Tilly and the Crazy Eights

by Monique Gray Smith

  Poncho looked at Tilly and beamed. “That’s how our children should always be talked about, Tilly. As gifts. Gifts from the Creator. Each and every child is a gift from the Creator.”

  He let Tilly sit with his words for a few moments before continuing. “My grandma told me once that when a child is conceived, four ancestors from the mother’s side and four ancestors from the father’s side must come together in the spirit world and agree that now is the best time for this child to come into the world.”

  Tilly hooked her arm through Poncho’s and laid her head on his shoulder, like she might have if she was walking with her dad. If she had had that kind of a relationship with her dad.

  “Love that, Poncho.” She squeezed his arm. “Thanks.”

  “Seems to me, Miss Tilly, that everybody’s so busy worrying about themselves. You know always lookin’ at their phones and other gadgets. Few seem to remember that everything we do affects the next generations. Everything belongs to those not yet born.” He looked up to the sky. “The ones that are still stars.”

  Tilly had heard elders talk before about spirits being stars and how when it’s time for them to come to earth, they do so in the form of a human being. A baby.

  Tilly began to share, “I’ve been thinking lately about how it feels like someone is missing from our dinner table. Which seems really odd to say because my husband and I…” Her voice trailed off and she swallowed hard, surprised by the stinging at the back of her eyes.

  They walked a few more steps before Poncho said, “Rose and me, we’ve been married going on fifty years now and I understand what you’re not saying, Tilly.” He looked over at her for a second. He knew more about what she wasn’t saying than he’d ever care to remember. “It’ll either get better or it’ll get worse. Half of that’s up to you and half is up to him. You just need to decide what your half is gonna be.”

  Tilly sucked in her lips. She couldn’t believe Poncho knew what she hadn’t said. And as far as things with Mick were concerned, she wasn’t ready to decide. Not yet anyway.

  “What’s your real name, Miss Tilly?” Poncho’s question brought her out of her melancholy.

  Although she’d never been asked it like this before, Tilly knew what Poncho meant. She’d heard many ways of being asked about names: ancestral name, traditional name, spirit name, Indian name, but she’d never been asked about it as her real name. She liked it.

  “I’m Beautiful Light Woman.” It had been many moons since Tilly had shared her name with anyone. So long, she’d almost forgotten the sense of power that overcame her when she used it, like she was no longer alone.

  “Yes.” Poncho nodded and flashed his dimples at Tilly. “Yes, you are Beautiful Light Woman.” He squeezed her hand. “Time you remember who you are.”

  Tilly’s gaze turned to the path that unfolded before them and the colorful bounty of tulips. “And you, Poncho? What’s your real name?”

  “Grateful-hearted one.”

  “Mmm.” Tilly nodded and smiled. She was always in awe of how people’s traditional names captured their essence in a way that English names weren’t able to.

  They walked for a long time, sharing stories and learning about each other. She learned that Poncho grew up all over British Columbia and Washington State because his family moved to wherever there was work when he was a kid. That’s how he’d avoided Residential school, he explained: “Just before I turned five, my dad got a job picking berries in Washington, not far from here, actually. So, we moved. The farmer, he really liked my dad, so he set us up in a house and we lived there till I was twelve. I stayed back home on the rez until I was fifteen then came back down this way. That’s when I met my Rose.”

  Rose’s dad was working on the same farm as Poncho and he met her at a dance, Poncho explained. All evening he had watched her from afar, admiring her beauty and how graceful she was on the dance floor. Finally, he mustered up enough courage to ask her to dance. “That was fifty years ago,” he told Tilly with a chuckle.

  In the first twenty years of their marriage, Poncho worked on a ranch in the Interior. He was a well-respected, hardworking, and admired rancher who seemed to have a special connection with the animals and the land. When the owner of the ranch was preparing to retire, he sat down with Poncho and offered him the first chance to buy. He knew that Poncho had been instrumental in the success of the ranch, so not only did he provide him first dibs on the ranch, but at a generously discounted rate. Unbeknownst to everyone except Rose, Poncho had been saving his money for years, hoping that one day he’d be able to buy a small parcel of land for he and Rose. Never in his wildest dreams did he think he’d own a ranch.

