One Night - Chapter one

Chapter One - The beginning

The one over one attic window looked out over the back yard. Tall blue green spruce, yellow green cedars and leafy poplars covered most of the area. Close to the house, the ground was well tramped, like a gray lake, formless, flowing into the trees and over around the weathered wooden structure that was used for fixing cars, and all the other uses men have for their manly activities. One car on cement blocks instead of tires, sat forlorn, hood open, engine gone, only tools and oil stains for company.

Up in the attic, a painted white dresser was crowded with makeup, nail care things, hair implements and products. A bed, covered with a soft worn floral quilt was along one side of the room. A mirror, propped on the dresser, was large enough to reflect head and upper torso. A length of flowered fabric skirted a closet, tucked under the other sloping wall. the curtain billowed out, so full with all of Abby’s clothes, some sewn by Abby and her mother, some purchased from the Sears catalogue.

The room was a little strange, because where the fourth wall should have been, the stairs led down to the main floor. It was the cause for angry shrieks when younger brothers and sisters innocently climbed the stairs at inopportune times, to go to their own room. The house was bursting at its seams, but at least everyone had a bed.

A white chenille rug softened the bare wood floor. Abby’s room was so pretty and feminine. Bobbi loved to come over and sit up in this room with her cousin. They had been best friends forever.

Abby lounged on the bed, with her head on the white-cased pillow. Bobbi sat on the little bench by the dresser, painting her nails. They were listening to their favorite program on the radio, one measly hour of hit parade on the CBC from three to four o’clock in the afternoon.

“I love this shade Abby, thanks a lot for letting me use it.”

Abby smiled dreamily. She was listening to “Under the Boardwalk” and thinking about her boyfriend. When she daydreamed like that, her dark brown eyes looked huge in their frame of thick eyelashes and perfectly arched brows. Her nose was a bit rounded and her top lip thinner than perfection. She was wearing a cotton blouse with tiny flowers, and light blue pedal pushers.

Bobbi, on the other hand, felt like a disparity of parts. She was too heavy, and nothing about her was perfect. Her nose was crooked, her eyes deepset and a nondescript hazel. The hair was not bad, it was brown with red highlights, calling it auburn would be a stretch. Everyone said she had good skin...big whoop. She loved cool clothes but didn’t have the money to buy many things. Today she was wearing her usual ‘casual’ outfit, a pair of her older brother’s jeans and a blouse she had cut down from a bag of hand-me-downs.

There, finished, she thought. Her nails looked awesome with the new nail polish. The nails were all different lengths. But if she cut them all the same, she wouldn’t have any nice ones, so she left them.
“Bobbi when do you work next?”
“I have tomorrow off and then I work four days in a row.”
“You’re getting a lot of hours aren’t you?”
“Yeah, and now Mrs. Stone says she wants me to start working in the dining room.”
“Well that would be good. It’s a lot nicer in there.”
“Actually, I’d rather work in the front. I like it there.”
“You’re crazy Bobbi. Listen, I’m going to Prince Rupert next weekend. Do you think you could get those days off and come with me? Come on, you keep promising you will.”

Bobbi thought about it. Yes she’d said she would, but every time she considered it, she made some excuse not to go. What kind of fun would it be for her to tag along with Abby and her boyfriend? And help her baby-sit her nieces and nephews? It wasn’t a hard call, so she always found a reason not to go. But Bobbi didn’t want put her off forever. Abby was no dummy, she knew why Bobbi hadn’t gone yet.

“Yeay, okay. I’ll talk to Mrs. Stone and see if I can get the time off. I’ve worked almost every weekend since I started, so maybe she’ll say yes”

“I promise we’ll have fun. It’s really not so bad babysitting. They're good kids. And I promise you won’t be bored. We’ll think of something to do, you know you love Rupert.”

Abby was right. She did love Rupert. She’d had her first ’boyfriend’ there. Well, he hadn’t really been her boyfriend. She was only 13, and he was the cool handsome boy in the neighborhood. He had flirted constantly with Bobbi, but her friend said that was because he was trying to make his real girlfriend jealous. Well, sour grapes to her, it had been fun while it lasted.

