April Raintree (13 page)

While I worked, Cheryl was finishing her Grade Twelve. In June, she graduated at the top of her class and even won a scholarship to go to the University of Winnipeg. If she hadn't, Children's Aid would have paid for her education anyways. There were some advantages in being a ward of the C.A.S.

Cheryl moved in with me, even though she wouldn't be eighteen until October. Children's Aid agreed to pay all her expenses. The day Cheryl moved in with me, July 6, 1968, was more like a real Independence Day. The Steindalls brought Cheryl and her belongings to my place that Saturday morning, had lunch with us and then left. Cheryl and I went shopping for a sofa that opened in to a bed. Then we went on to other stores. We dropped our purchases off back at the apartment, then went out for supper. That evening, we sat around talking. We both couldn't get over how wonderful it felt being together with no one to control our destinies but us.

I went to work on Monday and Cheryl went to the Winnipeg Friendship Centre. She volunteered her services for the rest of July and August, believing the experience would help in her future career as a social worker.

Cheryl began her first year of university in September. I began to meet her for lunch in the university cafeteria. She quickly accumulated a number of friends, both white and native. To my biggest surprise, she started going out quite steadily with a white student, Garth Tyndall. I was amazed because the way she had talked in the past she didn't seem to like anything white. I wasn't surprised she could attract the opposite sex because she was very beautiful and outgoing. She reminded me of the Native girls from the Hungry Eye and I wondered how come she got that way and I didn't. As always, she was stubborn when she made up her mind about anything. When she was home, she'd usually have her friends around. And when she was over at Garth's place in the evenings, I would be alone.

I gave a party for her eighteenth birthday. That night, I could see how close she and Garth had become. He seemed to care more about her than she did about him. I was very pleased. If anyone could change a woman's mind about some things, it was a man.

But my hopes were dashed when a month later, they split up. At first Cheryl wouldn't tell me what happened. One night, they went out to dinner and then a movie. But later in the evening, Garth called for her.

When she came in a few minutes later, I said, “I thought you two were going out tonight.”

“No. Something more Important came up. If he calls again, tell him I'm not in. I'm going to take a bath and go to bed.” She seemed very depressed.

“Hey, Cheryl, did you two have a fight?”

“No, not a fight. More of an insight.” With that she stalked off to the bathroom.

Garth called again and I was tempted to ask him what had happened but I felt I should hear it from Cheryl. The next day was Saturday and Cheryl was still in a state of depression. I asked her again what had happened.

Reluctantly, she finally told me. “We were walking down Portage and Garth saw some of his friends coming towards us. He told me to keep walking and he'd catch up. I pretended that I was window-shopping so I could listen to them. You know what he did? You know what that creep did? He left me there and went for a beer with them. He didn't want them to know about me. That hypocrite! He's ashamed of me.”

I didn't say anything. I didn't say anything because I was guilty of that, too. I had never invited Cheryl to meet me for lunch because I didn't want anyone at work to see her, to know she was my sister. Even now, I knew this wouldn't change me. I would continue to walk the five blocks or so at lunchtime, so I could meet her where she was already accepted. That night, Cheryl decided she was going to keep a journal. I smiled and told her she shouldn't start a journal with an unhappy opening.

“Wait until something good happens to you, something special.”

“Well, I haven't got a lifetime. I want to start this thing right now. I have a feeling there will be a lot more of this kind of thing.”

I thought to myself that I would be added in there one day but in a negative light.

Not long after Cheryl's break-up with Garth, I met someone I thought was very special. I was waiting for Cheryl outside one of her classrooms, when another of Cheryl's professors approached me. We talked until Cheryl came out. His name was Jerry McCallister and whenever he saw me alone after that, he'd stop to chat. One day, he asked me to go out with him. I guess he thought I shared some of the same ideals as Cheryl because he talked about native subjects, like their housing and education. Having heard Cheryl speak about such things often, enabled me to carry on a reasonable conversation with him. When he dropped me off at my apartment, he asked me to go out with him again but he didn't try to kiss me. I had gone out with some of the students to plays and concerts but they had only one thing on their minds at the end of the evening. So Jerry's behavior was refreshing. We'd go out together frequently after that, even during the week. He was always a perfect gentleman. The more I saw of him the more I appreciated him.

