The Kissing Fence

by B. A. Thomas-Peter

  “I have news for you all,” said Matron MacDonald. “I’ve been told by the principal that many of your mothers have finally seen sense.” She paused to emphasize the shaming of the mothers. “On Friday, they agreed with the judge in Nelson that you will go to Canadian schools, when terms start in September. So, you will be going home.”

  The children were quiet at first, not believing what they heard. Not just that they would be going home, but that their mothers would agree with a judge.

  A voice emerged. “You mean we’re going home with our parents, today?”

  “I guess so, if your parents come this afternoon.”

  “What if our parents aren’t coming?”

  “As soon as it can be arranged, you’ll be going home,” said Matron. “If your parents are coming today, you better get your things together before lunch.”

  The noise erupted and laughing began. The yard quickly filled with children and whooping. A boy known as Popcorn stood on his hands, celebrating like a circus acrobat. Friends cheered.

  Pavel watched the celebrations. It dawned on him that he had nowhere to go. The end of New Denver meant being shunted off to another place, somewhere else, with new people. It might be better, or worse.

  “What’s wrong?” asked Nina.

  “Nothing.”

  A long second passed as he waited for her to respond. Nina was screening out the excitement in the yard and eyeing him carefully. “You don’t have anywhere to go, do you?”

  “I’ll be fine,” he said, smiling at her.

  “You can stay with us.”

  “Will they let me?”

  “Yes, I’m sure,” she said. “They know your parents are still away. There’s room for you, if you don’t mind living in Grand Forks, with me.”

  The hesitation in her voice gave something away, but it was difficult to understand. Perhaps, he thought, she did not know of his affection.

  He said, “Didn’t know they’d moved to Grand Forks.”

  She seemed disappointed with his reply. “It was Auntie who went to the court on Friday. A month ago she told me she was doing it, but I couldn’t tell anyone.”

  “Why?”

  Nina spoke as if appealing to him. “Lots of people won’t speak to her. Auntie said they had to move to Grand Forks to get away from them, and she thought if I told anyone, the same would happen to Arina and me. No one would talk to us.” Pavel nodded his understanding. She continued, “I thought we would hear about it yesterday, but nothing happened so I thought she decided not to. But she did, and now we can go home.” Nina smiled at him.

  It was more complicated than that, they both knew. What her auntie had done could drive them apart, depending on whose family sided with what principle, or with this community or that. Whatever he decided now might or might not taint him always.

  It was her eyes, and the hope he saw in them that all would work out, that allowed him to choose. He thought it was enough to be leaving New Denver and be together, and with that settled he sighed relief. Maybe it would work out. There was always hope.

  He said, “We better get packed and tell Matron I’m going with you.”

  “Good!” she said, beaming at him before turning to a group of girls now squealing with excitement.

  As soon as she left, panic swept through Pavel. New Denver might be over, but nothing was settled—not for him or his parents, and not for the children here who had struggled with and against each other for all these years. How would it be on the outside?

  He caught sight of Matron MacDonald and two others in matron uniforms moving away, nearing her office. They looked down as they walked. It was unlike the usual bustling march that gathered and swept all before it. There was nothing righteous or insistent in their walk, and no threat of swift punishment in their manner. No authority was now vested in their uniforms, nor was there pride in what they had done. Everything about their progress moving away from the children suggested they knew.

  They were knowers of what had happened in New Denver. As years passed there might be some comfort in nostalgia, but only among those capable of suspending what they really knew. It could never be shared with outsiders; at least the truth could not be shared with people outside of their huddle.

  Behind them big Sam lumbered alone. Since it became known that it was Sam and not Marko who had given up the secret of the Green Witch, even his jackals had abandoned him. He stayed close to Matron. Now he would have to live outside with having been a bully and a Judas to all the people he knew. He was never to be trusted and would be lost to the other children for always. All of them would have to live in the world with what they had been in this place, where reputation had been formed and frozen. Each impression now hung like crystals in the eye of each child, deflecting the light and distorting what they would see.

  * * *

  The hot morning went quickly. There was hardly time to talk to everyone, and now families were gathering outside of the fence. Pavel searched for Nina from behind the phalanx of departing children heading toward the mournful singing that filled the air from Galena Avenue.

  “Goodbye, Pavel.” Matron Cody was smiling at him from just a few feet away. The blood drained from his face.

  She approached and put her hand on him. “Soon you’ll be too tall for me to touch your shoulder. Aren’t you going to say goodbye?”

  Nina arrived suddenly. “I’ve seen them. They’re over there,” she said, pointing to the fence. There was too much excitement for her to take notice of the disgust on his face, and she began running toward the gate.

  “Well?” Cody asked.

  Pavel turned to Matron Cody, still unable to speak, but a message passed between them. She removed her hand and stood stiffly to regain the dignity he had stripped from her with his silence.

  “Good luck, Pavel.” Her eyes lifted after Nina.

  Pavel began following Nina. He felt Cody behind him and thought she would be there always.

