Mercy of St Jude

by Wilhelmina Fitzpatrick

  Annie nods, grateful for any excuse to get away.

  Joe, who had started to doze off at the table, perks up. “I never understood why Merce took such a shine to that boy.”

  “I think she felt bad for him,” says Lucinda, “growing up without a father like she ended up doing. He certainly brought out the soft side of her, don’t you think, Annie?”

  Annie says nothing. She does not want to think about Gerry or Mercedes. She doesn’t want to remember the last time the three of them were in the same room together. Nothing was ever the same after that. Nothing’s been right since.

  Joe glances towards Pat. “She liked him better than some of her own, I’d say.”

  “Gerry was good to her, too.” Lucinda rests her hand on Annie’s shoulder. “Turned out to be a smart young fellow. I’d say he surprised a lot of people.”

  “What do you say, Annie? You surprised how smart he was?” Aiden’s eyes have that glint of cruelty Annie has noticed before, though it’s rarely been directed at her.

  She’s suddenly had enough of it all. She’s fed up with pretending, with feeling like a victim, with saying the right thing. “Hard to find smarter than him or Mercedes,” she says, her voice choked with bitterness. “They made a fine fucking pair, they did.”

  1991

  From an early age, it was apparent that Annie was more academically inclined than her sisters or her cousins. By age four, she had taught herself to read. By the time she went to school, she could do basic math. As she grew older, she preferred books, generally on science or nature, for birthday and Christmas presents. While Lucinda and Dermot were pleased that she was so bright, they found her unending questions exhausting. Annie soon learned that Callum and Mercedes’ house was a more hospitable environment for her curiosity. And although she found her aunt intimidating, Mercedes always took her seriously, as did her grandfather, both of whom talked about Annie’s attendance at university as a foregone conclusion.

  Each report card, she and Cathy Green, along with Francis Fowler, would compete for first place. Annie usually came out ahead. Their academic rivalry continued into high school, where the enrolment nearly tripled. While most towns along the shore had their own elementary school, they were each too small to support independent high schools, so students from Royal Cove to Harbourville were bussed to St. Jude. None of the new influx did much to challenge the status quo, however, and Annie, Cathy and Francis continued their three-way contest.

  Gerry Griffin was not in the running.

  The ultimate prize was a scholarship to Memorial University of Newfoundland, awarded annually to the top student in Grade Twelve. Annie had always assumed, deep within her competitive mind, that it would be hers. When the marks were posted, she was stunned to see that Cathy had won. Not by much, but she’d won.

  Even more shocking was the third place winner. Gerry Griffin had beaten Francis Fowler, and he’d come perilously close to overtaking Annie herself.

  Gerry wasn’t stupid, he was…well, he was a Griffin. He had never shone scholastically, nor was he expected to. Gerry did, however, consistently do better than the Hann brothers, a fact which Mercedes never tired of pointing out. “If you paid as much attention as Gerry,” Mercedes would scold, “you’d be able to put two and two together.” Being compared unfavourably to a Griffin annoyed Aiden immensely, but he was far too lazy to do anything constructive about it, and instead resorted to calling Gerry names and making snide remarks about the Griffins in general. Unlike his brother, Pat didn’t seem nearly so bothered about the negative comparison. Having flunked the first grade, he had fairly low expectations of himself, as did Mercedes.

  As for Annie, she had paid little attention to Gerry’s academic achievements, which was not to say that he himself had gone undetected. She noticed his eyes, brown and clear, and his hair a few shades lighter than his eyes. She noticed that he didn’t smile too often, but when he did, a dimple creased his right cheek. His nose was different too, slightly bony with a rise in the middle, a Roman nose perhaps. And in Grade Nine, when Sister Angela had him stand next to Annie for their class picture, she noticed that his shoulder was finally higher than hers.

  Annie and Gerry had rarely played together as children. He was always busy with chores or running errands for Mercedes, and seldom played ball or kick-the-can with Annie and her friends. When he did join in, he seemed to hang near the fringe, not fully participating, as if he felt he didn’t belong there. Or maybe he was nervous that his mother might show up and berate him in front of everyone for wasting time when he had work to do. Annie had disliked Sadie more than usual the day she’d done that.

