April Raintree (19 page)

In bed, I realized just how much I had suddenly learned to hate. It wasn't a natural emotion for me. I had known deep resentments but if I had been given choices, I would rather have been friends with people like the DeRosiers, Mother Radcliff and Heather. But a real, cold, deep hatred had crept into me and I knew that I wouldn't want to let go of it, not for the rest of my life. I wanted two of those men in particular, dead. By my hand. Yes, I wished with all my might that I could be the one to kill them and make their deaths prolonged and painful. And I knew exactly what I would do to them. Oh, how I wanted them dead! I had been touched by evil and from now on it would always be a part of me. Wanting three men dead was evil in itself, but, nonetheless, I wanted them dead.

Finally, I fell asleep. When I woke up, I saw the suitcases and the keys to the car but Cheryl wasn't there. She must have gone to get something to eat. I got dressed and went to the restaurant. She wasn't there but I had something to eat anyway. It was almost eleven p.m. when I got back to my room. Cheryl still wasn't there. Maybe she had gone for a drink. I looked in the mirror and hoped that most of the bruises would disappear within the week.

Cheryl came back about fifteen minutes later.

“You're awake. How long have you been up?”

“Almost an hour. How did it go?” I asked, purposely not asking where she had just been.

“Mark wasn't even there. He moved out, I guess. I was just down in the lounge. Are you hungry?”

“No, I just had something to eat down in the restaurant. I had a good sleep and I feel much better. I bought a newspaper and I was going to look through it but I wanted to talk to you first.”

“About what?” Cheryl asked, in a guarded tone, as if she had read my thoughts, concerning her drinking.

“Well, I'm supposed to get some money from Bob once the divorce goes through. We could buy ourselves a house. What do you think?”

“You mean you'll get enough money from Bob to buy a whole house?” she asked, incredulously.

“Well, beats buying a room at a time, doesn't it?”

Cheryl laughed and I explained further, “I'm not exactly sure how much it's going to be but I'm sure there'll be enough for a down payment.” I retreated to half-truths. I didn't know yet exactly how much I would be receiving but I was sure I'd be able to afford two average sized homes, maybe three. I really didn't know, right at this moment.

“Why not? Beats renting,” Cheryl shrugged.

“Good, we can start looking tomorrow.” I started looking through the Ad section of the newspaper, while Cheryl turned the television on.

“Do I get a say on where well live?” she asked, turning back to me.

“Of course. I don't have any strong preferences. I only know where I don't want to live.” I was glad she was interested.

Two weeks later I was enroute to Toronto, a day before my divorce hearing. I went to my place on Woodbine and settled up with the landlord, telling him that after the twenty-seventh, I would no longer be needing the place.

On Wednesday morning, plastered with make-up to cover my bruises, I met with my lawyer, Mr. Feldman, and we went to the courthouse together. Bob, Heather and Barbara Radcliff were all waiting outside the courtroom, so I made a special effort to be busy talking to Mr. Feldman to justify my ignoring them. Inside the courtroom, everything went smoothly, although I was nervous when I was on the stand. I also experienced feelings of hurt and regret when an acquaintance testified about the extramarital relationship between Bob and Heather. But when it was over, I felt almost smug since I was now financially independent, more so than I had ever been before in my life. I wasn't quite as smug as Heather, though. She had a possessive hold on Bob's arm, as we left. Remembering the rage I had felt on that day of revelation, I was tempted to go up to them all and say something terribly sarcastic and possibly cruel, but since I couldn't think of anything, I left quietly with Mr. Feldman. He told me that his fee could come out of the settlement as we had agreed and then I would receive the balance of the money through my bank within three weeks at the latest. Later that evening, I was on a flight back to Winnipeg.

