What Friends Are For, page 2
“Some of my friends are working already. Babysitting is so boring.”
Dad cleared his throat. “I don’t like that idea, not now—” He stopped short and changed the subject. “What about you, kiddo?” he asked. “How’s school going?”
“Great, great!” she said, holding the camera in front of her face to hide any blushing. And what a year it was. Academically, she was excelling. She also told him about some of the topics they had argued in Debating Club—“Children Should be Allowed to Believe in Fairy Tales,” “It Was a Mistake to Lower the Drinking Age to Eighteen,” and their next topic, “Girls Face More Pressure Than Boys.”
They talked on.
But she didn’t want to share certain details of school life with her father. Her social life had suddenly expanded—because she had met Kevin. She wondered if Dad saw her cheeks burst into colour behind the camera. She clicked the shutter again.
Kevin had moved to the school the year before, but she hadn’t exchanged a word with him until a mutual friend introduced them at the beginning of the school year. It happened right in front of the trophy case at school. He won her over immediately by saying, “I saw you last year. You came to some games. You really stood out. You’re so pretty.”
She was sure she’d turned beet red. She thought of herself as angular and plain looking, her long brown hair mousy and dull. She bought a few outfits with her babysitting money, nothing too stylish in case the fashions changed drastically before the clothes wore out. To be told by an athlete—a good one, too—that she was pretty! Now, whenever she went by the trophy case, she checked her reflection in the glass. Maybe she was good looking!
“So, do you hang out with anyone other than those girls?” Kevin asked, motioning his head to the gaggle of Leesa’s friends huddling in a corner near the gym. “Who are you going out with?”
“No one!” she exclaimed.
He sniffed. “Hey, hey! There’s room in there for me, right?” She blushed deeper.
They talked regularly at school after that and a few times over the phone. Sports were his favourite topic, but mostly, he wanted to know about her—how she did in school, her yearbook responsibilities, her volunteering with Jenny at an animal shelter, her dad’s job as a policeman. The conversation flowed, and she always felt exhilarated after they finished talking. It had taken her a while to tell him about her newfound enthusiasm for protesting the proposed abortion clinic, about her shock at learning that women might choose to end their pregnancies. She didn’t know where he stood on the issue. To her relief, he agreed with her right away that every baby should have the opportunity to be born, no matter what. “For sure,” he said. “Who doesn’t love babies?”
And he was cute! Dark brown hair held to the side with just the right amount of gel, big brown eyes with long lashes. Tight T-shirts and faded jeans with a leather bomber jacket. Leesa couldn’t believe her luck. Other girls made comments. She’d never had a date, never mind a boyfriend.
But then, nothing.
“We’re not going out,” she said to her friends’ repeated inquiries.
Jenny ribbed her incessantly, predicting their long lives together. “Especially if he’s taking this long to make a move.”
She was surprised when he asked to join her on the yearbook committee. “Do you think they’ll let me?” he asked. “I usually just play sports, but it might be fun to do that—with you.”
She was flattered, and the editor welcomed Kevin aboard. He got on well with the other kids, and he and Leesa proved to be a good duo, working the phone to sell advertising to local businesses. Kevin had new suggestions about which companies to approach. He phoned a lot of sports stores and used his knowledge of sports to impress the owners and get them to buy ads. Soon they sold enough ads to cover the costs of producing the yearbook. While they worked, they joked and made small talk. Whenever they sold an ad, they created a mock-up with stencils from the yearbook supply cupboard. The ad section at the back of the yearbook would be bulging this year. She was so proud of their accomplishment, of their teamwork. She smiled whenever she thought of how they had helped the school. She smiled whenever she thought of him.
She also saw him at inter-school league games. Kevin made every team, easily. She tried to be restrained when she cheered his agility in volleyball and his speed in basketball. She didn’t want to embarrass him. But when they were together, she told him how exceptional he was.
“I’m glad you think so,” he said, giving her a slight grin. There was that smile. That smile!
