Mr. Big (19 page)

Nelson, however, didn't want the overtime. He left and agreed to come back and pick her up later at nine.

The time passed quickly for Jennifer, who was giving it all she had. But when the time came to start putting things away for the night, her thoughts turned to Nelson. She was so tired. She hadn't slept properly in days.

How could she sleep another night in that car? In that parking lot? She knew there was still no way she would be able to sleep. Not tonight, or for the next two weeks, for that matter.

Two weeks is exactly how long it would take before they would get their first paycheque, and an apartment.

For two weeks, the car was her home.

59

When Jennifer thought she couldn't take another night without sleep, the Salvation Army came to her rescue once again. They had found room for her and Nelson at a bed and breakfast in Souris.

The landlady was Margaret McDonald, and they became immediate friends. Almost right away, the McDonalds agreed to give Jennifer and Nelson an apartment, even though they wouldn't have all the rent money for a couple of weeks.

“I've got a basement apartment that's perfect for you two,” said Mrs. McDonald. “I'll do you this favour, and perhaps if we need some help around the house you could give us a hand?”

It was the perfect arrangement, and the room was comfortable. For the first few days, Jennifer was so tired she found it hard to get out of the bed. But she did. She also continued to work long hours in order to save.

Jennifer was rarely around the apartment. Nearly every night she worked overtime. Each hour she worked, she believed she was one hour closer to buying the headstone. She didn't know where Nelson was going each night, but he obviously had no desire to work overtime. It was unfortunate, because Jennifer knew that with two good incomes they would be well off.

But today, as usual, he had left early and had promised to pick Jennifer up at finishing time, around nine o'clock. Today was payday, and Jennifer hoped Nelson hadn't been out wasting money when they still owed the McDonalds the rent money. She was looking forward to her first pay, and she headed downstairs to the office to pick it up before she left. There was no one there. Everyone was gone home for the night, so she would have to wait until tomorrow to pick up her money.

Back at home, she explained the situation to Mrs. McDonald, who was more than understanding. She didn't mind waiting a few extra hours for her to pay.

The next morning at work, Jennifer made the office her first stop.

“Good morning,” she said to the office manager. “I meant to pick up my paycheque yesterday,” she explained. “But by the time I left last night, the office was closed.”

The clerk pulled out a drawer and a stack of envelopes. She began to flick through them and suddenly stopped.

“Your husband is the big guy with dark hair, right?” the clerk asked. “He asked for your cheque yesterday afternoon.”

Jennifer was disheartened once again. She wanted that money so badly. At least Nelson couldn't cash it without her.

At break time, she found Nelson drinking a Pepsi in the break room.

“Nelson, you didn't tell me you picked up my cheque yesterday,” she stated.

“Oh, I forgot,” he said. He pulled the cheque out of his jeans pocket. “You sign this, Jennifer, and I will get it cashed. Then you'll have the money after work.”

Jennifer looked at the amount on the front of the paper and smiled. She was satisfied with the pay, and it gave her the courage to keep going. In no time she would be picking out the most beautiful headstone she could find. The little crosses weren't enough to represent her daughters, and she couldn't wait to go home to pick out the marble headstone.

She scribbled her name across the back of the cheque and headed back to work.

That night, Nelson was there at his usual time waiting outside.

“Whew, what a long day,” she said as she fell into the passenger seat. Her feet were burning, but she felt satisfied with what she had accomplished.

Nelson pulled away from the fish plant and headed for home.

“First thing we have to do is pay the McDonalds their rent,” she said. “Did you cash my cheque? When we get home, you give me the $300 and I'll bring it upstairs.”

“Why don't we wait to pay them?” asked Nelson.

“We're already late! You have to give me that money,” she yelled.

At home, Nelson again argued that the McDonalds didn't need the money right away. Jennifer insisted until, finally, he passed over the $300 from his own cheque.

After she had brought the money upstairs, she got undressed and showered. She climbed into bed and quickly fell asleep, forgetting that Nelson hadn't given her any of the money she had worked so hard for.

Several times through the week, she asked him to give her the money.

“I'm holding on to it,” he would say. “It's safer with me.”

But little by little, Jennifer realized that, each night as she worked overtime, Nelson was gambling. Gambling away the headstone she wanted for her daughters.

It wasn't long before she decided there was no point in working overtime anymore. She and Nelson moved out of the basement apartment and into a house out on Souris Line. It was remote compared to most of the places where they had lived. There were no stores within walking distance, and Jennifer missed spending time with the McDonalds. She wasn't exactly looking forward to spending more time alone with Nelson, either. He was gambling, and then there were the moods. He had also become convinced he was sick, perhaps even dying.

A couple of days after they had moved into the house, she stood in the window watching his car as he pulled into the long driveway. He turned off the engine and sat in the car with his head on the steering wheel for several minutes. Jennifer knew it was a sign something was wrong. Once he was inside, there came an announcement.

“I've only got a few months to live,” he sobbed. Nelson was crying like a baby at the kitchen table.

“I gave the doctor a false name and told him I just moved from Newfoundland so I didn't have insurance. That way, I figured Mom wouldn't be able to tell the doctor what to say.”

Jennifer had heard this before. Every time Nelson went to the doctor by himself, he would come out with the news that he was dying.

“Let me go to the doctor with you to see if there's something more that I can find out,” she said.

