In the Real World

by Nōnen Títi

  “The principal told us the teacher was ill and for us to read a chapter we already read. Mariette only asked why that chapter and then he started shouting at her.”

  “I’m afraid I can’t quite believe that. Mariette hasn’t made a habit of only asking questions lately and no matter how unjust it seems, it’s unlikely he’d start shouting for that. I think you need to dig a bit deeper into your memory.”

  Very politely, Uncle Gerard is accusing me of lying. It makes me blush, yet I can’t tell him what Mariette did say. “Maybe you should ask her.”

  “Maybe I should, but do you think it’s likely she’ll tell me?”

  “I’m not sure.”

  “Jerome, this is serious. I need to know the details if I’m going to contest that suspension. I can’t be caught out by something I wasn’t aware of. Do you see my point? I have to know exactly what was being said.”

  I can see his point, but that doesn’t make it easier.

  “A suspension may be temporary and seem like a holiday, but it will be noted in her school records. Besides the fact that she isn’t likely to be promoted to year eleven for attendance, it will jeopardize her entry into any college.”

  He makes it sound pretty grim. She’ll be furious with me if I tell. Not that there’s much to lose between us.

  “You’d be helping her in the long run, Jerome.”

  I give up on trying to fight him. I recall as far back as I can what set off the problems. I repeat the words Mariette used. Uncle Gerard doesn’t jump up or anything like it. “It doesn’t sound like I’ll have much of a leg to stand on,” is all he says.

  I try to apologize for it, for Mariette, since she started all this because I came here.

  “No Jerome, I told you to never believe that. Once Mariette has set her mind on hating somebody, she won’t give it up.”

  That doesn’t give me much hope.

  Uncle Gerard sighs deep and long. “Would you like to leave for the farm a bit earlier?” He explains that he can take a few days off work and we’d leave this Friday instead of at the end of next week. “Grandpa Will wants to talk to the two of you.”

  “I don’t think Mariette wants to talk.”

  He puts his hands on my shoulders. “Assume for now that Thursday will be your last day, but don’t tell Miranda or Karen yet and don’t tell Mariette at all. Let me do that.”

  At about ten o’clock Uncle Gerard comes to my room. “How does Thursday sound? We’ll go early afternoon. We’ll all have a long weekend and then leave you to stay there with Charl.”

  “Sounds good.” It sounds really good. Suddenly there’s no more school at all, just enough time to say goodbye. I decide to start packing while Uncle Gerard knocks on Mariette’s door.

  “Do you want to eat something?” I hear him ask.

  “No.”

  “Can we talk?”

  I hear the door open and close and conclude that my uncle must have gone in. For a little while all is quiet but then something crashes against the wall between our rooms, followed by a clattering noise and Mariette’s voice: “Thanks very much, you fucking traitor.”

  I try to convince myself that we didn’t have an agreement that I wouldn’t tell, but I know she’s right; I’ve done it again. More shouting follows, which I try not to hear but can’t completely block out. It’s about coming along for the weekend, in this case for four nights, and Uncle Gerard tries to convince her she can’t stay home alone. “Then I’ll stay with Kathleen. At least her father isn’t an asshole!”

  I’d love to walk in there and tell her how lucky she is, but I don’t. I lie on my bed and bury my head under the covers. Only once all is quiet do I go to the bathroom and change.

  The next morning I don’t see Mariette. Aunt Karen makes just two lunches and assures me once again that it isn’t my fault. I tell the secretaries that I won’t be back and walk up with Fred and Kathleen to go to English.

  “How is Mariette?”

  “Angry at everybody, but especially at me for telling her dad.” I explain that he had me believe he might be able to dispute the ruling. I also tell them that Mariette’s refusing to come on this trip.

  “I’m coming home with you at three. I want to talk to her,” Kathleen says.

  “I wish I could come, but I’ve been grounded. My dad threw a fit,” Fred says.

