Chapter 5

Rich’s surprise visit had left a sick feeling in my stomach. He’d told me to fire Jess. Actually, he’d demanded it. I hadn’t argued, not outside with Jess a few metres away, but he wasn’t working in Rich’s garage, he was working in mine. Shouldn’t it be my decision?

I hated arguing with Rich, and I usually let him have his way to avoid it. Or I kept things like Jess working in the garage and my university application a secret.

I’d have to tell him soon though, since my letter of acceptance to the University of Manitoba had arrived, and, based on my marks, I was eligible for a scholarship. I had to give the university an answer by the end of July.

My going to university didn’t fit into Rich’s plan for us. He wanted to get married, buy a house and take over his dad’s car dealership. In his future vision of us, we had kids, and I stayed at home to raise them, just like his mom had. For a lot of girls in Edelburg, watching their boyfriends’ eyes light up with excitement at the thought of backyard barbeques and white picket fences was a dream come true. Not me. Every time Rich started talking about our life together, now that I was finished high school, I felt a knot in my stomach. How could I tell the person I love that his perfect future sounded like a punishment?

I hadn’t told Gam about university, either. In a lot of ways, it would be easier not to go. But that meant giving up on my dreams of being a writer and resigning myself to a life in Edelburg as Mrs. Rich Wiens.

With a start, I glanced at the clock and realized Gam needed to eat soon. Her insulin levels had to be tested on a regular schedule, and she needed to eat every few hours. Making food for someone obese felt pointless. Why bother when she already weighed so much? But if I didn’t, Gam’s body would go into shock and she’d have a seizure. It had happened a few months ago. I’d been writing on a Saturday and lost track of time. I’d found her trembling, covered in sweat, with her eyes rolled back in her head.

I hadn’t slept for weeks after, nervous that it would happen again.

“Gam, lunch.” I nudged the door open and put the tray down on the table. Gam tilted her head to peer at the plate. “Mmm. Ham. Thank you, love.”

“Do you want a drink?”

Gam turned back to the TV. “Some iced tea would be lovely. Can you pass me my tester kit? I need to check my levels.”

I handed it to her. Gam’s hands shook with the effort of reaching and sitting up to grab it. The physiotherapist had suggested making her work for things, not just handing them over, but I’d seen the look of disgust cross the woman’s face when she walked into Gam’s room. I know what strangers think when they look at Gam: a blob lying in bed, too stubborn or lazy to get up. But it wasn’t Gam’s fault that her body didn’t work how it was supposed to. If she’d been bedridden because of multiple sclerosis or something, people would look at her with pity, not revulsion.

“I’m going to write after lunch, but I’ll listen for Aunt Mim, okay?”

Gam chewed the sandwich daintily. “Okay, dear. What’s his name?”

“Who?”

“The boy cleaning the garage.”

“Jess something. I can’t remember his last name.”

“Is he from the reserve?”

I hesitated. Gam blinked, waiting for an answer.

“He lives in the trailer park, but he goes to school on Deep River.”

She shook her head and muttered, “I figured. It’s always those kids causing trouble.”

There was a knock at the back door. “Hello?” Jess called. “Hello?”

Through the screen, his body looked like a hulking shadow. As I got closer, I could see his face was slick with perspiration and there were dark patches of sweat on his shirt. I felt a flash of guilt that he had to work outside in the heat all day.

“Can I have a glass of water?” he asked through the screen.

“Yeah, hang on.” I let the tap water run so cold that it numbed my fingers. “Here you go.” I opened the door and handed the glass to him. The odour of tangy sweat, not yet pungent, swirled around him. He drank the water in one long gulp, his throat convulsing with each swallow.

He let out a sigh of relief when he’d finished and handed the glass back to me. “Thanks.”

I turned to go back inside.

“Guess your boyfriend wasn’t too happy to see me.” There was a cocky glint in his eye.

I paused. “Not really.”

“So why don’t you fire me?”

Sighing, I let the screen door rest against my foot and straddled the threshold. “I need the garage cleaned out. And it’s not up to Rich.” I sounded tougher than I felt. I also knew that if Rich pushed me on it again, I’d give in.

I thought Jess would walk away, but he didn’t. Hooking his hands around the porch railing, he leaned back, relaxed and chatty. “You fish?”

I gave him a confused look, frustration growing at the thought of the computer humming with electricity upstairs and the empty chair in front of it.

He grinned and a dimple appeared in his cheek. “There’s some old fishing rods in the garage.”

“They’re my grandpa’s. I’ve never been.”

“You’ve never been fishing? You live ten minutes from Deep River. You shitting me?”

I shook my head.

“Your grandpa never took you? Or your dad?”

