At one point, when I went with the volunteer movement to India, the military came to our camp and took me against my will to some base, where I sat, in a damp and dirty room, for three days. Then my fathers men came and took me back home.
We fought wars for a long time, trying to get through to who we were when Mother was still alive. And the war between us would still be going on if I hadnt given up. I was tired of running around and finding things that werent clear. Thats why I decided to put the brakes on what was still left, namely, my own father. He was just as miserable as I was. We were the cause of our own loneliness, so only we could help each other.
For my fathers sake, I reincarnated into an obedient daughter who did not rebel and did everything she was told. I went to college and devoted myself to the family business. I became a British lady and almost embroidered a cross.
I was routinely talked about in high society and invited to social gatherings. My father would walk with me proudly into society, and I would walk beside him uncomplainingly.
But everything changed after I met Mike Norland. For the two of us, it was love at first sight. He told me I was the most beautiful woman in the world, and I said, «Hes an intolerable liar. Our affairs were not perfect, but we adored each other wholeheartedly, and that was completely enough for us.
I met him in late fall in New York, at a party thrown by what later turned out to be a mutual acquaintance. In March, I introduced Mike to my dad. It was not the reaction I had hoped for, for that same evening, Dad told me that I had to break up with Mr. Norland immediately. He knew very well that I wouldnt do that. Thats why he started pressuring me, telling me that he would spare no expense or effort to make sure we werent together anymore.
And again the war began.
At first, it was all the little things, like zeroing out my credit cards and sounding off that I was no longer his daughter. Then, things took a more drastic turn. My father got Mike fired, from Molose-Hole Construction Company, where he had worked for over a year5, as head of public relations. It was totally expected and in the spirit of my dad, so we werent surprised or upset. Mike almost immediately managed to find a job in a small design studio, which was engaged in the design and creation of kitchen sets. Only not in Ottawa anymore, but in Toronto. I, on the other hand, got a job as a secretary in a law office, with Mr. Harry Peterson, a divorce lawyer. Through this job, I learned to make very solid coffee and to be a little more aware of people.
Mike and I rented a small but nice apartment on the edge of town. When we moved in, all we had was a bed and a shabby wood table. But even without looking at all that, we were recklessly happy.
Every day began with Mike and ended with him. I adored him madly, as if he were my air and my universe. I learned how to make his beloved pasta bolognese and long walks in the evening. And everything would have been fine except my father found us. And he did what he always did he hired people to take me, against my will, back to him. I bit and scratched and even begged them to leave us alone, but they didnt care.
I wasnt able to get in touch with Mike until I was in my fathers office. I asked him to give me a little time to work things out peacefully. But Mike said he had to talk to my dad himself. He wanted him to accept our business so we could have a relaxed marriage. But before that could happen, he had to get my dads approval. And I couldnt talk him out of it, which I regret at the moment. But the past cannot be undone, and the mistakes that have already been made cannot be undone.
Mike died, August 28, 2010, at 10:50 p.m. He lost control, the police station told me. His car was found off the road on the way to Montreal. He hit a tree and the forceful impact caused a brain haemorrhage, which resulted in Mikes death at the scene.
I had to be there to identify him, a few days after he was found. It was the worst horror of my life. To see his unmoving face and know that he wouldnt look at me again. That he wouldnt tell me how much he loved me, or kiss me. Without Mike, life made no sense at all. I could stay awake for days at a time, just sit by my bed with his picture on it and sob silently. I wanted to scream from the unbearable pain and longing for him. It almost made me climb the walls.
A couple of times I tried to commit suicide, but every time my father brought me back. When I was already in the clinic, I would open my eyes and see his pale, worried face, which was what I hated most of all at the time. It annoyed me to have someone with me all the time. Whether it was my father, my friends, or my relatives, no one would let me be alone. I knew they did it because they adored me and feared losing me. But I couldnt live in a world where Mike was no longer there. I couldnt just rip the love that was hurting my heart right now out of my chest. After another attempt to make ends meet, my father sent me to a private clinic, where I stayed for a little over a year. And then he took me to my grandfather, because he realized that it was still hard for me to forgive him.
