Chapter 17: Puberty Arrives

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— Full chapters will appear in the printed published book. —

Somehow, instinctively, I knew I had to keep my mind healthy and active if I wanted to survive mentally.

Every evening after I walked home from school, I had several hours to fill in by myself until I went to bed. On Saturdays, I had almost the whole day to fill in, from about noon until bedtime. So Saturdays and school holidays were the longest days for me. I learned to develop my imagination and invent games to amuse myself.

I found an old push lawnmower in the shed that we never used, since we had no grass. It became my bus and I was the bus driver. I created paths among the stand of poplar trees between the house and the barn. I pretended to pick up people and drop them off as I snaked my way around the trees. I gave each bus stop a name, and I pretended to greet the imaginary people I picked up, some who were regulars on my bus.

In the hay loft above the cattle stalls, I moved hay bales and stacked them up to create houses, castles and forts. I created a French-Canadian family who lived up there. I became Jean-Luc, the swashbuckler, and protected my family, my sisters named Yvette, Yvonne, Madelaine and Michelle, and brothers named Jacque and Pierre. We fought battles together and staved off the enemy.

I tried to play eevy ivy over by myself, but that didn’t work out so well. I threw the ball over the chicken coop and then hoped it would bounce on the roof, so I would have time to run around and see where it went. I couldn’t run as fast as the ball, and inevitably it ended up in the stinging nettles. I fished it out and tried again. It was easier the other direction, as the area in front of the chicken coop was dirt and grass. I got frustrated with trying to play that game by myself, so I took the ball over to the barn and tried bouncing it off the side, onto the utility shed that was attached. That didn’t work too well either, it usually got caught somewhere and I had to climb up the side and fetch it.

The newest thing was the India rubber ball. I was able to buy one at Ed’s Grocery. It was very hard, and useful to bounce on only pavement or concrete. The only place I could bounce it at the farm was on the slab of concrete in front of the door of the house, the door we didn’t use. I bounced the ball, swung my leg over it, bounced it again, swung my leg over it, and so on. The concrete pad was not that large, so it was somewhat frustrating as I wasn’t coordinated enough to keep it always bouncing on that surface. The ball always flew off into the long grass beside the house. I could have tried bouncing it on the concrete barn floor, perhaps, but I didn’t think of that at the time.

I spent a lot of time wandering around the farm yard when the weather was decent enough, in the fall, spring and summer, and sometimes on a sunny winter day when it wasn’t too cold. As long as it wasn’t dark outside.

I scoured the field in front of our house looking for four-leaf clovers. I believed my mother and I had a special and unique gift. We could find four-leaf clovers whenever we wanted to. Within half an hour, I often found five or more of them. I found six-leaf, seven-leaf and eight-leaf clovers sometimes. I thought they would bring me luck. At least this gave me hope that I might have luck. I wasn’t sure they brought me any luck at all.

We had a few large, old and rusty farm implements that were overgrown with tall grasses. One time I found a bird’s nest in one of them. I checked on it every day until the eggs hatched, the baby birds grew, and then flew away. Sometimes I got stung by wasps, so I had to be careful where I walked and what things I touched and moved.

I pretended I was a horse and galloped down the road behind the barn, past a pond, through the woods and into a large field that we plowed every year for hay or oats. From the top of the hill on that field, I could see two houses. One belonged to the Jaggis, a Swiss family, and one to the Parkers. I had visited with the Parkers when we first moved to Minnitaki. Mrs. Parker, whose name was also Marlene, liked to have me over to play with their oldest son, who was about four years younger than me. She told me that he said he wanted to marry me. We thought that was very cute. Mrs. Parker had a deaf daughter named Vickie-Lynn, a very sweet, happy, little girl. As soon as she reached the age of six, she was sent to a special school far away in Belleville, Ontario. I always felt sorry for Mrs. Parker as she missed her daughter so much.

I eagerly awaited the new edition of the Eaton’s catalogues. That meant that we could discard the old ones, but I didn’t throw them out. I cut out all the people, invented families, and gave them all names. Depending how they were positioned in the advertisements on the pages and whether they overlapped other pictures, I sometimes didn’t get their whole bodies. They could have a missing arm or leg, or half their torso. That didn’t matter to me. I spread them around my bed, placed each of them into a home, and made up stories and conversations. I played with them for hours.

I found an old spelling book amongst some junk that was stored in the trunk outside my bedroom. I made up lessons and tests, and pretended I was teaching a classroom. Then I pretended I was a student and wrote the tests. Perhaps this was a foreshadow of my eventual career. But probably not. Otherwise would I also become a bus driver? Or a horse? I was just really bored and lonely, and looking for anything to do, to keep my mind occupied and somewhat stimulated, and pass the long stretches of time.

