But the days dragged on forever. Mom didn’t seem to know what to do with herself other than fret and sit at the lakeshore, smoking Karl’s last pack of cigarettes. I flapped around camp like a bird with a broken wing, unsure of what to do with myself for the first time in my life.
One day, I found her standing at the edge of the pot crop. “They’re still too small,” she said, rubbing a leaf between her fingers. “Nobody will buy them.”
“What would happen if someone did?” I asked, stepping close to her.
“I don’t know. We could use the money to get Karl back. Or buy a tipi, maybe.”
“Oh. So are we . . . going to stay here now?”
She shook her head. “I don’t know,” she repeated. Then she lowered herself onto the ground and lit a joint, and she didn’t even bother to blow me any smoke rings.
KARL WAS HARDLY A man of mystery, but when it came to revealing how he made bail for his release from jail, he had little to say to us. Ten days after the police took him away in handcuffs, he showed up back at our camp. His arrival was announced by a shriek from my mother, who was the first to see him coming through the trees. We all ran toward him for a big group hug. He looked tired and unshaven, but otherwise just like the same old Karl.
“Managed to hitch myself a ride,” he said with a grin. “Nice old guy drove me all the way from Calgary. Did the speed limit the whole way, I nearly lost my mind.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a silk scarf. “Here, I got you a little something,” he said to Mom, tying it in a bow around her neck.
Mom hugged him again and started laughing. “Is this real? Are you really here? Please tell me you don’t have to go back there.”
Karl put his arm around her shoulders as we walked toward camp. “Nah. My lawyer already stood before the judge, he gave me probation. No big deal. Hey, Small Fry—what say we have a little dinner and get ready for our big day tomorrow? It’s about time for us to hit the road!”
I grinned and made a beeline for Larry and Susanne’s tipi.
Later, when Mom tucked me into bed in our tent, she told me that Karl had a record now. I thought about this as I drifted off to sleep. A record? Those cops must really be dumb. Even if we did have a stereo to play it on, anyone with a brain could see that we didn’t have electricity.
“MADMAN,” LARRY SAID, GIVING Karl a hug. “It’s been a slice. Let’s do it again soon, huh?”
“You bet,” Karl replied with a laugh, thumping his friend on the back. “Only next time maybe we’ll try to give you a little more excitement.”
In October of 1975, six months after we arrived in Lake Minnewanka, we hit the road again. It was a cold, rainy day, made just bearable by the odd patch of blue sky through the clouds. Larry and Susanne came to the truck to see us off, while Kelly dragged her heels behind them.
We piled into the cab and Karl started the engine. Benjamin gave us a gummy grin as we pulled away. I looked past Susanne at Kelly, but she was grinding a hole into the ground with her tennis shoe and didn’t even bother to glance up. Her face looked pasty and mean in the flat light. I wondered why she hated me so much.
“Wow,” Mom said, snapping pot seeds between her teeth as Karl drove. “That was some little adventure. Here’s hoping for saner times ahead.”
“You got it, babe, you got it. Gonna get me a real job, put some food on the table,” Karl said, patting her thigh.
Knowing we had a long ride ahead of us, I pulled the map out of the glove compartment and studied it to pass time. After getting Mom to point out where we were, I traced a line along the roads with my fingertip, sounding out the names of the towns as I passed over them. Just past Lake Minnewanka, I found a place called Morley. The name looked familiar, but I couldn’t think why. After a few minutes, I had it.
“Mommy, look!” I cried excitedly. “It’s Morley! Didn’t we used to live there? With Papa Dick and Grandma Jeanne?”
Mom took the map from me and stared at it with her jaw hanging open. “Jesus Christ, will you look at that.” She shoved the map in front of Karl’s face as he drove. “It’s not forty miles from here. My parents aren’t forty miles from here. They’ve been here the whole time! Did you know that?”
Karl cleared his throat and shrugged. “I . . . of course I did, yeah.”
“Why didn’t you say something?”
“What do I look like, Rand-fuckin’-McNally? You could have picked up the map and seen for yourself.”
