— Chapters appear as excerpts only. —
— Full chapters will appear in the printed published book. —
Cliff was becoming increasingly more hard-hearted and just plain mean. His decisions were unreasonable and unjustified, but he was the big shot in charge and no one could fight him. My mother succumbed to his power. She had changed into an almost invisible entity, a mere shadow in the background of my life.
If I would have been an average pre-teen girl, I would have been much more focused on clothes and my appearance, but I had no peer group or role models to influence me. I was totally unaware of the clothes that others wore, except for one girl, Evelyn. It was difficult not to notice how she had matured. She had a shapely figure and wore form-fitting, flattering jeans and pants. She also lived in the only house in Minnitaki that had indoor plumbing.
My mother brought home used clothes for me. I never knew where they came from. I knew she loved to go to rummage sales, usually held at churches and charity outlets, to find a bargain. My mom could pick up a pair of pants for her or me for less than a dollar.
Since we moved onto the farm, the only times I went into the town of Dryden with mom were the two visits to see the doctor, once for tonsillitis and once for ringworm. Now that Cliff’s sister Edith had started inviting me to her place for the weekends, I got to go to Dryden more often, about once every two months.
In downtown Dryden, on my way to Edith’s, I passed by several stores where clothes were displayed in the windows. I glanced at them but tried not to think about them. I didn’t go inside as I never had enough money to buy clothes. My mom did give me some small change once in a while, which I used to buy a candy bar, bag of chips, or popsicle at Ed’s Grocery. I also saw modern fashions in the Eaton’s and Army and Navy catalogues, and also in the Dryden store flyers that were stuffed in our mailbox. Once or twice a year, I picked out a pair of pants from one of the catalogues and my mom ordered them for me. It was always a special day for me when the package arrived.
In the fall of the second year on the farm, I saw a beautiful, bright red, plush, pile coat in a sales flyer from Cadario’s store in Dryden. I mentioned it to mom, thinking I’d probably never get it. They must have gone into Dryden one day because, one evening, after the chores were done, mom brought it out and showed it to me. Cliff didn’t say anything about it. I tried it on and it fit perfectly.
I felt like a movie star in that red coat. It was so warm and snug. I could wear it to school and to Dryden too, when I spent the weekends with Edith. I pranced around in it, so happy and appreciative that she cared enough to buy this for me. I hung it in the upstairs hallway closet, which was now sprinkled with moth balls, so I knew it would be safe in there. Every night, before I went to bed, I opened the closet to look at it and rub my hands down the fluffy pile. It was the most beautiful thing to me. I was excited waiting for the snow to come and the weather to turn colder, so I could wear it.
One day in the middle of November, the snow was at least two feet deep on the fields and it was certainly cold enough, dipping down to -10 degrees Celsius (14 Fahrenheit) at night. I brought the coat down from the closet, put it on and was ready to leave the house to catch the bus to school. This was certain to be such a happy day for me.
Cliff stopped me and told me to take off the coat and put it back. I didn’t understand why he would do this. My heart sunk. When Cliff gave an order, that was usually the end of it. Any protestation would be seen as insurrection to a dictator such as him. However, I wasn’t going to just put it back without hearing an intelligent reason for this. If he couldn’t justify it, I wanted him to at least know what an idiot he was by giving me a reason that would make absolutely no sense.
“Why can’t I wear it? Tell me why!” I yelled.
He quickly turned red and got very angry. “Do as you’re told, young lady. Put it back right now.”
I knew it. He didn’t have a reason. It was just another one of his orders with no logic to it. Only to make a child feel sad. Once again, I looked for support from my mom. She had invested her money, perhaps my family allowance money, in this coat, so she was part of this, whether she liked it or not. She didn’t look at me and didn’t say one word, as usual. I stood there in disbelief, but he yelled at me again.
“Put it away, right now!”
I should have run out of the house and let him come and catch me. First of all, he couldn’t run as fast as I could. But also, if he managed to get around the corner by the bushes, he would then be visible to Mr. Crigger and Cliff wouldn’t want that. But I was too scared to try that, thinking that the retaliation could be worse. After all, Cliff did have a gun in the house. I didn’t think he would ever use it on a human, but he was unpredictable and he could get very, very angry.
I decided that it was not a good idea to test the limits of his anger. Cliff had never hit me, but I was sure he could find ways to make my life even more miserable. There was plenty of private time on the farm when no one outside our household would ever know if something horrible happened. I was unsure of the consequences for disobedience, because I always did what he said, even if I didn’t do it immediately and even if I didn’t like it.
Defeatedly, I went back upstairs and put the coat back in the closet, as I was told. I was hoping that Cliff would change his mind. If he thought it was his idea and not mine, he might let me wear it. I was trying to psychoanalyse a ruthless dictator. He banned me from playing poker and never relented on that, so I wasn’t sure he would ever agree to me wearing this coat either. All I could do was hope.
For several mornings after that, I sheepishly asked if I could wear the coat. I thought if I worded it nicely and asked very submissively, that Cliff might have a change of feeling and let me wear it. “Can I please wear my red coat?” But the answer was always no.
I did my chores quickly, thoroughly, and willingly, trying to please him as best I could. I waited a week or so, and tried asking again. “Can I please wear my red coat?”
I finally gave up and quit asking. The more I asked, the more Cliff seemed to enjoy saying no. Perhaps one day, his heart would grow and he would offer to let me wear it.
I tried to think of a way I could put on the coat, or take it with me, smuggle it out of the house so Cliff wouldn’t see me, but there was no possible way I could do that. He was always at the kitchen table when we left for school, and I knew I could not get it past him.
