Mrs. Blais watches the skaters from the bleachers, sipping hot cocoa. Boys show off and race round the rink and criss-cross, violating the rules of traffic and shedding layers of warm clothing to tempt illness. Pairs of girls hold each others’ arms laughing or practice tricks. Individual men and women diligently and steadily pump out a course round and round while pairs and trios converse as they coast along carelessly.
Mrs. Blais tries to think back to the last time she entered an ice arena. It must have been years! Of course, she learned how to ice skate as a girl outdoors in Winnipeg. She watched her beaus race and play hockey. She loved the crackling cold air and did not notice the wind as she marveled at the scene and stroked her own course across the slippery and bumpy surface.
After reaching the heights of dullness, her present life has broached the sill of the plateau of inactivity to venture along the bumpy paths and slippery slopes of life again. Her life has picked up the pace and she is grateful both Lucy and Bonnie.
“It’s probably a good shot in the arm for Bonnie, too,” she reflects, She herself gets some company and new activity while Bonnie gets to go out. She does not mind if her friends come along, or Bonnie and her friends tote her along on occasion. Today, Bonnie and company are skating in this indoor rink on the East Side.
In the past month, they, Mrs. Blais and “the gals” have been to a community play and seen a movie at the cinema. Bonnie accompanied Mrs. Blais to the community center for the first couple of trips. Now the elderly woman goes there for mild exercise and socializing twice a week.
In fact, she is losing weight. Bonnie accompanied her on the tedious expedition of trying on undergarments. Besides getting a little baggy, her old ones were also getting somewhat worn out. How could she had let things go that far? Her aide convinced her client to “splurge” on a couple of new dresses and some underwear that day.
The agency had a service complete a safety assessment and now her apartment is gradually getting equipped with gadgets. She possesses a cell phone now too. She admits that she does indeed feel a little more secure because of the new equipment. Of course, the biggest improvement on that score was her hearing. Mrs. Blais feels more confident and brighter, warmer.
She’s not so sure how helpful “the Grandma agenda”—as Trixie calls it—is for Lucy. “Let Lucy do the party, then let her go for awhile,” she tells herself.
Rather, it is Bonnie who is present on a day-to-day basis. Lucy initiates, gives orders, follows up, makes recommendations, as she is trained to do, while she expresses also her heartfelt concern and real love regularly. They are talking again.
The Christmas visit and short tour to “the Island” had let some fresh air into her life. She had not realized until then just how much she had been shutting down her life. Yes, it had been getting unhealthy. “They” were all right in intervening and giving her a push. Not that they had to push that hard. She had been desiring attention, she sees now. Now she feels much better, a little younger even with the resurge in energy.
Mrs. Blais has cast aside her rigid timetable. It is not necessary to cling to routine for dear life, anymore, given the additional activity and relationships. That is a relief. She does not need routine to reify the shadow of herself, affirm her existence any more. The people in her life have validated her, and given her shape once again. She is alive still, after all.
Bonnie skates into the barrier to stop herself below Mrs. Blais’ seat in the risers. She pulls herself along the barrier to reach the gate and step upon the wooden floor, where she slips plastic blade guards on her skates. Mounting the concrete steps, she calls out to her client: “Mrs. Blais! How are you doing? Do you need anything?”
“No, dear. I’m fine. Go back to your friends.”
“Selma! Sel! We’re here!” Mrs. Blais sees a friend and another person approaching.
“See, Bonnie? Let me visit with my friends, and you can visit with yours some more.”
“Good, then. I’ll check back in a while.”
“Wait, dear. Let me introduce you first.”
“Selma, it’s good to see you. Thanks for ringing us. It’s been so long since we last saw each other.”
“It’s good to see you Gerty, Mable. Gerty and Mable, this is my helper, Bonnie. She brought me here with her friends. Carry on, now, Bonnie.”
“Nice to meet you, ma’am. Ma’am. Okay. Enjoy the visit!”
Bonnie retreats back to the ice while Mrs. Blais other companions seat themselves. The one called Gertrude removes a plastic bag from inside her large handbag. “Just a little treat to keep ourselves warm here,” she explains. She proffers the contents to Mrs. Blais. It is home baked chocolate chip cookies.
“Oh, my. I guess one or two won’t hurt today. I’ve lost weight, you know.”
“You’re looking good, Sel!” comments Mable, to which Gertrude nods.
“Oh, I’m having a good time, these days.”
“Tell us about life with Bonnie,” urges Mable.
“Yes. And how is Lucy?” asks Gertrude.
