by Edeet Ravel
Dear Fern, It was so heartwarming to hear from you but I am deeply grieved to hear about the passing of poor Felicity. She was a wonderful person and you were the light of her life. She loved you more than words can ever say and you will carry that love with you forever in your heart and remember it when you most need it. She sent me a photo of you when you were six and I’ve had it with me the whole time. You are beautiful inside and out, and I am sure you have grown up into a beautiful young woman.
I’m sure your friends and teachers at school are all there for you if you turn to them. I’m planning to come to Montreal but I don’t know exactly when.
I had some dark times, but I’m on the right path now and listening to the good spirit inside me and letting it guide me. I’m enclosing twenty dollars for now. I’m sorry it isn’t more.
Your loving uncle, Jack
Quite sappy, you have to admit. But at least he isn’t a criminal type. I think he was in jail for stealing a car while he was drunk.
Xanoth, I don’t know what to do next.
I’m thinking about your tulip and daffodil and pansy garden and about how flowers don’t have seasons on your planet. They stay the same all year round. I love how when the sun sets the whole sky turns purple and gold and pink. I love how when it gets dark all the silvery lights come on and light up everything and people start dancing on the lawn in their flowing gowns. I love how people just go to stores and take what they want. How is Lulu? Will her wedding invitations have sparkles and rose petals on them, I wonder.
Yours forever,
Fern
Sunday
December 9
Hi Xanoth,
More news. Even though I figured it was hopeless, I’ve been checking the ads in the Gazette every day. Well, today I saw an ad that said SUPERINTENDENT IMMEDIATE 45 UNITS BILINGUAL REFERENCES. No tools and no experience, and they gave an address on Clanranald. There aren’t any huge or expensive buildings there, I don’t think, so I called and left a message.
Then I got impatient because no one was calling back, so I went down there to take a look at the place. I mean, I had nothing else to do and I thought at least I’d be able to see what kind of building it was. I had to buy a strip of six bus tickets, but I still have the Reduced Fare card from school, so I only paid $6.50 instead of $12.
It was unbelievably cold, and my ears almost froze off waiting for the bus and then looking for the building. Luckily there was a small space between the outside door and the buzzer door, so I went in and tried to thaw out a bit. The building’s OK – five floors with an elevator, old but not too rundown.
One of the buzzers on the wall said JANITOR. I tried ringing it because I figured maybe the janitor who’s leaving could tell me something about the job, but there wasn’t any answer.
About half the mailboxes had names. In real dumps you never get more than one or two names, because the name either gets torn off or else the person’s a criminal or junkie or doesn’t know anyone, or just can’t be bothered. Anyhow, who wants to visit you if you live in a dump? It’s not like anyone’s having Candlelight Suppers. That’s from a show Mrs. Johnston liked, about a woman with illusions, and one of her illusions is that she’s going to have all these candlelight suppers, whereas in reality everyone avoids her because she’s insane. I got all excited around three years ago because I suddenly saw that video on the shelf in the library, and I remembered Mrs. Johnston talking about how she liked it, and how it showed that things on the outside don’t count, only things on the inside. She laughed telling us about the show. I mean laughed almost out of control. We didn’t really get what she was talking about, but it’s always nice when your teacher’s happy. It turned out to be a bit lame, but some parts were funny.
Anyhow, I was just about to leave the building when suddenly this man wearing a suit and a black coat came out of the elevator. He was around 30, not bad-looking. I could see he didn’t live in the building. He was too well dressed and neat and in too much of a rush. He looked like a lawyer or someone important, but not fake like the Barbie people in that Côte St. Luc building. So I said, “Excuse me, do you know about the janitor job?”
He said in a big rush, “Yes, why?”
I could tell he was the person in charge, so I said, “I’d like to apply. I’m strong and I can fix anything. I have great references. And experience.”
He looked surprised and very not sure. But he was in a huge rush, and that was my luck. He said, “How old are you?”
I told him I was nineteen but that I’ve been doing house-cleaning for three years. Which is true, actually. Apart from all the times Mom was sick, the summer Ricardo broke up with me I did a house on Old Orchard all on my own.
Well, the guy was really not sure, but because of his rush he said, “OK, come tomorrow at nine. No, make that ten.” He handed me his card and hurried off. So at least I have an interview.
I was right, he’s a lawyer. His name is David Frost. The only poem I know by heart is about frost.
The door was shut, as doors should be,
Before you went to bed last night,
Yet Jack Frost has got in, you see,
And left your window silver white.
I know all eight verses. Mrs. Johnston made us memorize that poem. Every day we memorized another verse, and when we knew the whole poem we got 20 bonus points.
I don’t know if I even have a chance, Xanoth. Someone better could come along with more experience and with tools, or a couple. Also I’m not bilingual. I used to know French before Simone left, because until I was four we lived way out east where everyone was French. But I mostly forgot it after we moved.
Still, I don’t think a janitor has to talk a lot. You can just fake it with “oui, oui” and “non” and pretend you know what the person’s talking about. Besides, it’s mostly immigrants on Clanranald. They don’t know French either.
