Liar (10 page)

China stayed in the kitchen all evening, stirring and serving, while Sam roamed the community hall having a good time. She gave up when the interminable speeches and toasts to the anniversary couple started. She knew it would go on for a good two hours. The Grimshaws all loved to make speeches into the incompetent microphone that garbled their words and either over-amplified the sound or sunk it to a whisper so that no one could understand a word. She found Sam and asked him for the keys to the car.

“Sam, I’m going home,” said China.

“Are you sure?” asked Sam mischievously. “You’ll miss all the great speeches.”

“I’m positive.”

“Don’t you want to stay and help clear up the hall?”

“Sam, give me the keys before I pour a pitcher of lumpy gravy over your head.”

“Here,” said Sam relinquishing the keys with a grin. “I’ll memorize the speeches and recite them all to you in the morning.”

“I can’t wait,” said China wearily.

When she got home and checked her clothing she was amazed to find that her silk blouse and skirt were still clean and only two spots of grease had landed on her suede shoes. She vowed that when she attended the next community dinner she’d arrive at least an hour late, eat, get a terrible migraine and leave early.
No wonder so many of the Grimshaws are on welfare,
she thought.
With a community dinner to prepare almost every week for either a wedding, graduation, anniversary, Thunder Ceremony, funeral, or a statutory white holiday, they don’t have time to work. I know they used to have days of feasting in the old days but that was usually after a long winter of starving. They left starvation behind a long time ago judging by the size of them, and their susceptibility to diabetes.
China shook her head over the folly of traditions that didn’t apply in the modern world of plenty.

~ ~

The next day, Sam went duck hunting with Edgar Jim and his son, John Edgar. China walked the beach by herself, her eyes and lungs filled with the beauty and endless horizon. Why couldn’t she have it all? Why did she have to trade her family and friends and culture and shopping and scintillating conversation in order to have Sam. She tried to feel what it would be like with no Sam in her life and her stomach cramped with pain. She had thrown all caution to the winds in order to keep him and the packing and the moving and the talking about it all had made it seem glamourous, adventurous. Then she had arrived, came to a full stop and had to deal with a strange and frightening landscape. She had thrown away the familiar that had a shape and a knowingness that her new life had none of. The phone bill was huge when Sam was away. She called her friends and family, believing that if she talked about her life, she actually had one. She was cheerful and optimistic and described an island paradise, but when she hung up she was left with her loneliness.

She felt that Sam made no effort to understand her difficulty with living on the island. She expected him to be more sympathetic since he had experienced years of struggling to fit into the white world. Sam had changed the moment they were married and he set foot on Grimshaw Island. He had become himself. The self he had hidden for so long.

When Sam returned home he reported that he and his two companions, the mighty hunters, got one duck between them. Sam had made the mistake of telling John Edgar, sixteen years old, six feet and two hundred pounds, that he looked like a geek wearing a white beanie on his head.

“Sam,” said John Edgar, “if I were you, I wouldn’t insult a warrior with a loaded shotgun in his hand.”

~ ~

China and Sam watched TV in a stupor after too much salmon and wine.

“Sam,” asked China curiously, “did Marisa and Bear ever show up for the dinner last night?”

“Marisa showed up drunk as a skunk and I had to take her home. Booze and drunken Indians aren’t allowed at public meetings. I guess Bear made himself scarce. He doesn’t hang around Marisa when she’s on a binge.”

Sam changed the channel disgustedly.

“Stupid nigger,” he muttered.

“Don’t say that, Sam.”

“Why not? They call each other nigger.”

“They can say what they want. You can’t. I don’t like racist remarks.”

“I’m not racist.”

“How can you say that? Nigger is a racist slur as you very well know. It represents hundreds of years of slavery and horrible treatment.”

“Yeah, and now it represents ghetto gangs, and killing and rape and theft and a disgusting attitude.”

“Oh, did you ever know a black person?”

“Don’t need to. I read newspapers. Every day there’s another one of them arrested for some crime.”

“White people commit crimes too. Maybe if the attitude of people like you changed, they’d feel more comfortable in the world.”

“What about the First Nations? What about all the comfort we’ve received?”

“Yes, what about that? You’d think that after all that’s happened to you, you’d be much more understanding.”

“Since when have you become the defender of the black race?”

“What’s wrong with defending my beliefs?”

“Because you called me a racist. Because I think you should be loyal to me, not to some people you don’t know.”

“I guess you’ve forgotten that your granddaughter by marriage is a member of the black race?”

“It’s got nothing to do with her,” yelled Sam, with perverted logic. “She’s beautiful and smart and I love her and I’d never say the N word in front of her.”

“Thinking it is bad enough, Sam. And if you say it often enough, one of these days it’ll just slip out of your mouth like a nuclear bomb, right in front of her, and blast her world to pieces.”

China was now crying hysterically and she started to run upstairs. She turned around and yelled one more sentence at Sam.

“Charity begins at home!” China yelled between sobs.

She flew upstairs as quick as she could to escape the incomprehensible logic of her lunatic husband who had suddenly transformed into a demon.

