April Raintree (15 page)

On New Year's Eve, all the important people I had met over the past months, and many I had never met, gathered in our living room and the adjoining family room. Bob had not exaggerated when he had said those rooms could get crowded. That party confirmed for me, how wealthy and important we Radcliffs were. I guess I was the only one who was so greatly impressed because when I took Cheryl around to introduce her to some of the people I had already met, I got a few surprises. After praising all these people to Cheryl, some came out with the most patronizing remarks.

“Oh, I've read about Indians. Beautiful people they are. But you're not exactly Indians are you? What is the proper word for people like you?” one asked.

“Women,” Cheryl replied instantly.

“No, no, I mean nationality?”

“Oh, I'm sorry. We're Canadians.” Cheryl smiled sweetly.

Another woman, after being introduced to Cheryl, said, “Oh, we used to have a very good Indian maid. Such a nice, quiet girl and a hard worker, too.”

I suppose she meant it as a compliment but I felt like crawling into a hole, I was so embarrassed for Cheryl.

Then two men came along and one asked Cheryl what it was like being an Indian. Before she could reply, the other man voiced his opinion and the two soon walked away, discussing their concepts of native life, without having allowed Cheryl to say anything.

Cheryl and I shrugged to each other and I was wondering how she was taking it. The questioning stares didn't help either. Some of them had tried hard to smoothe things over, after realizing their initial blunders. But it was the fact that they felt they had to say something accommodating, that was the most annoying.

About an hour later, my discomforting thoughts of what people must be thinking were interrupted when I noticed the entrance of an actress we had seen recently at a theatre production. As I watched Mother Radcliff greeting her, I remembered her name. Heather Langdon. She seemed to know Mother Radcliff quite well. I saw Heather look around the room in anticipation. I noticed the satisfied look on her face when Bob appeared and kissed her on the cheek. They looked like they knew each other even better. I felt a twinge of jealousy and worry. Mother Radcliff spotted me just then and indicated I was to come over.

When I reached them, Mother Radcliff said, “April, I would like you to meet Heather Langdon. We saw her play the other night, remember?”

“Yes, I do. I enjoyed your performance,” I said as I shook her hand. What was the right thing to say to an actress?

“April, go find you sister. I am sure she would like to be introduced to Heather.” I was ordered. I obeyed.

I thought it was very nice of Mother Radcliff to give Cheryl the opportunity of meeting a beautiful and talented actress. I found Cheryl and brought her back to be introduced. I noticed an exchange of looks between Mother Radcliff and Heather. I couldn't read any meaning into it, though. Heather seemed to make a point of socializing with me for the rest of that evening and my initial worry and jealousy disappeared.

On Friday, Bob went to his office, so Cheryl and I had the whole day to ourselves. It started out being a good day. We talked about the people at the party, laughing and joking about their reactions. I found myself, feebly trying to explain their positions. Cheryl didn't buy it.

“You really like this new lifestyle of yours? I mean, deep down honestly? You like associating with these rich snobs?” she asked with sarcasm, the humor of a few moments ago, suddenly gone.

I think the only thing that really aroused me in those days, was when someone criticized me. So I answered, with equal sarcasm, “Cheryl, get off my case, will you? I don't ask you to live my kind of life. I know why you're doing this. You want me to take up your glorious cause. Well, I'm happy here. I love the parties and I do like the kind of people I meet. I love this kind of life and I have no intentions of changing it. So, go home. And live by what you believe in. But stop preaching at me. I admire your devotion and your confidence in native people, but to me, they're a lost cause. I can't see what anyone can do for them, except the people themselves. If they want to live in their run-down shacks that are overridden with flies, and who knows what else, and that stink of filth and soiled clothing and mattresses, and if they want to drink their lives away while their children go hungry and unclothed, then there's not much that can be done for them except to give them handouts and more handouts. So don't ask me…”

“How the hell would you know how they live? You wouldn't go near them if your life depended on it. Who are you to sit around up here in your fancy surroundings and judge a people you don't even know?” Cheryl cut in, now openly angry.

“I know because I looked for our parents in those kinds of places. So, don't tell me that I don't know what I'm talking about. I went…” I'd been shouting and I stopped abruptly, as I realized I had just revealed the search I had meant to keep secret.

Cheryl and I looked at each other for a few silent seconds and our tempers were forgotten. Then she said in a quiet, accusing voice. “You went to look for Mom and Dad? How come you never told me, April?”

I sighed and wondered which way to go. “There was nothing to tell I never found them. I came to a dead end. And later, when I thought it over, I figured it was probably just as well. Finding them would most likely have opened old wounds for them and for us.”

“What do you mean? It wasn't their fault. The Children's Aid had to take us because they were sick. You told me that. You told me Dad had tuberculosis and Mom just had poor health all the time. Anyhow, you should have told me. How did you know where to start? I thought of looking for them. That's one reason why I spend so much time down at the Friendship Centre, to listen for names.”

“Cheryl, I still think it's best to leave it alone. Just pretend that we never had parents. Leave all that behind us.” I thought that now was the time I should tell Cheryl what I already knew about our parents. They were liars, weaklings, and drunkards. That all the time we were growing up, there was a more important reason for them to live and that was their booze. But no. I couldn't do that to Cheryl. I couldn't tell her that alcohol was more important to our parents than their own daughters. I had given her cherished memories of them. I couldn't take that away now. They were too important for her. Those memories and her too idealistic outlook for the future of native people, those things helped her and gave her something to live for.