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I tried to find ways to give myself hope and something to look forward to. My mom gave me about $1.50 a week to spend on myself. I made a plan on how I could spend it to give me the most pleasure. So, this is how I decided to use it. Once a week, I biked to Ed’s store to check on the mail and to buy a case of six pop, usually Coca-Cola, and a carton of Blue Boy vanilla ice cream. Luckily, we had a freezer at home. Each day around 3 p.m., I made myself a Coke float. I put the ice cream in a glass and poured the Coke over it. I loved the way it foamed up. Every day, it gave me something to look forward to, and helped to break up my long day. I did not allow myself to consume it any earlier, and I never allowed myself to have two in one day, as that would mean there would be a day when I wouldn’t get to have one.

It seemed so strange, but for some reason I didn’t worry about being alone as far as my safety was concerned. I knew how to keep the stove and furnace going in the winter to heat the house, so I had survival skills. Blacky, my very precious dog, was my faithful companion and safety gauge. She always let me know when anyone came on the property, unless it was Cliff and mom. Their comings and goings had become very predictable anyway. They were either at home, or they came home after midnight. There was nothing in between.

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Frenchy came out to the farm one time during the first summer after we moved there. Mom was in the house and Cliff had gone out to one of his bush lot areas to check on some of his hired workers. Mom didn’t know how long Cliff would be out there. Frenchy wanted to talk to Cliff about something and he didn’t want to wait around. I knew where this bush lot was, so mom suggested I go with Frenchy to show him the way, as it was too hard to explain how to get there.

I got in Frenchy’s car and we went north, then a few other directions, down the back roads for several miles. It took about half an hour. I found the dirt road that led to the area where they were cutting wood. Cliff had driven in over the ditch by the side of the road with his pick-up truck, but Frenchy’s car was too low to the ground to get over that ditch. So, we had to get out and walk from there. I could hear the chainsaws in the distance so I knew exactly where they were working.

As Frenchy and I walked through the woods, we didn’t say very much. I was not very good at conversations with strange men. Suddenly, he stopped and so I stopped, too.

“I could rape you right now,” he said to me. “I could take you into those bushes, throw you on the ground, and rape you.”

My eyes widened and I froze. I was shocked. I stood there in terror, trying not to shake.

Frenchy stared at me intently, as if he were removing my clothes with his eyes. My mind raced to evaluate this new information. I realized that he was right, he could rape me. He was muscular and fit and could easily overpower me. Although we were only about five minutes away from where the men were, the chainsaws were running constantly and that noise would drown out any cries for help that I could make.

I tried to think of what I would do if Frenchy tried to rape me. Could I run faster than him? I didn’t think so, but it would have been worth a try if he moved closer. Should I bolt right now before he could make any advances? That would show him I was scared, so I decided not to do that. I just stood there, frozen in terror, trying not to shake. He made me feel sick to my stomach. The fight or flight response was taking over my mind and my body.

Frenchy licked his mouth and bit his lip. I could tell he was considering what to do. 

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So now it was a hot summer’s day, two years later, and I had long ago forgotten about that incident with Frenchy. I had not seen him since. I was alone on the farm, as usual, down by the barn when I heard Blacky barking. I listened carefully. I heard a vehicle pull up to the house and the engine stop. I listened to hear the door open and close. Blacky stopped barking. She had done her watchdog duties and had determined the visitor wasn’t a threat. I wasn’t sure she would know the difference, actually. If the visitor was a criminal and petted her, she would probably just wag her tail and be happy about it.

I knew it wasn’t the bakery guy, because it wasn’t Friday. No one else ever came to the farm. I thought I had enough time to get closer to the house, to hide behind the shed or some bushes so I could see who was there, before the intruder could see me. I hadn’t taken into account how athletic and fast someone like Frenchy could be. I walked straight up the path, still hidden from the house, but Frenchy came around the corner of the shed so fast that I didn’t have any time to react.

Within a second or two, Frenchy was walking briskly down to the barn, heading straight towards me. I immediately felt in danger, but I couldn’t hide now. This was even worse than the other situation because there was no one else around to hear or see anything. And Frenchy surely knew there was no one else here. The vehicles were gone, no one was at the house. My heart started to pound, again I stopped dead in my tracks.

Frenchy came right up to me. “Where’s Cliff?” he shouted.

It was all I could do to stay calm and not panic. My mind was racing. I kept thinking of where I could run and hide. I knew Frenchy could easily take me down, he looked as strong and fit as ever. I thought I was very good at assessing risk. Any altercation with him would not result in a favourable conclusion for me, I was sure of that. He stood uncomfortably close to me and I backed away slightly.