“You know I’m not good with maps.”
“Yeah, well, I thought you knew. Where the hell did you think we were?”
“I don’t know. Far away.” She lifted her chin. “I got disoriented with all the driving back and forth, okay?”
“Still, you could have asked. It’s not like I was trying to hide it. I thought you wanted your independence.”
“Independence? Independence? For Christ’s sake, I took Cea to live in the woods for a month! You think I wouldn’t have gone home to them if I’d known? We could have hitchhiked there in an hour!” She folded the map up furiously and shoved it back in the glove box. “Take me there. Right now. I want to see them.”
Karl opened his mouth, ready to protest, but then he saw Mom’s face and changed his mind. He pulled onto the highway and headed east, the opposite direction from our destination. After just a few minutes we saw a sign: MORLEY 32. Mom sighed and crossed her arms huffily as we passed it. Half an hour later, we pulled off a familiar dirt road and parked. It had only been nine months since we’d left here, but it felt like a lifetime.
Ignoring the light rain, Mom started walking through the trees toward camp, and I followed. A minute or so later, I heard Karl’s footsteps behind me.
Mom was the first to reach it. I found her standing at the edge of the clearing with her arms hanging limp at her sides. The clouds had parted to let a bit of sun peek through, but the scene it shone down on was a sad one. All that was left of my grandparents’ camp was the wooden skeleton of a lean-to, along with three bare patches on the ground where their tipis had been. A scrap of torn canvas flapped from a tree branch.
Mom collapsed onto the ground in a sobbing heap, and after a moment I joined her. Maybe it was true; maybe my grandparents had never even existed. Anyway, it didn’t matter now. They were gone, and God only knew where they were.
Chapter Fifteen
The most incredible thing about our cottage in Celista was that the morning after we arrived, I woke up to sunlight streaming through the window of my very own bedroom. The worst thing about it was that we weren’t supposed to be there. The night before, Karl had walked right by the FOR RENT sign planted on the front lawn and broken into the cottage with his Slim Jim. Since he hadn’t allowed us to turn any lights on, I had barely been able to see my surroundings, so opening my eyes to the sunlight was like discovering a new world.
I slid from between the sheets and pulled my clothes on. My breath puffed out into the freezing November air, but I barely noticed the cold. I was in the most beautiful room I had ever seen. The bed I had slept in—my bed, I thought to myself happily—was white wrought iron topped with a patchwork quilt. There was a matching blue dresser and night table, a braided rag rug, a lamp with a silk shade and, in the corner, a wicker chair holding a teddy bear. I picked it up and shoved it under the bed, then dug Suzie Doll out of my bag and seated her in the bear’s place.
I stepped onto the landing and made my way down the narrow staircase. In the living room, a fireplace framed by a river-rock mantel reached all the way to the ceiling. I passed a bathroom with a claw-foot tub and a toilet. When I got to the kitchen, I stood in the doorway and caught my breath. It looked like a kitchen in a doll’s house, just like Mom had said. The cabinets were painted a soft yellow, and pretty flowered paper lined the walls. I tested the taps—which worked!—and went through every drawer and cupboard. Then I opened and closed the fridge and turned the stove on and off, just to be certain they were real. Through the window over the sink, I could see th
e backyard sloping down to the lake. I threw my arms out and spun around on the linoleum floor. If I could just forget that we weren’t supposed to be there, everything would be perfect.
Karl had given us the drill the night before. Our cottage was far enough away from its neighbor on each side to be private, he told us, but the lake was a problem. Boats still cruised the water even this late in the season, and word would spread fast if we were spotted. Besides parking the truck a quarter mile down the road, Karl had a full set of rules to keep our secret. There would be no lights, no music, no using the telephone or fireplace, no opening the curtains, no going into the backyard during the day, almost no use of the stove and hot water and no using the thermostat at all, so the owners wouldn’t notice an unexplained hike in their utility bills. It was only for a little while, Karl promised, just long enough for him to land a job and get his first paycheck.
