Through Different Eyes

by Karen Charleson

  “I’ve only really decided in the last few days, Saul. I needed the holiday time to think. I quit that job at DIA. You know I’ve always hated it. And the principal at the school at home asked me if I’d be willing to work. I thought about it a lot, and I think this is a good chance for me to stay home for a while.”

  “You didn’t tell me any of this.”

  “You’ve been busy. I didn’t want to mess up your planning and preparing and everything.” Monica knew that Saul was just big-headed enough to buy at least part of an excuse like that.

  “When did you quit your job? I don’t understand, Monica. You were going to transfer to their Ottawa offices.”

  “No,” Monica corrected him. “I wasn’t going to transfer. You thought it would be a good idea. I hated that job in Vancouver. Why would I want the same job in Ottawa?”

  “I wish that you told me all of this sooner. You wouldn’t necessarily need to stay in the same job, for heaven’s sake.”

  Saul always acted like he knew everything about the Department of Indian Affairs. If she didn’t speak up quickly, Monica knew that he would begin a long round of explaining to her exactly how the bureaucracy worked. “It’s too late now,” she said. “I’ve already quit. And I’ve already committed to something else. I’m starting on Monday at the school. I promised.”

  “This is coming as a complete shock to me, Monica. I can’t believe you’re unloading this news on me at this late date when I am frantically organizing my notes and papers. I start at Carleton on Monday, you know.” He emphasized every syllable of “Carleton.”

  “Saul, you’re shouting.” Monica felt herself growing more and more annoyed. She gulped the coffee. “I said I was sorry. I know I should have told you sooner.”

  “We’ll figure this out,” Saul said in a slightly quieter voice. “You need to come over here, at least to pack your stuff. Get the first ferry in the morning. It’s only a day, but it will have to do.”

  “I am not going to Vancouver, Saul. There’s no time,” Monica said firmly. “I’ve taken what I wanted already. I don’t want the rest of the stuff.”

  “What am I supposed to do? Clean up your mess?” Saul sounded furious.

  Monica knew that she had not left any “mess,” as he called it. Everything remaining in that apartment, in another circumstance, Saul might have argued belonged to him.

  “Are you insane?” Saul roared into the phone. “I have to fly out in one day. I’m going to be jet-lagged as hell on my first day at my new position. And that, Monica, is thanks to you. This apartment is just going to sit here. I’m supposed to throw my money away paying rent because you couldn’t be bothered to pack?”

  It was tempting to react to Saul’s anger, and indeed, Monica felt herself moving closer to doing so. Bolder than outrage though, out of the wisps of foggy uncertainty that still clouded her mind, an understanding emerged that was quite clear. She simply did not care enough to grapple any longer. She was even able to hear some of their conversation from a distance. Her voice remained flat.

  “Listen to me, Saul. I do not want anything from the apartment. I am not coming to Vancouver. I am starting work — just like you — on Monday. In Kitsum. I need to stay home for a while. I do not need to move to Ottawa.”

  “So you’ve made all these big decisions on your own, eh?” Saul’s voice was now dripping with sarcasm.

  “They are my decisions, and I have made them. Yes. Good luck at Carleton.”

  “We need to discuss this, Monica.”

  “That’s what we’re doing.”

  “Not on the phone, for God’s sake. You need to be here where we can talk face to face.”

  “Well, I’m not, Saul. That’s just how it is. I have to go.”

  “Monica, please, please…come to your senses.”

  “Saul, I’m hanging up now. This call is costing me a fortune.”

  Monica hung up the receiver. Saul could blame her all he liked. She just could not listen to him anymore. Saul would convince himself — he was already well on the way to convincing himself — that she had blindsided him. He had ignored every signal that she had sent him over the past few months. He was so wound up in his career and his new move that he could not see anything else. She began to pace up and down in the small hotel room.