Bristling at the mention of my dad, a man I’d never met, who didn’t know I existed, I gripped the door frame. “I’ve got things to do. Do you want more water, or…” I let my question trail off, hoping he’d take the hint.

He did. The grin disappeared and he shook his head.

From the window, I watched him go into the garage. I should have been friendlier, I berated myself. What if Gam was right and there was something of value? He had every reason to take it after I’d dismissed him like a servant.

Before I could think too much more about it, I found myself walking across the yard, wilting in the humidity. “Jess?” I called quietly. He jumped off the box he’d been sitting on, an old comic in his hands.

Pursing my mouth, I raised an eyebrow. “I didn’t mean to be rude. Your question about my dad caught me off guard, that’s all.” A hot flush spread up my face. “My mom left when I was a baby. I never met my dad.”

Jess bent toward me, like he was waiting for me to say something else. “That’s it?” he asked with a raised eyebrow. “You looked so freaked out, I thought you were going to tell me he was an alien or something.”

I gave him a weak smile. At least there’d been no sympathetic shake of the head. My admission hadn’t fazed him.

“So you live with your grandparents?”

“My grandma. Grandpa died a couple of years ago. This is all his stuff.

Jess slapped the comic book against a box, missing a fly. “I kind of live with my grandma too. Used to sleep over all the time when I was kid when my mom had to work late. My dad ditched out on me too. I think he’s in Winnipeg, maybe Regina.” Jess ran a hand through his hair, making it stand on end in short, shiny spikes. I wondered if he was telling me all this to put me at ease or to avoid working.

“Why did he leave?” I asked.

Jess shrugged. “Don’t know. The usual.”

I didn’t know what “the usual” was. In Edelburg, parents didn’t abandon their children. Well, most parents, anyway.

“You ever hear from her, your mom?”

Biting the insides of my cheeks, I shook my head. Not a word or a phone call in my whole life. I sighed. "Sometimes I wonder if she's...not around anymore." I couldn't bring myself to say 'dead'. "It would explain why she never came back. But then, I'd never know why she left, either." I didn't know why I was telling him all this. I hadn't even told Rich my fears about my mom, not that he'd ever asked.

“At least it would explain why she never came back.”

“But then I’d never know why she left, either.” I didn't know why I was telling him all this. I hadn't even told Rich my fears about my mom.

Jess’s attention turned to the street, where a dusty blue Cadillac, circa 1985, pulled up to the curb. “Is that another boyfriend?” he asked.

I peeked around the corner of the garage, my stomach dropping. “Worse. Aunt Mim.”

< • >

“Who’s that boy?” Aunt Mim hollered to me as I walked across the yard to greet her.

“An indentured servant. Do you need help with anything?”

“There’s a casserole in the backseat. What’s he doing here? You didn’t let him in the house, did you?” Mim had lived in the city for years but moved back to Edelburg to teach at the high school and to keep an eye on Gam. It was hard to believe Mim and Gam were sisters. Mim was rail thin and boney, with brown hair clipped short. Her wardrobe consisted entirely of tracksuits in bright colours. Today’s was bright pink with a turquoise stripe.

“He’s cleaning out the garage,” I told her, my voice muffled by twenty-five-year-old velvet upholstery as I grabbed the casserole. “Remember? For his community service.”

“Humph. Just so long as he stays out where we can see him,” she said with her hands on her hips. “We need to talk about something.” She closed the car door for me. “Lucy Friesen told me you got a letter from the university.”

I almost dropped the casserole. “What? How does she know that?”

“Shush! Her husband, Fred, sorts the mail when old Mr. Friesen is on holidays. Anyway, that’s not the point. I want you to know that I think” – she paused dramatically – “it’s a great idea! The best thing I ever did was move to the city. And don’t you worry about your Gam. We’ll sort something out – maybe get someone from the church to pop in and give her meals when I can’t make it.” Mim’s eyes shone with excitement for me, but I felt like I’d been punched in the stomach. This wasn’t the way I wanted people to find out: from the replacement mail sorter.

“I haven’t decided anything yet. And don’t you tell Gam!” I admonished Mim. “I haven’t even told Rich.” Marching up the front steps, I threw a warning look at her and went inside.

Bath time was never fun for anyone except Gam. It took two of us to roll her over and wet and lather her up, taking care to wash under each fold and then carefully dry the skin and put ointment on the bedsores. One of us held Gam on her side while the other one changed the sheets. Afterwards, Gam glowed pink, and the room smelled like Vaseline and chamomile soap until the next day, when the sour smell of obesity returned.

Finally, I retreated to the computer room, which used to be my grandpa’s study. He’d been a teacher and loved history, especially of southern Manitoba and its Mennonite immigrants, and his books filled the shelves. There was still a row of his journals that he’d kept for his whole life, leather-bound and filled with spidery handwriting.