  Outside of the gate the singing stopped, and parents reached for children, some of whom had not been hugged for five years. There was awkwardness in some, but most grasped and kissed without shyness. Two women, both large and pendulous, stood as pillars outside the gate, naked save for their shoes. Each child ran the gauntlet of the women embracing all who filed by. The children could not believe what they saw, and some recoiled in horror at being enveloped by so much flesh, such intimacy, so suddenly.

  Pavel shuddered and hoped Nina would not see that a different horror gripped him, or ever know why it was there.

  Grand Forks, March 26, 1960

  Pavel lifted his small bag and followed Nina out of Auntie’s house. It was the last of winter and wet snow squished under their feet. They walked along the sidewalk with coats open, allowing the heat from their bodies to escape the layers of clothing.

  He said, “You don’t need to come with me to the bus stop.”

  “I want to,” she said.

  Pavel knew she wanted to say something and the house was no place to say it. They walked in silence for long minutes and his mind wandered, waiting for her to begin.

  These were his people and yet it was different among them. Pavel had a fragile place with this family but he, like the others, felt disconnected from the life they had previously lived. It was unlike the big bustling communal houses of his people, offering a full life, filled with rhythm and purpose. Nearly half his lifetime had passed since he had lived like that, but the memory endured, except in those moments of slipping between sleep and consciousness when he feared it may have been a dream.

  Sunday prayers were constant but brought another change. The Union of Spiritual Communities of Christ had allowed them in to worship, but among these Orthodox Doukhobors there would always be suspicion of those who had been radical, and rejection of those who had been to prison.

  Pavel was drawn to his friends in Br
illiant, nearly three hours northeast of Grand Forks, and wedged between the Kootenay and Columbia Rivers. They were all boys from New Denver, locked in common step, motivated without direction, save for the guidance of the elders of the Sons of Freedom and their distant leader, Stefan Sorokin.

  They stopped at the bus stop.

  “How long are you going for?” asked Nina.

  “Just a few days.”

  “You know it makes it harder for Auntie and Uncle when you go away. The congregation doesn’t like it.”

  “It’s me the congregation doesn’t want,” said Pavel. “Anyway, they’re my friends and they need me.”

  “What do your ‘friends’ need you for?” She waited for a reply. When none came, she said, “Why won’t you tell me?”

  “Because you know what I’ll say. You know what we’re doing. The Fraternal Council gives us jobs to do, and we do them.” Pavel lowered his eyes. “At least I’m doing something.”

  “I understand what you’re doing,” said Nina, closing the distance between them, “but I worry about you, and I don’t want anyone getting hurt.”

  “I’ll be all right. I make sure they don’t get into trouble.”

  It was a lie, or nearly so. While it did fall to him to be the cautious one, he ran the same risks of being harmed or caught. Down the road he saw the bus coming to take him away.

  “Auntie and Uncle don’t want you to do these things. If someone is hurt, they won’t let you stay.”

  “Then I’ll live in Brilliant with my friends.” His defiance was not intended as uncaring and immediately he regretted it.

  “Without me?” she said flatly.

  “Sorry. I didn’t mean …”

  “Promise me you won’t do anything that hurts someone.”

  The bus arrived beside them and the doors opened.

  “I promise,” he said and smiled awkwardly at her. He turned to step onto the bus, but she grabbed the front of his coat and lifted her face to his, kissing his cheek, so close to his lips. He wanted to kiss her back but stopped. It was not a sister’s kiss and was an evolution of their friendship. It was what he had always wanted from her, but it surprised him.

  Pavel stepped from her and onto the bus. The seat next to a window was free and he swung into it. Then he watched her as the bus hissed and rumbled from the curb. The whiff of diesel exhaust reminded him of seeing his mother from the window of the New Denver bus pulling away from Perry Siding. He was not yet ten years old when that happened, and it remained as clear as the crystal Slocan River. His mind filled with memories of New Denver and then, as Nina disappeared from view, returned to that kiss.

  It would not be the same between them when he returned from his duty in Brilliant. Her affection excited him, but the prospect of the intimacy that might follow frightened him in equal measure. Matron Cody was still too close to thoughts of his affection for Nina. They were only seventeen and still living with her auntie and uncle. Maybe it was too soon to be thinking of it. There was time, he thought, before their lives became complicated with that.

  February 16, 1962

  It did not matter that the car had been through hard times. It had been bumped, rolled and repaired, but everyone loved George’s car. The guttural noise of the Chevy big-block V8 was unmistakable. It was, for all the friends, a thing of beauty. Although objects and possessions were not to be revered among their people, it could not be helped with George’s car. From every angle it had something to please. Double front headlights and wraparound windshields front and back had the style of the time. The long lines drew the interest of passersby, whose gazes lingered as they walked. Huge doors opened like the mouth of a whale, swallowing friends clambering in. The wide bench seats welcomed them all, with enough room in the trunk for everything they might need. It was their transport everywhere, their clubhouse and their freedom to go.

  Harry shouted, “Are you coming, Pavel?”

  The friends exchanged glances. Something was going on. Pavel knew them all from New Denver. Each of them, George, John, Peter and Harry, carried their history in equal loads.

  “Where are you going?” asked Pavel.