Finally one night when we stayed at my place for dinner and some conversation, he made his first advance. I held back. Good girls don't do that kind of thing. Furthermore, and more importantly, if things got out of hand and we went all the way, there was the risk of getting pregnant. Maybe that was my worst fear because when Jerry tried to get too close, I would always back off. Jerry's initial amusement and patience waned and one night he was trying to coax me again. Finally, he said, “April, what are you scared of? Are you scared of getting involved with another human being? Or is it sex you're afraid of?”

“I'm not afraid of nothing,” I said. It was my trick way of saying, yeah, I'm afraid of something but I don't want to tell you what.

“Well then? You know how much I like you. I like being with you. I admire you a great deal. You're beautiful. You're intelligent. I like everything about you, April.”

He had not complimented me this way before and I was slightly surprised that this was what he thought of me. I felt warm and comfortable. He pulled me closer to him as if what he had said was enough to have made me change my mind. But I said, “I don't know. I never…well, I never…well, how would I know if I never?” I hadn't wanted to reveal that I was a virgin. It made me feel so immature.

Jerry smiled and said, “April, if you feel the same way that I feel, then making love is the most natural thing in the world. And if it's respect you're worried about, I'll certainly not respect you any less. We're not teenagers anymore. We're man and woman. Adults, with adult feelings and adult needs.” He pulled me close again and I tensed up.

“I can't.”

“Why not? There's nothing wrong with it. Now stop acting so childish.” He took his arms from around me and sat up.

“No. I'm sorry, Jerry. I want to but I just can't.” I looked at him for some understanding.

He stood up, went to the closet and got his coat out. As he put it on, he said, “I don't like playing games, April. Either you want me or you don't. When you make up your mind which it is, I'll be at the university.”

In the following weeks, I agonized over Jerry's absence. I had really liked the intimate suppers, long talks, and having a steady friend to go out with. I had planned to ask him to the law firm's Christmas social and show him off, especially to Roger Maddison. I didn't attend the law firm's social, after all. I went with Cheryl to spend Christmas with the Steindalls and returned alone because of work. I was so lonely during the holidays that my resolve broke down and I decided to call him. I had never been out to his home and I looked up his name in the phone book. As I dialed the number, I thought of being flippant about the whole thing. I'd say something like, “Hi, Jerry. I was wrong and you were right, so I'm yours for the taking.” No. That wasn't my style. I'd just play it by ear.

“Hello?” a small child's voice answered.

“Uh, hello. Is Jerry McCallister there, please?”

“No, Daddy's not home. Do you want to talk to my Mommy?” and before I could say no, I heard the child calling to his mother.

“Hello,” came the voice of a woman. I tried to picture what she looked like.

“Oh, hello, Mrs. McCallister? I'm a student at the university and I was working on a project over the holidays but I needed Mr. McCallister's advice on something. I'm sorry to be bothering him at home.” My cheeks were burning red.

“Oh, that's all right. He should be back any minute now. Could I have him call you back? Oh, just a minute. I think he's at the door now. Hold on.” she also left before I could stop her.

I thought of hanging up but if I did than it might arouse his wife's suspicions.

“Hello,” Jerry's voice came on.

“It's me, April. I guess I made a terrible mistake. I'm sorry.” I hung up before he could say anything. I felt incredibly stupid. I had been going out with a married man! Not only that, he had a child, maybe more than one. And I was about to try out a bedroom scene with him? I shook my head and sat there for a long time.

He came to see me one evening, after the New Year. “April, I'd like to explain.”

“There's nothing to explain. You're married! You wanted me to…to…well, you know. And all the time, you were married. And YOU don't like playing games?” I said sarcastically.