  Nor did they hang out as teenagers; Aiden couldn’t stand him, and Pat, even though he was older, tended to follow Aiden’s lead. As for Annie, she generally tried to ignore him. Occasionally, however, in school or church, or at the store perhaps, Annie caught him looking at her. These random moments always left her with a funny feeling in her stomach, but she’d never stopped to consider if it was funny-good or funny-bad. Gerry would immediately turn away, as would she - except for that one time in Grade Ten Science lab when she found his dark eyes watching her. In a flash of defiance she stared back, expecting him to blush and look away. He didn’t. He smiled. Feeling the heat race up her neck, and furious with herself for instigating the whole stupid exercise, she stuck her tongue out at him, then quickly looked away and laughed loudly at something she pretended Cathy had said. When Cathy asked what was so funny, Annie laughed again. Cathy gave her an odd look but no one else noticed, thankfully. After that, she avoided Gerry in and out of school. If he was at Mercedes’ house when Annie was there, she barely acknowledged him, at the most condescending to a nod of her head towards his pimpled puberty-stricken face as she waltzed past him. If anyone had thought to ask, she would have vehemently denied that she knew he existed, let alone felt any attraction to him. After all, he wasn’t just a Griffin, he was her cousin, even if her family did wish it otherwise. She’d only found out that they had the same grandmother because Aiden had taunted her with it after she’d beat him once too often at Crazy Eights. When she’d asked her parents about it, Lucinda had sighed an exasperated sigh and told Annie not to be digging up ancient history. Annie had let it go. After all, it made no difference to her.

  Despite losing the scholarship, Annie was still determined to go to MUN.

  “And how are we going to afford that now?” Lucinda wanted to know.

  “I’ll get a bigger student loan.”

  “They only give you so much. It said in the brochure the parents got to help.”

  “Mom, I’ll manage. It’s not your problem.”

  “We don’t have money like the Greens, you know.” Lucinda carried on sweeping as if she hadn’t heard. “Not that Cathy needs it now she got the scholarship.”

  “Jesus,” Annie muttered under her breath, then louder, “I’ll be fine, Mom.”

  “No you won’t. I think you best go see your aunt about a loan.”

  “Right, I can just hear her. ‘You should have spent more time studying and less time dreaming on the beach, ’” Annie mimicked. “You know what she’s like. Your head’s not buried in a book, you’re wasting time. She’s going to blame it all on me.”

  Lucinda stopped sweeping and stared pointedly at Annie.

  That afternoon, Annie stomped off down the wet, grey pavement. The sky was dark. The clouds were heavy. Still, she would have preferred the elements to the overbearing heat of Mercedes Hann’s kitchen.

  Annie hung up her coat and shook her hair from its wet ponytail, careful not to splatter any raindrops on the always-open bible on the desk. Rufus bounded over to sniff and nuzzle her until Mercedes ordered him away, at which point he immediately flopped down on the rug by the stove. The aroma of hot figgy bread, her aunt’s specialty, filled the room. Mercedes’ hair was loosely tied and she wore a plaid apron over her brown pants and beige twin set. She was smiling.

  “Look at this, Annie.” Mercedes t
urned the page of a slightly tattered book on the flora of the east coast. “Such a rare find. Over a hundred years old.”

  “Wow!” Annie leaned over to look. She knew better than to touch it; her hands were still damp. “Is Granddad here?” she asked hopefully.

  “In the back room. I picked up his new computer in St. John’s yesterday and he’s been at it since he got up this morning.” She poured Annie tea from the big brown pottery teapot. “Here, this will take the chill from your bones.”

  “So he finally got a computer, did he?”

  “Yes. Now, you received your results yesterday. How did you do?” If Mercedes had something to say, out it came – no dawdling, no feigned indifference.

  Annie had no such inclination. “Pretty good,” she answered.

  Her aunt sliced into the raisin-studded bread. Steam rose up as its molassesey goodness sweetened the humid air. “Did you beat them?”

  “Ah…I…you know, did pretty good,” she stammered, accepting a plate of hot buttered bread.

