Grandma buys shoes whenever she sees them on sale. Comfortable shoes. Work boots. Random sizes and styles. When she sees someone living rough, she always runs back home to get them footwear for their needs. Good shoes are always a need among the homeless.
Along with her stockpile of food, these are the things she collects. Something for other people. She watches the news and worries the next genocide is coming her way. Wary of the society she sees as against her, she prepares. And it is against her, in so many ways. Followed around in stores, she has taken to immediately asking the worker to show her where the items she is looking for are, preempting their bigotry so it is under her control. They are not following her. They are helping her.
Randall was the man who courted the 18 year old Grandma at the women’s shelter, calling her regularly, ten years her senior. Randall had two kids, an eight and a ten year old that Grandma was immediately responsible for. The little girl was obviously neglected, a few clothes and toys, but little else. The little boy more privileged. Grandma gave the little girl more attention, the girl Becky, reminding her a little bit of herself growing up. Grandma taught Becky how to be a little girl. She had a bit of money so she bought a few hairs things, and started doing the girl’s hair up pretty.
Grandma got pregnant around six months later. She ended up leaving Randall for a little bit during this time, she can’t remember why, and moving to London. Upon reflection, she thinks it was because of disagreements over child rearing. Randall being lax in his obligations. One time his young boy set a fire on the bed and then later wanted to go out. The boy could do no wrong in the father’s eyes, so he was allowed to go out. Grandma disagreed with this parenting style.
She lived in London for almost a year without Randall, pregnant the whole time. Randall came looking for her, and her aunt or mother unfortunately told him where to look and gave him her new phone number. Reluctantly, she invited him down for a visit, spending about a week together just talking about the relationship, ending up moving back to Randall’s home.
She had Mark less than a month later, him born a month early. Randall was good about getting up at night and changing diapers, surprisingly. They both got jobs, him at a local hotel, and her at a shirt factory. Grandma started seeing strange behaviours from Randall. They both started drinking when the kids went to sleep, him getting her plastered and expecting her to attend to the children in that state. They were mostly homebodies at this point.
But then he started wanting to go to Tommy’s bar, and wanted her to pick up a man. She participated twice, unsure what to expect, later finding out his predilection for males himself. She says she wanted to see where he was going with this shit. She says went away one night, and Becky woke up. Randall was drinking. He had on a dress, pantyhose and all in the living room. Becky caught her father crossdressing that night, which upset her greatly.
Randall lost his kids about a half a year later. Grandma noticed her daughter was all bruised during a bath. She went to Becky, and asked her if anyone had hurt her daughter. Becky said daddy hurt her because she had peed her pants. Grandma immediately charged Randall with assault on her then 18 month old daughter. She called him at work to confront him, and he lied, saying they were wrestling and he may have gotten a little rough. Bruises all over the baby’s body, Grandma knew the lies.
The police arrested him at work, and Grandma secured his government housing with her now two babies. He was allowed to take all the furniture, which he did, including the fridge, stove, and all appliances, even the baby’s crib. The neighbours, seeing what happened, pitched in and had her refurnished that evening, sparing her dignity by saying they had furniture to move and could they bring it there. Her old stove and janky appliances now her new pride and joy.
Randall came by three days later unexpectedly, saw the furniture, and lost his cool, Grandma just laughing. He thought he would break her, but he didn’t. He would come visit his son at the house, them surprisingly continuing their relationship reluctantly, but deciding to live separately. Grandma made a new rule, no disciplining the children, no unsupervised visits. He didn’t touch the kids again.
That’s where she learned not to give full control to a step-parent, they were never allowed thereafter to have control over her children, her later husband included.
While they were separated but still together, she got pregnant with her second daughter Courtnie, who died at four months from a bacterial infection at Sick Kids in Toronto. Randall was there with her when she got sick. They went home to Kitchener one night to sleep after many grueling days. When Grandma woke up, he was gone and had taken all her money. The hospital had called to say they needed to come back immediately. Grandma was stranded.
She went to her friend Sandy’s and told her what Randall had done. Her and another friend Shantel took Grandma down to Sick Kids, where Courtnie passed a few hours later in Grandma’s arms. It was a long day. Sandy had a friend who lived in Toronto, so they spent the night there and went back to Kitchener in the morning. The two women helping with all the funeral arrangements.
Randall tried to intervene in the funeral planning, the friends quickly telling him where to go. Thankfully, he immediately shut up. Feeling his sexual demands for bisexual gay encounters would strip her of her pride, the only thing she had, Grandma began to question the relationship. She also began to worry he was sexually interested in her son after two strange situations left her uneasy, and that was it. She was finally done. Randall managed to steal every picture she had of Courtnie before he left.
Grandma stayed in the housing for about two years before she got a knock on the door. It was a man named John who ran an organization that was looking to house Indigenous individuals. Housing had sent him over. He explained about Native housing and told her about a semidetached home with a yard, a driveway. She had never had that before. So she took the opportunity. Her and her kids moved in and finally had security on their own for the very first time.
What does “home” mean to you—is it a place, the people in it, or the feeling of finally being safe?
If this story makes you think about the complicated ways people protect the ones they love, restack or share it. Someone else might need to remember that sometimes, finding home starts with simply finding somewhere safe.
Leave a Reply