“Is she alright?” inquires Bonnie’s housemate and best friend, Celia.
“Yeah, she’s fine. We can skate some more.” The women proceed with tentative movements along the unfamiliar ice. But it is a pleasure to do it.
Looking up at the bleachers, Celia asks, “Who are those women?”
“You won’t believe it, but Mrs. Blais called a couple of old friends and asked them to join her here. And, there they are.”
“Ah, that’s good. Hey, makes it easier for you,” remarked Celia’s cousin Trixie.
“Yeah. It’s a great job. I have no complaints. Well, hey—the pay could be greater.”
The other women chuckle. “Oh, yeah!” answers Trixie.
“I talked to my mother this morning. She went to the hospital yesterday. She’s fine. She just got new meds,” says Bonnie, switching the subject.
“Oh, maybe it’ll make her feel more comfortable. Lucky for her, you can send some money for things like that,” says Celia assuredly.
“I think she’s missing me more, though. It’s been a long time since I saw her last.”
“When will you visit her?” asks Trixie.
“I’m trying to wait until next Christmas. It was hard for her last Christmas because I wasn’t there again. But, you know. It’s the money. With the fuel prices, I can’t go there so often.”
“Yeah, we know,” replies Celia. “My mom cried and cried when I had to return to Canada after January first. She wanted me to stay until Lunar New Year. ‘But, what about my job?’ I said. She knows, but, you know, she gets so emotional. I cried, too, of course. Little Sammy doesn’t seem to know me so well any more. He doesn’t come to the phone so often when I call him these days. I wanted to bring him with me. But it is impossible right now. Maybe in a couple of years.
“We’re with you, girl,” says Trixie consolingly. “It’s a sacrifice, for the family. It makes things better for everyone when we go away to work, but it hurts all the time.”
“We have to make a kind of life here, too. We can’t live like we’re back home. We’re here for a long time. We have to make do. I want to find a husband.”
“Yeah. I did another internet search. But the matchmakers and dating services charge money. It’s risky. I’d rather meet someone in person, be introduced properly, you know.”
“It’s tough competition, isn’t it. So many women here, so few good Pinoy boys. Would you consider a white guy?” asks Bonnie.
“Well, if he were nice and had a decent job. Maybe,” offers Celia.
“You have that friend already. What about him?” considers Trixie.
“Yeah, but he is in and out of jobs. I met his brother, but I don’t know that much about him. Besides, I don’t feel romantic about him.”
Trixie replies, “Well, it can come in time. A lot of Pilipinas do that. It works out. They’re satisfied, I think.”
“What’s your criteria?” wonders Bonnie. “What is being satisfied, for us? It think it’s mostly a sacrifice. Like, you know, it’s hard not to be with a Filipino. The others don’t know about that. And the men make demands. Women have to do things their way and give up a lot of what they want and like. So, I don’t know. I want a nice Pinoy boy, myself.” She sighs.
Back on the benches, the elder women catch up and amuse themselves with anecdotes about this and that relative and neighbour. After a pause, Mrs. Blais suddenly confesses that it is a pleasure to have a future again and to be dreaming a little, making little plans for the days ahead as if she really had a life.
“Ah, Sel. It’s good to hear you say that. I was wondering how you were making out. I think you must have gotten awfully bored and lonely. It’s nice seeing you out and about,” remarks Gerty.
“Hm-hm,” agrees Mable. “I think it’s a problem for all of us. It’s easy to slip into a rut, and lose energy and direction. Thank goodness we have family and other people around us who care.”
“Hm-hm,” echoes Mrs. Blais.
“Well, you going to have a big birthday party, eh? Can we come?”
“Oh, of course! Don’t worry about that. We haven’t sent out any invitations yet. You’ll get yours, to be sure.”
“Good. Say, what’s the plan?” inquires Mable.
“We’re working on the numbers. We have to make a list. As many people as possible, I say. The place is large, and I’m not sure how many people it can handle.”
“Where’s that?”
“Lucy has booked the rowing club at Burnaby Lake. That’s where we had our 30th anniversary party, you know. It’s a nice simple place right on the lake, facing east. Yet, it’s easy to get to. Right off both the Transcanada and the Lougheed Highways.”
“Sounds lovely!”
“Oh, I remember. I went to the anniversary party,” recalls Gertrude. “Yes, it is quite a nice place. In the spring, it should be pleasant to stroll around outside, too.”
“There’s a big fireplace, anyway, and a dance floor inside,” Mrs. Blais tells them.
