Chapter 3
The cool grey concrete of the back step gave Colin a chill and a little gooseflesh prickled. He gazed up into the starry night sky thinking wistfully “I'm not from here. These are not my people. My people are somewhere else. This is some grand experiment. They're coming to get me”.
Over the weekend, Colin travelled to Calgary with his mom and sisters for a highland dancing competition. While the girls were competing in the dancing, Colin was dropped off at the Bay downtown to do some shopping. The Hudson Bay store was a dream. He imagined he was a secret agent in charge of rooting out spies. What a chase they would have in the Bay. It had great steel escalators that glided eternally up and down between floors and shiny black marble and brass elevators. There were no elevators in Hanna. With row upon row of a dizzying array of choices the store was a virtual amusement park.
Best of all, was the Malt Shop. From the first moment he tasted one, Colin loved malts. They were malt-flavoured ice cream treats. The Bay in downtown Calgary served them up in colourful paper cups festooned with 1960's psychedelic patterns and bright red plastic spoons.
He wandered around the teens clothing section and spied a cool vertical striped shirt of solid cream and red paisley stripes, a red button-down sweater vest with a belt, and pumpkin orange bell bottom pants.
Unable to contain his excitement, Colin was up before the crack of dawn to iron his new clothes and then try them on again before breakfast. He was sure to be noticed at school today because nobody would be wearing such clothes from the city. More than anything he wanted to be cool and fit in at school. He thought nobody could look even half as cool as he could in that new red sweater vest. Candy apple red he mused, just like the little MG convertible he saw in Calgary. It was a source of irritation for him that most of the guys in his class already had their learner’s license. Colin wouldn’t be fourteen until next year. It wasn’t fair, he thought. “I’m the shortest guy in class and the youngest. It’s just not fair”.
Bully One: Hey guys look. Halloween’s early this year.
Bully Two: Where ya goin' sissy?
Bully Three: Yeah. Where ya goin' sissy boy?
Bully Two: Hey fag boy, no teachers under the stairs to look out for their little pet, eh.
Bully Three: Who’s gonna protect you now?
Bully One: Hey man, check out the threads. Aren’t you cool in your red sweater and lovely orange bellbottoms?
Bully Three: You’re making all the girls jealous fag. Uh oh. Sissy boy’s gonna cry like a little girl. What’s the matter baby?
Bully Two: You want someone to kiss you and make it all better? Maybe someone should kiss the fairy and she’ll stop crying.
Bully Three: Hey if she had a magic fairy wand, she could wave it and poof – all better.
Bully One: Magic fairy wand? Geez I’ll poof you man. What's wrong with you? That's fuckin' weird.
Principal McLean: What’s all this about boys?
“Colin are you okay, you look pale, are you sick?”
His aunt Marj was chaperoning his first junior high dance and her concern was tinged with an aura of suspicion. He was buzzing from the glow of a mickey of apricot brandy gulped down with his friend Barry. Colin recognized her suspicion.
“I’m fine thanks. Just fine. Just going out for some fresh air. It’s hot in there.” He chatted nervously as they rushed across the highly polished linoleum floor. Pushing the cool brass crash bar with all of his slight body he called back to her with an exaggerated tone of familial assurance. “Really, it’s so warm in there I just need some fresh air.”
Truth is, he was heading out for a smoke with his pal Barry who didn’t smoke but was grateful for the excuse to escape the tension filled auditorium of jittery teenagers. As grade seveners, they both felt subject to the unwritten code of junior high hierarchy which they’d heard about but were still not fully prepared for. Colin giggled as he fumbled with a wooden match.
“Did you see how she was staring at me? Colin are you okay?” he parroted in a high shrill voice. He tried to blow a smoke ring, but the crisp autumn breeze stole his thunder. Quickly he drew another long breath filling his mouth and throat with the harsh tobacco smoke. It burned. His eyes watered. He turned his head and blew a perfect smoke ring. Its ghostly form held for just a few seconds, just long enough for Colin to blurt “Look, a perfect ring!”
Glenna: Colin. Did you turn down the thermostat?
Colin: Uh no. I just sharpened my pencil.
Glenna: This is becoming a habit, Colin. You will stay and write lines after school.
Colin: Aw geez.
Secretly, he was pleased. Stay a half hour after school in the sanctuary of Miss Hamid’s classroom and the bullies would be gone. Little did Colin realize Miss Glenna Hamid was well aware of the habits of bullies. It was not unusual for her to hear catcalls from the hallway outside her grade eight classroom: “Hey jungle bunny, nigger, go back to Africa ya bitch”. In fact, Glenna was from Trinidad. Educated, intelligent and full of the heady optimism of the sixties. She was fearless and no one called her names to her face.