  But life works in mysterious ways, and in the fall of 1985, Poncho and Rose bought the ranch and moved into the main house. In the first few years, he and Rose worked excruciatingly long days. For Poncho, being on the land was one of the times he felt most alive. Even though his son now ran the ranch, Poncho still worked every single day…but to him, it wasn’t work.

  “My Rose and I, we had six children.” He squinted his eyes as he looked out over the sea of tulips. His voice softened, “But now we have five.”

  Tilly looked up at him as he continued to gaze out at the tulips. “One of our boys died in a car crash. He was eighteen. Worst pain of my life, Miss Tilly. Didn’t think I’d ever get rid of the feeling that I’d been kicked in the stomach. Didn’t know if I’d ever smile again. And my Rose, well, she went into our bedroom and didn’t come out for a long time. Almost saw two winters go by before she came out.” He held up his middle finger and index finger, as to emphasize the two years. “I never thought she’d come back to me, but she did. I still thank the Creator for that every day. I sure was lost without her.”

  Just at that moment, Rose and Lucy suddenly came around a corner and were now on the same path as Poncho and Tilly.

  “Hey, we’ve been looking for you, Poncho,” Lucy called out.

  “Well, now you found me.”

  Lucy was part of the package when Poncho married Rose, and over the years he’d come to love her like a sister, although he had never really understood the women’s friendship. They were about as opposite as two women could be, but Lucy was one of the few people who saw past Rose’s harsh exterior to the beautiful woman she was inside. For that reason alone, Poncho loved Lucy.

  Lucy’s eyes were wide with excitement and her voice had a hint of teasing to it. “They’ve got one of those fake horses that you put a quarter in and you can ride it. Thought it would be fun to get a picture of you ’n Rose on it.”

  Rose made no attempt to hide her judgment or disdain for what she saw as Lucy’s childish behaviors and ideas. “Oh, my gawd, Lucy! When are you going to grow up?”

  Lucy placed her hands on her hips and announced, “Nevaah.”

  Rose made a laughing sound deep in her throat and shook her head. “I shoulda known better than to have even asked such a stupid question.” She looked at Lucy. “And for the record, I ain’t gettin’ on no horse! Poncho might, but I ain’t.”

  Lucy began to snap her fingers and jiggled her bum a bit as she began to dance in a circle. Right there on the path she danced and sang. “Party-pooper. Party-pooper. Rose is a party-pooper. A great big party-pooper.”

  “Oh, that’s real mature, Lucy.” Rose lifted her nose in the air and pushed out her chest. “I have my dignity to uphold.”

  Lucy stopped her dance, scrunched up her face, squinted her eyes, and tilted her head to the side, as she said with sarcasm, “Whatever. You do what you gonna do, me an’ Poncho gonna have some fun!” She grabbed Poncho’s hand, and the two of them made their way toward the children’s horse ride.

  Rose watched them walk away, thinking, as she often did, that they were a much more natural fit as a couple than she and Poncho. He was such a gentle, kind, free-spirited man and most certainly not like most of the men she kne
w.

  Tilly and Rose were left standing there. The awkwardness swirled around them, neither saying anything for a few moments. This was not the first time, and it wouldn’t be the last time, that Tilly felt intimidated by Rose. Tilly motioned toward the parking lot and said, “Uh, well, I’d better get back to the bus. You know, in case anyone wants to get in.”

  Rose said nothing as she continued to watch Lucy and Poncho meander down the path.

  Tilly glanced at her and wondered what she was thinking. “’Kay, well, I’ll see you at the bus.”

  Rose gave a slight nod of her head.

  As she walked back to the bus, Tilly heard Grandma Tilly’s voice in her head, “Sometimes our greatest teachers are those who most frighten us.”

  12

  Secrets Revealed

  SARAH AND ANNE had been meandering through the tulips for about an hour when Sarah motioned with her head and pointed ahead. “There’s a concession up there. I need a snack and a sit down.”