The good thing is that he told me to come in the morning, which means he probably won’t see anyone between now and then. And maybe he’s too busy to interview a lot of people. I’ll bring the reference letter with me. The Coopers really exaggerated in that letter, but I’m not complaining.
I need this job, Xanoth. I never needed anything so badly.
Yours forever,
Fern
Monday
December 10
Hi Xanoth,
I had the interview today. I came at ten, but no one was there, so I waited an hour and a half in that little space. It was kind of claustrophobic, so I walked up and down in front of the building, but I only lasted a few minutes because it was freezing. There were some muddy flyers on the floor, and I picked them up and found a garbage pail to dump them in.
I was getting really stressed, thinking maybe I had the wrong time, or maybe David hired someone else and he couldn’t call me because I didn’t give him a phone number.
But finally he came rushing in. He was very impressed that I was still there.
He unlocked the buzzer door and we went into Apartment 101, on the ground floor. I guess that’s the janitor’s apartment. It’s one room, with a kitchen area at one end and a bathroom at the other. There was a round table that had a weird black sort of cover, like something you’d put on a roof to keep out the rain.
We sat down at the table and he put his big briefcase in front of him and said again, “How old did you say you were?”
I said, “Nineteen. I was living with my mother, but she died. I’d be a really good janitor. I have a reference.” I handed him the letter. I said, “It’s from Dr. Cooper.”
He said, “Dr. Cooper, who’s that?” He talks like a lawyer.
I said, “I cleaned house for him and his wife. Only I haven’t told them my mother died yet. I didn’t want them to worry.”
That was fast thinking, because imagine if he told them before I did. I realized I’d have to call and tell them as soon as I got home.
He read the letter, but he still looked suspicious. I said, “I’m really st
rong. I don’t drink or smoke or anything. My church doesn’t believe in it.” I’ve never been to a church in my life, but I was desperate.
I could tell it was a good idea, mentioning a church. He relaxed a little and asked me my name, even though it was in the letter. He’s a bit ADD, for a lawyer.
I said, “Fern Henderson. I used to help the janitor in our building, so I know what’s involved. You could say I was his assistant.”
He said, “Well, I was hoping for...” He didn’t finish the sentence, probably because he knows all the discrimination laws. He was going to say he was hoping for a guy.
Then he said, “Well, here’s the situation. My father owns this building but he’s in the hospital, so I’m doing this for him for now, but I can’t sign anything at this point.” I could tell from the nervous way he said it that there are all sorts of complications with his father and the building.
I nodded. He told me the previous janitor quit, but there were three empty units and someone has to show them and keep an eye on the place and take out the garbage. But it would have to be a “casual arrangement” for now.
He gave me an application to fill in, which was a good sign. But then he said someone else was supposed to come for an interview, which got me all worried again.
He kept looking at his watch while I was filling in the form. He’s cute, in a lawyer sort of way.
I remembered to change my date of birth on the form. A lawyer would notice right away. I gave Dr. Cooper’s phone number for references.
Suddenly he remembered to ask, “Parles-tu français?”
I figured that’s it for me, but by a miracle just as I was saying “Oui, oui” his phone rang and it was someone asking about the apartment. He was really annoyed. He tried not to show it and to answer all the questions, but his voice was all tense. He said they could come see the place on Saturday at two. He shut the phone and he was about to say something when it rang again.
This time the call was in French. It was about something else, private. Probably some case he’s working on. He left the room to talk and when he came back he told me he had to run. He grabbed the paper and said, “I’m on the verge of a nervous breakdown.”
Then he asked how soon I could start and I said right away.
So he said, “OK, I have a few more people who called for the job. If you don’t hear from me by tomorrow evening it means I found someone else.”
I think I have a good chance, Xanoth. Because think who else might apply. Some druggie or drunk. Or if it’s a couple they might want a more reliable job, with a contract.
Also this guy doesn’t have a lot of time to interview people. He wants to get it over with. And he believed me about the church. I’m also lucky he forgot about the French.
It’s true I don’t drink though. When I was going out with Ricardo we drank, but then after we broke up I wasn’t interested anymore. Drinking would only make me think of him, and I’d feel like even more of a loser from loserland. I don’t like drunk people anyhow. And smoking I promised Mrs. Johnston. I swear I think every kid in her class kept their promise on that.
When I got home I called the Coopers right away so I’d get to them before David. Mrs. Cooper answered.
I said, “Listen, I have to tell you something sad. My mom died of a heart attack.”
She was really shocked. She kept saying oh no, oh no, how dreadful, I’m so sorry, what can we do, when’s the funeral, etc. etc. I said there’s no funeral because I donated her body and she said, “Oh you poor dear, would you like to come over?”
I said I couldn’t right now because I was looking for work. I told her I was applying for a really great job to be the superintendent of a building on Clanranald and I gave their name for the reference. She said she’d give me a “glowing reference,” and she made me promise to call with my new phone number if I got the job.
I said, “I didn’t mention my age,” and she understood right away and said, “Don’t worry, I won’t breathe a word about it.” She probably doesn’t know exactly how old I am.
I felt better after talking to her. At least she knew Mom.