“What about the food, dear? Do you want us to prepare some things?” asks Mable.
“I’ll have to ask Lucy what she wants to do. But I know she’s having caterers take care of the main course. I think they’re talking about a leg of lamb and baked salmon. Salads, of course, some sort of potato dish too.”
“Oh, that’ll be nice.”
“It all sounds so lovely and exciting,” comments Gertrude. “I wish someone would do that for me!”
“It’ll be a fabulous time. It sounds like Lucy has things well in hand,” adds Mable.
“Oh, you know Lucy. She’s quite the organizer.”
“Indeed,” says one.
“That’s true,” says the other.
“So they’re fixing up your place, eh? You want to stay in that apartment?” It’s Gertrude changing the topic.
“Oh. Yes, I’d rather stay there. With a little help, I’m all right on my own there. I’d much rather stay on my own. I’m not that decrepit, yet, to need live-in help. I cross my fingers. I hope that doesn’t happen. Wouldn’t it be nicer to live well on your own and just stop one day, without fuss?”
“Oh, much better, yes. Hope it’s like that for me too!” agrees Gerty. “You’re lucky someone’s around. Some people can’t afford the help and don’t have anyone looking out for them. It’s a shame.”
“Quite. Quite,” concurs Mable. After a brief pause, Mable asks another question: “Well, what’s on the agenda after the big event in March? Just going to coast along, enjoy life, I suppose?”
“Well, sure. I’m busy, in a good way, enjoying life. Do you two ever visit a community center, or some place like that?”
“Yeah, sure. They have a good speaker or a party sometimes.”
“Yes. I get some exercise and listen to live music at my neighbourhood place. It’s good.”
“Okay, I’ll tell you something.”
“Oh. What is it?” asks Gertrude with avid interest.
“Yes, what is it?” repeats Mable.
“I’m trying to find a nice fellow for Bonnie.”
The friends laugh. “Really! That’s wonderful!” responds Gertrude approvingly.
“Yes, indeed. How are you going about it? Want a little assistance?”
“Oh, I’m keeping my eyes out, and asking around. Do you two have any ideas?”
“Well. Does she want a Canadian. You know, a non-Filipino?” asks Mable with great curiosity.
“I haven’t asked her. She doesn’t know I’m matchmaking for her.”
“Oh! How delightful!” answers Gertrude.
“That’s so sweet,” inserts Mable.
“ I think a Filipino would be best, don’t you? You know, someone from her own country, someone who knows life living abroad in Canada would be best, I do think.”
“Of course,” concedes Mable.
“Yes, naturally,” concurs Gertrude. “Well, I don’t know that I know any Filipino men. I’ll have to do some scouting too.” The threesome chuckle.
Mable immediately begins peering at the people around her in the ice rink. “I don’t think I’ve seen Filipinos at an ice rink much,” she points out.
“Yes! They don’t ice skate in the Philippines!” Gertrude laughs.
“For goodness sake, no. Anyway, how often do you come here? I hadn’t stepped in such a place in about 20 years! What about you two?”
“Right. It’s been—oh, maybe 15 years for me,” states Mable. She and Gertrude are some ten years younger than Mrs. Blais, and are friends through circumstances and mutual acquaintance. “Really, I have to say I don’t know much about what’s going on in society anywhere.”
“You’re not the only one who feels like that!” says Gerty.
“Well, we’ll have to investigate. We can ask others. There must be other people we know who have Filipino workers. Also, we’ll have to talk to Filipino workers whenever and wherever we see them.”
“Oh, this sounds like fun!” exclaims Mable. “We’ll be sleuths.”
“Maybe we can find someone and create an excuse to invite them over,” thinks Gertrude.
“I’d like to find someone in time for the party,” confides Mrs. Blais.
“Girls, I think I’ll go fetch some tea. I’ll have a look around along the way.”
The other women chuckle. “All right then. I won’t say, ‘Don’t talk to strangers!’ then,” laughs Mrs. Blais.
“Aw, who cares at our age? We can say and do what we want,” asserts Gertrude. “When the don’t like it, they just excuse us because of our age. Hope you get lucky!” she adds, impishly, to which they all laugh some more.
“We were raised square in a square time, but that doesn’t mean we have to stay square all our lives,” councils Mrs. Blais.
Mable picks her way between the seats and down the steps carefully, pausing now and then to find her path to the snack bar and check the profiles of the people around her. It is late afternoon on a weekday in the middle of January, and not many people are here. Aside from a few teenagers, she only spots about a dozen adults besides themselves.
