Just Be Assertive

“Father, my soul is troubled. I see her face in my dreams. They’re nightmares, I see her haunted, fearful eyes. It was my ego that caused her death. I persuaded her that I knew the conditions, I was familiar with them, I had years of experience….”

“My son, do not presume. It is our Heavenly Shepherd’s to make those decisions. He it is who makes the determination that a soul has lived sufficiently long, and to take that soul unto Himself.”

“But Father, surely … I told her everything would be all right. I knew what I was doing. And then, when it happened, when I tried to pull her out of the truck while it was sinking … she said to me, she said ‘I don’t want to die this way’, and then it just wasn’t working, I couldn’t free her. And Dusty, my dog, he was barking at me, he was in the back …”

“You must forgive yourself, my son. The Heavenly Father takes those whom He will.”

Standing in his mother’s living room yesterday, he was sure it was her brother he saw. Dimly, in the distance, a lone figure. A figure that dropped something onto the ice. Having to throw what he held in his arms, avoiding the yawning open water where Carrie had perished. Along with poor old Dusty. But a dog’s a dog, they can always be replaced. Carrie, that was another thing. Not that he would want to replace her. She wasn’t, in fact, what he’d been looking for. But she had come looking for him. And what a surprise that had been.

What, he wondered, had Trevor thrown into the open water? A worn old Teddy bear that his sister had loved? Something she had cherished, a little old baby comforter? Ah, more likely a bouquet of flowers. Carrie loved flowers. A tribute from her brother to his beloved sister. He must be in mortal anguish, poor guy. Life’s tough, isn’t it, Trevor?

You and your squirt brother really bothered the hell out of me, you sure did. Thought your sister was so special, didn’t you? Everyone knew your family thought they were different than everyone else around. Just because a street was named after the family, just because your family said they were founders of the area, like it was lost and you guys came around and whoa! Here’s a place needing to be found.

What a stupid name to give a kid. We used to rush at her yelling “carry me!” and she would always stand there, like she didn’t know what was coming at her. Every time we did it, she would stand there. And be knocked over. And like man, that was funny. We laughed our fool heads off. Until the time you guys saw us, and it was like, game over, right? You were always a scrappy kid, my dad said it was the Irish, they’re like that. But know what? The Frenchies were too, and we lit into you good and proper. With sister Carrie yelling at all of us to stop ‘right now!’, only no one ever listened to her, right?

Sure, maybe it wasn’t fair, all of us picking on you two stumpy little guys, but you were asking for it. What was the big deal? We teased all the girls, it wasn’t just your sister. It was a game, it was a lot of fun, the girls didn’t really mind, they loved it. We were just kids, having a good time. But you needed to tell us we had to lay off your sister. Your big sister at that. Didn’t think she could look after herself? She did, you know, she did pretty good. She had guts, standing there, telling us to knock it off, not backing down, like the other girls who went off squealing, pretending to be afraid.

Anyway, that time you got me alone, without the guys around and knocked the shit out of me, even though you’re younger and you were smaller than me, still are, I guess. I never forgot that. Even though no one saw it, so I wasn’t embarrassed like. I was still shaken up, felt bad for myself, felt ashamed some little runt like you could do that to me. And man, I don’t forget.

Funny how when your dad got wind of what was going on he told your sister and you to steer clear of us. Like you could, eh? How’d I know? How’d you think I’d know? Carrie told me. She told me lots of things. You had to respect her, she never got mad, she just stood there and took it, and then whisked herself off and went on her way. Until the next time. And then the time after.

She said she was behaving in a Christian manner, while we - me she meant - were being brutish louts. Brutish louts, get that. She even spoke differently than we did. I don’t mean French-English, since we all spoke both, but the way she talked, it was different. Elevated like, like the parish priest, or something.

She was my friend later, you didn’t know that did you? Well, I got to like her and I knew she liked me. She convinced me I wouldn’t “get anywhere in this world” - that’s her words, I remember them like it was just fresh, and that was more years than I can really remember back. She was right. I straightened right out. I sure did, I got good at school, got good marks, my mom didn’t know what to make of it.

And then you guys just up and moved. One day you were there, the next day pouf! And I’m just betting that your family wanted to get all of you away from here. I’m just betting this place wasn’t good enough for all of you any more. The street named after your great-great whatever is still there, but you aren’t, none of you.