  She was so tired of explaining. She had spent the last five years beside Saul and every year — every single fall — he had failed to remember why the first major rainstorm made her feel so sad. As though she had never articulated a single thing about it, she had to once again explain to him why she just wanted to stay in at that time of year and talk on the phone to Ruby or Brenda, or why she did not want to go out to dinner or a movie to “cheer up” or “take her mind off things.” He never saw that by forcing her to undertake all that explaining, he had altered her feelings for him beyond recognition. She was exhausted. She did not want to explain anymore.

  It was not until she was safely back at Martin and Ruby’s that the world of Saul and Vancouver fully receded. Apparently, Saul had telephoned shortly before she had gotten back, with instructions for her to return his call as soon as possible. Monica laughed as Ruby mimicked the words and tone. Her older sister had become quite good at imitating Saul over the years. Neither of them displayed the slightest expectation that Monica should actually heed the directive.

  While Ruby cooked supper, Monica recited almost the entire phone conversation of the previous evening for her. Ruby nodded, shook her head, and winced at what Monica considered all the appropriate times.

  “You know, Rube, I don’t even feel like Saul and I have split up. It’s like it has been a long path toward ending, and I’ve only finally reached the exit. I should feel bad — and I do in a way — but mostly I am just glad that the arduous journey is over.”

  “I guess that’s why you and him never got married, eh? Never had any children?” Ruby was not really expecting an answer. She had understood everything that her younger sister had told her and she had understood more besides.

  “Yeah.” Monica realized that her eyes were welling up. “Yeah, I guess.”

  Monica waited until Brenda went back upstairs that evening. She tapped lightly on her door and entered the familiar bedroom.

  “Bren, I got the job. I’m staying.”

  It was Brenda’s old smile that responded to her news. There was the hint of perfect white teeth, the raised cheeks, and the glistening round eyes that she knew so well.

  Then those eyes narrowed slightly. “You fighting with Saul or something?”

  “I wouldn’t say fighting.” There was no point in trying to hide the situation from her niece. “We’re more or less over. He got this wonderful job in Ottawa.”

  “More or less?”

  Monica smiled. Unknowingly, her niece had just assured her that she had done the right thing. “Okay, we have definitely split up. I’m just not so sure what Saul thinks.”

  “Do you care?”

  “Some. That’s the best I can do. I hope things work out for him and everything. He’s a good guy in his own way. I just can’t be a part of it, that’s all.”

  Brenda appeared deep in thought. “Yeah, I can see that,” she finally responded. “Still it must feel kind of funny, kind of lonely without him. You’ve been together for a while now.”

  On occasions like this, Brenda reminded Monica of Ruby. She was sensitive; she was smart; she was insightful and compassionate. Brenda might have displayed those characteristics somewhat sporadically in the past, but she was definitely growing into them.

  “It feels good though,” Monica admitted, “to be Saul-free.”

  “Saul-free.” Brenda tried out the new word. They both laughed.

  “Actually, I ran into Michael in Campbell River, Brenda.”

  The laughter died abruptly. “Did you talk to him? Was he by himself?”

&
nbsp; The newfound maturity that Monica had marvelled at in Brenda had vanished. “Yes, he was by himself. And yes, I talked to him.”

  “What did he say?”

  “Nothing new. I can’t remember his exact words this time. He feels bad and he said that he was sorry for what happened with you, Bren.”

  “And?”

  “Well, I believed him when he said that he was sorry. He doesn’t seem like a liar.”

  “So what’s he going to do?”

  “I don’t know, Bren. He seems to think that there isn’t anything he can do. He’s got the idea that leaving you alone is for the best.”

  “How does he figure that?”

  Her niece’s face was turning red; her voice was growing louder. “Listen,” Monica said. “He’s a lot older than you. You’re sixteen and he’s…twenty-three or twenty-four, I’m guessing. That’s a lot.”

  “I’m not a kid.”

