Liar (5 page)

Sam sheepishly signed the note and handed it to China.

“Thank you,” said China with vindication.

She put the note in her bedside drawer, turned out the light, and pulled up the duvet.
God damn the son of a bitch, now I’m too mad to get back to sleep.

“China?” whispered Sam.

“What now?”

“Are you awake?”

China cursed, grabbed her pillow, and hit Sam repeatedly until he fell off the bed laughing. He pulled her down on top of him and she gasped when his hard penis thrust into her.

“Sam, you are one mean, hard, son of a bitch.”

She rocked angrily on his penis and came quickly, wanting to both smash Sam’s smiling face and kiss him tenderly.

He rolled her over into his favourite missionary position and finished what he had started. As China drifted off into the afterglow sleep, the alarm rang and Sam got up to shower.
That man is going to kill me,
thought China sleepily
.

~ ~

China needed the car for groceries and dropped Sam off at the office. Bear had built a lovely cedar long-house on the beach side of the road, next to the shed where he carved, and rented out the rooms for office space. She wasn’t quite sure if Sam actually did any work in his office. Surely it wasn’t possible to work surrounded by such a mess. Bear, who was very tidy, jokingly threatened to evict Sam for having a messy office. Every time she picked him up, he and the boys were usually shooting baskets to see which loser would have to buy lunch.

China put away the groceries and wearily opened her journal.

Sept. 2/96

When I can't sleep, I slide quietly out of bed, careful not to wake you. When you can't sleep, you grab my hips and pull me roughly out of dreaming into your nightmare.

You rob me of my dreams. Why? How can I work, think, love you when I’m angry? It takes many hours of not being myself to forgive you. I cannot bear to not love you because not loving you hurts me unbearably. I trust you to love and respect me. Robbing me of my dreams, of precious, healing sleep, is not an act of love and respect.

You rob me of my dreams. Why? Because you have none? Before you, I slept the sleep of angels, sailed on ships to other worlds, moved with the wind of freedom. When you rob me of my dreams you steal pieces of my soul, you steal the healing that I need to face another day. I cannot give you beautiful days if you rob me of my nights. Hear me. Respect me. If I cannot trust you to love me when I'm dreaming, I'll sleep in a safer bed.

~ ~

The next morning the alarm went off before Sam did and China jumped with surprise at the unusual noise.

“What time is it?” asked Sam.

“Seven-thirty.”

Fantastic,
thought China
, he even went beyond the seven o’clock screw. Maybe I should make him write a deposition regarding his farting and snoring.

Sam satisfied the morning wood and stumbled to the shower. China made toast and coffee feeling pleasantly used. They ate, sipped leisurely, scanned the news, spoke a few words.

“What time is it?” asked Sam.

“Eight-fifty.”

“Oh, my God, I gotta go. I didn’t realize it was so late. I thought we got up at seven-thirty.”

“Yes, Sam, you were up at seven-thirty but you were cooling the morning wood. You were actually on your feet at seven-fifty.”

China always put her watch on as soon as she awoke, painfully aware of how fast the day would slip by with no carving done because of all the details that had to be attended to so that Sam’s life could run more smoothly. She walked over to Norman’s Groceries to check if they had enough paper plates and cups for Sam’s Thunder Ceremony on October 4
^th
when he would become Chief of the Eagle Clan. His mother had sent many boxes of gifts for the invited guests and their house was filled to overflowing. China wondered if Anita could send over a new couch and a chair or two. She decided it was time for a trip to Halifax to buy some furniture and resolved to broach the subject with Sam immediately.

The locals jokingly called the store Norman’s Gas because it was also the only place on the reserve that had a gas pump. They only charged tax to the white people who preferred filling up their tanks at Norman’s because even with the added tax it was still cheaper than the gas at the garage in town.

This morning Carrie Deer Norman, proprietress, wife of the famous carver, Frank Beaver Norman, and mother of three rascal sons and one daughter, the beautiful Lily Deer, was behind the counter, dressed in a bright yellow tunic that brought out the gold flecks in her light brown eyes. She wore matching leggings on slim legs and China was quite sure that Carrie didn’t do her shopping on Grimshaw Island. Nor did she get her highlighted and carefully cut hairdo done by the barber shop in the white part of town. She was wearing at least five gold and silver bracelets on each arm, no doubt carved by her famous husband. She smiled and China was disarmed by the warmth radiating from Carrie’s eyes. Most Grimshaws had relatively impassive faces and were very suspicious of newcomers.