Photos of our family cluttered the walls, along with some yellowed maps and a black-and-white picture of his parents. The huge wooden desk under the window had turned legs and heavy drawers I had to heave it open with both hands. I could see the horizon from up here, where land meets sky, a magical, untouchable place.

Settling into the old office chair, I stretched out my fingers and listened as my computer hummed to life. A picture of Rich and I flashed on the screen. He’d surprised me with the computer last Christmas, waiting until everyone else had finished opening their presents. I’d thought he’d given it to me as a way of saying he supported my writing, but as his family shook their heads at his generosity, I wondered if his grand gesture was more for him than for me.

I stared at the screen. Sixty-seven thousand words were behind me. I estimated I needed another five or six thousand to tie up the plot and give my characters satisfying endings. All I needed to do was concentrate and float away to the world I’d created with letter keys and a space bar. But I couldn’t. As my fingers ran over the keys, I felt the energy drain out of me. Some days, it was slow torment forcing myself to write, and other days, I couldn’t type fast enough to catch all the thoughts spilling from my head. My shoulders slumped when I realized today was not one of those days.

From my window, I watched Jess add another box to the pile in the yard. I’d never met another person who’d been abandoned by their parent. I knew there had to be others, but not in Edelburg. Spinning around in my chair, I planted my feet on the floor and decided to do what I’d promised Rich I wouldn’t.

Carrying an armload of rusty farm equipment, Jess looked up when the screen door snapped shut behind me.

He wiped the sweat off his forehead. “Mind if I head out? I wanna try out that rod of your grandpa’s.” I raised my eyebrows in surprise, hoping to hide my disappointment. He faced me, squinting into the sun. “Wanna come?”

“Fishing?” I asked, my eyes wide at his boldness. He knew I had a boyfriend. “I can’t. Gam might need me,” I stammered. Cursing my fair skin, I felt a blush spread up my neck and over my face.

“I was joking,” he said and threw me a look that made me blush three shades deeper. A thin film of sweat coated his face, gluing bits of dust and dirt to his skin. “Uh, did you sign that paper?” he asked. Jess twirled the rod in his hands, his eyes carefully avoiding mine. “My social worker might ask for it.”

“It’s inside. It says to submit it to Jonathan Fontaine when the work is complete.” And, at four hours a day, that was going to take a while.

He picked up the fishing rod and tucked it under his arm. “See you tomorrow,” he said and sauntered toward the sidewalk.

I pulled my eyes away from his departing back and looked around. He’d started sorting, pushing boxes to one side of the garage and everything else to the other. The boxes were stacked four or five high. The one with comic books sat open. I shook my head, wondering if he’d done anything but read them. Maybe I did need to stay out here to supervise, or the work would never get done.

I pulled a box toward me and opened it. Old curriculum, school policy booklets, attendance ledgers from the days before computers – why had Grandpa kept all this stuff? At the bottom of the box was another box, as if whatever was inside needed extra protection. I lifted the lid. There was a package of black-and-white photos. The elastic holding them was dry and cracked. And there was a hardcover book with a gold cross embossed on the bottom right-hand corner.

I opened the book. Grandpa’s name was written on the inside cover; it was his attendance log from 1967. Listed on each page were students’ names, but the names were unfamiliar: Bear, Deerchild, Fontaine, Dumas, Mason, Thompson. These weren’t Edelburg names, they were names found on the reserve.

The elastic snapped in half when I picked up the photos. The first picture showed solemn-faced, dark-haired boys and girls standing at attention on the front steps of a building. The date,1967, had been stamped at the bottom. I flipped through the package: girls working at sewing machines, heads down, like at a factory; groups of kids in winter clothing, flannel jackets and boots, huddled together beside a snow pile; a two-storey brick building. I squinted at the carved name above the door. Edelburg Residential School. The residential school? Foggy references to a school that had been closed down years ago, before I was born, filtered into my head.

“What are you doing?”

“You scared me!” I gasped.

Aunt Mim surveyed the boxes and the pile of artifacts I’d dug up. “What’s all this mess? I thought you were clearing it out and sending it to the dump.”

“Me too. Gam wanted to make sure there wasn’t anything important.”

Mim dropped down beside me and picked up the attendance ledger. The pile of photos on top slid off, scattering on the ground. I watched her brow furrow. She cast a swift glance at me and tossed the book aside. “It’s a bunch of junk. Just cart it off to the dump, if you ask me. Alice will never know what was here, anyway.” Mim’s words sounded sure, but the way she chewed her lip and looked at the photos made me wonder if it really was junk.

“I don’t mind,” I shrugged. “It’s kind of cool going through Grandpa’s things.”

“Seems a bit nosey, if you ask me.”

I wondered if Mim knew the definition of ironic.