Bobbi stood up. “I guess I’d better get home. Mom wants me to help with supper tonight. She says just because I’m working is no excuse not to give a hand when I can. I’ll be really helpful and then after supper I‘ll ask her about going to Rupert with you.”
“Okay let me know as soon as you can so I can tell Chick you’re coming and make sure it’s okay with her.” Abby sat up on the bed. “I’ll come down with you. I promised Mom I’d look after the kids while she goes to the store.”

They descended the wooden stairs, worn down in the middle from all the traffic. In the living room, Uncle’s chair sat in the far corner, his pipe and tobacco waiting for him when he came home from camp. He was a faller and only home on the weekends. He was a sweet peaceful man, sitting hours at a time, one child or another on his lap. Bobbi loved the rich smell of his cigars. The rest of the furniture was normal for families like theirs, well worn and plain. Auntie Anna was the proud owner of a piano, even though no one played, unlike at Bobbi’s house where her father could blast out a mean boogie-woogie.

They headed into the kitchen where Auntie Anna was taking bread out of the oven. The buttery fresh scent filled the kitchne as she placed the bread on racks on the old dark counters. Auntie kept everything clean and shiny. The wood stove was a ‘modern’ one, white enamel, with a large side tank for heating water, and a little top cupboard with a door. A huge wooden table at the end of the kitchen was flanked by a motley assortment of chairs.
“Are you girls finished your lounging around for the day?” Aunty Anna's smile took any bite out of the words.

“Yes Auntie, thanks for letting me come. I have to get home now.” Bobbi headed to the back door, turned, and said, “Bye.”

“Bye now Bobbi.”
“See you, phone me as soon as you know okay?”

“Kay, bye.” Bobbi could hear Auntie Anna asking Abby what she was talking about but left them to it. She headed home through the short cut. A path began at the corner of the yard, went through the bush, and came into the L.H.&K. pole yard. The area was covered by huge piles of peeled logs and covered three huge blocks of the town. The straightest logs were stockpiled here to be used for poles, like telephone poles she supposed. Children were forbidden to go through the property. They had all been told horrendous stories about a child who had been walking near a pile, when suddenly a log began to roll from the top of the pile, and the child was buried under all those logs and killed. Nobody really believed it except the really little kids, and lots of people used the shortcut. Some people used an area in one corner to drink in peace, and the kids knew to steer clear.

The logs looked so beautiful, naked of their bark, smooth moist skin exuding a sharp spicy scent. Painted marks on the end of each looked like hieroglyphics. It was a city of piles, with alleys and lanes crisscrossing all along her way. She wound her way in a from the northeast corner to the southwest, which came out on Kalum St., the main north-south street of the town. Her house was two very long blocks down. A house stood like a sentinel on the corner across from the pole yard. It was a very plain, weathered grey wood two story, and housed a family Bobbi knew from school. They were different. They had moved there about five years before, just the mother and the kids. They were as poor as dirt. The father had disappeared on them, so the mother worked and supported them all, with some help from welfare. Bobbi remembered Maggy appearing at school one year with a beautiful winter coat in the latest style. It was a light teal color with a round collar. The front fell straight down and the back had pleats coming out from the collar, then narrowing to the hem. Maggy always wore that coat with the collar pushed open and draping in the back which emphasized the cut even more. It was very fashionable, and Bobbi had at once envied her the coat and known she deserved it for the hard life she had.

About the middle of the block another large family lived. Another family lived there in much the same way. Another mother that worked, only they weren’t poor. Both parents had good jobs, and yet the kids looked as neglected as the poor ones. They were also left to fend for themselves a lot. Alice was in her class in school. She had once told them that she knew all about when babies were born. She said after they were born, the mother bit the cord that was attached between her and the baby and then licked off the after birth. They had argued with her. Alice had challenged them, asking what they thought happened. They didn’t know, but sure didn’t think that sounded right. Bobbi chuckled to herself now. That Alice, she must’ve heard her parents talking and thought they were referring to humans. She was always doing that, half listening and coming up with the weirdest ideas.