At the food counter, she waits contentedly for the pair of teen-aged girls ahead of her to complete and receive their order. She amuses herself by listening in to their conversation. The grils look poor. They wear dark clothing and have piercings and rough haircuts with odd tints. This is not necessarily punkish anymore, she realizes. It seems to be the going fashion around Metro Vancouver. In fact, their used and battered black garb may not be a sign of poverty at all. They might be proper middle class youth, in fact.
“Yeah, I smoke now and then, but only when I’m bored and somebody has a fag for me,” explains the one girl to the other. “It’s no big deal. I don’t really care about it, one way or the other.”
“I don’t like the taste,” says the other. “They’re strict at that private school, right? I mean, they always watch us. We don’t get much privacy.
“I’m glad I got out. Do you like staying with your therapist, Chloe?”
“She’s not my therapist anymore. Actually, she was really a consultant, not a therapist. My mom just wanted an opinion. Now, anyway, she’s a friend. She lost her daughter and she was living alone. So, when my sessions ended in the New Year, she asked my mom and I if I wanted to live at her place, and for her to be a kind of guardian, or, I guess, a house mother. She doesn’t bother me. We have some good talks. So, yeah, I like it there. It’s better than the school residence.”
“I bet the school doesn’t like it.”
“You’re right. They don’t. It took a lot of convincing for my mom and Mrs. Malinsky to get the nuns to agree to the arrangement. The school still gets the tuition fees. My mom saves money on the rent. Mrs. Malinsky doesn’t ask for any money. She likes helping me.”
“That sounds great. Bet you have a great room.”
“Yeah, I have the guest room. You know, she still hasn’t opened up her dead daughter’s old room. The guest room’s fine. I got to change it the way I liked it.”
The girls receive their snacks and drinks and turn away from the counter to take them back to their seats in the stands. Mable moves up to the counter. Once her order is out of her mouth, she imagines she hears the aide she was just introduced to greet the teenage women. She shifts around to look and Bonnie greets her.
“Hi, Mable. We got thirsty too. So, Chloe, what are you doing so far from Chilliwack?”
“It’s a Pro-D day. You know, the teachers are in a workshop or something. So I came out here to see my friend.”
“I see. It’s good to see you again. Say, you should come to Mrs. Blais’ party in March. I’ll make sure you get an invitation. I’m sure you could bring a friend, too.”
“Oh, right. What’s the party for?”
“It’s her big 70th birthday party. At Burnaby Lake. We’ll send you the details.”
“Yeah, okay. Sounds good. I guess I’ll have to figure out a gift for her.”
“I’m not sure she wants presents. She’ll let you know in the invitation. So don’t buy anything yet.”
“All right. Be seeing you, then, Bonnie.”
“See you.”
“Who’s that?” asks Chloe’s friend as they leave Bonnie behind at the food bar and proceed to find their seats.
“That’s the home care worker that visits my aunt’s mom, my great aunt. I met her at Christmastime because my aunt took me to visit my great aunt in Vancouver for a week. We spent three days in Victoria. Bonnie came and brought a couple of friends.”
“Huh. That’s interesting. Say, I like Filipino women. They’re friendly and they smile a lot.”
“Yeah, they’re fun. I think they have a tough time here in a foreign country, though.”
“Yeah, I guess it can be difficult. They stay so cheery and strong, all the same.”
“Yeah, they do. It’s inspirational, considering the little problems we have. Imagine growing up in such a poor country with war and everything. And then having to come to such a different place and do those menial jobs cleaning people’s houses, cleaning hotels and hospitals.”
“Yeah, we shouldn’t complain. Look at what they deal with. I think they leave family behind. They have to raise money for whole families.”
“Yeah, they work damned hard. We shouldn’t complain. I’m lucky. It’s rough for my mom, right now. So I understand her situation. I understand why I’m out here in BC instead of being home with her. I couldn’t help her in that situation-- I’d just be an additional burden. There’s nothing I could do for her except give her more to worry about. Her sister’s dying an ugly death slowly. I have to give my mom space. I’m lucky to have Mrs. Malinsky, and so is my mom. I have Mrs. Malinsky in my life because my mom was looking out for me, trying to make sure I was okay and stayed okay being out here alone. Now, I’m not really alone. I have a great friend and mentor and I live with her. And, my aunt in Calgary is more in touch with me. Yeah, I have no complaints.”
“Right on, Chloe. And, hey, you can explore this kind of freedom. It’s a good experience to travel, try a different school and have a different living situation. I wish I could try that somehow. But I have to wait. You got an early start, without having to drop out of school.”
