In 1989/1990 I started grade 10 along with Chloé; I had another best friend, Matthieu. Matthieu’s dad was a guidance teacher at our high school and he and I shared a love of punk music, down hill skiing, and I had a massive crush on his skater friend, Jason. Jason had it all from my 15-year-old perspective: HOT HOT HOT, long wavy hair, awesome down hill skier, great taste in punk music, but more than that, he had opinions; he was intelligent and I was instantly attracted wanted to listen to him talk and hear about world events from his perspective.
Jason, Matt and I hung out all summer of 1990. They taught me how to skate and they taught Chloé and I how to ollie and tic-tac. I am certain that Jason thought I was geeky loser. I was so awkward around him so having Matt and his girl friend Janice as buffer was a huge relief. My first experience with giving consensual oral was with Jason. Janice made me feel super embarrassed when I told her I did not know what to do with the semen so I spit it out. After listening to her laugh and ridicule me, I never ever spit it out after that. He’s an up and coming director in Hollywood today; we never dated; we just had our one encounter. I just assumed that he knew I was damaged somehow or I did it wrong. I didn’t ask because sex and anything surrounding any intimate act somehow became very taboo in my house so I never spoke about sex out loud ever. Not even with my sexual partners later in life without feeling hugely humiliated or awkward.
By April 1990 I had decided I wanted to transfer out of the French school system and move to the English system. Neither Chloé nor I felt particular tied to the French high school, given the humiliation I suffered with Maeve hating French people, Chloé and I decided to transfer to the English high school for 11th grade. Finally, I would be able to start fresh; no one knew my family here or me and I was starting out with my best friend. I felt deep shame every time I entered the French school. Shame that my step-mother was bat shit crazy and kept screaming every time she was in public. Shame that she was embarrassing to be out with in public; shame that she would tell everyone my child molestation story because she can tell others she saved me by believing me and reporting the abuse. I no longer wanted to identify as French; Irish or English was obviously the holy grail of the gene pool and maybe, just maybe, I could be English and then she would love me and accept me. Of course, I told my father I wanted to transfer to an English school to capitalize on any little advantage for University. I argued that I had done 95% of my education in French and that I wanted to be prepared for my future post secondary experience and felt I would do better taking my last 3 years at the English high school as I did not know my field of study and my goal was true bilingualism. My father could not find fault with my argument. He wasn’t happy that I would be switching to the English curriculum.
I have the brain if a squirrel....before deciding to switch schools (school transfer #8), during March break 1990, I came to the kitchen to grab lunch for the residents when she told me to "sit down and help peel these potatoes." This was odd. Usually she didn’t want me around. Then she says
“I’ve decided that we are going to be friends.”
She has never said anything more frightening to me in my entire life. Friends? Why? She always told me parents are there to parent not be friends, it’s impossible to be friends with your kids. Like… What the hell is going on?
I try not to move my head or make any sudden movements so as to not draw attention to myself, and begin peeling potatoes. She’s rambling about stuff, no idea, I’m freaking out internally… great, what does this look like? I liked it better when I wasn’t forced to do stuff with her. Friends. What? But more importantly WHY?
Maman came to visit for my birthday that April 1990 and as my birthday gift she took me shopping. Maeve’s niece, Sally, the “model” for 10 minutes loved shopping at Esprit and I desperately wanted trendy clothes. Maeve always took us shopping with her at the Plus size store that had a regular size section or she would buy us clothes in Toronto that Sally said we should wear. My mother spent about $600 on a new summer wardrobe for me and then, bought my first ever pair of Nike Max Air running shoes. I loved shoes, but I was not a fan of runners and did not own a pair. These were expensive back then, $120. I owned and wore them until they wore out in 2003-ish. I don’t wear runners often and I took excellent care of them.
When maman dropped us off at home, I found out that Maeve and I’s friendship was over. I was busted for smoking cigarettes. One of the workers upstairs must have said something to my parents because they knew too many details.
When I was caught ‘smoking’ the yelling and screaming went on for quite some time. My dad looked like he was about to start crying in disappointment at my bad decision making skills.. blah blah; then I hear, “you’re grounded for the summer no vacation with your mother.”
I silently say to myself: What? Can they actually do that? She can say I can’t visit my mom? She was supposed to take us on a road trip vacation from Montréal to Ottawa and I was really looking forward to it. Stop it Margeaux, do not react, do not cry, she’ll add on more punishment if she sees you cry. She is not hurting you. You are a rock.
At this point, Big M, my now enemy, picks up my brand new shoes and throws them in the trash. She proceeds to dump tomato soup in the trash can. I couldn’t stop it, my bottom lip began to tremble and I started yelling at myself “Hold it, hold it, do not show her she has won, do not cry” instead, I dug my fingernails deep in the palm of my hand and I know I’m bleeding but it grounds me. I watch her pick up my tomato stained shoes and hand them back to me
Maeve: Go to your room we will discuss this again later
I cleaned my shoes as best I could in the laundry room sink before finishing my walk of shame to my bedroom.
Once I was busted, part of my new routine, in addition to them searching my room daily, was a regular full-body pat down before I left the house – even if it was to just go upstairs. All the residents gave me their cigarettes anyway because they loved sitting and chatting with me. I was also the one who would give them all really cool punk haircuts in the summer. Maeve was the only one who hated their hair, the ladies would ask me to ‘style them’ all the time. It always involved shaving half their head in the summer – for the heat. It didn’t matter because I always bought cartons of 20 packs of cigarettes after I was caught. Because Maeve always called me fat, I never left the house without wearing control top pantyhose under my clothes – even jeans. My 20 pack fit perfectly in my crotch between my underwear and pantyhose. Maeve would gently pat my crotch and I always had to contain my sneer/half knowing smile, so they wouldn’t catch on. They thought I was an amateur. Usually they only found what I let them find, or I was sloppy.
I called my mother and told her I couldn’t visit with her this summer. I could hear the sadness and hurt in her voice, but she knew better than to try to fight it or risk not being able to see Roxanne this summer either.
When maman came to pick up Roxanne that summer, I hugged her and bid them a tearful farewell. My mother invited her niece, Darlene on the trip to keep my sister company. Nearly as soon as my mother pulled away from the curb, Big M sent me upstairs to clean. I spent 12 hours a day the entire two weeks cleaning linoleum flooring with Ajax powder, a toothbrush, and a bucket of water. Ajax powder is incredibly difficult to fully remove from all the little crevices in linoleum. It took me that long to do just the second floor, all the rooms, the baseboards, the walls, and windows. Jack would come upstairs to ‘check on me’ and tell me how bad he felt that I “HAD to work so hard”, he shakes his head and clucks his tongue. He’s the reason I worked so hard. He’s the reason we were all unhappy. He’s the reason our entire family should feel shame and humiliation.
At the end of the 2 weeks vacation, Roxanne returned home, maman came to the apartment and asked Maeve where I was so she could say hello and goodbye. Maeve told her I was out and she didn’t know where I was. Lies. Roxanne knew better and motioned for Monique to wait in the hall that Roxanne would bring me to her. Sure enough, Roxanne found me on my hands and knees upstairs cleaning the floors in one of the rooms, after having moved the furniture around.
I said a tearful goodbye to my mother. I missed her even more, letting me see her for a total of 15 minutes when I should have spent 2 weeks with her was one of the cruelest things they’ve ever done to me and that cemented my strong desire to never ever look back once I escaped my house.
Just joining me? Start at the beginning:
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