  Mercedes folded her arms and stared at Annie. “Yes, go on.”

  “I had a really bad cold during exams, and Mom’s always over at Beth’s helping with her new baby, and I was really tired from the—”

  “Ann, did you come first or not?” Mercedes cut in sharply.

  “Ann” was a sure sign of displeasure. Annie decided she might as well confess. Playing verbal cat and mouse with her aunt was destined to be a losing battle.

  “Cathy beat me by two marks.” Mercedes’ scowl deepened. Annie rushed to justify herself. “I wonder if her mother told her the questions. She’s a teacher, she probably knew them.”

  “Nonsense!” The single word, issued in Mercedes’ cold authoritarian voice, made Annie sit up straight. “Violet Green would no more cheat than I would.” Mercedes leaned over and wagged her finger in Annie’s face. “If you had one grain of sense in that wasted brain of yours you’d know that.”

  “They didn’t ask the right questions.” Her voice had fallen to a plaintive whimper. “There was stuff on there the teachers hadn’t even covered. It’s not fair.”

  Mercedes plunked the knife down on the counter. “When you’re finished blaming the world, perhaps you can tell me who came in third. I assume it was the Fowler boy?”

  Annie seized the opportunity to focus elsewhere. “Francis didn’t even make the top three. At least I came in second, and Cathy barely beat me. I’d like to get them marks checked.” Sometimes she didn’t know when to shut up.

  “Enough, Ann. Who came in third?” Each word was a measure in patience.

  Annie looked down at her plate, her appetite gone. She pictured Gerry’s face, Mercedes’ errand boy. The fact that Annie or Pat or Aiden would have been equally capable and in need of earning money had apparently never occurred to Mercedes. And from what Annie had seen, she paid Gerry handsomely, and for the oddest things. She paid him to read, for God’s sake. She even let him borrow her precious books.

  It had grown quiet in her aunt’s kitchen. Mercedes was waiting.

  “Gerry Griffin,” Annie mumbled, flicking at the handle of her mug of tea.

  “Gerry came in third?” A smile lit up her aunt’s face as she clapped her hands together. “I told that young man he could do it. I said if he studied hard and let me help him, he could beat out those show-offs who think they know everything.”

  Annie pushed the tea away. Is that what Mercedes thought of her? A show-off? As she watched her aunt’s beaming face, she realized that Mercedes wasn’t even aware of the insult. Worse still, she had apparently been helping Gerry all along. Since when did his success become more important than Annie’s?

  “To think he placed in the top three!” Mercedes continued. “He never made it better than sixth before that. He must have worked so hard, what with all he does to help that mother of his. What a fine lad he’s become…”

  A fine lad? He’d come in third to Annie’s second, yet Mercedes called him a fine lad while at the same time implying that Annie was a failure.

  Still Mercedes prattled on. “…always knew he was better than the rest of them…”

  Annie looked out the window at the rain lashing the pane. She wished she was out there, away from her aunt’s gushing voice. Would the woman never shut up?

  “Anyway,” Annie cut in, hurt beyond caring if she was rude, “Mom and I wondered if you could lend us some money to supplement the student loan I’ll get.”

  Mercedes focused back on Annie. “That scholarship should have been yours.”

  “Well it almost was. And it wasn’t my fault. If I’d known—”

  “Enough excuses. Go home and I’ll think about it.” She stood up and started to leave the room. “And don’t waste that food, we’re not made of money.”

  Annie locked her eyes on the two slices of bread and kept them there until Mercedes was gone. Plump raisin eyes glistening in melted butter stared up at her. Forcing herself to take a bite, she realized she was starving and stuffed the rest in her mouth. She was about to leave and take the second piece with her when she heard Mercedes talking to Callum.

  “…her own fault…such a disappointment…”

  Annie stopped chewing to better hear what they were saying.

  “…first year I taught him, I could see the potential, ragged clothes and all.”

  There was an indistinguishable mumble, presumably from Callum.

  “Yes, I suppose I did.” Mercedes’ wistful tone made Annie’s skin prickle.