“Cliff is at the bar in Eagle River!” I blurted out.

I immediately realized that this was a very stupid thing to say. Now Frenchy would know that Cliff and mom were not home, and were quite a distance away. I should have lied and said Cliff had just gone out to the store and would be back right away, but I wasn’t thinking clearly, smartly or quickly enough.

Frenchy looked at me in a very lewd way. He looked at my white T-shirt and down at my chest.

“Those are nice little titties you got there,” he said to me.

I looked down and, sure enough, I could see little nipples protruding from my shirt. Frenchy smiled in a sinister way. It was disgusting to think that he had a daughter close to my age, and a beautiful wife, and that he had once threatened to rape me. And now this awkward and inappropriate comment.

I was terrified, my mind was speeding out of control, and my heart was pounding. I glanced to the side to see if there was an easy getaway. Now Frenchy had the perfect opportunity to sexually assault me. It wouldn’t be difficult for him to knock me down and do whatever he wanted to. He stared at me and moved his eyes from my face to my chest, and back again.

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When I looked at my chest, I could see that I needed a bra. My breasts were growing and they hurt. I knew my mom wore a bra, but I didn’t know when I should be wearing one. At school, Clara told me she wore a training bra. I didn’t even know what that was. She took me into the toilet area, lifted up her sweater, and showed it to me. Clara was much smaller-chested than I was.

I had never spoken to my mom about my developing breasts. I couldn’t find any time alone with her anymore. When I ate breakfast, Cliff was at the table. When it was a school day, I left the house immediately after breakfast and, when they came back to the house at midnight, I was in bed. If it was Saturday, then Cliff made sure I was kept out of the house and away from my mother until they left for the beer parlour. It was difficult to find some private time with my mom on Sunday, the only day they were home, without Cliff being close by, if he hadn’t sent me out of the house. I didn’t want him to listen to this conversation because it was so personal to me.

But now I needed to do something about this. I couldn’t wait any longer. I needed to take care of myself because no one else was. Obviously, my breasts were growing and they were showing. Frenchy made me consciously aware of this.

I was alone at home, sitting beside the phone. I had to think this through. If I wanted to talk to my mom, I would have to call her at work before 8 p.m. I didn’t know how else to reach her and have a private conversation. I looked up the phone number for the Cascade Hotel in the telephone book, dialled and asked the operator to connect me.

I braced myself. I had never phoned the hotel before, and my mom had never phoned me from work. We had never spoken about puberty, periods, bras or any of that stuff. She had become so elusive and cold that I felt I had to ask permission to talk to her about anything, even at home. I wondered if I would even be able to talk to her at work. I didn’t know who might be around, or whether she would be alone. But I had to take the chance, I knew I needed some help and guidance.

If I waited until later, she would be in the beer parlour. I knew there had to be a phone in the hotel where she worked, but I didn’t know if there was a phone in the beer parlour. Even if there was, it would probably be very noisy in there. Not only that, but she would be drinking and might not hear me or understand me. Also, Cliff might be right beside her. So I had to phone her while she was still in the hotel section, before she got off work and started drinking. She could be nasty when she was drunk.

I was surprised to hear her voice immediately.

“Hello,” she answered. “Cascade Hotel.”

“Hello, mom. It’s Marlene.”

“Who is this?” she asked. That made me realize that she didn’t even recognize my voice.

“Marlene, your daughter.”

“What do you want? Why are you calling me at work?” It was not a friendly greeting. She sounded very annoyed and I could tell this was an inconvenient call for her.

I sighed deeply. “I need a bra,” I said. I didn’t know a way to ease into this conversation. And I didn’t know how much time she had, so I needed to get to the point.

“You need what?” she asked. “I can’t understand what you’re saying.”

I yelled into the phone, “A bra! I need a bra.” I paused. I decided maybe I should rephrase it. “A brassiere,” I said.

More silence.

I continued. “My breasts hurt, mom. I need something to hold them so they don’t hurt and bounce around.”

“Well, how do you expect me to take care of that now? I have work to do. I have to go.”

And she hung up. That was the end of our conversation.

I sat there for a few moments. I put my head into my hands, and the tears came.

My mom’s words from the past once again echoed in my mind. “Quit feeling sorry for yourself.” I tried so hard to live up to that, but it wasn’t easy. In spite of all my efforts, it seemed like I was always feeling sorry for myself.

If only Ed sold bras at his grocery store, then I might have been able to buy one for myself. If I saved up my money and didn’t buy any treats, of course. If I could have done this myself, I would have. For this one thing, I needed my mother.

A few days later, without my mom saying anything to me, I found a new training bra lying on my bed.