There I found peace and practically stopped sobbing at night. The pain wasnt gone, it was just a reminder that I was still alive, and that I had to go on living, just for the sake of Mikes memory. On weekends, my grandfather and I would go fishing. The rest of the day, I helped out at the childrens center for the autistic unhealthy. A little later, I signed up for a web design course. And after finishing it I got a certificate and left Devonshire for Ottawa, where I live now. There I got a job and a little later bought my own little apartment.
Dad and I communicated, but not like we used to. I was done blaming him for Mikes death. After all, he really wasnt to blame for it. Just then, I needed someone to blame, at least some of the pain Id felt. And that someone was my father. He knew how I felt, so he took all the heat for it.
At this point in our family, things were slowly getting better. We agreed to a peaceful coexistence, where as much as we could, each of us tried to be less intrusive in the others life. From time to time, I did my duty as a daughter and went out with Dad to show all his partners and acquaintances that we were doing fine.
In general, «peace and friendship and bubblegum.
Chapter 3
Take it, its for you.
I handed Frank a box of cookies.
Tommy. He pronounced and placed it carefully on the table.
These are pink cookies. I dont know if you like them. My aunt brought them back from France yesterday. I dont really like sweet things myself, maybe youll like them!
Thank you! Are you going somewhere now?
Yeah, for the fundraiser. I think Ill be gone until9.
Shall I call a cab for you?
Oh, no, you dont! Im supposed to be picked up.
Frank looked at the computer monitor.
Then, totally maybe its up to you!?
I leaned against the table and looked at the dark car Frank was pointing at.
Most likely. Well, I guess Ill be going, then. And dont forget the cookies.
You can rest assured, miss, I certainly wont forget them.
Cousin Patricia, Aunt Jos oldest daughter, came to pick me up. In May, she was supposed to turn twenty305, but because of her short stature and childlike face, she wasnt supposed to be more20 than that. Patricia, had reddish, naturally curly hair, a firm heel, and a tough temper. She was not one of the people I was intimately acquainted with. I knew as much about her as Mr. President knew about me.
Also, Patricia worked in my fathers company. For more than 12 years, she had been hunched over for him and was probably the only one in our family who never got into scandals. According to Aunt Jo, her eldest daughter, most like a man, because of her own business acumen and rigid ways of working. And it also bothered my aunt that her thirty-five-year-old daughter was still single.
I glanced sideways at my cousin, who was rapidly typing something on her phone as we drove to a fundraiser her mother was throwing.
In general, charity for me is like buying hot dogs for bucks50, but giving for them70. And to do it as if those bucks20 helped change the world. Seriously, thats exactly how it looks. Until one day you step in someone elses shit and realize that the good is good and the ugly is still there. And no matter how hard you try, you can never make the world the way you want it to be. So you get discouraged and lose enthusiasm, but youll still keep leaving bucks20, because your conscience is clear and youre morally satisfied.
Now, I just brought with me, just the bucks20. And its not because Im stingy for life. No, its not! The reason was more banal than you could ever imagine. Its just, it was all I had. There were two days before payday, and if this event, say, for example, on Thursday, I would not be stingy, and would donate, his honestly earned three hundred bucks, for such a good cause.
In general, if youve ever been to this kind of event, then you may remember those old ladies, dressed in luxurious furs, who leisurely dash from one acquaintance to another. At first, you are struck by them, then you look closely, and somewhere in the third minute, you begin to recognize in this lady, one of your own relatives. Like, for example, I saw my Aunt Jo as soon as I entered the small room of the local art museum on the 3rd floor.
Thank goodness! I was beginning to think you werent coming.
Hello, auntie!
When she hugged me, I thought I could even taste the sweet taste of her perfume in my mouth.
Your father, no way, is a great man! Now Arbiter Ramsey was able to come, even though he said he wouldnt be here a few days ago. I wasnt the least bit taken aback when I found out it was because your father was coming. I always knew that Henry, which, incidentally, is my fathers name, would be a great success in his business. But not like this! I couldnt even dream of that. Its a shame, of course, that Claire left us so soon. She was a saint.
