The Daughters' Story

by Cyr, Murielle;

  Nadine ran her finger along the velvety smoothness of the scar on her thigh. It had taken on the shape of a malicious eye when she was a kid. She’d imagine a horrid creature lurking beneath the whitish membrane, keeping watch on her, inflicting punishment for every wrong move or rebellious thought. Never had she spoken of that horrible day to anyone. The policeman who had come to question her at the hospital had only gotten a nod or a head shake out of her. It had taken her two long months before uttering a single word after Aunt Jan came to fetch her. She had guarded the memory of that day like a talisman, and as a child would curl up in bed with her hand over her scar. It was a pain that linked her to her mother, shared by no one but them.

  Footfalls along the hallway. Lisette was up early. Sleep was difficult in the last month of pregnancy and her worries about Serge didn’t help matters. Nadine wished for a magic wand that would swish all her daughter’s troubles away.

  A sudden thought surfaced. She sat up straight.

  The memory of her mother’s murder had to be set free.

  Claire had been a fun-loving woman who probably wouldn’t have wanted her daughter to remember her as a victim. Had she survived, she would’ve shrugged off what happened and continued revelling in and dancing to the music she so loved. Keeping the horrific event secret only served to feed her pain, allowing the blood dream to return. Same as her silence about Grandpa Pritchart—better to have screamed it to the heavens and let the pieces fall where they may.

  She had blocked out her past self, thinking the hurt would disappear along with the memory. A new name. A new life. No connections with her past. But the pain had lived on, ploughing into her dreams or usurping a quiet, tender moment. By locking the pain inside of her, she had made it an integral part of her being. The time had come. Open wide the windows. Release those hurtful memories and strip them of their control over her.

  She got up and reached for her housecoat. She’d begin with her daughter. You owe me, Lisette had told her when they first met. The girl was right. Whatever pain Lisette had experienced growing up was because of her. Making up for all those lost years Lisette had grown up unwanted and unloved wasn’t possible, but she’d start by opening up and being honest no matter what.

  Lisette was in the kitchen flipping pancakes. The percolator was brewing and the table set for two.

  “You’re up bright and early.” Nadine sat down at the table.

  Lisette glanced at her over her shoulder. “Couldn’t sleep. Thought I may as well start on my paper.”

  “Don’t forget the new health insurance plan comes into effect today. You’ll have to register with them to get your health card.” Nadine’s stomach tensed.

  Stop avoiding the subject. Say it now or you’ll put it off again.

  “Thanks for preparing all this”—she looked up at the clock—“but I never eat anything this early. Coffee is my big breakfast item.”

  “Not a problem.” Lisette switched the burner off, brought the platter of steaming pancakes to the table, and slid a few onto her plate. “These are still good cold with jam or peanut butter.”

  Nadine went to the kitchen to pour two mugs of coffee and came back to the table. She waited until Lisette had finished eating and had reached for her coffee before speaking. “I’ve been meaning to tell you something. We’ve been so busy getting things organized here, and then there was the funeral… it never seemed to be the right moment.”

  “That’s the same tone of voice social workers would use when they moved me to a new home.” She shot Nadine a questioning look. “They always found something I had to work on to make things easier for everybody. So what did I do wrong this time?”

  “Nothing.” She shifted in her chair. “You’ve done nothing wrong. Remember when you asked me if I knew anyone on my mother’s side who had eye problems?” She wrapped her hands around her mug. “I’ve never met my mother’s family, so I wasn’t sure.”

  “No big deal.” Lisette elbowed her plate aside and poured milk in her coffee. “My eye doctor wanted to make sure before he operated.”

  “I should’ve told you this before. But… you being so close to giving birth, I didn’t want you worrying. Still, you have a right to know.”

  Lisette pulled her eyeglasses off and wiped them with the hem of her nightie. “These stupid things are always dirty no matter how often I clean them. Sometimes I see blotches and I’m never sure if it’s my eyes or my glasses.” She glanced up. “You were saying?”