The months passed, Christmas came and went, and although I hadn’t forgotten about it, I had resigned myself to the fact that I would probably never get to wear my beautiful red coat. Sometimes at night, when mom and Cliff were at the beer parlour, I took it out of the closet and wore it around the house. It was best for me not to think too much about how unfair and how poorly I was being treated, because it was too depressing.
Around the beginning of April, I was getting ready to leave for school and, out of the blue, Cliff smiled and muttered, “You can wear your coat.”
I was so surprised, I almost couldn’t believe it. I raced up the stairs, swung open the closet door, and plucked my beautiful red coat from its hanger. I put it on, but it no longer fit so well. I had grown over the winter. Not only that, but the days were now almost too warm, so it was uncomfortable to wear such a big coat. Everyone was wearing their spring jackets now. But I was determined to wear my red coat anyway.
Clara mentioned what a beautiful coat I had, but I knew it was a bit weird to wear this heavy winter coat when it was no longer that cold. I wore it only a few times, then put it away. I told my mother to donate it to the rummage sales. By the next winter, I knew it would be much too small for me. Cliff did not care that the money had been wasted. It was more important to him that he be seen as the master of the house, the one who was in charge. He had the power to make a child feel sad and miserable, and I believed that gave him much pleasure. He could show his superiority, his power over me, and control over my mother too.
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Some of the farm work I enjoyed because of the animals. The cows and calves were not our pets, we didn’t have any special affection for any of them in particular. Except I grew a special bond with one black calf. He followed me around whenever he could. When I walked home from visiting Edith, he ran down the front field to the farthest corner of the fence. Then he followed me alongside the fence until I opened the gate. This calf was like a puppy dog. I wasn’t sure where he got his personality from but it was very different from any other calf we ever had.
None of the other cattle came up the hill from the barn to the house area. Their hay and pastures were near the barn and in other fields, and that was where they preferred to be. But this black calf wanted to play with us. Blacky didn’t bark at the calf, she seemed to like to play with it too. When we walked from the gate to the house, the calf frolicked beside us, jumping, skipping, and kicking up his heels. He stopped in front of us and allowed us to pet him. Then he took off and ran around us again. This calf was such a delight to watch.
Then one day when I came home from school, a large cattle truck was sitting in our front yard, packed full of our cattle. I could see the black calf inside. I touched his nose through the slats. Cliff told the driver to drive off and I watched as he left. He was being sent to the slaughter house. Every time I thought about that cute calf, I had to hold back tears. I just tried very hard not to think about it. I needed to protect my emotions. How much unhappiness and disappointment could I possibly bear?
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My brothers sometimes took out the 222 rifle to shoot partridge, or to set up some empty bottles to use for target practice. They taught me how to shoot it. I tried once but it scared me, so I never touched it again.
My brothers hatched a plan one night — they were going to shoot and kill Cliff.
As was becoming more and more common, Cliff and mom were not at the house when we got home from school. So later on one evening, Raymond and Bruce sat near the top of the stairs where they had a good view of the front door. I huddled behind them. The gun was loaded, cocked and ready to fire.
I was somewhat excited about this. I thought I would be happy to see Cliff dead. He was the source of all my sadness and misery.
My brothers’ plan was to shoot Cliff as soon as he came through the door. We waited there for hours, so patiently, at the top of the stairs in mostly darkness.
Finally, we grew tired, gave up, and went to bed. Sitting there for so long was probably enough time for my brothers to think through the consequences and decide it probably wasn’t the best solution to our problems.
I would never want to condone killing anyone, but the thought of killing Cliff was real that night. And this offered us kids a glimmer of hope in our bleak lives.
I often wondered what would have happened if Cliff came home earlier that night. Would my brothers have gone through with their plan? Could my brothers have pulled off this killing? They had done quite a bit of target practice, but maybe nerves would get the best of them. Maybe they would have shot and missed, thus making our lives even more miserable on the farm. If that was possible. Or they might have changed their minds at the last second.
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That summer my brother Bruce left home. I didn’t think too much about it. He was 18 years old and it seemed normal this would happen, sooner or later. The truth was that Cliff had kicked him out and he had to find a way to support himself. The Ontario government cut off the family allowance cheque when a child turned 18, which was in June, so Cliff decided that Bruce couldn’t live there anymore.
Bruce had put in long hours of hard work on the farm. He had earned his keep and then some, so I didn’t think it was a wise decision by Cliff, moneywise. Bruce would now have to work part-time to support himself while finishing grade 13, a requirement to be accepted into university. I wondered what my mom said when Cliff kicked him out. Did she defend Bruce in any way? Somehow, I doubted it. One less child to worry about.
We all knew that Cliff wanted only my mother, he did not want any of her children. As soon as he had a chance to get rid of one of them, he took it, using the loss of the income from the family allowance as the reason. Most of the time Cliff never gave a reason for anything, but this time he actually did. The actual main reason for kicking Bruce out was that Cliff hated all of us. We hated Cliff, too.
My brother Raymond got a summer job working as a guide at Maylings’ tourist camp. So I was now the only one helping Cliff with the farm chores over the summer. Mom and Cliff sometimes let me come with them when they left in the afternoon to go to the Cascade Hotel to drink. I knew how the day would go based on the times I went with Raymond before, except now I didn’t even have Raymond to spend time with. I was all by myself to fill in my day, wandering around lonesome Eagle River, looking for something to do.
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Finally, I settled in to wait in the car. I locked the doors. After 10 p.m. I lied down and fell asleep. Sometimes I heard a knock at the window. It was the police, one or two men, shining a flashlight inside the car.
“Are you okay, little girl?” they asked.
“Yes, I’m fine.” I always told them. Then they left.
Cliff and mom emerged from the beer parlour after midnight and we drove home.
Sometimes this was very boring, but at least it gave me a different place to go instead of spending the whole day and evening alone on the farm.
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