  When Sarah went to pay for Anne’s bag of potato chips, Anne pushed Sarah’s wallet out of the way. “You don’t have to pay for my chips, and, while you’re at it, you can stop being the big sister anytime.”

  “It’s my job to take care of you, Annie,” Sarah declared. Sarah was the only one who called her Annie and this tone she used, rippling with the superiority of an older sister, annoyed her.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” Anne asked, but didn’t give Sarah time to answer before she continued. “I’ve just turned sixty-five and I think I’ve done a pretty good job of taking care of myself. Thank you very much.”

  “I’m the older sister. It’s my responsibility to protect you ’n take care of you.” Sarah lifted her right shoulder and turned to look at Anne. “Always have ’n always will.”

  Anne’s tone softened as she put her hand on Sarah’s forearm. “But don’t you see, Sarah, we’re sisters. That means we take care of each other, not just you taking care of me.”

  “Do you have any idea how hard it was for me to ask you to come out and help me?” Sarah whispered sharply. Both women became keenly aware that the young woman behind the till was listening to their every word.

  This wasn’t a question Anne had expected, nor had she thought about it before. What it must have been like for Sarah to not only ask for help, but to ask Anne to come out and take care of her during her cancer treatment.

  “No. I never thought about it,” Anne replied honestly.

  “Well, ain’t that the truth! You never think about me. For what it’s worth, hardest thing, other than battlin’ this stomach business, that I’ve ever had to do.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” Anne asked a second time.

  “Nothin’.” Sarah shook her head back and forth.

  “No, Sarah. It means something. I can tell. Your face, it changed, and your eyes.” Before Anne could finish, Sarah grabbed their snacks off the counter and stormed out.

  Anne gave a fake smile to the woman behind the counter and then turned on her heels and walked briskly after her sister, calling, “Sarah.Sarah, wait.”

  When Anne finally caught up to her, she gently took Sarah by the arm and turned her around. Sarah’s face was wet with tears.

  Anne hadn’t seen her sister cry since they were little girls. Sarah was always the stoic one. Not even during her cancer treatment or all the tests Sarah had endured, not even then did Anne see her cry. But now, standing before her, Sarah was crying, and Anne was desperate to know why.

  “Sarah, what is it?”

  Sarah pulled her arm away and muttered, “Nothin’.”

  “It has to be something, Sarah.”

  Sarah dug in her purse to find a Kleenex, desperate to push down the memories and the swell of emotion that was accompanying them. Finally, she found a tissue and hastily wiped her tears away.

  “Just bad memories from Residential school, that’s all,” she said as she dabbed at her cheeks, unable to stop the tears that were seeping out of her eyes. Her embarrassment at the outpouring of emotion caused her to snap at her little sister, “Forget about it. You wouldn’t understand.”

  Anne tilted her head to look at her sister, not sure she was ready to hear what Sarah had to say. “What do you mean? I wouldn’t understand?”

  “Things that happened there.” Sarah’s body quivered. “I’m sure you’ve heard the stories by now.” Anne closed her eyes for a moment and nodded. Unfortunately, she knew the stories far too well.

  Sarah lowered her head, looked at her sister from the corner of her squinted eye and in a defiant tone said, “But I made sure those awful things didn’t happen to you.”

  Anne jolted back, her stomach constricting and her face turning ashen. She pulled her cardigan tight across her chest and folded her arms in front of her.

  They stood quietly, Sarah looking down at the ground and Anne looking around the parking lot. It was Anne who found words first. “I think we should go somewhere and talk about this, Sarah.”

  Sarah shook her head vehemently. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

  Anne knew that if she waited a few minutes, her sister would come around, so she took Sarah by the elbow and led her to a picnic table. Once Sarah was settled, her words tumbled out. “I thought I’d buried it deep, but this trip and being with everyone, hearing all the stories, well,” she looked across the table at Anne, “it’s bringing it all up again.”

  Anne nodded slowly, knowing exactly what Sarah meant. The two women looked at each other for a moment, then both their gazes dropped to the table. Eventually Anne asked, “Do you want to go first or you want me to?”