  “Well… Papi tells me that Grandpa Pritchart died of a rare kidney disorder which affected… his eyesight and… his hearing.” She paused a moment to consider her words. “He was practically deaf and blind before he died. It’s some kind of genetic thing that only female children can inherit.”

  Lisette yawned. “That’s too bad for the old guy. Good thing we’re not related—Hey! What’s that face for? It’s not as if it’s a great revelation. Grandma Stella did tell me John Pritchart wasn’t your real father. So, what’s the big deal?”

  Nadine looked down at her feet. “Did she say that? Uncle Denis said something along those lines at the funeral. I never did feel I was part of the family but I never knew for sure. Nobody ever spoke about it—not to me.”

  Relax. Breathe in.

  She’ll hate me. But she needs to know.

  It’s now or never.

  “It’s a small consolation, in a way, knowing it wasn’t my own father who killed my mother.” She squared her shoulders. “Not that it makes her murder less morbid.”

  An ache in the back of her throat made her pause. She was about to rip her insides apart to reveal a secret that had been lodged inside her so long it defined who she was. A splinter embedded deep under her skin that only pain could dislodge. “I understand that you’d rather not hear anything negative right now, but bear with me on this.”

  “Wait a minute.” Lisette raised her palm and pushed her chair back. “If I have to hear something depressing, I better get a refill.” She headed to the stove and came back with the percolator. She topped up their mugs and sat back down. “OK. I’m ready for your doom and gloom.”

  “I always figured I’d hurt too many people if I said anything about this—” She stopped and stared down at her mug. “Now that I have you back in my life, I don’t want to risk losing you by keeping this from you.” She clenched her coffee mug to steady the slight tremor in her hands. “Uncle Denis often sent me to stay with his mother when I was a kid. Grandpa Pritchart was away a lot working the trains. Grandma stayed in bed often because of her heart condition and she’d always been too nervous to stay by herself. I’d take the bus straight from school on Friday afternoons and spend the weekend with her. When Grandpa wasn’t around, she’d let me eat all the cake I wanted for breakfast and we’d sometimes hop on the tramway to go eat a Pogo at Eaton’s basement restaurant. Grandpa was always a little scary to me—tall and wide-shouldered with hard fingers that left red marks on my back when he hugged me.”

  She paused to sip her coffee. Lisette’s eyes were glued on her, waiting for her to go on.

  “One Sunday afternoon when I was fifteen, he came back reeking of alcohol from a double Toronto-Montreal run. I was in Grandma’s room reading to her. He handed Grandma her sedatives, though she wasn’t due to take them till much later. Then he grabbed the book from me. ‘I got you a nice dress from Toronto,’ he told me. ‘Show me what it looks like on you.’ I remember thinking I had just enough time to try it on before catching the next tramway home. The dress was too clingy and low-cut for my liking and I yanked it off. I was standing in my underwear ready to put my clothes back on when he threw open my bedroom door. The way he stood staring made me want to run. I yelled at him, ‘Wait, Grandpa, I’m changing.’ But he stepped forward instead and closed the door behind him.”

  Lisette’s mouth fell open. “The slimy old prick. I hope you kicked him where it counts.”
>
  “I remember grabbing my sweater to cover myself and shouting at him to get out. He put his hand over my mouth. ‘French whore,’ he kept repeating, ‘just like your bitch of a mother.’ He shoved me onto the bed, and… after he—” She looked away. “After he zipped his pants back up, he turned to me and said, ‘If you don’t want to kill off your grandmother, you better keep your slutty mouth shut.’”

  Nadine sprang up and bolted to the sink, a crippling wave of nausea surging through her. She leaned her head down, splashing cold water on her face.

  Lisette hadn’t touched her coffee the whole time Nadine had spoken. She fumbled with her mug, brought it to her lips, then put it down without drinking. “You never told anyone?”

  Nadine shook her head and straightened, staring out the window. “I knew he’d deny it all. And he was right about Grandma. It would’ve been the end of her. He was her rock.”

