was a child’s hope. Whatever happened, he would always be her father. She had known him, which was more than some people had.
For her mother, though, his leaving had been the end of their relationship. The end of her. It wasn’t until Jen’s own relationship with Craig had ended that she had really understood what a deep hole that left.
There was the money stuff, too, which Jen had not been able to fully comprehend at the time. Bills and IOUs kept coming in for months. They had sold off all the timber lying around, and the machinery. Jen had taken the cash from the men who came, while her mother slept inside. After the last transaction, she had, on impulse, slipped a twenty-dollar note in her pocket.
In the long months that followed, whenever they could not afford milk or bread, she wanted to give it back, to retrieve it from inside the book Michael had lent her, inside her shoebox of Jen things, hidden behind a loose board in the wall of her room. But to do so would be to admit taking it, and by then even she had realised that there was only so far twenty dollars would go.
The shrink had asked if she had been planning some sort of escape, like her father, and Jen had laughed, but perhaps it had been the first expression of her desire for independence. For distance from the dark mess she found herself living in.
The first thing to go had been the private school enrolment. The Lutheran College offered a well-regarded arts program. Aunt Sophie had offered to pay, but for whatever reason, her mother had refused. And so Jen had started high school at the public school in the next town. She had not been at all gracious about it, throwing a rather teenage tantrum and screaming that her father had not wanted her to go to that stupid school. Her mother hadn’t either; it was rough and ordinary. But it was free and she could catch the bus.
Probably, in the circumstances, and with her grades and acceptance into the arts program, she could have applied forsome sort of scholarship, but it wasn’t done then, to ask for help, no matter how much you needed it. And at the time, her mother had not been able to give much thought to the future.
Her mother had barely emerged from the bedroom for months, until Aunt Sophie came and took her to the doctor. She improved a little for a while after that – taking some sort of medication, perhaps – and was able to go through the motions of buying groceries and preparing meals most days.
People had called it a nervous breakdown. They had used that term to cover a lot of things then, especially of women. She couldn’t recall a man ever having a nervous breakdown. Jen’s shrink used the term ‘breakdown’, on its own, without the nervous part, more like an old car. He also talked about depression.
It had shamed her mother, being left like that, though it should only have reflected on her father. But perhaps it was always the woman shamed. When she and Craig had split, she had seen judgement on more than one of her own close friends’ faces. That unspoken question: what did you do?
Glen and Phil ended up at the same high school; that had kept her going. For a while. When the principal suspended her, for the second time, in grade nine, and her mother declined to attend an interview at the school, Aunt Sophie finally intervened. She drove up and tried to talk to her mother. That night, or early the next morning, her mother tried to kill herself. With sleeping tablets – hardly original. Aunt Sophie called the ambulance, and signed the forms for her to be admitted.
By the end of the year Jen was living with her aunt and attending All Saints. At the time, she was relieved to get outof the house, the town, and the state, though she was ill with guilt at leaving her mother. ‘You’ve got your own life to think about, Jenny,’ Aunt Sophie would say. ‘She’s responsible for hers. Not you.’
As it turned out, it was the wake-up call her mother needed. Aunt Sophie had known her
For her mother, though, his leaving had been the end of their relationship. The end of her. It wasn’t until Jen’s own relationship with Craig had ended that she had really understood what a deep hole that left.
There was the money stuff, too, which Jen had not been able to fully comprehend at the time. Bills and IOUs kept coming in for months. They had sold off all the timber lying around, and the machinery. Jen had taken the cash from the men who came, while her mother slept inside. After the last transaction, she had, on impulse, slipped a twenty-dollar note in her pocket.
In the long months that followed, whenever they could not afford milk or bread, she wanted to give it back, to retrieve it from inside the book Michael had lent her, inside her shoebox of Jen things, hidden behind a loose board in the wall of her room. But to do so would be to admit taking it, and by then even she had realised that there was only so far twenty dollars would go.
The shrink had asked if she had been planning some sort of escape, like her father, and Jen had laughed, but perhaps it had been the first expression of her desire for independence. For distance from the dark mess she found herself living in.
The first thing to go had been the private school enrolment. The Lutheran College offered a well-regarded arts program. Aunt Sophie had offered to pay, but for whatever reason, her mother had refused. And so Jen had started high school at the public school in the next town. She had not been at all gracious about it, throwing a rather teenage tantrum and screaming that her father had not wanted her to go to that stupid school. Her mother hadn’t either; it was rough and ordinary. But it was free and she could catch the bus.
Probably, in the circumstances, and with her grades and acceptance into the arts program, she could have applied forsome sort of scholarship, but it wasn’t done then, to ask for help, no matter how much you needed it. And at the time, her mother had not been able to give much thought to the future.
Her mother had barely emerged from the bedroom for months, until Aunt Sophie came and took her to the doctor. She improved a little for a while after that – taking some sort of medication, perhaps – and was able to go through the motions of buying groceries and preparing meals most days.
People had called it a nervous breakdown. They had used that term to cover a lot of things then, especially of women. She couldn’t recall a man ever having a nervous breakdown. Jen’s shrink used the term ‘breakdown’, on its own, without the nervous part, more like an old car. He also talked about depression.
It had shamed her mother, being left like that, though it should only have reflected on her father. But perhaps it was always the woman shamed. When she and Craig had split, she had seen judgement on more than one of her own close friends’ faces. That unspoken question: what did you do?
Glen and Phil ended up at the same high school; that had kept her going. For a while. When the principal suspended her, for the second time, in grade nine, and her mother declined to attend an interview at the school, Aunt Sophie finally intervened. She drove up and tried to talk to her mother. That night, or early the next morning, her mother tried to kill herself. With sleeping tablets – hardly original. Aunt Sophie called the ambulance, and signed the forms for her to be admitted.
By the end of the year Jen was living with her aunt and attending All Saints. At the time, she was relieved to get outof the house, the town, and the state, though she was ill with guilt at leaving her mother. ‘You’ve got your own life to think about, Jenny,’ Aunt Sophie would say. ‘She’s responsible for hers. Not you.’
As it turned out, it was the wake-up call her mother needed. Aunt Sophie had known her
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