It wasn’t. For the next few months, we spent nearly every evening together. He met Cheryl and had shown no negative reaction. They got along quite well, considering Cheryl had resumed her ‘I-don’t-like-whitemen’ role, I found Bob was gentle, good-natured and very considerate. He was everything I thought a good husband should be. It was just too bad he had to go back to Toronto.
Bob delayed his return trip to be with me. By the end of the third month, he proposed. He asked me, April Raintree, to be his wife! He wanted to get married in a small civil ceremony in Winnipeg. My dreams were coming true and I ecstatically floated through those days. Everything seemed to happen overnight.
The only note of discord came when I told Cheryl that Bob had proposed to me. I expected her to be as excited and happy as I was. “What do you want to go and marry this dude for? You’re asking for trouble? You don’t know anything about him, really.”
“I know all I need to know. You’re just saying that because of Garth, aren’t you?”
“Maybe I am. Even if Bob isn’t prejudiced, maybe his friends are. And what will they think when they find out he’s married a half-breed? If he had to choose, do you really believe he’d stick with you?”
“Cheryl,” I said in a warning, angry tone.
“Or what would you do if you had children that looked Indian. Could you both cope with that?” Cheryl paused but I made no answer, so she continued, “You’ll probably go over there and pass yourself off as white, won’t you? You’re not going to tell anyone who and what you are.”
“Well, I’m certainly not going to go around saying: Hi, I’m April Radcliff, and I’m a half-breed. So just knock it off, Cheryl.” I stormed into the bathroom cutting our discussion short. I was more disturbed than angry. Not so much by Cheryl’s telling me I shouldn’t marry Bob but her questions were like needles pricking into my bubble of happiness and satisfaction. We’d never talked about this before and I was sure she had not suspected how I felt. But all this time, she knew. She knew I was ashamed of being a half-breed.
We were married on July 25, 1969, on a Friday afternoon with only Cheryl and a ‘not anyone special’ male friend of Cheryl’s to witness our exchange of vows. I wondered why he hadn’t even invited his mother but he had said that was the way he wanted it. I accepted it, I was so happy. From that moment, I wouldn’t have to worry about changing the spelling of my name because it was now legally April Radcliff.
Cheryl came with us to the airport on the Saturday afternoon when we were to fly to Toronto. I guess Bob knew I wanted some time alone with her becausee he left to buy some last minute items. At first, Cheryl and I let some of our precious minutes slip by, just looking at each other and not saying anything.
Cheryl spoke first. “April, in spite of what I said the other day, I do hope you’ll be happy. I really do. I was just mouthing off, you know. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be, Cheryl. I guess I got on the defensive because some of the things you said were true. And I’ve never wanted to admit them. You didn’t come right out and say it, but I am ashamed. I can’t accept… I can’t accept being a Metis. That’s the hardest thing I’ve ever said to you Cheryl. And I’m glad you don’t feel the same way I do. I’m so proud of what you’re trying to do. But to me, being Metis means I’m one of the have-nots. And I want so much. I’m selfish. I know it, but that’s the way I am. I want what white society can give me. Oh, Cheryl, I really believe that’s the only way for me to find happiness. I’m different from you. I wish I weren’t but I am. I’m me. You have to do what you believe is right for you and I have to go my way. Remember, though, I’ll always be there if you need me.”
Cheryl was smiling, but sadly. Finally, she said, “April, I have known how you felt for a long time. And I decided that I was going to do what I could to turn the native image around so that one day you could be proud of being Metis.” To lighten the mood, she added, “Of course, you may be old and gray when the day does come but it will come. I guarantee it.”
Bob came back and it was time for us to board the plane. And for me to say goodbye. I felt good, I felt there was a new kind of honesty between Cheryl and I. I was moving into a new phase of my life with a man I loved and who loved me. And I had just had a good honest talk with the other most important person in my life.