Yours forever,
Fern
Tuesday
December 11
Hi Xanoth,
David called this afternoon. I was watching boring TV just to pass the time, and I jumped practically to the ceiling when the phone rang.
He said I got the job, and could I come over tonight for instructions. I didn’t show how happy I was. I only asked when I should come, and he began muttering and mumbling and saying, “Hold on, hold on.” I guess he was checking his appointment book. Finally he said, “Is eleven too late? It’s just that I have a crazy day today.”
I said, “No problem, Mr. Frost. I’ll be there.” He sounded relieved.
He was late as usual, this time by half an hour. He apologized a few times, but he wasn’t really concentrating. He looked really tired and stressed.
We went into the apartment and he gave me printed sheets with information about the vacant units. He said he’ll take the calls for the rest of the week, but if I could move in by Friday that would be great.
He said I have to keep the building clean and shovel the snow out front and put salt down when it’s icy. For the driveway a company comes with a machine. The driveway is where I put the garbage. The garbage has to be put out late on Monday and Thursday or before seven in the morning on Tuesday and Friday. I also have to show people the empty apartments, and if they’re interested I have to give them an application form to fill in.
There’s a secret code for the forms. I have to write 1 if I think the person looks OK, 2 if they’re maybe OK, and 3 if they look like they’re going to wreck the place and not pay. I’m not allowed to tell anyone about the code.
I also have to make sure everyone pays rent on the first of every month. There’s a box in the hallway, and if they don’t put their payment in the box I have to knock on their door. If I need to buy fuses or cleaning stuff or garbage bags I have to give David the receipt and he’ll pay me back.
He showed me a cabinet with all the keys. It’s in the coat closet of the apartment. Then he showed me where the fuse box was and I pretended I knew what it was.
The rent is free, along with heat and hot water and the phone, plus on top of that I get $200 a month. I really didn’t expect that. But just as I was getting happy he said, “This is only a trial period. We’ll see how it goes. Listen, if you find any files or papers let me know. My father’s papers are missing.”
Then he made me sign something about my responsibility if things got damaged in my apartment. He said, “Those people gave you a very good reference.” He sounded like he was trying to convince himself that he wasn’t making a mistake.
I said, “You’ll be satisfied. I’m very reliable.” He didn’t look as if he trusted me, but he probably doesn’t trust anyone.
So that’s it. I have to move by Friday.
I’ll miss this place. Our building’s a dump, but the apartment is big – five rooms and a long hallway. And it has wood floors and a balcony in the back facing trees and a clothesline. I don’t know how I’ll fit our furniture into the new place.
Or how I’ll move it all. I guess I’ll have to call a mover from the newspaper.
I’m also worried about Beauty. She’s going to miss having lots of rooms to prowl around in, and a balcony with trees to stare at.
I forgot to tell you, a letter came yesterday from McGill University. They thanked me for donating Mom’s body and furthering science blah blah. They said I’ll be invited to a ceremony in June to thank everyone who’s donated a body, and there’s also a monument at the Mont Royal Cemetery where they’ll bury Mom when they finish with her, and I can go visit her there. I don’t think I’ll want to go to any sort of ceremony, but I called the number on the letter and gave them my new address, in case I change my mind. They caught me just in time.
Now I have to find my French dictionary and make sure I k
now how to say three rooms, heat and electricity included, $950.
Yours forever,
Fern
Wednesday
December 12
Hi Xanoth,
I took the bus down to Clanranald this morning to clean up the new apartment. I had to buy another strip of six tickets.
The apartment wasn’t that dirty, actually. There are lots of cupboards in the kitchen part. The fridge is about a hundred years old, the kind you have to defrost, but it was clean too. I took the weird black roof cover off the table and put it in the equipment closet. You never know when you’ll need something like that.
I also took the table and chairs down to the cellar. They aren’t as nice as our table and chairs. Maybe at some point I can sell them for five or ten dollars.
When I finished cleaning, I went to the library and wrote down the phone numbers of a few movers from Saturday’s Gazette.
At first I got into a huge panic, because everyone I called was saying $700 and $1000 for a move. And they were mean too, like they were angry at me for bothering them. That makes sense. Advertise your services, then yell at anyone who calls.
But finally there was one ad that said SMALL MOVES, AFFORDABLE. And the guy was normal. He didn’t yell. He said if I had another person to help it would be $200. That was a lot cheaper than everyone else, plus he said he could come tomorrow morning, so I said OK.
I don’t know how I’ll fit all my furniture into one room. Actually, our place came furnished, so the furniture doesn’t really belong to me, but I don’t think the landlord remembers. What happened was that the old woman who lived here died. No one came to get her furniture, so when we rented the place the landlord raised the price from $400 unfurnished to $450 furnished. That’s an extra $600 a year times ten years, plus all the rent hikes which would have been lower had we started off with $400. I think we’ve earned the furniture by now, especially since it didn’t belong to the landlord in the first place.
Apart from the kitchen table and chairs, I have my bed, my night table, my bureau and attached mirror, Mom’s double bed, her two bureaus, a sewing table, a cabinet with glass doors and a sofa.