  “Not even a word to Aunt Jan?” She reached for her mug again, hesitated, and pushed it away. “It must’ve eaten you up. Especially if you had to face the old prick.”

  “I swore he’d never touch me again. I invented a whole bunch of excuses to avoid seeing him—and I didn’t, not once, after that afternoon. That meant not seeing Grandma either, but that was the price I had to pay. By the time December came along, Aunt Jan figured out the reason for my sudden weight gain. She didn’t argue when I refused to go to Grandma’s Christmas dinner. Come January, Uncle Denis drove me to the maternity home. I never saw any of them again till after that chance meeting with Papi.” She stopped to think. “I take that back. That isn’t quite true. I came across Uncle Peter about a year or so after I left.”

  “The old bastard got you pregnant?” Lisette leaned back in her chair and folded her arms across her belly, incredulous. “I see now why you’d drop his family name.” She thought a moment, studying Nadine. “Getting an abortion those days must’ve been pretty risky.”

  “Never. It never once crossed my mind. I stayed nine months at the maternity home.”

  “But you were carrying your rapist’s child.” Lisette straightened in her chair. “Hey. Wait a minute. That means—”

  Nadine turned to face her. “Yes. That old bastard was your father.”

  Lisette pushed her chair away from the table and stood up, a pained look in her eyes. “But you said—” She gripped the back of her chair. “He had—” She ripped her glasses off and slammed them on the table. “I’ve got the same thing he had, right?” She reached up and touched her eyes. “I’m going to be deaf and blind, same as him. And the baby, what about my baby?”

  “You can’t be sure.” Nadine stared down at her feet. “If they know what to look for, maybe they can—” Her head shot up at the sound of her daughter’s erratic breathing. She stepped towards her, a heaviness in her chest and arms. A hot rage surged through her at the power Grandpa Pritchart still held to inflict pain on her, and now, on her daughter. She reached out to wrap her arms around her, but Lisette shoved her away and stomped towards her room, slamming the door behind her.

  Nadine lowered herself back down in her chair and fumbled with her coffee mug. Her throat burned and her knees felt weak. The horrible secret that had festered inside her and defined her existence for the past twenty years was finally out. She felt a lightness in her chest, but at the same time, saddened at the pain it had inflicted on her daughter. Had she been right to tell her? Would the ugly truth destroy the closeness she had so longed for? Lisette’s anguish was understandable. Her dream of having a normal family life was crumbling day by day. A lover who prioritized his political ideals before her needs. The possibility that she and her child might have inherited a crippling disease. Her daughter needed someone to support her and she was ready to climb mountains to do so.

  She reached out for the tepid mugs of coffee and shuffled to the sink. She had to get ready for work. Lisette would have time to wrap her mind around all this while Nadine was gone. Monday wasn’t a busy day at the office. She’d catch up on her paperwork and leave a little earlier to come home in time to have supper with her.

  She reached into the back of the closet and pulled out a brown leather skirt she had bought on a whim a few months back. It had looked OK on her at the store, but when she tried it on at home she noticed how it inched up higher on her lap when she sat down, exposing the scar on her thigh. To avoid questions, she had always worn clothes that hid both scars. The reflection she now saw in the mirror made her appear elegant—a woman ready to face the world. She took a deep breath and rooted in the closet for one of the more feminine blouses she reserved for home.

  Chapter 26

  Nadine had started giving Aunt Jan a quick call on her lunch break since Grandma Stella’s funeral. Her aunt mourned the loss not only of a beloved mother-in-law, but also a close friend and confidant. Her health had taken a bad turn, leaving her without an appetite and drained of energy. Her heart condition made her doctor reluctant to prescribe more drugs, advising complete rest instead. Nadine called every day to encourage her to heat up whatever meal Uncle Denis had prepared for her before he left for work.

  The day’s busy schedule had only allowed Nadine to phone Aunt Jan at the end of the afternoon. Papi’s voice on the other end took her by surprise.