  “I know. What I’m trying to say is that Michael has been living on his own for who knows how many years. He’s in another world. He likes you — he said so — but he’s got all these experiences behind him that tell him a long-term relationship for the two of you is just not going to work. I can’t help it, Bren. I agree with him.”

  “Did he say all that?” Brenda was justifiably suspicious.

  “No,” Monica admitted. “Those are my thoughts.”

  “But he said that he liked me?”

  “Yeah.”

  Brenda knew as well as Monica that “like” was not such a strong word and that it was not close at all to what Brenda desired.

  “He must think that I’m a fool.” Brenda was near tears.

  “I don’t think so. I mean that I didn’t get that impression at all. He said that you were a nice girl. He seemed to respect that.”

  “Oh God!” Brenda was now crying.

  Monica wanted to hug her niece and erase every word that she had uttered.

  “Brenda,” Monica spoke firmly. She could not leave her niece like this, not this time. She had to come up with something. “There’s nothing for you to feel badly about. You are a beautiful, smart, and talented young woman. You’re still growing up. Believe me, I know. I remember what it was like to be sixteen. I remember what it was like to flirt and fool around with guys, older guys.”

  “Yeah, but you didn’t end up pregnant.”

  “No…no, I didn’t. I was lucky. By sheer chance, I did not get pregnant. But you know, Bren, I have been doing a lot of thinking these days. Thinking about long-term relationships and what makes them work. What goes into a good marriage, you know? Well, I always think of your mom and dad. They are role models for me. In the last year — maybe longer — I have been comparing me and Saul to your mom and dad. What I had with Saul didn’t even come close to what Ruby and Martin have together. There’s loads of stuff I don’t like about Saul, but that’s not it. I could have lived with all that if we had cared about each other the way your mom and dad care about each other.

  “I’m telling you about all this for a reason, Brenda. It’s got me thinking. My own relationship with Saul — why was I getting the short end of things? Didn’t I deserve what Ruby had? A good husband who loves her unquestioningly, who wants and prides himself on the family they have together.

  “I do deserve that. That’s what I decided. And you deserve it too. More than some casual relationship like with Michael. You deserve something that is deep and lasting. And that is what you will get too. Not this time, but that’s not never. You’ve got to give yourself time. Hell, I’m twenty-seven years old, and I haven’t found it. Not yet.”

  Brenda had almost stopped crying and was staring intently at her aunt.

  “Bren, I want to tell you something else, too. I do understand. I mean it. I see what you found attractive about Michael. I mean, there was a moment when I could definitely see shaking my tail for that.”

  Brenda looked horrified for a brief second, then fell back onto her bed chuckling. Monica laughed along with her, but largely out of relief. The last thing she needed to do was depress her niece even more, and for a while the conversation had looked like it was heading in that direction alone. They had made it through. Now all Monica had to do was escape the bedroom as quickly as possible. Then she would not have to mention lunch with Michael at all.

  TEN

  January passed slowly, the way it always did. Everyone you saw, everyone who called, they all seemed a little subdued, a little quieter than usual. People were less enthusiastic, less motivated, less ambitious about things. The spring was still a long ways away, and there was nothing much to feel excited about. It was like that every year. Short days, made even duller by the constant grey clouds and rain, piled atop one another. Sometimes they got a spell of freezing weather at this time of year, when all the puddles and ground froze up, and when afternoon hours of sunshine made everything glisten and sparkle. There was no sign of that this year, at least not yet. The whole world remained grey.

  Charlie’s annual winter visit was over for another year. Nona kept expecting Monica to leave. The snow that had fallen between Christmas and New Year’s had dissolved. Only on television did snow float like feathers to rest gently upon the ground. On the West Coast, snow was mostly so saturated with water that it became a heavier, more cumbersome form of rain. Still, the roads were clear and Monica’s car stayed parked outside the Joe house.