But once we were airborne, I was still thinking of Cheryl. I missed her so much already. For a younger sister, she was a lot wiser than me in some ways. So, she had known about my shame for a long time. And she had never said anything. She had just accepted me the way I was in silence. I wished I could do that whole part of my life over again. She was such a giving, unselfish person. What was it that made us so different, even though we were real sisters?
CHAPTER 9
I was totally unprepared when we arrived at Bob’s home, and now mine. When he had spoken of his business, I assumed it was a small operation. There had been the plans for expansion in Winnipeg which I had worked on but I had assumed there would be mortgages attached. Many of the documents and letters had gone to the typist, as Mr. Lord’s workload had increased substantially. I had also made a special point of not taking note of the legal arrangements as I had not wanted to be influenced in my relationship with Bob.
But from the moment I saw their house, excuse me, mansion, I knew I had underestimated the wealth I had married into. The English-Tudor style house was huge and was located on a sprawling estate. Bob took me on a tour of his home, our home now. I would have to remind myself of this, over the following days, even pinch myself to make sure I wasn’t dreaming. I was overwhelmed. The living room, with its oversized fireplace at one end, was twice the size of our apartment in Winnipeg and was to the right of the two-storey foyer with its open staircase. There was a recreation room to the rear, also with an enormous fireplace. The length of the room was flanked on the left side with French doors leading out to a swimming pool and terrace. Bob said that when they entertained, sometimes these two large rooms were crowded. I simply could not imagine that. The long stately dining room also overlooked the terrace and the impeccably manicured gardens which enclosed the terrace.
I felt Barbara Radcliff’s disapproval of me from the very start. I couldn’t blame her, though. She had missed out on her son’s wedding and that’s when I realized why she hadn’t been invited. He had, in effect, eloped. She was, however, very polite to me and extended a gracious welcome to their home. Somehow I had the feeling I had landed in another foster home. I was even subtly ordered to call her ‘Mother Radcliff’, although at times later, I thought of her as ‘Mother Superior’ and religion had nothing to do with it.
We entertained a great deal and in turn we were invited to social events and theatres and concerts and dinners and clubs. Because it was all new to me, it was quite thrilling. I had plenty of moments of being nervous and tongue-tied, committing social gaucheries and I was forever wondering what the other women thought of me. In all fairness to Mother Radcliff, I must say she taught me all I hadn’t learned from my books. She took me on shopping excursions and on weekly appointments to hair salons, always giving me advice in a detached way. Although we spent a good deal of time in each other’s company, we never did become close. I felt small in her presence and never knew what to say. We never joked or laughed together. Her laughter seemed reserved only for those on her social level. I used to wonder what Bob’s father had been like. He must have been a good-natured man because Bob was so easygoing.
As for Bob, we got along very well. We had none of the problems which face most newlyweds, no hassles over finances, work or even in-laws. I suppose because of my childhood, it was easy enough for me to play second fiddle to a woman like Mother Radcliff, even to the point of allowing her to run our lives.
By November, it occurred to me that it would be nice if Cheryl could see how right I had been in my decision to marry Bob. I checked with Bob to see if it would be okay to invite her for the Christmas holidays. He thought it would be a great idea and urged me to ph
one her. I did and was surprised that she accepted, just like that. She told me then, that Nancy had moved in with her. I thought once again that Cheryl didn’t belong with a bunch of native people. Then the other thought struck me. Not once had nativeness been discussed in this household. Mother Radcliff had resented me simply because Bob had married me without her approval. What would she think once Cheryl came? And Christmas times were for gatherings. What would all the others think?
I should have thought twice about inviting Cheryl to visit. I wanted to show off to her so much that I had forgotten that, in turn, I would have to show her off to these people. I looked over at Bob who was smiling at me. Well, if it didn’t matter to him, why should it matter to me? Still, I felt that perhaps Cheryl’s predictions would come true. If Bob were ever forced to make a choice, what would it be? In his mother’s hands, he was like putty, I was beginning to realize that my Prince Charming had a flaw.