Cheryl had continued looking for a house while I was gone for the few days. When I got back, she had found a house she liked on Poplar Avenue. It was close to Henderson Highway, Watt Street and the Red River. Come summer, we would be able to take walks and watch the boats. Ever since I had spend those long hours by the river when I was at the DeRosiers, I had found that water had a soothing effect. Sometimes, if I watched the water long enough, I got the feeling that it was I who was moving. I also loved to watch the birds circle overhead, diving now and then for morsels of food. I had spent many times on the shores of Lake Ontario, in the beginning, with Bob, and then later, by myself. I thought Cheryl's choice was a very good one and I asked the saleslady what the earliest possession date would be. Unfortunately, she said it wouldn't be until the first of March. That meant another month of living in a hotel room.

That same evening, Cheryl and I both settled in our room to watch television. I happily thought that things were shaping up. I interrupted Cheryl another time, to ask, “I can't wait for March 1st, eh? We'll have to go shopping for furniture and make sure they can deliver it by March 1st. Let's see, that's a Wednesday. Yeah, there shouldn't be any problems. Are you sure you want to take an upstairs bedroom? You could have the one on the main floor.”

“For the fifth time, April, yes, I'm sure. That way, you'll be close enough to the kitchen and when I come down in the morning, you'll have coffee and breakfast all ready for me. Right?”

“What? No morning paper beside your plate?” I asked.

“Oh yes, and the morning paper beside my plate,” she answered.

I threw a pillow at her.

Then she looked at her watch and said, “Hey, April, you want to go down to the lounge with me and have a few drinks? To celebrate finding ourselves a new home?”

I had noticed that she had grown fidgety and only then did I suspect why. An instant decision was required.

“Sure, sounds like a good idea.”

Later that night when we were both in bed, I was unable to go to sleep. I had no idea on how to deal with Cheryl. It appeared she really needed the drinks. Maybe she was an alcoholic. And. what would have happened if I had refused to go along with her? She'd been like a child asking me for a favor. Would she have reacted like a child and thrown a tantrum if I had not gone along? I thought that from now on, I would have to be careful with my words and reactions. That was the only way I knew how to deal with Cheryl.

I was also caught up in my own problem and spent hours thinking over the rape and its consequences. What would I and other ‘squaws' get out of my going to court? Maybe two years of safety from those particular rapists. Probably less, because hardly any criminal ever served a full sentence anymore. Rehabilitation, today, meant coddling the prisoners to the point of giving them every down-home comfort. Cheryl had told me of native men who did something illegal so they would land in jail for the winter months. So what was the big deal about going to prison? I sighed at the hopelessness of so-called justice. Mostly because there was nothing for the victim. Nothing, especially for victims of sexual assaults, except humiliation in and out of the courtrooms. Nothing but more taxes to put more luxuries into the penal institutions. To keep a single prisoner for a year cost more than what a security guard earned in that year. I had read that somewhere, once. So, where was the justice of it? The only consolation I could derive, was from killing them over and over again in my mind.

I had an appointment on February 8th, to see Mr. Lord, who was handling the real estate transaction for me. He was very happy to see me and, despite my fears that I would be embarrassed because of my divorce, everything went smoothly. When I came out of his office, it was almost noon. Roger Maddison came out of his office just then and he seemed not at all surprised to see me. I was wondering if he remembered me, his old verbal fencing partner, when he said in a pleasant voice, “Hello, April, how are you?”

“Hello, Mr. Maddison. I'm fine, thank you. And what about you?” I half expected that he would say something sarcastic.

“Fine. Alex told me you were coming in today.”

“Oh?”

“I was looking forward to seeing you again.” He smiled and then asked, “How about lunch?”

“Sure, okay, I'd like that.” I said, successfully hiding my astonishment.

I did most of the talking over lunch. He listened and drew more out of me with appropriate questions. He asked me if I would go out with him sometime. This gentle, concerned side of Roger, I hadn't seen before. I wondered why he had never gotten married. Then I wondered if he had gotten married.

“Have you ever been married?” I asked.

“No. I never found the lady I wanted to spend the rest of my life with.” He was about to say more but I interrupted him.

“That's funny. When I first saw you, I thought almost the same thing, except in a positive way…” I stopped, suddenly embarrassed that I would tell him that. “Sometimes, not often, though, my mouth doesn't quit.”

Roger was smiling.