Bully One: What are you crying for you useless piece of shit?
Bully Two: Poor little fag boy crying his eyes out.
Bully One: What's the matter fag?
Bully Two: Yeah, fag what's the matter? Aw look, he's gonna run home to momma.
Bully One: That's it ya queer. Run!
Colin was filled with a deep shame that tortured him into fear and silence. He couldn't talk to anyone about it. Sure, he'd been teased by other kids about all sorts of things. That was a different kind of teasing. This was mean, hostile, and filled with hate. Desperately he didn't want to be on the outside. He just wanted to fit in and just wasn't sure how to do that.
Wandering the streets of Hanna became one of his familiar habits. Just walking up and down the avenues aimlessly and overcome with grief that he was some sort of freak, a weirdo, and he wished it would all just end. He thought of ways to escape by killing himself and of different ways to do the deed, but he couldn't bring himself to do it. He was afraid of that too.
Colin abhorred physical violence. He just didn't get it. His rough and tumble cousins seemed to thrive in those fisticuff situations, but he was unable to summon up those feelings that other boys could draw on in the flash of a heated moment. Early on he felt that somehow, he was not one of them.
Highway 36, the iconic north-south stretch of blacktop running through eastern South-Central Alberta, passes three miles to the east of Hanna. Travelers who continue further south along the 36 will be enveloped in a landscape as flat as a tabletop and covered with a remarkable variety of low growing plants, from resilient short prairie grasses such as the lightly bluish prairie wool to the sturdy prickly pear cactus which blooms the most delicate translucent yellow flowers.
Grazing placidly or resting quietly on the cool soil, large brown and black buffalo punctuate the landscape. They belong to the Calgary Stampede Ranch. From time to time the Ranch would bring buffalo in for slaughter and processing by Central Meat Market which his father had recently purchased. The year he moved into the basement bedroom Colin was given a full-sized buffalo hide rug. The coarse black hair of the hide was trimmed with a woolly auburn mane and it protected Colin's feet from the cold basement floor.
Colin just never got hockey. It was a violent game and to that end held no appeal. He struggled to play for years and finally in grade seven, at 13, he made a deal with his mother.
Colin: Mom, I hate hockey and I don't want to play anymore.
Betty: Yes dear. Listen, could we talk about this later. Your sisters have a highland dance concert tonight and I’m working on their costumes?
Colin: No Mom. I need to talk about this now.
Betty: Okay talk.
Colin: I want to quit hockey.
Betty: What? Why?
Colin: I don't like it.
Betty: What's not to like?
Colin: I just want to quit, okay?
Betty: No, not okay, what will your father say?
Colin: I dunno.
Betty: That's right you don't know. Your father has been a hockey player his whole life. And you don't want to follow in his footsteps?
Colin: I hate it and I'm no good at it. What do you want from me?
Betty: Is that it, you want to hurt your father?
Colin: Oh, for crying out loud I just want to quit hockey, okay. Pleeeease.
Betty: Fine but you're not going to sit at home and do nothing for the whole winter, young man. You need to do a winter sport. What will it be?
Colin: I could try curling.
Betty: Fine.
The local curling rink was located across the street from the Simpson family home. Every evening he dashed over to the rink and made himself available. Often there were no-shows, and he was invited to play. Soon he gained a reputation as a skilled shot maker and valued team member. He could not believe his good fortune and reveled in it. This was his first acceptance into the world of adults, and he was thrilled.
Dr. and Mrs. Smith moved to Hanna when Colin was in elementary school. The Smiths bought the house next door to the Simpsons. Rita and Robert Smith both sang in the local United Church choir and were star performers in the local musical theatre group, the Hanna Players. The Smiths soon struck up a friendship with the Simpsons and their circle of friends. Rita Smith also led the church junior choir in which Colin and his siblings sang.
Her love for musical theatre spawned a desire to form a children's musical theatre group. Their first production was a children's operetta titled Johnny Appleseed and Mrs. Smith chose Colin for the lead role of Johnny. He was thrilled beyond compare and never missed a rehearsal. They were held weekly and those children with larger roles received individual coaching after school at the Smith family home. Rita taught the children to sing scales, breathe properly, good diction, and stage blocking. Colin loved it so much that he was filled with excitement every rehearsal day, however, he suffered crippling stage fright and Rita strove to help by giving him regular solos in the church junior choir.
Betty: Just pretend they're all sitting out there in their underwear.
Colin: I can't do that.
Betty: Then pick a point at the back of the church and stare at it. Don't look at their faces.
Colin: I can't.
Betty: Then find someone out there who is smiling at you and smile back at them.