Cheryl came on the Saturday before Christmas. Bob and I went to pick her up at the airport and when we arrived home, I was dismayed to find that Mother Radcliff had some of her friends over for dinner. I watched her face for a reaction when Cheryl was introduced, but there wasn’t any. It was the same when I had been introduced five months earlier, gracious but cool. I showed Cheryl around the ‘mansion’ after dinner, and although she was complimentary, I could tell she wasn’t all that impressed. I was put off. She was so religiously Metis!
Every minute we were alone, she would talk about the Friendship Centre and the program she and some other counsellors had started for teenage native girls. She loved what she was doing, though, and that was great. It was when she criticized my lifestyle that I got on the offensive.
“What you aim to do is very commendable, Cheryl, but I can’t see you changing a whole lot of people. You may turn a few lives around, but they’re not the ones who are going to make an impression on the rest of the population. It’s the ones who look filthy and look like they’ve just gotten out of bed with a hangover and who go to your neighbourhood department stores, they’re the ones who make a lasting impression.”
“Well, there are just as many white people out there who are in the same state,” Cheryl shot back.
“It’s not the same. I don’t remember the white ones. I only remember the drunk natives. It seems to me that the majority of natives are gutter-creatures and only a minority of whites are like that. I think that’s the difference.”
“I still think our project is worthwhile. Darn it, April, why do you have to be so prejudiced,” she exclaimed.
“I am not prejudiced, Cheryl. I’m simply trying to point out to you how I see things.”
“Through white man’s eyes.”
“Maybe so, but that should be an advantage to you. How many white people would honestly tell you what they think? I don’t want to discourage you complelety. Helping some of the teenage girls avoid that ‘native girl syndrome’ thing is certainly worth the effort. Remember Mrs. Semple telling us about that? First, you do this and then you do that, and next you do this and next you do that and she had our whole lives laid out for us. Well, we didn’t do any of the things she claimed we would. But the thing is, you’ll never change the image of the native people. It would take some kind of miracle,” I said, attempting to lighten our conversation.
That’s how our private talks went and I was grateful that Cheryl kept the native subject private. As I expected, we had a full social calendar over the Christmas holidays and I tried to coax Cheryl, unsuccessfully, to go shopping with me for the evening gowns I was sure she would need. She could not see the sense in spending money on clothing she would never wear again. So, I insisted she wear some of my dresses, since we were the same size. As a matter of fact, we could have been almost identical twins, except for our skin-colouring. No wonder I had always found her so beautiful, my pretentious way of admitting my own beauty.
I had taken it for granted that Cheryl would be able to attend the dinners to which we had been invited but Mother Radcliff took me aside, actually she summoned me to her study, and informed me that it would cause upsets to have an uninvited guest. She also stated that Cheryl would feel out of place and although I agreed and understood, it was unthinkable that I would leave Cheryl alone. Mother Radcliff pointed out that we were giving a New Year’s party so Cheryl would not be left out of all the festivities. I left her study, wondering how much of this I was going to tell Cheryl. At the same time, I was relieved that Cheryl’s debut into my society was to be delayed. When I made my explanations to Cheryl, she made it easier by saying it was all right because she hadn’t really wanted to go to the big fancy gatherings anyhow and she was relieved to be able to avoid them.
On New Year’s Eve, all the important people I had met over the past months, and many I had never met, gathered in our living room and the adjoining family room. Bob had not exaggerated when he had said those rooms could get crowded. That party confirmed for me, how wealthy and important we Radcliffs were. I guess I was the only one who was so greatly impressed because when I took Cheryl around to introduce her to some of the people I had already met, I got a few surprises. After praising all these people to Cheryl, some came out with the most patronizing remarks.
“Oh, I’ve read about Indians. Beautiful people they are. But you’re not exactly Indians are you? What is the proper word for people like you?” one asked.