  Shortly after school started up again, Carolyn phoned with the news that Monica was now working there. Carolyn had the janitor job at Kitsum Elementary. She had been shocked to find Monica helping Gary in one of the classrooms after school hours.

  Monica had seemed cheerful enough, Nona thought. She had stopped by only a week before to invite her to a New Year’s Day lunch across the way. Nona knew that she should have gone over, but on that first day of 1986, she was feeling especially depressed about Charlie and the kids leaving. They had been home for Christmas just as she had wished, but then they had left too, only a few days after they had arrived. It was the darned winter ferry schedule that made them leave so early. Nona had given Monica an excuse about not feeling well. Polite as ever, the young woman had offered to check up on her later. Nona had waved her off, and had assured her that it was nothing serious. Monica had not said a thing about staying in Kitsum or about working at the school.

  Nona had just seen Martin at the store, too. He had not said much other than to ask about Charlie and his family’s travel arrangements. He had offered to drive her home with her bags though, so she had bought extra flour. The general store and post office were situated at the very end of the village, across the Kitsum River. The building was just off the reserve where the present storekeeper’s father had built it when Nona was still a young child. Like his father before him, Jimmy Craig sold groceries, hardware, engine parts, and fishing supplies. His customers were the people from Kitsum, and occasionally, fishermen and boaters from elsewhere. Prices were high, and Jimmy was pretty tight about credit, but his store was a lot closer and more convenient than having to wait for a trip into Port Hope to get supplies. He was also the only way to get mail. Jimmy’s father had gotten the post office soon after he had set up his store.

  Nona remembered tagging along with her mother during her infrequent visits to the store; mostly it was her father who would go there to deliver fish. Old Man Craig used to buy fish and sell fuel for the boats that day-fished out of Kitsum. When he passed away, Jimmy had let that go. He told the fishermen that he just could not keep offering the same fish prices as they did in Port Hope. When Nona’s mother would go to the store, she would ask for flour, baking powder, potatoes, tea, biscuits, and sometimes near the holidays — Nona’s favourite — Japanese oranges. All the goods were kept behind the long counter. Old Sam Craig would bring them out, one at a time, and place them next to the cash register. Once everything was there, her mother would carefully count out the money from
her change purse and place it on the counter. Only when she was finished would Old Sam — he was not so old then — place her groceries in a box that her mother would carry home. Some things, Nona remembered so clearly. More and more these days, as she sat by herself, she fell into reminiscing.

  The next morning, Nona watched for Monica. Sure enough, she left the house before Tom, Becky, and Millie. She left at the same time as Martin Junior. From only a short distance, a person would have thought that she was a high schooler heading down to wait for the school bus. She and Brenda looked very much alike. Lots of people got mixed up and thought they were sisters rather than aunt and niece. So Monica was staying in Kitsum and working at the elementary school; that was something. Nona made up her mind to tell Charlie when she phoned him. If Monica could move back to Kitsum, well, maybe that would get her son thinking too.

  Nona was up early a few mornings later, making bread; her cinnamon buns were out of the oven well before lunch hour. She was known for her baking, and even took occasional orders from the community. It was a small amount of extra income, but the activity kept her busy. Through her window, she could see Ruby moving about in her kitchen. She put a lid atop the box of warm buns and carried them across the street to her neighbour. Ruby was thankful, complimented Nona on her baking, and invited her to stay for a cup of tea.

  Sitting in Ruby’s kitchen, Nona saw that everything looked in order. Ruby was a decent housekeeper; her kitchen was clean and tidy. She was not like some of the younger people. Even Charlie’s house was rarely to be found without a sink overflowing with dirty dishes. Nona asked again about the family and Ruby assured her that they were all well. Nona could hear water running in the bathroom. She had watched Martin leave the house hours earlier; she had seen Monica leave in the early morning. She knew the kids had gone to school. That left only Brenda. As though hearing her question aloud, Ruby brought up the subject herself. “Brenda’s not feeling so good these days.”