“My wife and I have been talking about getting a divorce. Then I met you and I wanted to get to know you right away. I'm sorry I didn't wait until it was all proper and legal.”

“And I'm sorry, too. But I don't go out with married men. That is when I know they're married. It's finished. Over. Just leave me alone!” I opened the door for him to go and then stood back waiting.

“But April, you know how I feel about you. We could have a promising future together,” Jerry said, stalling.

“Goodbye, Jerry.” I gave him the coldest, hardest look I could muster. He had no choice but to give up and leave. He looked dejected and I felt sorry for him. For a second I almost said, “It's okay, we could still be friends, at least.” But I didn't. I closed the door on my almost-first-lover.

For the next few months, I didn't go out on dates. I just stayed in and moped. When Cheryl brought home another of her strays for supper, I didn't even mind. That's what I called the Metis and Indian girls she befriended from the Friendship Centre. Nancy was a dark-skinned Native girl with long, limp black hair. The story of her family life was similar to that of other native girls Cheryl had met. Drinking always seemed to be behind it. Nancy had been raped by her drunken father. Cheryl remarked that people called that incest but Nancy insisted it was rape. Everyone in Nancy's family drank, even the younger kids. Or the new rage was sniffing up. Both Nancy and her mother had prostituted themsleves, sometimes for money, sometimes for a cheap bottle of wine. Nancy was like a wilted flower. She even had a defeatist look to her. What a life to have led. I supposed she had stayed at home because there was nowhere else to go. I was shocked when Cheryl told me Nancy was only seventeen. She looked at least twenty-five. How Cheryl could stand to hear those kinds of stories all the time was beyond me. That she wanted to make a lifetime career out of it was impossible for me to understand. It was depressing, especially when I knew that Nancy and the other strays came from the same places that we came from.

I'd go with Cheryl and Nancy to nice restaurants and treat them to suppers. I began to notice what being native was like in middle-class surroundings. Sometimes, service was deliberately slow. Sometimes, I'd overhear comments like, “Who let the Indians off the reservation?” Or we'd be walking home and guys would make comments to us, as if we were easy pick-ups. None of us would say anything. Not even Cheryl who could be sharp-tongued. Cheryl and I never talked about these incidents either. Instead of being angry with these ignorant people, I just felt embarrassed to be seen with natives, Cheryl included. I began to go out with them less and less.

Anyhow, Cheryl was starting to spend more evenings at the Friendship Centre, leaving me alone with my magazines and my daydreams. I was even reading books on proper etiquette, preparing myself for my promising future in white society. If Cheryl had known I was reading that kind of material, she would have laughed or criticized me. It wouldn't have mattered because I began to think I would be dreaming such dreams right into my senility. Oh, well, Cheryl once had a fantasy which comforted her and now I had mine.

I gave a lot of thought to the kind of man I would eventually marry. If I were going to be successful and happy, he would have to be carefully scrutinized. I would not be able to afford to let my heart rule my head. Nor could I marry just for money or I'd be rich but not happy. Actually, it was quite simple. I'd have to find somebody who was handsome, witty and charming. He'd have to be making a good living. He'd be good and honest with a strong character but he would also have a fine sense of humor. He would be perfection personified. ‘Oh yeah, dream on, April Raintree. If such a man existed, he'd already be married.' I sighed, disappointedly. I'd probably end up falling in love with a farmer and we'd be dirt poor and I'd have to work for the rest of my life.

But that spring, Prince Charming did come into my life. I was typing a Mortgage Agreement when he walked into the office. He was to see Mr. Lord and the receptionist sent him to my desk. I let him stand there, without even looking at him, while I finished typing. Then I looked up into his merry, blue eyes. He was one of those smooth handsome men, the kind I didn't like, the kind that was so polished, he just had to be conceited.

He smiled at me as he said, “Hello, I'm Bob Radcliff. I have an appointment with Mr. Lord.”

I knew immediately that he was a big deal from Toronto. I told him that Mr. Lord had been delayed at another meeting that morning and asked him to return at one o'clock.