She’d been planning this chat with Dad for a few days. He was a softie when it came to allowing her to do things, much less strict than her mother. A group of tenth graders usually hung out at someone’s house after the games. When her parents did agree she could go—after checking to see if the parents would be home, who else was going, who would be driving her home—she had so much fun. And more and more, she was paired with Kevin when they played ping-pong or board games. It was almost as if they were dating—but nothing had happened.
Angela had invited everyone over to her house after the basketball game that evening. Kevin would be there. She was hoping, hoping that they would finally kiss and acknowledge their feelings for each other. Her heart flipped whenever he so much as glanced at her. She felt they’d been inching closer and closer. On more than one night, she’d lain awake, imagining going to a movie together during March Break—just the two of them, holding hands, ignoring the film while they snuggled and kissed in the dark.
Tonight’s post-game party would be the ideal time to ask him his plans for the week off.
“Hey, Dad,” she said, lowering the camera. “I’m going to school tonight, okay? The boys’ team is playing Sisler. All the kids will be there.”
Dad acknowledged the information with a dip of his head. “Sounds like fun,” he said, and then the hammer came down on Leesa’s anticipated joy. “I have to work tonight, but I’ll let Mom know. She’ll be outside the school at 9:00 PM. She’ll walk you home.”
Leesa opened her mouth to object. “But—”
Dad’s tone became more stern. “Never mind ‘but.’ You’ve got March Break soon, so you’ll have lots of time to party then. You’ve got that sleepover at Kim’s tomorrow night, too, don’t you?”
“Yeah, but—”
“That’s enough activity for one weekend. Mom will pick you up. You can keep her company.”
With that, he zipped his camera bag shut. “Mom will be here soon. I’ll put some tea on.” He got up to plug in the kettle.
Leesa clamped her jaw shut. Dad had morphed from being Softie Dad to someone who gave orders—Detective Sergeant Wesley Cramer. It didn’t happen often, but Leesa knew there was no use arguing when it did.
She stood up and headed to the basement to watch Anna breakdance while she stewed over this roadblock to her love life. She would have to ask her friends at the sleepover if Kevin had missed her.
3
Saturday, March 19, 1983, 2:00 PM
The argument began almost as soon as Mom stepped into the house. The door slammed. Leesa and Anna heard her unzip her boots and hurl them aside. Leesa motioned to her little sister, who turned down the volume on Irene Cara’s “Flashdance . . . What a Feeling,” but not so much that her parents would be suspicious. Clasping hands, the girls tiptoed up the stairs and sat near the basement door to eavesdrop.
“I wondered who those constables were protecting,” Mom fumed. “They got there just after the girls left and harassed us if we so much as touched the edge of the clinic property. Shooing us away, watching us every second! I told them who I was, but they didn’t seem to care.” She was in the hallway; Leesa could hear her shoving the hangers aside to hang up her pink wool jacket. She’d started in without even saying “hello” to her husband.
Dad’s voice came from across the kitchen. “Those guys are from another detachment. I don’t know them, but it doesn’t matter. I told you, Norma, being married to a policeman doesn’t mean you can do whatever you want. That yard is private property. You may not like it, but that’s the way it is. Dr. Morgentaler bought it. He doesn’t want you on it. This is a hot-button issue, and they don’t want it to get out of hand.” Leesa heard him open the cupboard door and take out a cup. “I don’t know why you want to get so involved so deeply, but if you are, then you have to follow the rules.” She heard the clink of the cup being placed on the table. “Here’s your tea. Let me make you some lunch.”
“I can do it myself.” Leesa heard water pouring from the faucet. Mom was always careful about washing her hands before she handled food, a lesson that had stayed with her since she worked in a medical lab. Then came the sound of the fridge door opening and shutting. From the energetic plunk that came next, Leesa assumed Mom had pulled out a stick of salami and maybe a tomato for a sandwich.
