I feel calm, relaxed, carefree, and loved - much like any normal kid should feel. I only feel this way when I’m at ‘la cabine’ with my grand-parents. Grand-papa would come pick us up at the end of June in his burgundy coloured station wagon and drive the 45 minutes to the log cabin he built with my father many moons ago. My grand-maman would be waiting for us in the cabin’s small living room, which doubled as the dining room complete with wood stove that made great toast in the morning.
The cabin was built in the early 1970s using logs, tin for the roof, and pink insulation. The cabin sits on a parcel of leased land for a 99-year term. The small structure contained a small workshop for my grand-father’s tools, a main area, 2 window-less bedrooms, a loft with several mattresses on the floor for when my cousins visited, a small kitchen, a tiny bathroom (illegal because he installed a septic tank for my grand-mother because she didn’t want to use the outhouse). The kitchen also contained an old school washing machine – the ones that have rollers to wring the clothes out, a sofa bed, 2 refrigerators and an electric stove.
My sister and I weren’t permitted in the loft area so we slept on the pull-out sofa. Grand-mama had a large mural that took up an entire wall. I remember it was a forest scene with moose, bears, plenty of trees, hills, and mountain peaks. I also remember Big M always making fun of it behind her back calling it ‘childish and stupid’ because grand-maman loved to draw and would add her own little flowers to it. She would also allow us kids to add our own marks – usually scratch and sniff stickers.
Grand-maman was always on the frail side. She was tall and very thin with a pronounced upper back bump that made her hunch over a little. She was kind, great in the kitchen, a talented artist who loved to do crafts. I remember grand-maman spending hours just staring out the window and enjoying the view of the lake and the field across from the cabin. Grand-maman also liked to garden and bake pies using the rhubarb she grew and sending my sister and me to collect berries in the field. I think we ate more than we collected. I remember picking strawberries, raspberries, and running back to the small 2-bedroom cabin to bake pies. Grand-maman taught me how to draw, create crepe-paper flowers, knit, how to make pickled beets which were her specialty, and make ‘pouding chômeur’. Her favourite fish was sole and she cooked it in a small fry pan with milk and fresh herbs.
I loved exploring the nearby forest and fields, chasing frogs, finding tadpoles, and spotting wild animals. I spent most days in the water and eating fresh chips from the chip stand then running to the cabin for simple dinners cooked with love. I dreaded the day that I’d see dad’s truck come to take us home.
I remember bringing our bunnies home and dad kept them in the large cage outside the family business. I was told to keep the cage clean, but I don’t recall being provided with supplies to do so. I was about 9 or 10 so I needed straw, and I’m not really sure what else. Dad didn’t really tell me how to care for the bunnies. I was waiting for a better cage, in my mind, something like a large hamster cage. I was feeding them carrots and greens. I really thought that in winter I’d be cuddling with my rabbit in bed. I had visions of putting my doll diapers on him.
One day, I came home from school, 6th grade, and the rabbit cage was gone. Dad didn’t say anything in the truck on the way home so I thought, “Cool, I get to bring the bunnies inside now!” I walked in the kitchen and noticed we were having stew for dinner. I looked around and didn’t see the bunnies so I asked dad where they were. He said I had neglected them so he made stew and that’s what we were having for dinner. It was only as an adult that he told me he took them to a local farm (which I strongly doubt, I’m sure he did feed them to us). I was devastated but didn’t want to show my emotions because Big M often liked to make fun of my tears and Jack often laughed with her… saying I was “too sensitive” or that “it’s nothing” implying I’d get over it.
Later, after my grandparents passed, the cottage was used by my aunt and her kids. Eventually they stopped using the cabin so when dad offered me the keys to the cabin and said I could have it in 2002 (I think) I jumped at the chance without hesitation. I got the keys in winter and dad said I just had to pay the property tax on it. At the time, I assumed he meant upcoming, but no, I paid three years in back property taxes. I was really excited to make this cottage “ours” so Mr. GQ and I made plans to improve the property.
In May, over the long weekend, we drove 12 hours to our little place in heaven to see what we were dealing with. We cleaned the dust, got rid of old and tired furniture, replaced the water heater, re-wired the electricity since Jack had the service cut just to avoid the hydro service delivery fee. We took stock of what the cabin needed before returning home to The South. I researched how cabins in Colorado are maintained and purchased perma-chink log sealer to replace the pink insulation previously used between the logs (it wasn’t cheap, the amount I needed plus shipping came to over $1,200). Next, I purchased stripper, and log wash to remove any grime from the exterior before I applied several gallons of transparent stain and sealer. For the inside, I invested in several bottles of Murphy’s Oil.
Mr. GQ and I recruited another couple, loaded up the trailer with our supplies and made the 12-hour trip up North just in time for Summer Solstice. We worked our asses off for an entire week and were rewarded with pink skies until 4 am. I had forgotten how light it stays overnight up North in June. My total investment, thus far was close to $5,000. I had intended to cut out two windows for the bedrooms, but I didn’t get around to it. We purchased a BBQ and other miscellaneous items for the cabin.
