What The Hell…. (8/73)

Before my mother had Jack return to the house, she spoke with me about how people make mistakes and that she was going to let him come back to the house to live with us. I was far too young to understand what the hell was going on. I just knew that I was scared of Jack but I also knew I had to do what my mother asked too. I imagine that my family must have thought she was crazy for taking him back into our lives after what he had done. Especially since it was not the first time he had been violent with her. I tried my best to adapt to having a monster living with us the best I could. I looked forward to my weekends with my Dad. I knew I was safe when I was with him.

His parents, my grandparents had sold their house that fall and bought a new one by the brand-new “West Edmonton Mall”. We would be the first family to ever live in this house, I was very excited. It was located right across a big field from the biggest mall in the world. It was a huge house. 4 bedrooms, 4 bathrooms, 2 living rooms, dinning room and a giant family room in the basement complete with a wet bar, shuffle board, and pool table that was made by my Uncle Tim. Grandma and Grandpa slept upstairs and my Dad slept in the basement. Even I had a room to sleep in but I chose to sleep with grandma most of the time.

Her and I would spend hours laying in bed at night as she told me stories and fables like Goldilocks & The three Bears and Hansel & Gretel. Changing her voice and impersonating the characters along the way. My favorite story she told was the night before Christmas. I only was allowed visitation with my father at noon on Christmas day. I would not be with them Christmas Eve that year but on the weekends through out December Grandma would tell me that story every night she could. A tradition that I still carry on today with my children. Christmas and New Years came and went and before we knew it spring was on the horizon.

Things had been rather quiet at my mother house over those months. Her and Jack did not seem to be fighting as much or arguing at all. However, she always did look a little rougher around the edges on the Sundays when I would return from being with my father for the weekend. She looked sad and damaged on those days. By the end of February 1982 we were being evicted from the house we were living in. Jack had not worked in months and my mother could not afford to keep the house just on her income.

We ended up moving into dingy 2-bedroom apartment in a building behind the Dover Hotel just off of 127^th Ave. I hated it there. It felt like living in a dungeon. With the suite being in the basement there was little to no light because of the small windows. Quite a change from the house we just left that was full of large windows every where. At night it seemed very dark and cold. There was just something about this apartment that made me feel uneasy.