End of the block. Van Helk’s house. Mr. Van Helk owned the local show hall, the Tillicum Twin Theatre. His sign said Kla How Ya Tillicum. It was some native Indian saying. They said it meant hello in their language. Down the hill, onto her block. She knew about every neighbor, they’d all lived there for years. French women who’d married soldier brothers in the Second World War, and one of their sisters and her husband. Then Geisel‘s, all the children grown before Bobbi knew them. Then her house.

She turned into her bare bones yard. Her dad had cut all the trees out of the front yard over her mom’s protests. He’d had visions of a lawn that never materialized. One lone straggly shrub had survived the rape. Down the side of the house many, stunted iris grew but never bloomed.

The house had been an army barracks, moved their after the war. Many still remained in town. It was very plain, covered by gray asphalt shingles. It had been divided into many, too small rooms, to make it into a house. She walked down the side and into the back door. A small back ‘porch’ had been jerry-built onto the back. Her mom kept the wringer washer in there, and boots and shoes were all over the wood floor. A few cupboards on one end held the soap, bleach and bluing used for washing, and the oddest of odds and ends. In the bottom cupboard an assortment of clothes and linens resided, waiting for some kind of inspiration.

Through the door, which was originally to the outside, and never properly latched, Bobbi now entered the long narrow dining room and kitchen. The table was made with a sheet of plywood covered with arborite, necessary to accommodate everyone at mealtime. In front of two side by side windows a built in bench ran the length of the table. Chairs around the other sides were never enough, so sometimes they would sit a board between two chairs for enough places. An old wooden telephone hung on the wall to the left of the table. The handle for ringing was one side, and a listening handset hung from the other side. To phone the operator you gave one good long crank. They had a party line, so the neighbours on your their line each had their own unique ring, like, two longs and a short for Tilly Lapoint. Tilly and she had been good buddies until her spoiled brat cousin moved and messed up everything.

Past the table the kitchen counter started. It was covered by some old black dull material and edged with the most horrible metal that rubbed black onto whatever you were wearing. A large porcelain sink that rose into its own drain board stayed stained despite much scouring with Ajax cleanser. The counter continued around against the back end of the kitchen. A long narrow window looked out from the sink. The windowsill was crammed with things, some had probably been there since they moved in when Bobbi was a baby. Once in a while a frenzy would take over someone and the window sill would be cleared of all its detritus. For months after essential things like letters or bills or a paper clip would have to be hunted for. Soon the sill was more cluttered than ever.

Most of the family’s life happened here. There were seven children in all. Always a baby crying, a toddler playing, and another sucking his thumb. The house was overcrowded, and sometimes her aunt would come for a long visit with her two children. Bobbi would usually hole up in her bedroom and read. She never wanted to get married and have children. It was total drudgery. The work was never done, there was never enough food or money. One day Bobbi had decided to do something about it. She had asked her mom some questions about costs of things. When her mother grew frustrated and asked why she was asking so many questions, Bobbi told her she was going to figure out a budget. Her mom laughed and wouldn’t talk about it. Someday, she would be a success and earn enough money so they wouldn’t be so poor. It was all her mother could do to get food on the table, get them all ready for school, keep up with the laundry and sit and roll herself a cigarette and have a cup of coffee occasionally

When she walked into the house, there was Mom. She turned when she heard the door, and seeing Bobbi, frowned. “You’re late, you were supposed to be here to help with supper.”

“Hi Mom, sorry I’m late. I was at Abby’s and kind of lost track of time. I’ll start helping right away.”

“Well, I’ve almost finished now,” she said irritably, “but you can make the milk and set the table.”

“Sheesh, the milk’s not made? Now it’ll be lumpy and warm. I thought you were buying fresh milk now?” Bobbi tried to keep the disgust out of her voice.

“I can’t always get shopping, you should know that. Now get it done please.”