Like I said, I did good, and I was serious about keeping out of trouble and making a life for myself. I have my own business now, bet you don’t know that. I’ve got my own roofing company and there’s no problem getting jobs, let me tell you. I’m proud of the work that my people do, I’ve got standards. Bet that would surprise you too. Look, people grow up, they look around, they see how other people live, and they change their values. That’s what I did, and I’ve never regretted it.

All that time that passed since we last saw one another, me and Carrie. I thought of her sometimes but never bothered looking her up. So isn’t technology wonderful? I’m on Facebook, like just about everyone else - not you, I know, it’s beneath you, Carrie said so, not in those words, but letting me know you have no use for ‘social networking’. You’re an academic now, she said, you‘re a professor of what, history is it? I forgot where she said you were teaching. In Montreal somewhere?

But Carrie got on Facebook and she looked me up, found me and messaged me. At first it didn’t click, I couldn’t think straight, but how many chicks have that name? She looked different kind of, better looking than before, a lot prettier, and really tall, who would’ve thought? We began to keep in touch. She told me about her work, about how much she enjoyed it, what a challenge it was to her. And where she was living. Not all that far, actually, just across the river. So we decided to meet over coffee at the National Arts Centre café. That was the first time. There were a lot of other times.

We graduated from casual meetings and began to see a lot of one another. I liked your sister a lot. I really did. She never thought she was better than anyone else. She never really gave me a hard time. She represented, I know, a different social level than what I did, but she didn’t much care, and neither did I. She was easy to talk with, I could tease her and we’d both laugh about it, laugh about how it had been, back then.

I had this dog, a nice big golden retriever, a real suck of a dog. He was really a terrific dog, trusting and loyal; you know the usual stuff you hear about man-dog relationships. That was me and him, Dusty. A really good dog. Used to take him along hunting with me. He was kind of useless there. Sooner make friends with the wild animals than help in any way; he was so friendly he’d wag his big rump at any animal he’d see and make such a fuss over seeing it he’d scare them right out of sight.

Carrie liked Dusty, a whole lot, and we went off on week-end afternoons, spending a lot of time together. She ever tell you that? Well, your parents found out and they weren’t too happy, as it turned out. Carrie felt it wouldn’t be right, not to tell her mom and dad about who she was seeing. They asked, see? Because she was getting kind of long in the tooth, as they say, and probably wanted to see her married. Have some grandkids. Your dad, she said, has a weak heart, and your mom, she said, had a bout with cancer.

Things were going really well, you know? Neither of us had any other plans for going out with anyone else, so it was kind of nice hanging out together. Fun, like, and nice, comfortable. And then, wham!

Carrie being like she is, she didn’t send me an email message or anything like that. She planned to be right with me when she gave me the kiss-off. I thought there might be something wrong. She acted kind of strange … for Carrie. She wasn’t relaxed, she was kind of strained looking. I asked her what was wrong, and at first she said nothing. And then she said it, she said she didn’t think our relationship was heading anywhere and it was just a waste of time for both of us. I felt kind of stunned. No one likes to be told that they’re wasting their time when they’re trying to get involved with someone, and they feel good about it, and looking forward to maybe having a future together.

I asked her why.

“Just that, you know, we don’t really have all that much in common”, she said.

And that really surprised me, it really did. Because just being together and having fun and discovering things we both liked did mean we had stuff in common, you know?

“How do you figure that?” I asked her.

“Well, our general lookout on life”, she finally said. “You know, your politics isn’t mine, your values don’t reflect mine. Our backgrounds are different”, not, she said, that we hadn’t shared growing up in the same place, but that our families were so … different.

“I thought we’d put all that away”, I said, really stung, her reminding me of that now, after all that’s gone by, the years when we didn’t know each other, and the progress we’d made lately re-introducing ourselves to one another as adults.

“Yes, you’re right, we did do that to a certain degree, we certainly did, but there’s more to life than simply shifting inconvenient incidentals out of the way. Take, for example, our levels of education - not that I’m faulting you for not completing yours and venturing into post-secondary, but your background set you up for that, and I’m fine with it. But even the entertainment that means so much to you, it’s way off canter to my values. You aren’t interested in cultural entertainment that is a huge part of my life, orchestral performances, live theatre, that kind of thing. When we talk about seeing a film, you always insist on those mindless action films with sex and gore, and that’s repugnant to me.”

“Well look”, I said, “you never mentioned that to me, before. You just kind of went along with whatever I suggested. Didn’t you?”