  By the end of the day I’ve exchanged e-mail addresses with a group of people, even if I’ll probably only write to Fred. I have also, with Kathleen, spread the rumour that Mariette and I are going on a vacation tomorrow. Kathleen comes back with me as promised.

  “How does it feel to be released from prison and go on a holiday?”

  “I’m not going anywhere,” Mariette grumbles.

  Kathleen explains about the rumour. “Don’t go showing up in the neighbourhood. That would ruin the effect.”

  “I won’t leave the house.”

  “Don’t be stupid, Mariette. If you don’t go, I’ll go with Jerome and your parents. I could do with a vacation. More than that, I could do with some relatives. I’d love to be able to visit my grandparents. You’re so ungrateful.”

  “If you came here to yell at me, you may as well leave,” Mariette tells her.

  “I may as well, but don’t think you can stay with us, because you won’t.”

  Before I see it coming, Mariette’s foot hits my leg. “You listen in and then run to tell everybody.”

  “I couldn’t help hearing.”

  “I’m going home.”

  “No Kathleen, wait.” Mariette runs after her.

  I leave the room to pack up the rest of my stuff. I don’t care anymore if she gets in a fight. I just want to go home.

  “I don’t have to go to school tomorrow!” Miranda sings when we go down for dinner.

  Mariette comes down too, though I would have preferred it if she’d stayed away. This time I refuse to look at her. I’ve done my best.

  Then she surprises all of us. “So when will we be back?”

  “Monday night,” Uncle Gerard answers as if he had expected this, but I notice the glance of relief he sends Aunt Karen.

  MARIETTE

  “We’re here,” Miranda announces.

  I pretend I’m still reading while Dad drives down the long path to the farm house. Jerome hasn’t once looked in my direction. He’s going home; I’m on my way to a trial. I wish it was Sunday night.

  I linger in the car when they all get out but then my door gets opened before I’m ready. “Are you coming in or were you planning to camp out here?” Grandpa Will asks.

  I step out, swing my bag over my shoulder while still fastening the buckle, but he doesn’t ask for a hug. He directs us to the house but Jerome and Uncle Charl stay by the car. I have no choice but to go in. Granannie comes to me as normal, holding out her arms. “We’ll talk later,” she whispers while embracing me. Somewhere in that moment I drop about a hundred kilo.

  All the drinks are poured when Jerome and Uncle Charl walk in. They look more like friends than father and son. They both seem relaxed. I’m envious of their happiness, their closeness. Uncle Charl pulls Miranda’s hair as a greeting and gives Dad a playful punch. “Mariette, I thought you’d decided to ignore me from now on?”

  I have no idea how to respond so I only shake my head.

  “How’s life in the suburbs?” Uncle Charl wants to know next.

  Mum tells him all is fine, which, as everybody here must be aware, is a lie. Mum even blushes since it isn’t like her. I play with my cup, moving it so the coffee swirls up to the edges.

  “How is school, Miranda?” Grandpa Will asks just to emphasize the situation.

  “Stupid. I wanted to have six weeks off too.”

  The coffee spills over the edge and into my lap. I quickly put my hand on it in case anybody has seen it.

  The forced conversation keeps up during dinner, after which Grandpa Will suggests they empty the car and that Jerome take the big room next to Uncle Charl, who is in the P
etite Room that used to be Grandpa Glenn’s. Dad goes along to help him carry stuff.

  “That leaves the women to do the dishes,” Granannie says.

  I get the hint and start collecting plates. Anything’s better than just sitting here.

  “Where do you want the kids?” Grandpa Will calls into the kitchen.

  “Rowan should have the other big room upstairs, so we’ll leave that empty. Tell Gerard and Karen to take one of the attic rooms and Miranda can have the other one. Mariette will be with me,” Granannie answers.

  I keep my back turned and concentrate on rinsing the dishes. Rowan won’t come until Sunday. Besides, there’s the summer room, which is used as a sleep room during the reunions and Aunt Ellie’s room is right behind it.