I added, “Pretend that we're orphans.”

“No! They're our parents, April! And we're not orphans!” Cheryl eyes blazed. “I want to see them again. Please, April? I have a right to make that decision for myself. You have to tell me where to begin. How do I find them? You've got to tell me, April.”

I silently argued with myself. The information I had was dated. Even the notations I had added were now dated. Chances of Cheryl finding our parents were so slim that I was sure she wouldn't find them. And because I felt that way, I relented.

“Okay, I guess you're right. Mr. Wendell is the one who gave me the old addresses and names. I guess they were places where our parents used to stay. A lot of the places have been torn down and I've marked that down so you won't have to go there. But Cheryl, when I went to those places and saw the living conditions, well, I would hold my breath so I wouldn't smell the stink or breathe in the germs. I'd try not to touch anything, everything was so dirty. And if they offered me anything to eat or drink, I'd refuse because I was sure their cupboards were infested with bugs. I'd back away from people so I wouldn't get their lice. I didn't feel sorry for them, Cheryl. All I felt was contempt. They were disgusting people. And maybe, just maybe, our parents are part of that. And if that's where we came from, I sure don't want to go back. That's why I'm happy with my life here. Happiness to those people was a bottle of beer in their hands. I vowed to myself then that no way was I ever going to end up like them or live in places like theirs. So, Cheryl, if you want to criticize me for my lifestyle, then go ahead, because if I can help it, I'm not ever going to change it.”

“Oh, April, I didn't know why you felt the way you did. I didn't mean to criticize you. I just wanted to rouse you out of your passive state. I just wanted you to be aware of who we are, what we are and what's been happening to us.”

“If you're referring to all the negative aspects of native life, I think it's because they allow it to happen to them. Life is what you make it. We made our lives good. It wasn't always easy but we did make it. And they are responsible for their lives.”

“I don't agree with you. We had a lot of luck in our lives. We've had opportunities which other native people never had. Just knowing what being independent is like, is an opportunity. But that's not the point right now. I still want to look for our parents. Okay?”

“I doubt that you'll find them after all this time, but okay.” I sighed and went over to one of my dressers. As I looked through the dresser drawers, I said, “They usually move from town to town from what I understand. I really think it's going to be a waste of your time.”

“Well, I've got to give it a try. Need some help looking? What do you need all these clothes for? I bet you don't wear half of them.”

“Critizing again, are we?. Here it is. My shoe box. Now this is classy, isn't it?” I held up an old shoe box where I had hidden away my past.

Cheryl looked through the papers and asked, “How come you kept all this stuff if you weren't planning to ever look for them again?”

“I don't know. Some deep, profound motive, I guess. Maybe my last link with my parents. Who knows?”

We copied the names and addresses down and Cheryl said confidently, “When I find them, I'll let you know. Wouldn't it be great to have a family reunion?”

I smiled. Realistically? Nothing could be worse.

This time, when Cheryl and I parted at the airport, I knew it was more realistic to acknowledge there would never be a complete honesty between us. And then again, as long as my mouth kept running over, I just might spill out everything I had tried to protect her from. Cheryl, on the other hand, had nothing to hide. For one thing, she never worried about what people thought of her. Only what she thought about them, was what mattered to her. She was like a stalk in a field of grain which never bent to the mighty winds of authority. At the same time, that stalk could bend to the gentle breezes of compassion. That was Cheryl.

CHAPTER 10

I watched her plane taxi down the runway and gather speed, until its wheels no longer touched the ground. I watched until I could see it no more. Suddenly, I felt so empty. So alone. Funny I should have felt that way when Bob was right there beside me. On the drive back home, he was as preoccupied with his thoughts as I was with mine so we didn't say much.

Sunday dinner that evening, was eaten in silence and not even Bob and his mother made any conversation. The atmosphere reinforced my feelings of loneliness. As usual, Bob and his mother retired to his office to plan the coming week's business strategy. I went upstairs to our room. I was restless and didn't know why, I turned the television set on but there were no programs which interested me. I left it on just for the sound of voices. I looked at a book, then another. That was no good either. It wasn't the first time I had felt this way but it was the worst. This bored restlessness which usually came after big parties or large gatherings. And now, Cheryl was gone. She was the one person with whom I felt completely relaxed and comfortable. Maybe if I had something of my own to do, something which involved…what? Useless, that's what I was. Bob had his business. Cheryl had her great cause. I had nothing. I had everything I ever wanted, yet I had nothing. Bob's mother and, therefore, I were on many charitable organizations but none of them grabbed my heart or loyalty. Bob and I had our group of friends but I felt I had access to them only as long as Bob was with me. Of course, I did find our own age group much more interesting than the older ladies with whom Mother Radcliff surrounded herself.

Cheryl and I wrote monthly letters to each other but the chasm between us had widened and there was less to say in our letters. I found that I was writing about Heather Langdon who had joined our crowd. I told Cheryl that I wanted to be more like Heather because she so enjoyed living. Then I scratched that part out and rewrote that Heather was a lot like Cheryl in that she lived by her own approval, not that of others. Just like Cheryl.

I guess Cheryl was having the same problem because in her letters, she dwelled on her ongoing search for our parents. Where I had spent a month of weekends and quit, she wouldn't. I worried. Then in May, her letter said that 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 began to arrive less and less frequently. When she did write, it was 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, comfortably, 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 Cheryl. 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 to say 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.