“Yes, yes, I did, and that’s not your fault, it’s mine. I was too ready to acquiesce, not to create a fuss. It just isn’t my way to be adamant about things like that. I usually do stand down, don’t insist on what I want. You know I haven’t got an assertive personality. And that’s all right with casual acquaintances, but our relationship may develop into something far greater than that. And I’m simply not prepared to invalidate my values and aesthetics to live the kind of life that entertains you.”

“Well, sure, I can see where you’re coming from. We can talk about this, can’t we?”

“Sure we can, but what’s the point? Where are we right now? On a frozen river, ambling along, which is very nice, since I enjoy the out-of-doors too, but I’d rather be out snow-shoeing, skiing, skating, not going out on an icy river having ‘fun’ ice-fishing. It’s just not my expression. And it’s not about to become a favourite activity for me. I’m not prepared to turn around a life-time of appreciation for cultural and aesthetic and leisure-time activities and shut them away in some dark recess of my mind, and lend myself to the rural-type things you’re invested in.”

“What took you so long telling me? I thought everything was fine between us. Why now, all of a sudden?”

“I told you. I thought I’d better face reality before things got any more serious. For both of us. Look at us here, now. I don’t want to be here, out on the ice on a frozen river. It frightens me. I don’t trust the ice. How much does that truck of yours weigh? What happens if we drove over an area of ice that isn’t thick enough to support the truck?”

I laughed. Not at her, but kind of to change her attitude, know what I mean? To let her know she had nothing to worry about. “Don’t you think I know ice conditions, when they’re safe or not? Haven’t I been doing this for almost my entire life?” Do you really think I’d put your life, mine, let alone Dusty’s in danger? And risk losing my truck, as well? Don’t you think I have any common sense?”

“No, it’s not that, not at all. It’s just that when people are familiar with circumstances they become too much at ease, comfortable when sometimes they shouldn’t be, should be alert to potential problems. It’s not just you, it’s human nature. But it’s also in your nature to enjoy outings like this, they’re an integral part of your life. They’re not mine, and there’s no point my pretending I enjoy it any longer, none at all. You need someone who shares your pleasures, and I’m just not that person.”

“That pains me”, I said, really meaning it. I did feel bad, kind of deprived of something I really wanted, I thought. Know what I mean?

She said nothing for a few minutes, and I suggested, just to prove to her that I knew what I knew, we’d get in the truck and drive over to the island in the centre of the river. “Look, look over there at the edge of the river. See that? That’s my mom’s place. We can drive right up to the island and you’ll still be able to see my mom’s house. Think that’s far? Dangerous? It isn’t. I’ve driven over the ice at this time of year since I was a kid. You know that. Give me a break, Carrie. Okay, I get what you’re saying and maybe you’re right. We gave it a try. Anyway, let’s try to make the most of this day, if it’s really going to be the last day we spend together. Okay?”

She agreed. Nodded in agreement. But said she still felt fearful. She’d do it for me, though.

I called Dusty, got him into the back seat, then we settled in and drove close to the island. I turned around, to look back at my mom’s place, and said to her “have a look, didn’t I tell you so?”

And that’s when that loud crack happened. I’ve heard ice crack before, it does that when it settles. And you know the ice is good and solid, it’s just kind of settling. Nothing to get steamed up about. This was different. Jesus, there were people all around, everywhere you could look at, people, kids, running around on the ice, guys in their ice huts, fishing, trucks parked right there, even some kids flying kites. It’s like no one else was there on the river but us. Like no one else heard that crack.

And faster than I could react, I knew that truck was going under. I’m not stupid, I reacted, I opened my door and got out just in time to leap out and struggle my way through that icy river to haul myself up onto the ice. I was yelling at her to open her door, to get the hell out of the truck. I could see she was trying, but it just wasn’t working. I kept shouting at her, and screaming my fool head off. And then, gone. All of it, the truck, Dusty, Carrie. Like they were never there. Like my being there was a casual stroll over the ice.

I ran like hell, boy did I run. I was freezing, I felt unreal, my clothes frozen, stiff, like this was some nightmare I wandered into. I figure it must have been maybe a half-hour, and then I was banging on my mom’s door. I called 911.

I told the police later I did my best. That I tried three times to get her out of the truck, but she was stuck there. And then, I said, the truck was sinking and I knew I had just a few seconds to get clear of it. And I did. I got clear of the truck. I’m alive and Carrie isn’t.