Sam swore that Carrie was pure Grimshaw but China had heard local legends of the ancient Grimshaw women coupling with a lost fisherman or two. These fisherman never seemed to survive for very long after their rescue. The Grimshaw women had probably sensed the need for fresh blood long before their men went looking for it on the mainland.

When the Grimshaw men deemed it was once again safe to venture into the white world, they journeyed to Halifax and dragged home the seemingly willing white women, some of whom managed to survive quite nicely, probably because they insisted their husbands live with them in the white town, away from the nasty stares of the elderly, full-blooded Grimshaw women. Necessity is often jealous of change.

Actually several mixed race families lived in the white town but China could only think of one other white woman who lived on the reserve. The thought of Bonnie Graham’s story did not reassure her. Bonnie used to have flame coloured hair and bright blue eyes, but age and a hard life had faded her once famous hair to yellowy white and her eyes to a dull pewter. She was now a tough, wiry, seventy-year-old, but she’d once been a looker and had cut quite a swath through the male aboriginal community. Her eldest son, who she had dragged to Grimshaw Island with her, had blond hair, a red beard, blue eyes and the kind of very white skin that always turned bright red when exposed to the sun. He had grown into a strapping born again criminal, who had reformed several times but always relapsed right into the waiting arms of the law. He was a status Indian despite all appearances to the contrary. That was because years ago, some idiot in Ottawa decided that if a white woman married an aboriginal, she automatically received Indian status and so did her children, with or without a drop of Indian blood. However if a full-blooded aboriginal woman married a white man, she and her children, immediately lost all Indian status. Reverse discrimination took on a new dimension in the aboriginal world.

Bonnie eventually settled on one Grimshaw Indian, Ted Moose Graham, and they married and produced three handsome dark-haired boys. Bonnie also adopted, or fostered, two other motherless Grimshaw boys. She’d turned her girlhood passion for aboriginal males into motherly concern, which unfortunately didn’t stop all of her brood from regular visits to the jails in various parts of Canada. They were a hard-drinking bunch and her husband tried mightily to beat them all into line. When he wasn’t beating his boys, they were beating each other. Ted eventually stopped drinking but since Bonnie and her brood refused to follow his reformed example, Ted divorced the lot of them. Bonnie remained in the family home on the ancestral reserve, and Ted moved into a quaint little cottage in the white part of town.

“Hello,” said Carrie. “You’re Sam’s wife?”

“Yes,” replied China shyly.

“I’m Carrie Norman,” said Carrie shaking China’s hand.

“Hi, my name is China.”

“Nice name. I hear you’re a sculptor.”

“Yes. I carve mostly wood. I’ve started working with the driftwood on the beaches.”

“I’d like to see some of your work.”

“The driftwood pieces might be a bit too big for your store, but I also do smaller sculptures,” explained China. “I have one right here.”

China reached into her pocket and took out one of her fertility goddesses. Carrie laughed as she turned the plump figure in her hand.

“I don’t carve these from driftwood,” explained China.

“No, I can see that,” nodded Carrie. This is made from pine?”

“Yes,” said China.

“My husband Frank is a carver,” said Carrie.

“Did he do those beautiful bracelets?” asked China.

“Oh yeah, but I need a new one. He’s been a good boy lately.”

Carrie laughed and China shared in the laughter. Sam had told her that bracelets were gifts proudly worn by the wives who’d forgiven their husbands transgressions. Gold bracelets were for particularly bad behaviour.

Carrie picked up one of the sea urchin shells lying in a basket on the counter and playfully put it on the wooden figure’s head.

“Look, it makes a cute hat.”

“Hey! That’s a great idea,” said China. “I could even paint them different colours. I suppose now you’ll be wanting a commission for your idea.”

“Nooo,” replied Carrie thoughtfully. “But I’ll take a percentage if I sell some for you.”

“Really? You’d let me sell them in your store? I don’t think fertility goddesses are needed around here.”

“Is that what they are?” said Carrie and burst out laughing. “Sure they just look like cute little women with big boobs. Tell you what. Call them something other than fertility goddesses and they’ll go like salmon. I’ll get Frank to bring you some cedar. He always has small pieces left over when he carves a totem or an oar. We usually just burn them.”