Nothing disgusting was ever said about my mother. Everyone knew her as the beautiful, cheerful, and kind spouse of Mr. Henry Spikes. Which, evidently, cannot be said of me.
Almost every seat in the auction hall was taken. So I slowed my pace as I spotted an empty chair, in the right row, off the small improvised auction stage.
Where are you running to, young lady?
Behind me was an old lady in a perfectly tailored peach-colored tweed suit with a thin string of pearls around her neck.
Nowhere, madam. Please, come in!
Such prim girls, always trying to cut in line. Because, you see, they have been through a lot more than you have, and also, in the rules of good upbringing, it is considered bad form not to give way, a person older than you, a seat. Which, in principle, I a young, well-mannered lady had to do. Specifically, I had to let an old lady into the empty seat I was claiming.
In order to finally sit down, I now had to drag myself across the room, cursing my apologies as I passed other people who had already taken their seats. As I made my way to a free chair, I banged myself in pain. The nasty, throbbing pain in my knee reminded me of when, as a child, my mother had gently treated my scrapes and sores. I swiftly wiped away the tears, so no one would see them. I did not want to become another victim of gossip mongers, or simply inquisitive individuals who loved to discuss such displays of helplessness in their own small circle, with a glass of local French wine.
Excuse me sir, may I
Next to a vacant chair, sat a man, in a gray-blue three-piece suit, who was reading the newsletter of the current auction when I approached him.
Yes, of course.
He had to get up from his own seat so I could get through.
Thank you, sir. The man nodded his head courteously in response to my reply, and began again to examine the lots on display for the day.
I, too, picked up the ballot as I sat down, and almost shrieked in surprise when I opened the last page.
«What the hell!» I wanted to say when I found out in the last lot, my mothers beloved brooch my father had given her, in honor of their third anniversary of marriage.
Well, nothing for yourself, a turn of events!
Chapter 4
20 The $500 that was in my purse now seemed like a pittance. Because the original price of my mothers brooch was 500 bucks, not 20.
At the auction, there were a lot of people who I knew well, and who also knew me. I could have asked one of them to buy my mothers brooch, but as luck would have it, all those people were sitting very far away from me at the moment. There was no one in front or behind me who I could ask for such a favor.
I began to shiver nervously as the last item was brought onto the stage. A small brooch, in the shape of a bee, made of white gold and studded with dark diamonds, which my mother adored so much.
No no no no! I kept repeating.
The auctioneer pronounced the initial price, making it clear that the bidding had begun.
700. Raising the sign, the lady in the black velvet dress said.
A thousand bucks! The man in the third row answered.
With each bet, it felt like my heart was clenching desperately in my chest. I needed to do something, but I didnt know what to do. My father had acted inappropriately in putting my mothers thing out there without telling me. I was very angry with him, but that anger did nothing to help me at this point.
2000! The old lady to whom I had given up my seat not so long ago clicked.
3500.
I almost jumped up in surprise when the man sitting next to me said resoundingly:
5,000 bucks.
I turned in his direction. It seemed that, at the exact moment he said it, something was finally beginning to make sense to me. Specifically, my only chance to get my moms brooch back.
5500!
Sir!» I grasped the sleeve of my neighbors jacket.
The man looked at me in surprise.
5,500 times! the presenter pronounced resoundingly.
Sir, please buy back this brooch!
5500 two!
This thing is very dear to me. It once belonged to my mother. If you help me, I promise Ill give you double the value for it!
6,000! I heard the painfully familiar voice of my own father.
Me-my name is Violet Spikes and Im Henry Spikes daughter. I dont know if you know him! But please believe me, Im not some crook or whatever they call me. Sir, I really need that brooch, but Ive only got a buck20 on me. To be sure, I took it out of my purse and showed it to my friend. I didnt know Moms brooch would be on display right now, please believe me!
«What else can I say to this man to get him to help me?»
I was desperately gnawing his eyes, trying to figure out if I could get through to him or not.
Six thousand, two! the booming voice of the presenter sounded.