No God, please no,
cried China silently
. Who am I living with? He’s angry with me for not hating like he does. I can blame my nonsense on PMS. What can he blame his on? He must be drunk and not in his right mind. Surely he doesn’t believe what he just said.

Sam followed her upstairs a bit later.

“All right,” he said begrudgingly, “I won’t say the N word again if you promise not to call me a racist.”

Okay,
thought China,
a shaky compromise. The first battle lines have been drawn. I had no idea that behind Sam’s cheerful demeanor lurked a redneck. He calls white racists rednecks. Indians used to be called redskins. The only word I can think of for Sam is ridiculous. We now have the first “unmentionable” in our marriage. A closed door never to be opened. Is marriage a series of closed doors?

~ ~

China went through the motions for the next couple of days. She and Sam acted as though the argument had never happened. However, China remembered it like a hand print etched in acid on her soul, and recorded it unhappily in her journal.

June 3/97

I’m at the door, blazing white, struggling with something I have difficulty naming. I’m in a foreign country trying to learn the language, knowing that fluency will never make me acceptable to the inhabitants. I stand in front of the door confused and betrayed by myself and him. It doesn’t matter who did what to me. What matters is that I must open this door, deal with what is on the other side. It is shaking my bones. I don’t know why I still hope that he’ll help me open the door because he’s more afraid of the other side than I am. If he doesn’t help me, then he is the door, and I must go through him.

China folded the laundry carefully, one of the domestic chores that soothed as her mind roared at Sam.
Where do you go when I tell you that you are less than what I need? What do you think about when you retreat, shamed by my clear cut vision? You listen, then withdraw quietly, looking somewhat rattled. You go about your business and wait for me to look at you again with gentle in my eyes.
She put his underwear and socks in his drawer.
Don’t you ever feel the need to apologize, tell me who you are? Do I hurt you when I throw back your reflection? Am I too harsh a mirror for your deception?
She folded his t-shirts, put yesterday’s soiled underwear in the hamper and hung up his trousers.
Will you leave me because my expectations wither you?
She cleaned the toilet rim of Sam’s yellow drops and thought of piss marks in the snow, bright and territorial.
I’m not here to scold and teach you how to live. I’m here to love and grow old with you. I can’t do it on my own. I need your help.

China looked at her reflection wearing yellow rubber gloves.
How long can I walk around pretending that I’m sane?
She removed the gloves and carefully applied eyeliner and mascara to camouflage the madness lurking in her eyes.

~ ~

China drove Sam to the seaplane. She was beginning to feel like a pit stop between trips. This time he was going to Northern Quebec.

“Sam, did you deposit the cheque from the Treaty Association in our account?” asked China.

“Yes,” replied Sam.

“What was the balance?”

“I don’t know. The bank was closed when I went.”

“Hello? You just told me you deposited the cheque.”

“I wasn’t listening.”

“Okay. I’ll ask you again.”

“I’ll deposit the cheque when I get to Halifax,” said Sam quickly.

China pulled into the gravel parking lot near the wharf. Sam gave her a kiss and ran down the ramp to the waiting seaplane. China sat there wondering how Sam had paid for his ticket. Sam wouldn’t have time to deposit the money in Halifax. He’d be lucky if he made the connection to Montreal. If Sam had paid the airfare by cheque, she was afraid it would bounce before Sam could deposit the money. She got out of the car and ran after Sam. She caught up with him just before he boarded the plane.

“Sam, give me the cheque and I’ll deposit it in the bank now,” said China. “I don’t want the cheque for the airfare to bounce.”

“I paid cash. Bear cashed the cheque for me yesterday.”

“Why the hell didn’t you say so?”

“I don’t know. I gotta go.”

China watched in astonishment as Sam boarded the seaplane.

She walked up the ramp slowly as the plane took off.

June 9/97

What was all that about? He said he put the cheque in the bank. Then he didn’t. Then he said he’d deposit it in Halifax. Then he said the cheque had been cashed by Bear. Why didn’t he just tell me the truth? Either he’s losing his mind or he’s just lying for fun.

Was Sam trying to perfect some kind of lying strategy? I don’t want to deal with, or make a decision, or commit myself right now, so I’ll put it off for awhile by seeming to agree, or give out information that has a kernel of truth in it but isn’t really the whole truth. Or, I’ll keep control of this information now so that I’ll have more room for manipulation in case the scenario gets a bit dicey down the road.

Sam must have perfected this ploy very early in life for protection and now he uses it whether he needs to or not. This withholding of information is sometimes appropriate when negotiating a contract or a life threatening situation but he seems to have no judgement as to when it is or is not necessary. Obviously, to Sam, every question, casual or serious, is a threat. A time bomb waiting to explode, loaded with too many possible answers.

China returned the journal to her pantie drawer and noticed that the contents were in a bit of a mess. She always separated the black underwear from the pastel colours, but they were mixed up.
No,
she thought as her heart thumped quickly,
surely he hasn’t read my journal again. He promised me.
China preferred to believe that she’d just been a bit careless. Perhaps her panties had just been disarranged when she quickly grabbed a pair this morning. China took her journal, went to the spare room and hid it between the mattress and box spring in the spare room. Just in case.