Reluctantly, he agreed. Two days later, she drove into town with him, but he didn't want her in the office.

When he came out, it was the same story.

“Well, what did he say?” she asked.

“Nothing,” Nelson mumbled.

The two of them began a silent drive back to the house. Jennifer watched him, unsure whether or not she should push to find out more about what the doctor had said. Finally, she couldn't take it anymore.

“Nelson, if there was anything wrong with you, you'd be dead by now,” she snapped at him.

But instead of hearing his response, she only felt a swift, burning pain as the back of his fist made contact with her nose.

She felt her whole head tilt back with the blow and then forward. When her head fell forward, she watched a spray of blood fall all over her white blouse. Her ears were ringing and her vision was blurry. She'd never felt anything like it before. Her whole head was burning with pain.

But in those few seconds her pain turned to rage. She retaliated with every ounce of strength she could gather and struck him in the side of the head with the back of her hand.

She cried silently for the rest of the drive home. She didn't know what hurt more, her face from the blow or her hand from striking Nelson. She was glad they were living alone so she wouldn't have to explain this mess to anyone. In the rear-view mirror she saw the blood on her face. As soon as the car stopped, she ran inside. Now as she stood before her reflection, she realized the entire front of her white shirt was red. When she removed her shirt, she saw that there was so much blood it had even soaked through her bra.

The sink filled with blood as she washed her blouse and bra. It was then she noticed her hand had turned black and was starting to swell. She knew it was broken, but she didn't care at the moment. Even with the pain in her face and her hand, she just wanted to be alone. It was no good to call a doctor or the police. Searching for help would probably just bring on more fighting. Perhaps even another smack.

She managed to save her blouse from the massive bloodstains, and she had a long shower. From her closet she found another shirt that would have to do. These days there wasn't much to choose from in her closet. Most everything was old and worn.

Jennifer put her jeans on and looked out the window. Nelson's car was still sitting in front of the house.

She had to get out of here. Jennifer couldn't bear to look at him, and she was in no mood to put up with another one of his tantrums. So she left the house and, thankfully, he didn't bother her on the way out.

But that soon changed. Just as the house was nearly out of sight, she heard a car pulling up behind her, slowly. She knew who it was.

As she walked, he pulled up alongside her and rolled down his window.

“Where do you think you're going?” he yelled.

“I'm going for a walk, Nelson. Leave me alone.”

“Get in the car!”

“No, Nelson, I'm going for a walk. Leave me alone,” she repeated.

But the more she pleaded for him to leave, the more determined he was to follow her.

“I knows what's wrong with you,” he said. “You want to be home in Newfoundland so you can go to the girls' graves. Right?”

Jennifer didn't answer. The car slowed down briefly, but when he pulled up alongside her again, Nelson had something in his hand.

“You see this money?” he said, waving a roll of bills around. “There's over a thousand dollars here. That's enough money to get back to Newfoundland. You want to go, don't ya?”

Jennifer stopped, and so did the car. “Two days ago I had to go to the Salvation Army to get food, and now you're telling me you got a thousand dollars!” she yelled. She was furious. He had told her there was no money. She couldn't even afford a sandwich to take to work for her long shift.

Eventually, the car pulled away. Jennifer figured he was headed to the bar, probably to spend most of her hard-earned money on the slot machines. Once he was out of sight, she turned around and headed for home.

Back in her kitchen, she felt lost. And very alone. There was no way she could call her sister, and the rest of her family were far away, back in Newfoundland.

She began to dial her mother's number. But she wasn't sure what to say. Everyone had warned her not to go back with Nelson, but she went back anyway. It was a cycle that just continued no matter how many times Jennifer's mind told her to stop.

“Hi, Mom. How's everything down there?”

“All is well, girl, how are you? How's work?” her mom asked.

“It's okay, I've been working a lot of hours, but I'm not sure if I have enough made to buy the girls' headstone yet.”

“Let me guess,” replied her mother. “Nelson is taking all the money again! Is that why you're phoning? Do you have anything to eat?”

“I'm okay, Mom,” Jennifer lied. “But Nelson is having his moods again.”

“I don't like the sounds of this. What happened?”

“He struck me today,” Jennifer admitted.

Jennifer went on to tell her mother the story. She knew there was no one else she could tell, and she felt desperate to know that someone was there for her.

“I've had just about enough of him, I'll tell ya that,” said her mother. “If anything else happens, you let me know.”

60

The next day, Jennifer noticed a police car driving by the house while she was doing the morning's dishes.
At least they do come all the way out here
, she thought.

She and Nelson went to work, and later that afternoon they passed another cruiser parked near the beginning of their road. When they got home, another police car passed their driveway.

“I thinks they're watching me,” said Nelson.

“Don't be foolish,” Jennifer said. “There's probably something going on out here we don't know about. Not to mention, have you noticed how fast everyone seems to drive on this road? They could be just trying to catch speeders.”

Jennifer opened up the refrigerator to try and figure out what she would cook for supper, but there wasn't much to choose from. A few potatoes would have to do until she could get to the food bank tomorrow.

She pulled the potatoes out of the cupboard, and Nelson turned on the television and flopped down on the couch. But no sooner had she begun peeling the potatoes when Nelson jumped up from the chair. It startled Jennifer.

“There they go again,” said Nelson. “The police. I've had enough of this. Get your boots on. I'm going to show them not to follow me. I'll show them what it's like to be watched.”