“Well, I guess I'd better let you get back to the office. Thank you for the lunch.” I told him where I could be reached.

Before I headed back to the hotel, I bought several books for Cheryl and me. There wasn't much that one could do in a hotel room. I picked up a book called,
Bury My Heart at Wounded Knee
by Dee Brown. Cheryl would like that. Maybe it would keep her from going down to the lounge. Like that morning, she said she was going over to visit Nancy. But Nancy was supposed to have a steady job, so how come Cheryl was visiting her during the day? Maybe Nancy worked nights. Or maybe Cheryl was out drinking somewhere. No. Although Cheryl had a drink almost every day, she'd never been drunk or even appeared to be drinking. Maybe drinks to her were what coffee was to me. I couldn't get a day started without at least two cups of coffee.

On Thursday morning, Roger phoned to ask if Cheryl and I would like to have dinner at his place Friday evening. I told Cheryl about it, excited that he really had called.

“I really didn't think he'd call me.”

“Isn't this the same guy whose guts you used to hate when you worked at the law firm?”

“The same one. He's such a terrific person. Oh, you're not going to tell him about that tomorrow night, are you?”

“Don't worry. I'm not even going to be there tomorrow night,” Cheryl said, winking at me.

“Oh, but you have to.”

“Oh, but I don't. He really wants you there. I've got things to do. Besides, you don't need me to hold your hand.” I tried to change her mind but she wouldn't budge.

Friday evening started out with both Roger and I trying to make polite conversation. It wasn't like the lunch, where I only had a little time to say a lot. We had the whole evening ahead of us and this was more formal. I guess he was as uncomfortable as I was. After the meal, over coffee, I asked Mm, “Roger, how come you were so nasty to me when I worked there?”

“I liked you,” he smiled. That made me feel good. He added, “But I thought you were kind of snobbish, overly self-confident and…”

“All right, stop already. I get the idea. If you're going to give me a compliment, don't take it back. Anyways, that was no way to treat someone you liked.”

“I had to cut you down to my humble size. Teach you some respect. Then, we could have fallen madly in love.”

“There you go again. A replay of the past.”

“Well, the important thing is that I liked you then and I like you now.” I just knew he was chuckling inside.

“As I accidently said before, I liked you, too. But I also detested you. I detested liking you. Of course, if I had known you liked me then maybe things would have been different.” I thought I was sounding nervous, so I stopped.

“Yeah, a few more years, and I could have taught you all the respect you needed to know. But then that man, Robert Radcliff, was it, came along and swept you off your supercilious feet.”

“You can't use that adjective with feet. What kind of a lawyer, are you anyways?”

“A humble one, one unacquainted with high and mighty words. So tell me, why didn't Cheryl come tonight? Have you been telling her tales about me?”

“No, she just figured we ought to be alone, I guess. It was a very good meal. Where did you learn to cook?” I asked.

“I've been a bachelor for a long time. You were telling me about your marriage, care to tell me why the divorce,” he added, “while you do the dishes?”

“I don't do dishes,” I said in a haughty tone.

“There you go again, snobbish as ever, huh?” We both got up to do the dishes while I talked. I returned to being serious.

“Well, I divorced Bob on grounds of adultery. But that's not what had bothered me the most. It was my mother-in-law, actually, that I feel I really divorced. She didn't want to be grandmother to a ‘bunch of snivelling little half-breeds', as she put it.” By now, my mood had turned completely serious.

“Why would she say a thing like that? You're not Indian, are you?”

“No. I'm… a Metis.” I had to force those words out.

“And from the way you said that, I gather you're not real proud of it.” Roger had a hint of an understanding smile on his face but his eyes were serious.

“I'm not. It would be better to be full-blooded Indian or full-blooded Caucasian. But being a half-breed, well, there's just nothing there. You can admire Indian people for what they once were. They had a distinct heritage or is it culture? Anyway, you can see how much was taken from them. And white people, well, they've convinced each other they are the superior race and you can see they are responsible for the progress we have today. Cheryl once said, ‘The meek shall inherit the Earth. Big deal, because who's going to want it once the whites are through with it?'