~ ~

The next day China shopped for groceries and gathered the mail. She smiled when she opened a letter from Tina and found an unusual book mark she had made. Tina had traced her little foot in construction paper, painted all the toe nails different colours, and had also painted rings and bracelets all over the foot. China kissed the toes and made a mental note to call Tina later and thank her. She opened the bank statement which unfortunately included a bounced cheque and drove home in a fury, her day ruined.

The phone was ringing when she got home and she rushed to answer it.

"Hi sweetheart," said Sam. "I forgot the cord to my computer. Could you send it by courier?"

“How about hanging yourself with it!” said China angrily.

“Are you angry about something?”

"Yes I am. Another cheque just bounced.”

"What do you mean?"

Sam always said that to gain time.

"I mean that the rent cheque just bounced," China repeated loudly.

"There's money in the account now. I transferred some yesterday."

"Yes," said China patiently, "but obviously there wasn't when the rent cheque was deposited. Would you please stop playing Russian Roulette! Stop writing cheques for money that isn't there!"

"It's there now. I gotta go. I'll call you later."

China slammed down the phone.

“Yeah, well, fuck you too!”

She careened around the kitchen making a soothing cup of tea as she tried desperately to summon the afterglow she had felt in Sam's arms a couple of days ago. She was always searching for the good and seemed to find it in a pile of mud, pulsing feebly. Once found, she fed it strength and belief until the next ugly mudslide.

She hollered out loud to her higher self.
"And don't patronize me by saying it was a lesson I needed to learn! This is a lesson he needs to learn and I hope he doesn't belittle my collusion with failure. Now fuck off and leave me alone!"

June 12/97

Why should I have to lower my standards in order to love Sam? Why can’t he raise his? There’s a big difference between compromise and lying down so Sam can stomp all over me. The pacifists tell me to turn the other cheek. The capitalists tell me to buy, buy, buy and pay the minimum. The result is emotional and wallet bankruptcy. I went bankrupt once, financially, and many times, emotionally. It costs too much either way.

The doorbell rang and China opened the door to find Carrie standing there.

“Hi Carrie, would you like to come in?” asked China.

“No thanks, I’m going for a walk. I thought you’d like to come.”

“Sure,” said China grabbing her jacket.

“I thought we’d drive over to the west side of the island. It’s rockier there but there’s also lots more sea urchins. My supplies are getting low.”

China grinned. Carrie had sold several of the ‘Sea Women’ and now she wanted to send some to her cousin in Halifax who had a craft store.

They drove in companionable silence for a while until Carrie turned the car onto a narrow dirt road that China had never seen.

“How come I’ve never seen this road before?” she asked.

“I don’t know,” replied Carrie. “It’s been here for a long time.”

“Sam’s been too busy to really show me the island.”

“How’s he doing?” asked Carrie gingerly.

“He’s fine. He’s gone to Quebec for a couple of weeks.”

“I felt so sorry at the Thunder Ceremony.”

“It was pretty awful.”

China didn’t want to be reminded of how everyone in that room, six hundred of them, had been shamed. Everyone had seemed bewildered by what had happened, shaking their heads and repeating over and over again that this had never happened before. For the rest of her life China would feel frustrated that she’d sensed disaster coming and couldn’t stop it. And she had sensed only a small part of it. She wondered if Carrie had known more. Carrie who was part of life in the village and not just living on the fringes as China was.

“Don’t worry China,” said Carrie reassuringly. “Being a Chief doesn’t mean very much these days. The title is about as important as mister or missus. Dan Black is no good and he’ll eventually get what’s coming to him.”

“Well, I know one thing,” said China unhappily. “It had a powerful effect, whatever the eventual outcome.”

Carrie dropped the subject and they soon pulled in a clearing in the trees.

“Oh,” exclaimed China. “I haven’t been to this beach. It’s beautiful.”

“That husband of yours should take you out a bit more,” said Carrie.

“He hasn’t even taken me fishing yet,” complained China.

“Grimshaw women don’t like to go out on the boats with their husbands.”

“Why not?”

“Sometimes they don’t come back,” grinned Carrie.

China looked at Carrie with astonished green eyes and Carrie burst out laughing.

“Honestly, it has happened a few times in the past. Suddenly a big wave comes up out of nowhere and takes the wife, but only if she’s been a terrible nag, or is particularly ugly,” explained Carrie.

“Sometimes when I hear all these stories, I don’t know whether to believe them or not.”

“Isn’t there always a bit of truth in every story?” asked Carrie.

“I suppose,” admitted China.

Carrie pulled a plastic bag out of her pocket, a standard piece of equipment when walking on Grimshaw Island, and started gathering sea urchins. A plastic bag was also a standard piece of equipment when walking in Toronto, if you were walking your dog. China much preferred the gatherings offered up by the sea.

~ ~