At the top of the basement stairs, Leesa could hear the breadboard being pulled out and a knife slicing through the stick. “Well, I’m really disappointed,” she heard Mom say. “All we did was move people off the sidewalk to talk to them, so the other picketers could continue walking.”
Mom hadn’t asked where her daughters were or what they were doing. From her vantage point on the stairs, Leesa surveyed Dad’s black-and-white photos lining the walls of their basement rec room: photos of her, Anna, and Mom, his best close-ups taken over the years as the family changed. His darkroom, where he had developed the photographs, stood in the corner. It was really just a small closet that he’d fixed up with a heavy, light-resistant curtain covering the door to keep out even the slimmest ray of light. In nearly every picture, everyone was smiling. But lately, one of those smiles had disappeared—her mother’s.
Mom went on. “The neighbour beside the clinic gave us permission to stand on his property, but the snow is still too deep there, and on the front yard of the apartment block next door, too. This is a life-and-death question if ever there was one. Where do the police stand? There are laws against abortion, but they’re not enforcing them. Where is justice?” Leesa heard her rifling through the breadbox, slamming it shut a moment later.
“You’re hungry and tired. Sit down and eat,” Dad said, a note of annoyance in his voice. “You have to listen to me, Norma. You have to follow the rules. Look at me.” Leesa could hear his footsteps; she expected that he had placed himself in front of Mom. “Even if I disagree with something, I’m supposed to follow orders.”
“And how much good did following orders do for you? You did your job, but your bosses ignored you.” Mom’s tone was stinging.
Leesa and Anna looked at each other, their eyes wide. Anna put her hand over her mouth.
Dad didn’t respond.
Mom’s voice dropped. “I’m sorry, but you told me the wrong man is in jail for that murder. Your bosses are hypocrites because they won’t admit they were wrong. Where is the justice—for that man sitting in a cell, and for the unborn?” Her fork knocked against her plate.
Leesa sat up straight on the step. Her dad and his best friend Barry had joined the police force together after high school and served as beat constables for many years. Finally, when they both achieved their dreams and were promoted to the detective squad, they were assigned to solve a murder that gripped the city. A sixteen-year-old girl who’d been working alone at night in a doughnut shop had been found strangled; she died in the hospital a few days later. The school picture of her published in the newspaper showed a pretty young girl with wide eyes and long, silky hair looking at the camera, unaware of what would soon happen to her. Leesa was terrified by the thought of a girl like herself being murdered. Her friends had been getting part-time jobs even before their sixteenth birthdays, and she’d been thinking about where she would apply. A doughnut shop was the kind of place where a lot of kids got their first jobs.
A man had been arrested and sent to jail, but controversy surrounded the trial and conviction. It had been a sensation in Winnipeg. The young girl’s face appeared in the paper over and over, creating an emotional response that presumed the man’s guilt. He had been convicted the day before, and Leesa was disturbed by the picture in the newspaper as he was led away in handcuffs to prison. Under the picture, he was quoted as saying: “I was the only one who told the truth.”
She had heard Dad tell Mom that his bosses and the prosecutor had ignored evidence that would have set the suspect free. Dad and Barry had many low-voiced conversations that scared her even more. If the murderer was still out there, were teenagers safe going anywhere alone?
Dad must have thought they weren’t. He’d become adamant about picking her and Anna up if they stayed late at school or left their friends’ homes after dark. No matter what, either he or Mom would reliably be waiting outside. “Never mind,” he’d said to her objections. “We’ll be there.” They gave her friends lifts home or accompanied them on foot as well. Leesa noticed that if Dad was there, his eyes swept back and forth, scanning the streets and sidewalks.
He’d been troubled for months, seeming to relax only when he could look through the camera at people excited to begin a new chapter in their lives.
“So, ‘serve and protect’ whom?” Mom grumbled. “And then”—Leesa imagined Mom clenching her jaw—“then I saw Barry drive by. He slowed down and waved at Sylvia and me, but he didn’t do anything to make it easier for us either. He just drove on.”
