As I was sitting at a table all alone, a guy named Tom sauntered in. He came directly toward me and sat down.
“Josie, is it?” he asked with interest.
“Yah. How did you know my name?”
“You’re the new girl in town,” he said. “Would you like to go for a car ride?”
I’d noticed a few fellows in nice cars milling around Saunders’ but thought they were much too good to talk to me. I thought they must be rich to own such beautiful cars.
“Yes, I’d like that,” I said. So we left. I plastered myself in this huge car and tufted my crinoline just so as we took off down the road, spewing up a thick cloud of smoke, dust, and sand behind us. I was thrilled! I hadn’t been in many cars before. After all, I hadn’t even seen one until I came here! I felt exhilarated and happy. This is the life, I thought.
“Where are you from, Josie?” Tom asked.
“Cartwright. I came on the Kyle last week. I work for the post mistress,” I said, trying to sound grown up.
“That’s interesting. Do you like working there? How do you like Happy Valley?”
As the small talk continued, I was thinking of where I was: in a huge car with a nice-looking, clean-cut man and heading for god knows where. We ended up on a hilltop in the woods. Suddenly, I felt scared. Was he going to rape me? My mind went back to that terrible time in the woodshed at Lockwood Boarding School. I’d been pinned down by several boys and gang raped. I was only nine at the time.
We sat and talked for a long time. I began to relax a little and thought that if he was going to rape me, he would have by now. We started necking. I didn’t have the tools to fight off his demands. This world was strange and new to me and there was so much I didn’t understand. Up to that point in my life I hadn’t heard about being easy or cheap, or about being called a slut or whore. What were they? I certainly didn’t know that guys put notches in their belts every time they had sex with a girl! I didn’t know anything! Did I feel anything? Guilt? Shame? I’d lost my sense of self as a very young child and was conditioned to obey, to submit, and to do as I was told. I was powerless to resist. I just couldn’t say no.
I didn’t go out with him again. He never called. Did he win a bet in getting a date with the new girl in town? Did he win the bragging rights? I felt used and abused. I felt cheap. Where’s Murray? I wondered. Is he mad at me? I needed his love — I needed something familiar, someone I could trust to care for me. I’ll call him in the morning, I thought as I, once again, cried myself to sleep.
The next morning was bright and sunny. I felt invigorated and threw myself into getting the kids ready for another day and cleaning up the house. I liked it here with the Crawfords; it was an easy job. George was always working and came home tired. Barbara came home exhausted as well. After cleaning up the dinner dishes and tidying the living room, I called Murray.
“Where were you last night?” he asked right off the bat.
“I went for a ride with a guy.”
“Who? And why?” he asked sadly.
I wouldn’t tell him who, or why. It didn’t seem to matter. I was getting tired of answering his questions. I just wanted to have a good time and experience new things. “It was just a stupid mistake!” I yelled. “I got caught up in the car thing. It’s no big deal.” The fight was on.
“I’ll pick you up at seven o’clock tonight then, okay?” he asked.
“Alright,” I replied, too exasperated to continue.
As Murray drove up, I hopped on his motorcycle and we took off to the riverbank. We embraced, but something had changed. It wasn’t the same warm hug I was used to.
“Why did you cheat on me, Josie? You know I love you and it hurts me so much,” he said. “I realize this is all new to you, and how you must feel. But you have to learn that it’s not right to do what you’re doin’. People will talk.”
“I know, Murray, and I’m sorry,” was all I could say. I went silent, my mind was racing. “People will talk,” he’d said. Was I the talk of the town? Was I bad? Were people calling me that terrible word I hated so much? Was I a slut? I couldn’t think about it. However, I had to think about it. I needed to decide whether I wanted to stay with Murray or break up. This was a strange new life with many exciting things to do and lots of places to go. I’d become overwhelmed and confused as to what to do next. I felt guilty at the thought of breaking up with him. After all, Murray and I had been dating for several years at this point. He had always been there for me. But more importantly, he’d gotten me here! I began to wonder if I’d ever really loved him. Yes, he had come to Cartwright every summer and we were inseparable during those times, but during the winter I would date whomever I pleased, and answered to no one. I lavished the attention I’d gotten from the GI’s. I was captivated with their tales of faraway lands. I believed the nice things they whispered in my ear as we lay on the floor in the powerhouse in Cartwright. There were a few that I dated on a regular basis, but when I’d get a letter from Murray, I’d feel guilty.
“I’ll let you know when I make up my mind, Murray,” was all I could say.
A few days later I had another date. Jack picked me up in his car and we raced up the road toward the base. He took me to the Canadian military base and we entered the big theatre. I don’t recall the movie, just the experience of sitting in this theatre, with the huge masks hanging on the wall on each side of the screen. It was a far cry from the little school house in Cartwright, with the stovepipe in the centre of the room obstructing my vision. Being in a real movie theatre made me feel important. Afterward we went to the airport snack bar next door for chips, or was it french fries? Whatever they were, I couldn’t get enough of them. This was exciting! It was much bigger than Saunders’ Restaurant in Happy Valley. Later, we went driving around town and ended up on Lover’s Lane. That’s what I’d heard it called by several people in town. I didn’t want to end up on Lover’s Lane. I wanted to go home. I was almost raped that night. Again. What was wrong with me? I escaped and walked all the way home to the Crawfords’.
As I lay on my bed with tears running onto my pillow I thought of home. Did they miss me? Did my dad miss my help getting the water and wood? Did he miss having me to go birdin’ with him, or go jigging for codfish out in the run? I missed the lifestyle, the sea. I missed being able to take Dad’s punt for a row, or go with him for a ride to Earl Island or Muddy Bay. Once while jigging for cod off Earl Island I accidently hooked the jigger into my thigh. Because it went in past the barb, Dad had to cut it free with his pocket knife. I still have that scar today. I’d learned to operate the little boat pretty good by the time I’d left home.
Every year Mom would find another baby somewhere. I guess it was just easier to say they were found then have to explain the cycle of life. By this time though, I’d learned that they were born and not found somewhere; under a rock or in the land wash or in the bush. Wee sister Dora was the first of our family to be born in Cartwright. I was sad when she was stricken with tuberculosis and had to be sent away to St. Anthony Hospital in Newfoundland. She was gone for nine months. We’d lost another brother; wee Tony died a few years later. He was the fourth baby my mother had lost through illness. However, she raised ten of us to adulthood and primarily on her own after Dad died suddenly in 1967.
I loved all of my siblings and I missed them terribly. Through no choice of my own I’d always had to work or babysit for several people and go to school, therefore I’d had little time to get to know them very well. Would I ever get to know them? Baby brother Phillip was so cute. Mom loved him very much and spoiled him to no end. Baby sister Linda was adorable also.
Suddenly my body was flushed with guilt. I’d abandoned my family forever! There were no phones in Cartwright yet. I couldn’t even talk to them. So, there I was, sad and lonely and wondering if anyone would love me — really love