“After that we’ll go legit. Pay our rent, get to know the neighbors, shit like that. Anyway,” he added when he saw my mother’s face, “it’s a helluva lot better than camping in the truck for a month.”
And to this, Mom and I could only agree.
True enough, Karl had no trouble finding work. Shortly after we arrived, he set off for the logging camp one morning and came home a little later an employed man. While he left each weekday before dawn, Mom passed the hours by sleeping in, organizing the kitchen cupboards and taking lukewarm baths with Joni Mitchell playing low in the background. I spent my time drawing pictures of my grandparents, sewing clothes for Suzie Doll and lying in bed playing with my new treasure: a snow globe that I had found in my closet. J’aime Paris, it said inside the plastic bubble in front of a tiny tower, and Mom told me that meant someone had brought it all the way back from a glamorous city across the ocean. I pictured myself in my grandparents’ canoe, paddling until I reached the opposite shore.
“What does ‘glamorous’ mean?” I asked.
“It means fancy. Kind of . . . kind of like those models you saw that one time. They were pretty glamorous.”
“Yeah,” I agreed, and then I knew exactly what she meant.
I didn’t go outside much, but when I did, Mom and I had a system. She would go up to my bedroom window, from which she could see the driveway, and holler to me that the coast was clear. Then she’d keep watch while I played. I would collect dried leaves or scoop dirt into a plastic bowl, but even with Mom watching I couldn’t help looking over my shoulder every ten seconds. Eventually, I would get tired of the sick feeling in my tummy and go back inside.
The late fall days were short and chilly. By four o’clock we were lighting candles, and by five we were piling on socks and sweaters. We ate sandwiches and apples for dinner and spent our evenings playing the board games we found in the hall closet, sipping lukewarm tea and gazing longingly at the unlit fireplace.
One night, we were in the middle of a halfhearted game of Parcheesi when we heard footsteps outside. Karl blew out the candle and we all froze in place, listening to the sound of our breathing in the dark. The footsteps climbed to the front landing and stopped. I stared at the window in the door, certain that whoever was on the other side was peeking through it.
“It’s a good thing there’s a curtain,” I whispered, and Mom clamped her hand over my mouth.
A minute later, we heard the footsteps leaving. After that, I stopped going outside altogether.
MOST OF KARL’S FIRST paycheck went to gas and food. We had already eaten our way through the supplies in the cottage kitchen, emptying the pantry of everything except a jar of cornmeal and a box of salt. Not wanting to draw attention to our family, Karl left Mom and me at home one Saturday and drove into town alone. He came back with a dozen bags of groceries and told us they would need to last us the month, so that his next paycheck could go to rent.
Later that night, I heard my mother and Karl talking as I lay in bed. I would be six years old in a few days, Mom was saying, and I should have started first grade three months ago. “Cea’s smart,” she said. “Not like me. She’s got her father’s brains.” I heard a match strike, then Karl’s low voice. Soon, he said to her. I couldn’t very well show up at the local school without raising a few questions, but I could start just as soon as we went legit.
This seemed to satisfy Mom, but suddenly I was wide awake. School? The thought hadn’t even crossed my mind. Mom had always told me she hated it, and that had been enough to make me pretty sure I’d never have to go.
On the morning of my birthday, Mom woke up and announced she was throwing the rules out the window. Then she cranked up the oven to bake me a money-cake. I sat inches from the stove, my face turning red from the heat as I watched her fold pennies into squares of wax paper and then tuck them into the batter. After sliding the cake into the oven, she put me into a hot bath and washed my hair, then made me a grilled cheese sandwich and soup for lunch. That night, I blew out six candles and wished to see my grandparents again and for Mom to never go to the slammer. Oh, and for Karl to make lots of money.
“Thank you, Mommy,” I said later when she tucked me into bed with a kiss. “It was my best birthday ever.”
And it was true.
MOM WAS COUNTING THE days until Karl’s next paycheck. “Today’s the day,” she said to me on a Friday morning, tapping her astrology calendar. That afternoon, Karl came home and sat on the sofa with a new Rolling Stone magazine. When dinner passed and he still hadn’t said anything, Mom got up from her chair and cleared his plate with a loud clatter. Then she leaned back against the sink and crossed her arms.