One of the reasons I was excited to inherit the cabin was because I thought it meant my father would come visit me there seeing as I was not on speaking terms with Big M at this time. My father never came South to visit saying “I've travelled enough in my lifetime and if you want to see me you can come here.” I assumed that if I drove 10 – 12 hours to reach my little vacation spot, my father could drive 45 minutes to say ‘hi’. I was very wrong. He never came to visit, not once. After a year, the cabin wasn’t worth the drive up if I didn’t even get to spend time with my family. I decided to sell the cabin and at the very least re-coup my expenses.
Jack said he would spread the word that it was for sale and assured me it would sell quickly because there is excellent year-round fishing in the area. He was right, it did sell quickly, but to this day, I know Jackass fucked me over. He told me the cabin was mine and I invested in the structure then, all of a sudden, he sold it from under me for a price he negotiated with the buyer. I was completely cut out; I didn’t see the cheque, I have no idea what happened. He sent me what he felt I deserved, less than $4,000. I remain convinced he pocketed a significant portion of the sale because he’s a fucking cheap bastard. He did nothing to that cottage – not even keep up with the property tax. I’m still bitter about it because I feel he acted dishonestly which was completely opposite to how I saw my father up to that day. He did things behind my back and I promptly ignored this massive flashing red flag.
I felt like I didn’t matter to him, I mean he couldn’t even find time in his day to come say hello. I was expected to get in the car and drive to him after working 12 hours a day on the cabin. Drive to my former house that I hated. The place where even when I visited on vacation, I worked for hours. The place that made my body shake with panic attacks that I didn’t know I had until I was well into my 40s. I had wanted to turn the cottage into a vacation spot for my future children, nieces and/or nephews so they could at least get to know their extended family; something I was robbed of because Big M hated Jack’s entire family. HATED THEM for being French. I understand today that my entire existence, my sole purpose was to ensure my father’s happiness.
When Big M decided we should be ‘friends’ again, or at least ‘civil’ it was always to make “your father’s life easier”. Easier because Big M would scream at him about his useless daughters, the slut, the whore, the alcoholic. If we were all on speaking terms then father didn’t have to listen about his offspring being pieces of shit and his children were more prone to visit the North. If we were not on speaking terms, he had to listen to her repeat how useless his entire French family was. My extended family numbers in the hundreds and I can honestly say, I remember less than 10 people in his family. Big M’s family? Yeah, I remember meeting them all, including several cousins from overseas. Apparently the English and the Irish are the only worthy people. I was reminded that Father likes “peace”; which for him means, his daughters do all the ass kissing to inflate his bed warmer’s ego and in turn she lavishes him with positive attention. Don’t get me wrong, the attention felt good, she would lavish us with many material gifts also – whatever we wanted, money was no object. I never felt guilty for accepting their gifts or money; I saw it as payment in exchange for putting up with their bullshit, payment for all the manual labour that I was never remunerated for. Payment for the university degree I was promised in exchange for manual labour that never came to fruition. Payment I was owed and am still owed and yes I do feel entitled to it. I don’t feel entitled to all their money, I just want what they promised me. Money I’m certain Big M thinks Jack did in fact give us. His response when we ask about promises made is usually:
- “I didn’t promise that, SHE did, so you have to get it from her”; which is impossible because he considers the money all “HIS” money because, and I quote; “she never worked, I did, she lay in bed all day and then spends it faster than we can earn it at the mall.”
- I never said that, she did
- I don't remember that
- I remember that differently
- Who told you that? Hahahaha no.
I became very skilled in playing them one off the other just to see what happened.. and I only did that with little things, could you imagine if I’d told them what they used to tell me about each other? One of them would be dead by now and I’m not certain my father would be the victor. I remember Big M trying to kill him with a butcher knife late one night, I woke up to screaming and crying then a loud “THUD” and silence. I thought dad was dead. Then I heard him say, “Are you done now? Have you had enough?” He said that she’d lunged at him with the knife, he’s deflected it, punched her in the face which left her with a black eye, but he’d knocked her out. We had to tell people she’d walked into the cupboard door if they asked.
After we moved out, Jack became very dependent on Big M for everything. In his mind, he told me, it was payback for him having to do all the work while she was sick with Lupus, then cancer. Therefore, he decided she would serve him because he was done serving her and he decided the tables needed turning. What did this look like, you ask? Here are just a few examples:
- She had to bathe him
- Wash his back
- Towel dry him after each and every shower
- Pick up his clothes off the floor and do his laundry
- Cook his steak every night
- Do all the activities he likes doing and none of what she likes doing (OK this isn’t new, but it was new for her to participate)
- Convince herself that life is grand because they no longer argue
- Remove all the tags from his clothes because they’re “scratchy”
- Buy copious amounts of expensive wool sweaters because … he likes the attention
- She even dresses him
Later in life, I nickname Jack the Toddler. He loves this
nickname. Damn it; he was supposed to be shamed into acting like an adult, not
wear it like a badge.
Whenever I ask father questions with specific examples from
my childhood and ask why he let it happen his answer is always “I did my best.”
Read from the beginning:
Prologue : Family
Chapter 1: The Early Years
Chapter 2: Protector: 1979-1981
Chapter 3: Pre-Teen Years 1981-1987
Chapter 4: Teen Years: 1987-1993
Reality Bites - The Truth Reveals Itself
Chapter 5: University: 1993-1998
Chapter 6: Young Adulthood
Healing
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