Tonight’s the night. My stomach knotted at the thought of walking into a strange place, of having to endure the scrutiny of people’s gazes.
I called Anne. She was free, but her parents had already left for the Legion. At first I decided to stay home and continue with my usual boring routine. But something was nagging me—a part of me wanted out. So I pulled myself together and decided to go for it. When I called Anne again, I told her I’d changed my mind and she should come over. I was going to have a night out on my own and have a good time even if it killed me.
As soon as Anne arrived, the children ran to her and started climbing into her arms. All except Sonya. She stood sulking in front of me, her Goldilocks and the Three Bears book held out in one chubby hand accusingly. I called a cab, anxious to leave before I changed my mind again. While I was waiting for the taxi, Anne contacted the Legion and asked her mother to watch for me so I could be signed in. Signed in? I didn’t even know what that meant.
The kids were ready for bed, fresh out of their baths. The smell of sweet baby powder soothed my trepidation as I kissed them all good-night. I noticed Sonya still waiting, looking up at me, holding her book.
“Anne will read to you, Sonya,” I told her. “C’mon, don’t do this now. Mommie needs to go out. I’ll bring you back some candy.”
Sonya’s eyes brightened with anticipation and instant forgiveness. Her blond hair glistened in the lamplight as she turned and quietly trotted her book over to Anne without giving me a second glance. As long as treats came her way, Sonya was content. I’d been dismissed.
I watched my children with Anne, off away from me like that, and felt horribly guilty. For some reason deciding to go out and have a good time was akin to abandoning them, betraying them, leaving them unprotected against every measure of ill will that might possibly drift their way.
Geared up for a night of adventure, new faces, possible romance, the touch of a man’s comforting hand, I wore a black cotton belly shirt tied in front with a pair of tight white jeans and black sandals. My hair, shiny and sweet-smelling from the perfume I’d sprayed on my neck, hung over my shoulders and reached my waist in the back. I wore little makeup, just a touch of blue eye shadow and mascara.
“You look great,” Anne said.
Heather reached out to hug me. “Pretty Mommie.”
My ego bolstered, I headed for the door. My bed was a big, lonely place. I craved a simple cuddle. Not sex, just a touch that would revive pleasure, make me feel I was human again.
Arriving at the Legion, I paid the taxi driver and met Anne’s mother, Jean, at the door. The place was packed and there were plenty of approving stares from the men as I walked up a flight of stairs to the dance floor. But my heart sank when I walked into the hall and scanned the crowd. They’re all old people. The throb of music was welcoming and eventually, clutching a cold beer in my hand, I felt a little more at peace with the partyers. I even suspected I might actually be blending in. The people weren’t all that old, I assured myself, taking another big swallow of beer.
Like a prisoner on parole realizing the true extent of her freedom, I enjoyed myself more by the minute. No matter who asked me to dance—young, old, homely, or handsome—I accepted and gave myself fully to the beat of the music Months of tiredness disappeared as I jived, twisted, and waltzed to the sounds of Black Jack, a five-piece country band.
Later in the night a tall, handsome Native man asked me to dance. Nervously I refused. I couldn’t help but think of Stan, of that darkness. I was speechless. Finally, summoning the courage to respond, I shook my head, excused myself, and hurried to the washroom to calm the frantic thumping of my heart.
It wasn’t until the band’s last set of the evening that I recognized someone I actually knew from long ago. During the dance, I’d been seated at the front of the crowded room, close to the band. The man had been sitting toward the rear. But when I went to the back bar for another beer he spotted me and stood, his eyes following my every move.
“Don’t I know you?” he asked, walking up beside me.
I recognized Bob immediately. He was the same small, well-built man with brown hair and cool blue eyes who had dated a friend of mine years before. We had actually met—for the first time—when I was about fifteen. One of Bob’s sisters had been my classmate in Geary. I’d had a bit of a crush on him, but he never even looked my way back then. He had a reputation for fast cars and fast women. I’d always thought he was cute. The four beers I’d drunk had tipped me into a generous mood.
“You’re Bob!” I shouted above the music. “Diane’s brother?”
He nodded and smiled slowly, sexily.
“What are you doing here?” I asked foolishly.
“Looking for a good-looking woman like you.”
I laughed. “Then why don’t you ask this good-looking woman to dance?”
Bob followed me to my table and we set our drinks down so we could join the crowd as it moved to the beat of Bob Seger’s “Old Time Rock and Roll.” We danced every dance until last call. During the final waltz of the night, Bob quietly asked if he could take me home. Without giving it a second thought I agreed.
After the dance, Bob bought us both fish and chips from the diner next door to the Legion. We talked about the past and laughed quite a bit while we hungrily downed every scrap of the greasy fare.
On the way home in his car Bob turned up the music on the radio. Creedence Clearwater Revival belted out “Bad Moon Rising” as Bob held my hand for the first time. I felt a tingle throughout my whole body. I wanted to ask him to come home with me, to lie down in the dark and embrace him, but I wasn’t sure how the children would react to Bob’s presence. He told me he was staying at his parents’ home. His first marriage, like mine, had just broken up.
Before he dropped me off at my place we parked on a side road. Bob took me in his arms and kissed me in a way that set off intense emotions. My body responded to his advances at once and we continued kissing. I felt a hunger so consuming I wanted to make love to him right there. As he continued to kiss me, I moved my hands up his back, working the shirt free from his waist. His lips moved down my throat, as my fingernails dug into his back. I’d never felt such ecstasy. Then I froze.
“What’s the matter?” Bob asked, trying to catch his breath.
“I have to go. It’s late. I promised the baby-sitter.”
Bob kissed me again. “Okay,” he simply said, starting the car.
It was extremely hard to go home after that. I was vulnerable, but I had to force myself not to go too far, to show restraint for once.
When Bob dropped me off, I stood with a smile plastered on my face and watched him drive away.
Bob and I saw each other often. He came to my home for supper about a week after we met. The kids were all over him the minute he walked in the door, and although I’d told him I had four children, I was afraid their energy would scare him off. I needn’t have worried. He was great with kids.
Bob was a carpenter who hailed from a warm French family. The Donelles lived down the road from our trailer park in an attractive bungalow Bob’s father had built. His dad was also a carpenter, a man who had a fondness for the bottle. His mom didn’t drink, but she was passionate about dancing. And they all seemed to laugh a great deal. I always enjoyed spending time at their tranquil house where the biggest problem was nothing more than what to cook for dinner. I adored them all immediately because they were kind to me and accepted me for who I was. At last I felt as if I belonged somewhere.
My four children quickly grew to love Bob, especially Heather. He won her heart, and maybe mine, about a month after we started going out together when he sat up one night and rocked Heather for hours to ease the pain of an earache.
When summer arrived, the kids and I moved from the trailer back into an apartment in Oromocto. I couldn’t