Читать книгу On the Goose - Josie Penny - Страница 11

Our First Home

In the week that followed our wedding night, I was worried and scared of what was going to happen to me. Here I was, a new bride, soon to be a new mother, crammed in with my in-laws in a tiny bedroom without any space to call my own, and without any support. All I was getting from Mrs. Penny was advice on how to live my life. She talked down to me and made me feel very insecure. I figured things would change when she saw how well I could keep a house. After all, I’d been doing it since I was eleven years old.

I really didn’t know what Keith was up to in the first weeks following our wedding, but I would soon find out. Things happened so rapidly that it’s hard to get the details straight. I was not happy living with his parents. During this time Keith worked with a man on the military base whose name was Carl. One day Carl heard that Keith had recently married and asked Keith if he would be interested in buying his house. He was having trouble selling it.

“I have no money to buy your house,” Keith said.

“I don’t need the money right away. If I can sell it I’d move to the United States. I don’t trust anybody to pay me the required price,” he said. “And no one around here has enough money to pay for it. You seem like a nice, solid young man, Keith. How would you like to buy my house?”

“How much you want for it?” Keith asked.

“I want $1,800 and you could pay for the house on the instalment plan.”

At that stage of my life and during that time in Labrador, wives were treated like children, and I was no exception. I didn’t have a voice and anything Keith decided to do would have to be all right. I just accepted it as so! He came home from work one day and shocked me into reality.

“I bought a house today,” he said.

“Whaa? A house? Where?”

“On Grand Street, just down around the corner from here.”

“Oh Keith, I’m so happy! When can we move in?”

“Right away, because the owner is leaving tomorrow for the United States.”

A deal was reached. We would be the proud owners of our own little house — wow!

It was decided that we would pay him a certain amount per month. It would come with all the furniture, a generator for electricity, and Keith’s brother Graham gave us a yellow 1957 Ford pick-up truck. We were overwhelmed with gratitude! We moved into our little house on Grand Street just one week after we were married. I was elated. Our very own little house! I was so happy, and I couldn’t believe my luck; especially when I realized we were moving next door to my Aunt Winnie! I felt a little more secure, and that I was going to be alright. I might not feel so alone anymore.

In my own home, I could care for my baby my way, without my mother-in-law peeking over my shoulder. I could now cook my own meals, and be free from criticism. I wouldn’t have to worry about Keith’s parents following my every move and making me feel inadequate.

The house was sixteen by twenty-two feet, with three rooms: a bedroom, a tiny kitchen, and a living room. There was no bathroom, no running water, and no furnace. There was just a small wood and oil stove that didn’t work well. There wasn’t a water and sewer system on Grand Street yet. We did have electricity, but we didn’t have appliances. Nevertheless, I was pleased that we had our own space. There were a few sticks of furniture in the house: a chesterfield, a chair, and a coffee table. There was a bed in the bedroom and a chrome kitchen set with four chairs. I couldn’t help but think of my tiny playhouse on the hillside near the dormitory at Lockwood Boarding School. For whatever reason, I kept comparing everything to my childhood experiences.

I found a few lace doilies in a tiny closet in the house when we moved in. Things had happened so fast! Someone donated a crib. A few days later I was surprised once again when my sisters-in-law Dorcass and Margaret held a baby shower for me. I was in tears. No one had ever done so many wonderful things for me before. At the tender age of eighteen, I would have my very own baby, very own home, my very own husband who had a job and came home every day after work. And, I was extremely grateful for Aunt Winnie living next door. What more could a young bride ask for?

As soon as we settled into the house I set about preparing the baby’s room and thinking about what my baby would look like. Would it be a boy or girl? Would it be healthy? Would Keith know what to do? How to care for it? How to love? I took each tiny garment and caressed it gently, trying to visualize my baby in it. I separated the colours and arranged them in the crib. One would think that after all I’d been through, living with my family back home in Cartwright and having to care for six of my siblings at such a young age, that I would want to run from another such responsibility. But maybe it had the opposite effect on me. I longed for my baby to come. I was excited to be a new mother. I couldn’t wait!

In the meantime, Keith was trying to adjust to married life. When he came home each day after work, he seemed to be uncomfortable. I often wondered many times since then what he would have done if we hadn’t had to get married. Maybe I’ll never know for sure.