Chapter Five
Mother's fame as a talented doctor grew. It got so I couldn't go downtown without someone stopping me.
“I came too close to losing these fingers. Without your mother, they'd be gone. She's a skilled doctor. You should be very proud.” The story was always the same, only the body parts varied.
Soon black limousines drove down our lane. The car parked and outclimbed salon-styled hair in a European tailored suit—they were all the same.
“Is Doctor Anna McNamara at home?” They came to offer Mother a position at their hospital in Winnipeg, Edmonton, Vancouver.
Mother held court in the living room. My dad and I were silent witnesses to the suit's attempts to seduce her. “St. Paul's in downtown Vancouver is an acute care, teaching, and research hospital. Excuse me for saying so, but here your talent is largely wasted. There you'll be a highly respected member of our world-class team.”
The suit left. I went to bed and eavesdropped on my parents.
“Oh, Kris, don't you see? I have to go. The offer is just too good to pass up.”
My dad didn't tell Mother that the farm was our home. He didn't tell her how many generations had worked the soil. He didn't tell her that Afi (Grandpa) was relying on him and his brother to take over the farm, to ensure its future. He didn't tell her that he was a farmer, that leaving would crush him. All he said was, “Of course, I understand. Wherever you go, I will follow. I love you too much not to.”
Mother gave her notice at the hospital. Nurses, staff and patients organized a potluck dinner to send her off in rural style. They shook her hand and wished her luck—some even hugged her. She glowed, her ego swelled, but she didn't really care about them.
Back on the farm, Afi's eyes were dry, his arms crossed over his chest. “I knew you were bad news the minute I met you. You have no respect for our farm, for our ways.”
Not easily intimidated, Mother retorted, “And you think a woman's place is in the kitchen, in bed, or under your feet.”
“Kris, be a man. Control your woman.” Afi's attempt to enlist support fell on deaf ears but he kept trying. “I knew you wouldn't act to defend our ways. You've never had a backbone. Your mother coddled you, and now look at you, you're not a man. You're a mouse. You let this woman walk all over you. You let her rob you of all you have. You don't stand up to her or teach her to mind.”
Afi wanted a fight and Mother was happy to oblige. “Don't talk that way to him. He respects me.”
Afi ignored her, didn't even look at her. He directed the full force of his fiery at my dad, at his son. “You've turned your back on family history, on our way of life, and you've endangered the survival of the family farm. If you don't care about us, why should we care about you? Get the hell off my land. Leave. Now!”
I clung to the only woman who'd ever nurtured me. I clung to my Auntie Ollie. At fifteen, I couldn't imagine my life without her.
“You,” Afi spat at my dad, “take yours.”
Mother pulled me out of my auntie's arms and dragged me to our new life—a wealthy neighbourhood in Vancouver's west end: Point Grey.
A hairy story...
So in 2019, I was so sure that I would receive an acceptance letter from a publisher that I told a friend, "I'm going to cut my hair in celebration."
And so I waited
and waited and...
Sensing that there was something terribly wrong, people (mainly women) began to ask me, "So, Leanne, what's up with your hair?"--or words to that effect.
And so on Wednesday, December 6, I...
I actually sneak peeks at myself in mirrors to admire-- to see if it still looks good.