Bobbi bit her tongue (gently) to keep from complaining, and got the big can of milk powder down from the cupboard. She found the pitcher in the fridge with a half-inch of milk left so of course, she had to wash it. She held back the big sigh that wanted to come, washed the pitcher (properly) and ran the tap a long time to get the water really cold. She put in just enough water to dissolve the powder, and stirred really hard. Then she gradually added more water, stirring vigorously. Hopefully that would take care of most of the lumps. They tasted so disgusting. She put the pitcher on the table, and set the plates, cutlery and the ’middle’: salt and pepper; butter and bread; sugar and cream.

“Do we need ketchup or anything else on the table Mom?” she asked.

“No, we’re having Tuna Chow Mein.”

Bobbi didn’t grimace or say anything. “Okay, I’ll go upstairs, just call me when supper’s ready.”

She took the stairs two at a time as was her wont, through the boys’ middle room, and into her aerie. She went over to the window seat. Her book was where she’d left it. She sighed with contentment as she took her favorite position, her back against the bookcase, legs extended on the seat, able to look outside and read. She immediately began her book. It absorbed her utterly. The minute she started reading she lost all sense of her own being, living someone, anyone else’s life. Nothing else was real to her. In no time the sound of her mom’s voice came up the stairs, “This is the third time I’ve called you, get down here right now.”

Uhoh. And she’d tried so hard to do everything right this time. Hopefully supper would go off without a hitch.

Her Dad frowned at her as she quickly took her place. They all said their usual quick grace and started supper. Pass the salt, pass the bread, Mom Chuckie’s kicking me under the table, chew with your mouth closed, stop that, the usual scintillating dinner conversation. Bobbi’s mind wandered as she chewed the bland overcooked food. She was getting used to restaurant food, picking exactly what she felt like eating, which was usually grilled cheese and a vanilla shake.

Suddenly, Agnes started choking. Milk spewed out of her mouth. She started crying, still coughing. Her dad threw his fork and knife down in disgust. “Will you do something with her!” he said to Mom.

Mom calmly patted Agnes on her back, telling her to just calm down and she’d be fine. Her milk had just gone down the wrong pipe. Arthur piped up, “Yeah, your fallopian tube, right Mom?”

Bobbi and Chuckie started laughing. “Whaat?” Arthur asked.

She saw a small smile on her Dad’s face before he sternly told them all to stop it and eat their suppers.

Bobbi waited until everyone had left the table. It was Marie and Arthur’s turn to do the dishes. Her mom went out onto the back steps to have a smoke with her tea. Bobbi waited until she was almost finished and be feeling a little rested, ready to face her life again. She looked at her mom.

Both her parents had been extremely good looking when they were younger and now time, age and all the hard things that come with uniting a country girl with a band player, a good French Catholic girl with a wild spoiled boy. Add into the mix the moral dilemma of birth control for Catholics and you end up with oil, water and nine children. Now it was all her mom could do to keep meals on the table and her children barely respectably clothed.

Sitting beside her on the steps she asked her mom about going to Rupert. Her Mom looked at her intently.

“Mom, I’ve been working all summer, it’s so boring here, and Abby’s always in Rupert. I just want to go with her and see something different for a change. You know how much I like Rupert. It’s so different from Terrace. Please let me go.”

“It’s only July.”

“Oh, mom, please.”

“I guess so.” her mom relented.

“Thanks Mom, thanks a lot. I’ll try to be more helpful when I’m home I promise.”

Her mom got up and headed back into the house. “Just behave yourself. And help Chick as much as you can. Make sure you let her know you appreciate staying with her.”

Bobbi cringed under her mother’s instructions. She always managed to say things that spoiled the fun. What it felt like she said was ‘you’re always getting into trouble, you’re lazy and you have no manners’. All her life, whenever she was going anywhere her mom had strung off a list of instructions like that. Birthday parties, visiting a cousin, going to the neighbour’s, it didn’t matter. It was like her mom thought she was a hopeless case, and was afraid Bobbi would embarrass her.

Oh well, she thought, to heck with it. At least she was going to Rupert. Yaaay! She couldn’t wait to phone Abby and tell her.