  The evening drags on. Jerome spends most of it with his dad and Miranda plays card games with Grandpa Will. I watch the smoke from his cigar travel up to the ceiling. I love the smell of it. Mum and Dad each talk with Granannie in private at some time and I can’t help but be suspicious.

  At ten-thirty Granannie stands up from her chair. “I think we will go to bed now.” She reminds Mum to turn off the small kitchen heater before going to sleep. I’m still trying to figure out what’s expected of me when she stops in the doorway. “Are you coming, Mariette?”

  I’ve been in Granannie’s room only once or twice before, in the daytime when the bed was made. Now she pulls back the covers. It’s the double bed she used to share with Grandpa Jerry; it might not have seen two people in it for seven years. I feel like I’m in a stranger’s house. I’m not sure how to behave. Should I change? It’s chilly but Granannie doesn’t seem to notice. She sits down in the armchair. “Do we need to worry about you, Mariette?”

  “Why?”

  “You mum tells me you never change your clothes and never shower. She never has any washing of yours except underwear and she believes you put those in clean just to keep her from asking.”

  Talk about a direct attack.

  “Well, are you going to answer me? Your mum is worried; more than she shows you. It’s a big step for a woman to ask her mother-in-law for help. Most teenagers don’t want to get out of the shower.”

  “I’m not most teenagers.”

  “And all that started after that reunion here, so my guess is it’s related.”

  “I don’t want to talk about that.”

  “But I do, Mariette. Can I look in your bag?”

  “What for?”

  “I was wondering if you brought any clothing.”

  My bag stands just inside the door. I could walk to it, pick it up and leave, but I’d lose her again and I can’t do that. “There’s no use.”

  “Did you bring a toothbrush?”

  I nod.

  “So how about we get into bed where it’s warm and I tell you a story?”

  I get the toothbrush, use the ensuite, and then hesitate.

  “How do you normally sleep?” she asks.

  I normally sleep in just my singlet and underpants, but I normally sleep alone.

  Granannie changes her clothes in front of me. She wears at least three layers, which must be why she’s never cold. I try not to look at the wrinkled, pale skin that seems to be larger than she is. I expect her to have a night dress, but she pulls a pair of flannel pyjamas with a tartan pattern from under the pillow. “These were Jerry’s. They’re nice and warm. That there is his side,” she says.

  I wait until she’s in the bathroom before taking off my track pants, jumper and socks, and crawl under the feather blanket on my grandfather’s side of the bed. The mattress feels high and thick. From under the covers I watch Granannie as she comes back into the room, more frail-looking, older maybe, than she looks in the daytime. She switches on her bedside lamp before turning off the ceiling light. The bed bounces a little. She fluffs up her pillows, wraps a shawl over her shoulders and sits against them.

  I don’t expect a fairy tale.

  “I had four brothers and a sister. You’ve only known your grand-maman Beth and Grandpa Glenn. The oldest was John. He was two years older than Alistair and I. A year below us was Stuart, then Beth and then Glenn. My father was very strict and expected kids to abide by his rules and not have an opinion. That works fine when they are young, but John was fifteen when the war started in Europe. He was engaged in endless power struggles with my father, which usually resulted in him being severely spanked, which only increased the problems. John had a lot of friends in town, many older than he was, and one after the other they left to become soldiers. Those who stayed behind, like John, considered too young to enlist, maybe feeling bored or unappreciated, started to become a nuisance to our neighbourhood. At first it was only threats, but soon they were caught setting a fire and destroying property. The more they did the more trouble they got in and the more revenge they took. Sparked by the news from Europe – at that time Germany was all powerful and France occupied – the boys started to express Aryan sympathies. Do you know what I mean?”

  She looks at me, but doesn’t wait for me to confirm.

  “That in itself wasn’t too uncommon then. Until the 1960s this country openly proclaimed its bias against non-whites, but many of those people were our neighbours. I still believe to this day that John did this much more to spite my father than because he really believed in it, but it hurt my mother especially. She was very much like Beth; she couldn’t handle arguments. Then when John neared eighteen, the age at which he could have gone to war as one of the allied soldiers, he started expressing his wish to join the other side.