“So,” she said, grabbing the phone off its cradle and holding it out to him, “I have the number from the sign memorized. 555-2680. All you have to do is call them up and say you’d like to rent their cottage.” The dial tone buzzed loudly into the air.
Karl wiped his face with a paper towel and crumpled it into a ball. “Hey, babe, just relax, will ya? I’ve been giving it some thought. Everything is going so well here . . .” He smiled and patted his lap, but Mom didn’t move. Karl shrugged and leaned back in his chair. “We’ve pulled it off so far. If we could hold out just a couple more weeks . . . I promise the next check will go to rent. But Christmas is coming up, you know? I’m sure you’d like to buy Small Fry a little something.”
Mom dropped her hand a little.
“And listen, if we used this money to invest in our future, we could have a little extra. Maybe even take a holiday some—”
“What kind of investment?” Mom asked.
“Well, you know. If I bought some pot seedlings—”
“Pot plants! Not that again!” Mom slammed the phone back into its cradle and threw her hands up. “I’ve had it with your damn pot plants! Just where were you planning on growing them, in the yard we’re never allowed to—”
“Actually, there’s a guy I work with who’ll rent me a plot of land. He can hook me up—”
“Fuck it! While you’re at work all day I’m stuck here, a prisoner in my own home! No lights, no heat, always afraid the doorbell’s going to ring! Trying to keep Cea occupied in the house all day long! Look at this supper—” She swept her hand toward my plate, which still held the crust of my cheese sandwich. “Cold food! Again! Made by the light of a candle. Again! When you said you were going to put food on the table, I didn’t think you meant sandwiches every night! This is bullshit!” She wiped at her eyes furiously.
“Hey, hey, take it easy,” Karl said, throwing his hands up like he was under arrest. “I’m not talking about forever here. Two weeks, that’s all. You’ve been so great with it all so far, what’s another few days? I promise I’ll—”
Mom shook her head angrily and left the room before he could finish. Karl looked at me and shrugged, tapping his pack of smokes on the table. After a little while, he pulled out a cigarette and lit up.
I waited a minute longer so it didn’t look like I was taking sides, then I followed Mom. I found her lying in her bed, turned away from me with her back shaking, her
breath hitching in and out. I went to my own room and lay down, leaving the door open a little just in case she wanted to come in.
A FEW DAYS AFTER Mom and Karl’s fight, Mom surprised me by being awake before I was. When I went downstairs, she was already at the kitchen table with my breakfast waiting. I sat down and began eating my cereal.
“So . . . listen,” she said, clearing her throat. “I was wondering if you might be okay on your own for a couple of hours. I need to go somewhere, and I’m going to have to hitchhike. I’d rather go on my own. This is a small town, and people talk.”
“Talk about what?”
She smiled and reached for my hand. “It’s just for an hour or two, okay? I’ve left you a sandwich.”
“But I want to go with you!”
“Trust me, it’ll be really boring. You’ll have way more fun here playing with Suzie Doll or drawing.”
“Where are you going?”
“I just need to check something out. It’s nothing for you to worry about.”
I didn’t respond, but when I saw that she was serious, I finally climbed the stairs to get my art bag.
“Good girl. Just stay inside, all right? I’ll be back before you know it.” Mom gave me a quick hug, and then she was gone.
The house settled around me. I knelt on a chair at the kitchen table and took out my crayons, clattering them loudly on the table to break the silence. Pressing a piece of paper to the table with my hand, I drew a jagged line across the center for mountains, a quarter-sun with long orange rays in the corner and a row of pink daisies at the bottom. A square topped with a triangle was our cottage, a rectangle was our door and a circle was Mom’s smiling face at the window. I gazed at my masterpiece and then slid from my chair, wondering what to do next. I wasn’t hungry yet, but I found my honey and butter sandwich in the fridge and ate it anyway, singing quietly to myself as I did.
North of Normal- A memoir of my wilderness childhood, my unusual family, and how I survived both Page 14