He tried it and it seemed to work. Soon he was looking all about the church for smiling faces, and he smiled back at them. He began to enjoy his solos and singing in the choir became a great pleasure. He felt accepted and valued.
All five Simpson children were water babies. As soon as they were old enough, they received swimming lessons and each of them grew to be a strong swimmer. Their local swim club, the Hanna Seals, competed with clubs at swim meets all around Southern and Central Alberta and sometimes they even competed against big city teams. This pleased them immensely as the Hanna kids thought the city kids were stuck up and snooty.
No matter how hard he practiced Colin was only a good swimmer and first place ribbons or trophies eluded him. But he didn't mind that much because he was an accepted member of the team, and their friendship was far more important to him than prizes.
At the age of fourteen he was elected president of the swim club. This was his first experience with leadership, and he threw his whole heart into it. The team fund raised to help pay for their numerous road trips by holding raffles and car washes and bottle drives. That year Colin was awarded Best All Around Seal and was given a small trophy that he placed on the headboard of his bed.
Colin: Wow, what a view.
Barry: It just goes on forever.
Colin: How high up are we?
Barry: Maybe half a mile from the bottom of the valley.
Colin: That canola crop over there is cool, eh. So bright. Electric yellow.
Barry: Yeah, no kidding.
Their cowboy hats shaded them from the blazing summer sun as the two fourteen-year-old boys gazed across a gentle pastoral valley of farmland created by the Handhills just west of Hanna. They were situated atop the highest peak in a formation of low rounded hills that resemble a hand from above. Some locals say it was there that God placed his hand on the prairies.
The boys were on a trail ride and their horses were tired from the first half of the trek so they dismounted, hobbled them, and released them to graze on the sparse prairie grass covering the hilltop while the boys munched on bologna and mustard on white bread sandwiches. Barry and Colin were fast becoming capable horsemen. Barry possessed a natural ability, but Colin had to work at it. His horse, Robin, was high strung and just too much for him to handle but he loved to ride so much that he didn't care. This was the second horse his parents bought for him. The first, a potbellied cantankerous old Welsh pony named Taffy, preferred not to be ridden and never missed an opportunity to express that.
Sherry: How do I get up there?
Colin: Stick your foot in the stirrup, there. Grab the saddle horn with your hand, there. Swing your other leg up and over and your body will follow.
Sherry: Wait, wait. Start again.
Colin: Here, watch me.
Colin mounted the robust pony and as soon as his butt hit the saddle Taffy exhaled. The cinch strap went loose. The saddle slid down the side of Taffy's big gut dumping Colin on the ground. Everyone laughed except Colin, whose face had turned six shades of red.
Dusting himself off he rose to his feet and yanked the saddle back up but this time he gave Taffy a sharp knee in the ribs, and she released her stored gasses long enough for him to tighten the cinch firmly. After a couple of attempts Sherry mounted the pony and, as if on cue, Taffy dropped to her knees and began to roll over. Scrambling off, Sherry let out a yell as she rolled in the dust. Everyone rushed over to see that she was okay.
Taffy was a tired old horse who just didn't want to be ridden anymore, and who could blame her.
Colin: You want to drink some homemade wine? My mom makes wine downstairs. It's really good, like juice with booze in it.
Babysitter: Okay, let me check on the baby first.
As they descended the stairs to the basement Colin felt proudly grown-up. He, a grade-niner, was gonna drink with a senior high girl. Who cares if she is the babysitter.
Colin: So, what do you think, nice eh? My mom made this with crab apples and strawberries.
Babysitter: Not bad.
They ladled out glasses of the fruity beverage, gulping them down. Giggling and joking, their heads grew light, and sensations blurred. Suddenly babysitter grabs Colin by the neck and drags his face into her warm wet lips, her head squirming from side to side like she was caught in a trap and tongue darting in and out like some possessed lizard. Colin wrenched himself loose. With his head turned away and face a beet red he blurted: “Sorry”.
Barry: Hey man I hear babysitter was at your house on Friday night.
Colin: Yeah, I don't know why my parents insist on getting a sitter. I'm almost in high school.
Barry: She told me you guys drank some wine.
Colin: Yeah, my mom's stuff.
Barry: And then what happened. Did she put out?
Colin: Well sort of if you count kissing.
Barry: Cool. She put out for me too. She's a hot chick, eh?
Colin's bubble of fantasy burst as it finally dawned on him that he was not the same as his cherished friend, that he was something or someone else. His first kiss, his introduction to love was an abysmal failure by his reckoning. Years later he attended a Hanna Seals swim club reunion where he saw babysitter again. She was very drunk and looked prematurely old and haggard and his heart went out to her.
What troubles had she faced?