  “I wasn’t very politically aware. We had no television and we kids generally didn’t get to listen to the radio. I was in awe of my older brother, who seemed all-knowing and all-powerful to me, and I also fought with my father.”

  Granannie looks at me. “You see, nothing has changed. Come a bit closer.”

  I let her tug me closer and lean against her, half-sitting, while Granannie continues.

  “Alistair was different. He didn’t argue back when my father said something. He just quietly did his own thing. I should have taken that as an example, but I was stubborn and considered myself independent. So one night, after a big argument, instead of going to Alistair I went in search of John and his friends because I thought they’d be more understanding. I’d misjudged them. There were five of them and John did as he was told. I didn’t stand a chance. It was Jerry who rescued me. He was staying in a little guest house we had behind the barn then, and he worked for my father, but that day he’d been out for a drink with a friend and he heard the noise.

  “After that my father beat John so badly he had no face left to show around anywhere. He walked away that day and we’ve never seen him since. A card arrived once from Europe, so we think he made it there. This was 1942. It’s doubtful those boys were ever accepted by Germany. It’s more likely they didn’t survive. John’s name has never since been mentioned and nobody in this family – nobody still alive, that is – knows what he did to me, not even Grandpa Will, who was still in Europe at that time. Did you know he and my Jerry were cousins?

  “Anyway, after that my father was more than eager to be seen fighting the Germans, if only to show the neighbours who vented their anger about John by threatening us. So Alistair and Stuart enlisted two years later and neither returned. Stuart died in a Japanese camp. We don’t know what happened to Alistair.”

  “That’s terrible.”

  Granannie takes a drink of water and wipes the handkerchief over her mouth. “Yes, but that’s not what I wanted to tell you. That evening when those boys assaulted me something happened I have never told anybody, not even Jerry. You see, I wasn’t really afraid of those boys. Like I said, I admired them and there was never much physical closeness in our family, so I enjoyed the attention at first. I didn’t fight very hard at any rate. Right there, in the middle of that struggle, something awoke in me. You hear what I’m saying, Mariette? I had a few more encounters with men before I married Jerry. None of them
was able to give me that same sensation ever again and I longed for that. For years on end I secretly dreamed of that one overpowering moment. Jerry knew he couldn’t give me what I wanted and that made him sad all these years. I should have told him, of course, but these things were unspeakable.” Granannie’s hand tugs on the back of my hair so I look up at her. “Maybe they still are,” she whispers.

  “No! It wasn’t like that; not at all. I wasn’t… they didn’t…” Shit! “It was worms.” As much as I’d like to accuse my cousins… “It wasn’t like that,” I repeat when her eyes keep penetrating me. “They wanted to make Lizette talk, that’s why. I meant nothing to them, just a piece of meat, like bait, to get to her.”

  “What about you?”

  “I don’t know. I guess I blamed her. I told them everything. I just wanted them to stop. She was so brave and I couldn’t be. I panicked and gave up.”

  “It’s a natural reaction to try and save yourself first in a threatening situation, darling. It’s what people, all animals, do. You were afraid and rightfully so. Lizette could have drowned.”

  “But I said all that before they… before there was any danger. I deserted her.”

  “Maybe you sensed the danger before Lizette did. It would have been in their voices, even their scent, long before it was in action. Not everybody is equally sensitive to that.”

  “But it wasn’t about that.”

  “It’s always about that, Mariette. All of life is about that.”

  “No… maybe for Lizette, but-”

  “And for you.”

  “No.”

  “Tell me what Jerome did.”

  “He didn’t at first. He just looked at me and-”

  “And then?”

  “Then he…”

  “Say it.”

  But I can’t and neither can I stop the surge when she suddenly moves her hand to where the memory sits and what I can’t say jumps out at her. All she does then is pull me close. “Strange things, memories,” she whispers. “You can’t wash them away.”