Dad began to pace in the kitchen. “Norma, things are tough for Barry and me, and we don’t need this right now. He came by because he wanted to check on you both. Barry can’t tell those cops to take your side either. Please don’t get our friendships mixed up with our jobs.” He kept pacing. “This is hard on everyone. Just remember that. Anyway, tomorrow’s another day. You have a lot on the go right now.”
Leesa and Anna stiffened. They knew what was coming.
They heard the clatter of the lunch plate on the table and a chair being pulled back. “Drawing up a schedule isn’t rocket science, so don’t patronize me,” Mom said. “I could still do the schedules easily if I were working, or they can always find another volunteer to organize the picketers.” She sat down on the chair and pulled it in.
Dad cleared his throat. His hands, they knew, would be shoved in his pockets, and he would be shaking his head. “Not this again, too. You can’t go back to work without upgrading your qualifications, which means you’d be at school all day every weekday for a year, and then what kind of job would you get? Lab technologists have to work shifts. Hasn’t our family had enough of that?”
“Hmph, I wonder if Barry says that to Sylvia. She’s an accountant. She works full-time.”
“Their kids are grown. Tony has his own place and Margy is in university. Barry and Syl were twenty years old when they started their family.”
Silence again. Leesa knew Mom was thinking of the babies she had lost. Leesa thought Dad was cruel to mention it, as if it had been Mom’s fault they didn’t have kids earlier. Lately, her parents’ arguments had increased in frequency and intensity.
“Anyway, this photography work pays enough to cover our costs. If you want to keep busy, why don’t you get a job for a few hours a week at a store in the mall?” Dad urged. “What’s wrong with that?”
Mom’s anger rose. She shoved her chair back and was likely standing, the sandwich probably sitting uneaten on the plate. “Because it’s not about keeping myself occupied. I have skills and I can earn decent money. We could pay off the house, or pay off that new car that we didn’t really need, without you working extra nights.” She knocked her fingers on the table with emphasis. “How does what you’re doing make sense?” Now, Leesa knew, she was throwing her arms around. “You’re indulging your hobbies, but you object to me indulging my mind. I put in my time with the kids. My job was interesting, and quite frankly, I want to be more than a professional volunteer.” She moved the chair. “I can’t eat this,” she said. The plate went from the table to the counter.
No response from Dad.
“You can all learn to clean up after yourselves. That’s what this is about. I don’t need to be the only one who does housework. The girls can’t be pampered forever. Try being home more to help.” Leesa heard Mom slam a cupboard. “I wouldn’t have to work nights and weekends, either. There are plenty of new clinics and labs opening. I’d have lots of options. And I can still volunteer if I want.”
Silence fell, as it always did when Mom and Dad exhausted themselves. Leesa heard Dad gather up his camera bags and set them by the door. The hangers in the closet scraped across the rod. He told Mom to meet Leesa at the school after the game, and a moment later she heard the back door close and the engine of the contentious new car roar to life.
Leesa and Anna sat on the step, still grasping each other’s hands. Mom moved around the kitchen, rattling this, adjusting that. The girls slipped down the stairs, but instead of turning up the boom box and dancing, Anna collapsed on the couch. Her older sister flopped down with her, and the two girls rested their heads against one another’s, each of them breathing deep sighs. The smiling people on the walls seemed to be people Leesa didn’t know anymore.
4
Sunday, March 20, 1983
“He took it all back!” Kim wailed. “My dad took it all away!” She crumbled onto the couch, her pouty frown contrasting with the bright turquoise kimono she’d just been given for her birthday. “All the beer and wine left over from the party he organized for his curling club. I was watching it so I could sneak some away for tonight, but he took it back to the liquor store yesterday—all of it,” she complained again. “And now he and my mom aren’t going out this evening, either. They told me they were going over to their friends’ house. That’s why I planned the sleepover for tonight.” She tugged the kimono over her knees. “What a drag! They’ve wrecked my birthday. It was supposed to be perfect. Ugh!” She pulled a grumpy face.