  “My inspections at the camps didn’t take as long as I thought. I don’t deal much with workers’ conditions anymore. It’s more about checking the kind of mess left behind by their heavy machinery. On a more cheerful note, how’s my granddaughter doing?”

  “Besides worrying about her boyfriend and stressing over her schoolwork, I’d say she’s slowly getting used to me. I still can’t get over having her living with me. I missed you at the funeral on Saturday.”

  “My pickup broke down on the way. I was lucky it happened not far from a mechanic friend of mine who got it working again. I finally made it here last night.”

  “Are you in town for long?”

  “Well… I’ve decided to move closer to my family. I’ll be apartment hunting near here. Janette insists I stay with them until I find something. That daughter of mine had me worried, but she’s looking a little better today. She’s having a hard time letting go. She was the same when my mother died. Even when we know a loved one is reaching the end, it doesn’t make the loss any easier.”

  “It’ll be great to have you close. Why don’t you all come for supper tomorrow? Aunt Jan and Lisette already met at the funeral, but it’d be nice for you to meet her too.”

  “Janette’s resting right now. But I doubt I’ll have to twist her arm about the invitation. It’ll do her good to get out.”

  “And how is Uncle Denis doing? He’s never home when I call.” She didn’t mention that her calls to Aunt Jan were planned for the times when she knew he’d be out.

  “He won’t let her do anything for herself. It gets on Janette’s nerves, so she’d rather he go to work. We all have our own way of dealing with grief.”

  “He wasn’t too happy to see me at the funeral. But I hope he decides to come tomorrow.”

  “We have to give him time to adjust.”

  Nadine drew her breath, remembering how Uncle Denis had made a point of avoiding her at the funeral parlour, heading off towards other mourners whenever she approached him.

  Nadine left Lisette talking with Aunt Jan and headed down the stairs of the funeral parlour to the restrooms. She noticed Uncle Denis at the coffee counter and crossed the room, relieved to see nobody else was around.

  “Uncle Denis.” Her voice low, her knees weak.

  He slid the coffee pot back into the machine, his face hardening when he saw her.

  “I’m so sorry about your mother. She was the kindest grandmother.”

  He glared at her. “But she wasn’t, was she?”

  “What do you mean?” She gave him a puzzled look. “Not kind, or not my grandmother?”

  He reached for t
he milk. “She was never unkind.”

  Nadine clenched a fist behind her back. He might make it hard for her and Aunt Jan to see each other, but he’d never remove Grandma Stella from her heart.

  “She’s the only grandmother I ever knew. I adored her.”

  “You sure made that clear. Not a word. Not even a phone call in twenty years.”

  He took his coffee and went to sit at a table near the stairs. She swallowed hard and followed, sitting across from him and staring down at her lap. He was right. Neglect, foolish pride or cruel indifference—guilty on all counts—she could’ve set it aside once in a while and called. She knew that now. It had taken a chance meeting with Papi to figure out that trying to escape her past was a lost cause—that it had made her who she was. Denying painful memories only made you tighten your grip on them and blocked you from moving forward.

  “All that worrying about you wore Janette down. The loss of our son almost killed her, but when you disappeared too, her health went downhill.”

  “I’m sorry about that.”

  “A bit late for that.” He slid his coffee aside and walked towards the stairs, pausing before going up. “By the way, my lawyer is still waiting for that release form he sent you.”

  “I’ve been meaning to take care of that. I’ve been busy trying to help my daughter—”

  “It only takes a second to sign a form.” He gripped the handrail. “I don’t want to hear anything about that bastard kid of yours. Janette’s already calling her our grandchild. I won’t have it. She’s nothing to me and never will be.” His voice, menacing. “You said you’d sign that release but I should’ve known it was all lies. Peter and I have been trying to settle this for close to twenty years. If you want to see Janette again, you better move on it.” He stormed up the stairs before she had a chance to reply.