“Women,” Cheryl replied instantly.
“No, no, I mean nationality?”
“Oh, I’m sorry. We’re Canadians.” Cheryl smiled sweetly.
Another woman, after being introduced to Cheryl, said, “Oh, we used to have a very good Indian maid. Such a nice, quiet girl and a hard worker, too.”
I suppose she meant it as a compliment but I felt like crawling into a hole, I was so embarrassed for Cheryl.
Then two men came along and one asked Cheryl what it was like being an Indian. Before she could reply, the other man voiced his opinion and the two soon walked away, discussing their concepts of native life, without having allowed Cheryl to say anything.
Cheryl and I shrugged to each other and I was wondering how she was taking it. The questioning stares didn’t help either. Some of them had tried hard to smoothe things over, after realizing their initial blunders. But it was the fact that they felt they had to say something accommodating, that was the most annoying.
About an hour later, my discomforting thoughts of what people must be thinking were interrupted when I noticed the entrance of an actress we had seen recently at a theatre production. As I watched Mother Radcliff greeting her, I remembered her name. Heather Langdon. She seemed to know Mother Radcliff quite well. I saw Heather look around the room in anticipation. I noticed the satisfied look on her face when Bob appeared and kissed her on the cheek. They looked like they knew each other even better. I felt a twinge of jealousy and worry. Mother Radcliff spotted me just then and indicated I was to come over.
When I reached them, Mother Radcliff said, “April, I would like you to meet Heather Langdon. We saw her play the other night, remember?”
“Yes, I do. I enjoyed your performance,” I said as I shook her hand. What was the right thing to say to an actress?
“April, go find you sister. I am sure she would like to be introduced to Heather.” I was ordered. I obeyed.
I thought it was very nice of Mother Radcliff to give Cheryl the opportunity of meeting a beautiful and talented actress. I found Cheryl and brought her back to be introduced. I noticed an exchange of looks between Mother Radcliff and Heather. I couldn’t read any meaning into it, though. Heather seemed to make a point of socializing with me for the rest of that evening and my initial worry and jealousy disappeared.
On Friday, Bob went to his office, so Cheryl and I had the whole day to ourselves. It started out being a good day. We talked about the people at the party, laughing and joking about their reactions. I found myself, feebly trying to explain their positions. Cheryl didn’t buy it.
“You really
like this new lifestyle of yours? I mean, deep down honestly? You like associating with these rich snobs?” she asked with sarcasm, the humor of a few moments ago, suddenly gone.
I think the only thing that really aroused me in those days, was when someone criticized me. So I answered, with equal sarcasm, “Cheryl, get off my case, will you? I don’t ask you to live my kind of life. I know why you’re doing this. You want me to take up your glorious cause. Well, I’m happy here. I love the parties and I do like the kind of people I meet. I love this kind of life and I have no intentions of changing it. So, go home. And live by what you believe in. But stop preaching at me. I admire your devotion and your confidence in native people, but to me, they’re a lost cause. I can’t see what anyone can do for them, except the people themselves. If they want to live in their run-down shacks that are overridden with flies, and who knows what else, and that stink of filth and soiled clothing and mattresses, and if they want to drink their lives away while their children go hungry and unclothed, then there’s not much that can be done for them except to give them handouts and more handouts. So don’t ask me…”
“How the hell would you know how they live? You wouldn’t go near them if your life depended on it. Who are you to sit around up here in your fancy surroundings and judge a people you don’t even know?” Cheryl cut in, now openly angry.
“I know because I looked for our parents in those kinds of places. So, don’t tell me that I don’t know what I’m talking about. I went…” I’d been shouting and I stopped abruptly, as I realized I had just revealed the search I had meant to keep secret.
Cheryl and I looked at each other for a few silent seconds and our tempers were forgotten. Then she said in a quiet, accusing voice. “You went to look for Mom and Dad? How come you never told me, April?”
April Raintree Page 11