“That’s great. Thanks a lot Carrie.”

One of the villagers entered the store and China left after assuring herself that Carrie had plenty of paper goods in stock. She hadn’t walked more than a few steps before Carrie came running after her and thrust a paper bag into her hands.

“Here China,” said Carrie breathlessly. “You forgot these.”

Carrie ran back to the store and China opened the bag. Inside were three sea urchin shells and the wooden goddess.

China smiled and walked quickly home to figure out the best way to attach the little hats to her sculptures. For some reason the shells on Grimshaw Island were much tougher than the ones found in Newfoundland and would probably withstand the handling necessary to glue them onto the dolls. Maybe she could use seaweed or moss as hair for the dolls and then glue the sea urchin shells to that. She’d call her creations “Sea Urchin Women, or just Sea Women”. She spent the day happily experimenting and was very pleased with the final result. She was also happy to have made a new friend.

~ ~

Later that night as they did the dishes, China brought up the subject of furniture.

“Sam, I think it’s time for a trip to Halifax. We desperately need some furniture.”

“It isn’t a good time China. I’m too busy,” evaded Sam.

“I’ll go by myself. I think I can take the ferry to Halifax without getting lost.”

“We don’t have the money right now,” admitted Sam, feeling cornered.

“What about the money Larry gave you for your furniture?”

“What do you mean?” answered Sam stupidly.

“Hello! Are you there? You told me we’d use that money to buy more furniture!”

“Yeah, well, I guess I forgot. Anyway, I thought we had enough stuff with your furniture.”

“Oh, you did, did you? Well, it’s a damn good thing I insisted on keeping my furniture, otherwise we’d be using my sculptures to sit on.”

“Good idea, sweetie. You’re pretty handy with a hammer and chisel. Why don’t you make us some stuff? Carve us a love seat with hearts and flowers,” said Sam with an impish grin, trying his best to make light of a sticky situation.

“Sam, I’m serious. What did you do with that money?”

“I needed it for travelling. It’s expensive getting on and off this island. You worry too much. In a couple of months we’ll be on easy street.”

“Have you forgotten that this house will soon be full of guests for your Thunder Ceremony?”

“Oh,” said Sam sheepishly. “I didn’t think about that.”

“Obviously not,” said China with disgust.

“Don’t worry. Bear will loan us a couple of beds and I can bring up a few chairs from the office to tide us over.”

“All right, Sam, it’ll do for now, but I think it only fair to warn you that I don’t like making do, and I don’t like you changing plans without informing me.”

“OK, my little grump,” said Sam, slipping his arms around China’s waist. “I’ll be a good boy from now on.”

“You’d better be, cause I’ll be really...”

Sam cut off China’s next words with a firm kiss. He slid his hands over her bottom and pressed her to him, allowing her to feel the hardness of his conviction.

Sept. 5/96

My dear husband seems to like keeping me in the dark about important decisions. I’ll have to make him understand that having a wife means more than vacuuming and easy access to a vagina. He didn’t seem very happy about my selling the “Sea Women” on the reserve. He was surprised that Carrie agreed to sell them. He said women aren’t allowed to carve but they might buy them as a kind of revenge. Thanks a lot Sam!

He told me a funny story about Carrie and Frank. When she was in hospital in Halifax, giving birth to her fourth son, Frank had a big party to celebrate. When he woke up with a horrible hangover, he discovered that Carrie’s collection of china had been stolen and he couldn’t accuse anyone because he had passed out on the couch and anyone could have walked off with it. Some of the old pieces had been passed down through generations. When Carrie returned home from the hospital, Frank had a new gold bracelet waiting for her, but that wasn’t enough for Carrie. She ordered two of the most expensive sets of china she could find in the swankiest store in Halifax for herself AND her sister, and she made Frank pick it up at the seaplane when it arrived. Good for Carrie! From what Sam tells me, marital relations around here are built on one upmanship. The women take great pride in boasting about their spouses awful behaviour and then the men take even greater pride in boasting about their wives methods of revenge! It seems to work for them.

Life sure is interesting around here. I feel like I’ve been dropped in a foreign country and am scrambling to learn the local customs before I’m beheaded for doing something wrong.

~ ~