  “Into Castlegar. I need to do something for my mother.” Harry smiled broadly. “We’re all going.” His curly brown hair protruded from under his toque. “You should come.” Harry emphasized the “you,” adding an expectation in his voice.

  “Why should I come? I’ve got things to do.”

  “So do we,” came the reply. “Something important.” Harry patted his coat gently and kept smiling.

  Pavel understood. There was a job to be done, initiated from the elders, the Fraternal Council responding to a message from Stefan Sorokin, or it might just be mischief. The boys piled into the Chevy, George in the front with John, Peter in the back. He wished he were going with them, if only to stop them from getting into real trouble.

  “Be careful, Harry. They are after you already,” said Pavel.

  Harry grinned at him and slipped into the back seat on the passenger side.

  A voice emerged from inside the Chevy. “Go back to Grand Forks. There are always things to do in love.” Laughter rose from the car and ape-like grins appeared at the windows, already steaming up on the inside. There was mocking in the laughter.

  It was true, Pavel thought. His loyalty to Nina and the promise to her had put distance between him and the others.

  “Last chance!” More shouts came from the Chevy. “Come on, Pavel, it’ll be better with five of us. Sit in the front. She won’t miss you for a few more hours. Come with us.”

  Pavel allowed the teasing to pull him toward his friends and he ran to the front passenger door and climbed in, as John shuffled along the bench seat. The five were off.

  Pavel’s thoughts yanked him away from their task. Why did I get in? The leaders had not briefed him, except that he knew the mission was in the service of the cause of his people and would let loose the anger of New Denver boys. Only Nina and obligation to her family had tempered his fury and prevented him from doing more with the militants.

  Many of the valley’s communal homes had been torched since the children were released from New Denver. Each night sparks drifted into the blue-black Kootenay sky. From time to time the sound of explosions trundled between the mountains like thunder. Many of his friends had been taken and were serving sentences for bombing or similar acts, exchanging places with their parents. Pavel shared the anger of his friends, none of whom could understand how the injustice could be ignored in a country claiming to be free. He had been between the militant Sons of Freedom and the Orthodox Doukhobors, until times like this when a side was clearly chosen.

  The Chevy crossed the river and headed north toward Genelle, just south of Kinnaird. The sky and hill were lost in the blanket of grey. A solid figure of an RCMP officer held his hand up and waved the Chevy to a stop. He came to the driver’s window and waited for it to open. All the boys listened.

  “Checkpoint,” he said without explanation. “Stop over there, please.”

  The Chevy rolled toward four more officers waiting.

  “Do you think they know?” asked Harry.

  “Be quiet,” said Pavel. “They stop everyone from Brilliant.”

  George said, “Let them do what they usually do, and then we’ll go.” The temperature rose in the short distance the Chevy rolled to the waiting uniforms. Windows opened to let the tension out.

  A second officer came to the window as the car stopped. “Turn the engine off and step out of the car, please, all of you. Bring your licence with you.” The five of them climbed out of the car and began closing their coats against the cold. The standard-issue boots of the RCMP crunched the snow into the ground as they walked. An officer took the driver aside and waited for his licence to be produced. The others were waved toward two more officers. The senior man and one other leaned into each side
of the Chevy and began searching—opening the glove compartment, pulling up the mats, yanking out the bench seats. The hood opened with a mechanical clunk as the spring released a hundredweight of steel, and then the trunk was open with the spare tire out and tools scattered behind. Ten minutes passed. The boys stood in the cold and watched the officers look in and under the car, removing all that could be removed.

  The uniformed men came together briefly before the lead began walking toward the boys. Several others lifted the spare wheel and tools to the trunk. It slammed shut and the big doors crashed closed. The danger had not yet gone. The senior man arrived in front of the boys.

  “Where are you coming from?” He already knew.

  “Brilliant, but we stopped in Trail.”

  “What were you doing there?”

  “I have a present to buy for my aunt,” said Harry.

  The officers fixed on him.

  “Does it take five of you to buy a present for an aunt?”

  “It does if you’re Harry!” The boys stifled giggles.

  The RCMP officer did not budge. “And where are you going?”

  “Castlegar.”

  “What for?”

  “We’ve got girls to meet.”

  The officer studied the face of each boy, as if scrubbing off the facade of innocence with his glower. “Okay. Just be careful. There’s more snow coming tonight. On your way.”

  The boys loaded themselves into the Chevy and rolled up the windows. The V8 came alive with a rumble and off they moved, north toward Castlegar. Clear of the checkpoint, they began laughing hysterically. The excitement released by their RCMP encounter filled the car and lifted their spirits. Pavel was first to settle.

  “Did you see his face? They’re on to us. I think we should call it off.”

  “Too late,” said Harry. “We gotta do it. It’s been decided.”

  “We should talk about it, at least.”

  “Nothing to talk about. We’ll do this and go into Castlegar, like we told ’em. Stay for a while and come back to see the mess. There it is.” Harry pointed at the sleepy post office in Kinnaird, now closed. It was quiet in the neighbourhood, and dark. “It will be easy—too dark for anyone to see us. When it goes off we’ll be in Castlegar.” He began fumbling with his jacket.