  “What d’ya mean?” Sarah’s eyes shot up from the table and blazed at her sister. “Nothing bad happened to you at that school. I made damn sure of it.” Her tone was that of a big sister who had done the unthinkable to protect her baby sister.

  Anne’s eyes welled with tears. Her chest hurt to breathe. She hoped she was doing the right thing, telling what had been a secret for decades. “Actually,” she said, inhaling deeply, “something did happen.” Anne couldn’t look at her sister. She breathed in deep between clenched teeth and began. “I was ten, in grade five.” She paused and glanced at her sister, who was tearing off small pieces of Kleenex and dropping them on the table. Looking over Sarah’s shoulder, Anne continued, “I was in the laundry room working, alone, when…” She stopped. This was hard. Harder than she’d ever imagined. She took a deep breath and allowed the words to release. “…Father Murphy came in. He closed the door behind him and then locked it. I can still hear the clink of that lock.” Anne tucked a wisp of hair behind her ear and placed her hands in the lap of her skirt. “I’d heard girls talk about what he’d done to them, so I knew. I tried hiding in one of the dryers, but I wasn’t fast enough. He caught me and then…”

  “No,” Sarah interrupted her sister with an audible breath, “No, that can’t be.” She shook her head back and forth, back and forth. They sat looking at each other. Sarah desperately tried to understand what Anne had just revealed.

  When Sarah finally spoke, sorrow rolled off her tongue. “I thought I kept you safe.” She looked across the table at her baby sister and her eyes burst with tears. Choking on the words, she forced them out. “I took all the abuse, so you would be protected. The nuns, they were to watch out for you. That was our agreement.”

  Sarah’s upper lip trembled. “Oh, Annie.” She buried her face in her hands and began to sob.

  Anne moved around the table to sit beside her sister. She put her arm around her and rested Sarah’s head on her shoulder. Between Sarah’s sobs, Anne heard her sister whispering, “I was supposed to protect you. I was supposed to keep you safe.”

  Anne held her sister tight. “No, Sarah. It’s not your fault.”

  When Sarah’s sobbing eased, Anne cupped her sister’s face with her hands. “Don’t
you see, Sarah? It’s not either of our faults. We were children.” Anne blinked away tears. “We were children. At school. We were supposed to be safe. None of that horrific stuff was supposed to happen. None of it. Not to me. Not to you. Not to any of us!” She pulled Sarah into a hug and held her as Sarah released more tears and anguish.

  Eventually, the tears dried up. Sarah wiped her face, looked at her sister, and then down at her hands. Neither of them spoke for a while, each lost in her own thoughts.

  “I’ve never told you this, Sarah, but I had a breakdown about twenty years ago.” Anne glanced over as her sister’s eyes got big. “I know. Shocking. Annie, who’s always got it together, lost her marbles.” She laughed softly, although at the time, it had been no laughing matter.

  “What happened?” Sarah asked.

  “You know what, Sarah?”

  “Mmm?”

  “I need a cup of tea. Would you like one?” asked Anne.

  Sarah nodded.

  “I’ll be right back.” Anne eased herself up, heading toward the concession where this story all began unfolding. Coming back a few minutes later, she set down two cups of tea and sat across from Sarah. Almost in unison, they removed the lids and blew on their tea. Finally, Anne began. “It all started when I got assigned the children’s section in the library. Being around all those children and their parents, well, before long, all my memories were coming back. I didn’t know what to do. I couldn’t cope. Which is strange for us Fraser women, because we can cope with anything.”

  Sarah nodded as she lifted her cup for a sip. “Ain’t that the truth.”

  “But it got real bad, Sarah.” She inhaled deeply, hardly believing she was telling all this to her sister. “I wasn’t sleeping or eating. It got so bad that some days Liz had to feed and bathe me.” Anne remembered how she’d felt like a shell, like nothing or no one mattered, least of all herself. “I just didn’t care. I think Liz was afraid I was going to hurt myself, so she dragged me to see a counselor. Literally, the first time I went she pretty much carried me into the room, but that’s when my healing began.”