“Yeah. I think I’m helping my mom this way, too. And, Mrs. Malinsky is a very sad person. I think I help her in return. You know, it’s a fair exchange.”
“Sounds like it, even if you have to be in that red neck, Bible belt place, Chilliwack.”
“Ah, it’s not so bad. True, I can’t relate to the kids out there so much. Vancouver’s better for me. Sure, there are some great, thinking people out there too. Look at Mrs. Malinsky Just a different atmosphere and not so much variety, not so much to do there.” She pauses.
“No doubt.”
“Anyway, she wants to come into the city now and then—like, to see a play or go to a restaurant. You should some with us some time.”
“Sound good. Just let me know when.”
“Oh, shit! I think that’s Aunt Selma over there. Bonnie didn’t say she was here. I have to go over and say hi.”
Angela, Chloe’s 16-year-old friend, takes her seat on the benches to drink and wait for Chloe. Watching Chloe pick her way between benches up the risers opposite their own seats, she reflects on her friend and their relationship. Chloe seems so straight in some ways yet she is so cool and open-minded, she thinks. She knew that, under the circumstances, Chloe could not very well bitch about her family although she had plenty to say about the Catholic school.
Angela used to go to that Catholic school until last spring when she went AWOL. Here parents are Surrey people—a fact always razzed by people living outside Surrey, even those in other communities in the Fraser Valley, for Surrey had the rep of being a holding bin for poor and desperate people from the “sticks,” that is rural areas in Canada or even abroad, though that is not quite true considering that a lot of Asians actually come from cities and may be of the middle as well as lower classes, and though the claim was unfair considering that Surrey is actually part of “Greater Vancouver.” Angela used to get razzed by the other students at the school, of course. But she was used to that. No, the main reasons for her rebellion had been the fact that her parents forced her to go there against her will, as well as the long daily commute to and from the place.
Angela had been looking for adventure back then. It was adventurous to tick off the nuns by smoking in the dorms and cans, or skipping classes and disappearing at night. She defied the nuns and her parents by secretly having her arm and chest tattooed, which she kept secret until the day when the nuns performed one of their surprise inspections of the shower room. They alarmed her parents by tattle-tailing to them. When Angela met some drop-outs, she happily allowed herself to be seduced into escaping the school and her parents into the life on the downtown streets. She got a bit hungry during those days, and felt intimidated by a couple of the guys that hung out with that crowd, and it had been both scary and thrilling to try a little crack. She knew that the kids basically tried to act tough and intimidate others, but it was just a routine and it did not faze her. She followed her group to a rave in an old basement in the Downtown Eastside where she tried ecstasy and danced all night. She learned how dangerous that drug could be but she still feels some sly satisfaction from having experimented and lived through it.
The unpleasant scene happened the next day after the group had split up and she had lost track of her companions. She had felt safe up until then. She found herself traipsing along an alley somewhere at, oh, it must have been about eight when three guys she had seen at the party, still hyped up, accosted her. No-one else was in sight when they approached. They were out of it and acting crazy. They supposed that she was looking for some other kind of “fun” being out on the streets and alone like that. She had been able to bolt and escape when a dog barked and a man leant out of a window above the lane to yell at the dog and began yelling at her attackers when he noticed what was going on. He yelled, “Hey! I see you guys. I know what you look like! Leave her alone. I’m getting my pals and coming down. You better let her go!” She ran like she never knew she could. Later that same day, she returned to her parents house in Surrey. When they got home from work they were so relieved that they forgot to be angry. She did not even have to act sheepish.
At least her escapade resulted in a compromise on the part of her parents. She was released from the school a month before the end of the school year. Her parents realized that extending the leash on their daughter would result in more sensible behaviour on the part of the young woman. She turned 16 that summer and attained the right to make her own decisions about school and other things. They helped her find a job and a good house to share with other working young adults, and just prayed that she would stay safe and refrain from any risky and stupid behaviour after that. Angela thinks that she might return to school and get a certificate later—at least, that is what she tells her mom to ease her mother’s mind—but that her life is better this way for now. Her parents treat her like a grown-up and seem more relaxed now that she is not constantly getting into trouble. They are there and offer money and stuff occasionally, which she tries not to accept but feels secure knowing that the loophole is there.
Angela watches Chloe make her way back to the seat beside her. She met Chloe through other friends when she turned up at the store in Abbotsford where she works now. Chloe is hip and cool, yet stable and interesting in an inspiring way. Chloe is lucky.