  There was a shuffle, a chair moving, followed by her grandfather’s strong voice. “He’s a lucky boy to have you looking out for him, Mercie, that’s all I can say. And like I told you a million times, it was never your fault.”

  “Nor yours. Doesn’t stop you from wondering ‘what if, ’ though, does it?”

  “Maybe not, but I’m long past feeling guilty for it.”

  “You’re right, I know. You can’t just erase guilt from your soul, though, can you? But if I can help young Gerry, maybe God will see fit to forgive us all in the end.”

  There was a moment of silence. Annie tried not to breathe too loudly.

  “I must call and congratulate him. I just hope that wicked witch of a mother of his doesn’t answer the phone,” Mercedes said.

  Under cover of her grandfather’s laughter, Annie crept out of the house, carefully closing the squeaky screen door. She deliberately chose not to dwell on what she’d heard. She’d had it with Gerry and Mercedes and had no intention of wasting another minute on either of them. Instead, she thought with regret of the figgy bread she’d forgotten on the table and which Rufus was probably eating that very minute.

  Three days later her aunt called her to come over to discuss the loan. Mercedes poured tea, from a pitcher with ice this time. There was no warm bread.

  “I’ve given this a lot of thought, Ann. I don’t think you deserve that loan.”

  Annie could hardly believe it. Mercedes, who had always encouraged her desire to go to university, who had insisted for years that Annie was smart enough to do it, now refused to help her. Why couldn’t she support her when she really needed it?

  “…rewarding undesirable behaviour,” Mercedes was saying. “I’ve told you that you spend too much time combing the beach, dreaming when you should be studying. You knew you needed that scholarship, and look what you’ve done. You let everyone down, your grandfather, your mother, most of all yourself. I hope this teaches you the value of hard work. Look at Gerry. If you had half the drive…”

  As Mercedes talked on, the hurt turned to anger. What was it with her and Gerry Griffin? Annie thought back to the snippets of conversation she’d overheard on her last visit. What made him a hero and Annie such a disappointment?

  She stood up abruptly. “Never mind about the loan. I’ll figure it out for myself.” Without waiting for a response from Mercedes, she stormed out of the house.

  More determined than ever, she put up flyers at Burke’s and the post office offer
ing all manner of services, from lawn to child care, but all she got were a few babysitting jobs. There was little extra work in St. Jude, especially for a seventeen-year-old girl.

  Just as she was beginning to despair, Callum stopped by the house complaining that he couldn’t figure out his new computer. When Annie volunteered to help, he offered to hire her to set up his documents and teach him how to use it. She told him she would do it for nothing. When he insisted, she let herself be talked into being paid, knowing that her student loan would not be enough to see her through.

  With her money problems temporarily sorted, Annie let herself begin to dream about the fall. The future was hers and she intended to grab onto it and fly, leaving Mercedes Hann and Gerry Griffin in the dust of the Trans-Canada Highway.

  St. Mary’s High was a school divided. The boys, governed by the Brothers, were on one side; the girls, ruled by the Sisters, were on the other. The gymnasium, which also served as the lunchroom, was in the middle. Each day during lunch, the Nuns and the Brothers walked up and down between the tables, making sure there was sufficient distance between individual boys and girls. Each day after lunch Sadie Griffin cleaned up after them all. She didn’t like this particular cleaning job. She didn’t like the students, and she wasn’t fond of the Brothers or the Nuns. She preferred priests. Sadie would clean up after a priest any day.

  That hand goes any lower down her arse it’ll be coming out the front.

  Sadie walked in procession behind Cyril Maher and Cathy Green as they followed the priest out of the gym at the end of the school Mass. Her hands were joined together, her head slightly lowered. Her pious demeanour belied the indignation in her eyes as they focused on the hand caressing the backside in front of her.

  I seen them carrying on, during Mass no less. Like he wanted to slide himself under her skirt right then and there. At lunch too, him with his paws everywhere under the table. Disgusting.

  Outside the gym doors, Sadie raised her face to the bright sky. Her arthritis had been worse than normal of late and she was relieved to see the approach of spring. Sidling up next to the visiting priest where he waited to greet students and teachers on the school steps, she placed her hand on his arm.