, I want to live. This isn’t the way I want to die. This isn’t my moment to die. I couldn’t help trembling with fear. Horrible thoughts rushed through my mind.
The night ahead could only be shameful, humiliating, and even if they didn’t physically wound me, it would be torturous. I braced myself mentally and physically, so I would be able to face up to anything they did. I knew I wouldn’t be able to stop them from abusing me physically, so I’d try to be like a rag doll. I’d close my emotions and mind off. Maybe it wouldn’t affect me so much.
The leader was groping at me and he grabbed my breast roughly. I gritted my teeth and sat rigidly, trying hard to ignore his hand, trying hard to show no reaction. I smelled the liquor on his breath as he leaned toward me. Then his hand slid to the crotch of my jeans and I had to pull his hand away. I was pressed against the side of the car. He was saying vulgar things to me, watching my face at the same time. I guess he wanted to reduce me to nothingness.
“Hey, you guys, we’re going to have to teach this little Indian some manners. I’m trying to make her feel good and she pulls away, the ungrateful bitch.”
As they laughed, the leader grabbed a handful of my hair and pulled my head back. One minute he was laughing, the next he was saying in a low, frightening voice, “Listen, you little cunt, I know you want it, so quit pretending to fight it, okay? Or I’m really going to give it to you.”
The man beside the driver was watching, and he asked,“Hey, man, could I have a turn with her?”
“Don’t worry, you’ll get your turn soon enough,” the leader said, ominously.
We were out in the countryside somewhere. I didn’t know where, because I had lost all sense of direction. They had turned the interior lights on. The leader moved in on me, trying to take off my jacket. I pushed his hands away, and for a few minutes, my anger overcame my fear.
“You filthy, rotten freaks!” I threw myself at the leader, trying to scratch and bite him. “You keep your filthy, rotten hands off me!” I was panting from a mixture of my anger and exertion.
I could hear them laughing like lunatics. The leader held me away from him with ease, but I managed to scratch his face, drawing blood.
“You goddamned cunt!” he yelled in rage. Then he followed that with a hard punch to my midriff. That knocked the wind out of me and sent me flying back against the left side of the car. My head hit the window. The leader then grabbed the front of my blouse and ripped it open, tearing the buttons off. I tore back into him.
“Why you fucking little savage. You’re asking for it.”
He gave me a backhand across the side of my head, which made my ears ring. He resumed trying to take my clothes off and I tried my hardest to stop him. That’s when he systematically started hammering his fist into me. I could hear the driver making weak protests.
After his merciless onslaught, I was too weak to try to defend myself anymore. I felt him taking off the rest of my clothing, and feebly I tried to put my arms across my breasts to cover myself. He shoved them aside.
“All right, you guys, mission accomplished. Hey, dummy, you gonna drive all night? Park this damn thing someplace. Maybe we’ll let you join the party,” he laughed as he turned his attention back to me.
“Yeah, you little savages like it rough, eh?” He undid his zipper and pulled down his jeans. Then he forced me to lay the full length of the car seat. When he prepared to come down on me, I shifted myself to the side, blocking him with my leg. Without saying a word, he slammed his fist into my ribs, which I already thought had been broken. Then he said very softly, “You do that again, you slut, and I’m going to lay you wide open. You understand?”
Defeated, I lay there listlessly, my eyes half-closed because I didn’t want to see his face, but at the same time, I didn’t trust him enough to close my eyes completely.
Suddenly, he shoved his penis into me so violently that when I felt the pain of his thrust tear into my body, my eyes opened wide with terror. I struggled again to get away from him. Again, he grabbed my hair and yanked my head to the side. “You want me to lay you open?” He could see the terror in my eyes. I think that was what he enjoyed the most.
“What’s the matter, she giving you trouble?” the man in the front seat with the driver asked.
“Shut up! I can handle this little
whore.”
He thrust into me again as if he were stabbing me with a deadly purpose. It was pure agony. Inside my head, I screamed long and loud, trying to block everything out.
“Hey, she likes this, boys. These squaws really dig this kind of action. They play hard to get, and all the time they love it. You love this, don’t you, you little cocksucker?”
After what seemed an eternity, he withdrew, only to ex-change places with the man beside the driver.
I don’t think I could have fought anymore, even if my life had depended on it. Besides, I thought, the worst was over. I allowed myself to be handled like a rag doll. The second rapist made me turn on my stomach, but I was beyond caring. He inflicted a whole new pain, but of the same intensity. My moans were muffled into the car seat. Every driving movement of his sent new pain searing through my body. And all the while, he giggled wildly.
When he finally withdrew, he said to the driver, “It’s your turn, dummy.”
“Naw, I don’t think so. I don’t feel like it,” the driver said, and I knew he was scared. And the others knew it, too.
“You’re going to fuck this bitch, dummy, whether you like it or not. You’re in this with us, all the way. Now get back there and do it,” the leader ordered.
The driver came back, made me turn on my back again, and tried. I don’t know if he had no intention of raping me, but he pretended to, and then he told them he was finished.
“You sure?” the leader asked, suspiciously.
“Yeah, I’m sure,” the driver answered.
I lay there, not daring to move, lest it drive them back into more activity. But now that they had finished, what would they do with me? Would they kill me or let me go?
To my great dismay, the leader came to the back seat and pulled his pants down again. He made me sit on the floor of the car and then he shoved his penis in front of my face and ordered, “Suck on it, cocksucker. And don’t get any funny ideas about biting it or you’ll be sorry. You’ll be real sorry.”
In Search of April Raintree Page 13