The North is a very small town so when the local pharmacy needed part time help, I applied and got to work the counter on the retail side and eventually I counted pills behind the counter to fill prescriptions. This was my favourite job and I wanted to explore becoming a pharmacist. Before long, I was also working part time in the cigar store, which was owned by the pharmacist’s wife, Sarah. I really enjoyed working in the shop too. On slow afternoons, it allowed me time to do my homework and socialize with other teens working retail from different schools. I eventually quit my job at the mall because I got tired of my commission being stolen and having to be really nice to Big M all the time; it became a habit that she wanted me to go shopping with her for a discount. Quitting that job also allowed me to pick up more shifts and the drug store and smoke shop. Brady and Sarah were excellent to work for and I was very happy working all the shifts they wanted to give me at the pharmacy and smoke shop.
In the winter or early spring of 1991, for some reason I found myself being forced to attend church… Jack used to stand at the top of the stairs from our house and watch me walk thru the doors – typically, I would then just scoot to the basement, walk to the back, up the side steps and right out the side doors and hit the plaza, but Jack got wise and had a couple nuns reporting to him. During these few months, I sat all the way at the front, wearing a bright red bandana (to conceal my ear buds), but also to make sure my presence was observed; suddenly I started sensing the hairs at the back of my neck, on my arms, and legs were standing at attention. I wasn’t immediately able to pinpoint the source. After about 3 weeks, I saw him: Bruno sitting at the back of the church laughing at me.
I came home and told Jack that Bruno was following me to church and he told me to ignore him and not worry about it. I started going to mass on Saturday nights. He followed me then also – how did he know when I would go? Was it a fluke? I stopped going all together and told my father I was going to the English church from now on because they had an 8:30 am service on Sundays and that priest raced thru service in 33 minutes. Had I known how easy it would have been to avoid mass by just saying I was attending he English church, I would have done so years ago… Jack would never ever set foot in an English church to pray. Bruno stopped following me, but something was still off. I did not attend the English church for service after then. I went to make sure I wasn't being followed and to my knowledge, Jack no longer received his field reports on my congregational activities.
One Saturday while I was dusting and washing shelves in the pharmacy, I saw a figure in the plaza outside the pharmacy doors; it took me a minute to realize what was happening – he was pointing at me and laughing – I know him. He looked so familiar, but I couldn’t quite put my finger on it. I noticed this man coming by regularly to just laugh and point and mock me on a regular basis. I live in my own head, unless someone speaks to me, I don’t really notice other people. At this age my inner monologue was dominated by a nasty inner critic who would constantly say things like “don’t be a loser; smarten up; don’t be stupid; don’t draw attention to yourself; people don’t like you for a reason; people think you're fat so nobody actually ever looks at you.”
After a few months of this familiar looking man coming to the store, I finally remembered who he was: Dale. Dale is Bruno’s brother. Everything clicked in place. He was here to scare me and once I figured out who he was, I was pretty terrified. I hadn’t seen Dale since I was about 8 years old. I was nearly 17 now. That’s when I knew for sure I was being stalked by grown men, I will not lie, I was pretty terrified in that moment. I had no idea what to do. Brad, the pharmacist and store owner, chased him away when he saw I was frozen in place. He was such a nice man. I really liked his entire family. I worked my shift that Saturday and walked home and told my dad.
Fifteen minutes after telling Jack I was being stalked and intimidated by my abuser and his brother, I was standing at the police station, by myself, explaining that my father told me to come and report the activity (while he stayed home one block away). Jack also told me to make sure I reported my mother’s abuse from when I was a child. Like the obedient little girl I was, I mentioned that Jack wanted me to press charges against my mother; the officer informed me the statute of limitation had passed but he could arrange a restraining order for both Bruno and Dale. Thank you very much. They didn’t bother me after that.
The story I know of the family is that Mr. Norman married Mrs. Norman; together they had at least 3 children. Those children were all molested by Mr. Norman – Bruno, Dale, and Bella. Bruno and Dale went on to molest their own children – except Léa, Bruno’s daughter was reserved solely for Mr. Norman’s pleasure. Dale had 2 children, a son and a daughter whom were being molested by their father. When Dale’s son caught his father molesting his daughter, he was charged and went to prison.
Later that spring, I had a new group of friends that I never once mentioned to my parents. I had been cultivating this friendship for some time, trying to fit it with these 4 girls from my class. I really liked them, but I didn’t quite click with them. In the meantime, I gave it a sincere go. I spent most of my time working at the smoke shop and pharmacy; when Big M complained, I cut back some of those hours to work upstairs. Working upstairs as I got older meant that all Big M’s friends were permitted to comment on my figure, weight, or food intake. I know because they would report to her. I think when they witnessed her personal attacks on me they stopped reporting my activities to her – I’m assuming it was uncomfortable for them to watch an adult woman picking on a child.
I only remember never getting anything right. I couldn’t clean right, couldn’t iron the bath towels right, the sheets creases were not crisp, I used starch on the facecloths. Yes, my punishment was often being in a 5 x 10 foot room with the door shut ironing every single piece of cloth in the linen cupboard until I could barely breath it was so hot in that tiny room. As I cursed Big M’s existence, I decided I was 17 and I did not need to put up with this treatment. I had friends who were living in apartments at 16 on their own. I could that too; I had jobs.
For my 16th birthday, Jack had purchased me a 50 cc Honda moped. I packed all my clothes and prized possessions in 2 massive black garbage bags. When Big M wasn’t looking and let’s face it, my job was taking the trash out anyway, nobody even batted an eye when I dragged 2 black garbage bags and set them between my legs on the step of my moped. I drove straight over to my new friend’s house. I spent Friday night with Shelly, crying in misery nearly all night. On Saturday morning, Shelly and I went for a pancake breakfast on a patio where I watched my parents driving around town looking for me. I sat on the patio pointing at the truck and laughing my ass off. I knew it was just a matter of time before they found me. Unfortunately, I’m very responsible.
At 11:30 am, later that Saturday morning as I was pricing a box of condoms and placing them on the shelf in the pharmacy, Jack and Big M came in to the pharmacy to ‘talk’. They said I should come home and we would all start over that Big M acknowledged she was ‘hard’ on me but that it was in my "best interest and this is what tough love feels like.”
I went home after my shift that evening and I didn’t get grounded or reprimanded. In fact, I was now allowed out with my friends on Friday and Saturday nights as long as I held my jobs, did well in school, and fulfilled my responsibilities. Easy peasy.
Of course the détente didn’t last long.
Just joining me? Start at the beginning:
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