Nadine: Journey of a Lifetime, #2

1

In the beginning, she had no ambition other than to survive.

She was eighteen with a baby on the way. No husband, or prospect of one. No place to stay, after the vicious condemnation of her parents led to her storming out of the house with a solemn declaration Never To Return.

She couch-surfed for a month or two until her school friends’ parents decided she was a bad influence on their precious daughters. She continued to attend school during the days. It was warmer than the streets and she could generally scoop up enough left-over food from nearby plates in the cafeteria to keep her going. She also snagged an after-hours cleaning job in a restaurant kitchen. This supplemented her diet and allowed her a nap when the machines were humming with dirty dishes she had yet to put back on shelves.

For a while, she was coping all right.

Until she began to show. That brought the attention of school social workers.

Questions, enquiries, doctor appointments, discussions about next steps. It became apparent to her these ‘next steps’ were all about the disposal of the fetus.

Hello! Not my plan!

She took off, out of the town on a Greyhound bus, out of the clutches of other do-gooders who wanted to adopt her baby before she even got to know it.

She landed in a small town in Ontario. It looked like every other small town she saw from the bus. The reason she chose it was because her bladder demanded a stop, and because she saw a motel on the outskirts close to a small strip mall.

Another set of problems developed pretty fast. She gave the motel owner, a grizzled old man, the last of her cash. He looked at her with eyes that had seen everyone and everything. He did not comment but she knew she was not fooling him for one minute and that her residency would be inevitably brief.

She dropped off her backpack and went at once to the mall to see if there was any work going. It was a rundown place with empty stores at each end and one coffee shop with a few customers lingering over their hot drinks.

She spotted a diner called Stop Inn, and asked if they needed a dishwasher with previous experience. The manager just looked at her, dismally, and stated he was cook, cleaner and dishwasher until business picked up. She walked slowly back to the motel to think things over. Perhaps there was a church or a social services department where she could get help?

Perhaps not. She did not want to get back into the whole social system approach to her problems.

She found her room at the motel in the process of being cleaned by a skinny young girl, wearing an apron and long rubber gloves. Nadine insisted there was nothing to do, as she had not yet used the facilities other than the washroom. She really wanted the room to herself so she could think.

It could have been the sound of a sympathetic voice from a girl not much older than herself, that opened the waterworks. The skinny girl, whose nametag said she was Shirley, started into a long story about how she was supposed to do each room, each day, although it took so long she was always late to get the school bus and old Joe, the manager, was asking her to work nights as well.

This long and rambling account, was accompanied by Shirley’s copious tears, and Nadine ended up with the girl sitting on the bed beside her and having her back patted. There was something about being in dire straits yourself, that made a person super sympathetic to another female in trouble.

Shirley had lived in the town all her short life because her father worked on a nearby farm. Her mother had three more children at home and money was tight. She was trying for a scholarship, but who could study when night work was looming, and the little kids were sick with colds and up half the night coughing and wheezing?

Shirley babbled on while Nadine continued to pat her back, but her mind was working overtime.

If she could help Shirley with scholarship applications and take over her motel cleaning job, she would have a decent place to live over the winter. She counted the months. The baby was not yet real to her. She must deal with the present difficulties right now and worry about childbirth later.

Much later.

In the end, after much discussion, and several meetings with both Joe and Shirley, they struck a deal.

Nadine would take over Shirley’s job, working mostly in the mornings and at night, and giving some of her earnings to Shirley and the rest to Joe for the use of the room.

During the afternoons and on school breaks, or teacher development days, she would coach Shirley and learn how the scholarship process worked. Shirley had a rented laptop computer. When the school bus arrived, Shirley would go to school and Nadine would sleep after the room cleaning. The motel had few customers so the cleaning was not onerous.

It was a plan that suited everyone.

Joe got cheap labour that he knew would turn up for work every day.

Shirley Jones got school and a possible future.

Nadine got a place to sleep out of the weather, and a job to do out of sight of the public.

When it struck Shirley that her coach had no money for food, she prevailed on her mother to pack lunch for Nadine each day and invite her home for a family meal on the weekends.

Shirley’s mother was glad to see her oldest move ahead with schoolwork. She made big farmhouse meals on the weekend, and there was usually some left over for Nadine to take back with her. Nadine helped with the little ones and learned some cooking skills by watching Georgia Jones in the kitchen.

Their whispered conversations over the mashed potatoes were another kind of learning for her.

Honey, you can see what happens when you have no education. I am lucky to have a good man who brings home his wages each week but life is hard and the work never ends. You are too smart to fall into this trap. You need to take your learning and find a career for yourself and the new life inside you.

Nadine had not talked about her pregnancy but she could not hide much from Georgia Jones, a true country woman, as skinny as her daughter, but who had the marks of life experience on her face.

Thank you, Mrs. Jones, for your advice, and for treating me like another daughter. Thank you especially for not asking too many questions.

2

The winter months passed.

Nadine looked like a beached whale and she could not hide the fact.

Neither could she hide the knowledge that this baby would need to come out of the warm place where it had lived for the past eight months.

What do you want to do now, Honey? Do you want to go back home and give it another try?

Things were going well with Shirley and Georgia. Mr. Jones did not seem to be curious about her since she was a Saturday-only friend, but Nadine was aware that the impending birth would bring to a close this nice time of substitute-family feelings. There was no way she could impose a new baby on Georgia or on old Joe at the motel. It was time to move on.

I am thinking it over. Thank you so much for all you have done for me these past months, Georgia.

"No! No, my dear! You have set our Shirley on a great path. The scholarship application is ready and your coaching has given her a lift up and the confidence to do better in school. We thank you."

It was necessary to wean herself off the Jones’ family life. A baby was going to change everything.

The room cleaning was becoming too difficult now. She went out in the morning with all her worldly goods in her backpack in case she found a new place to work or to stay. She did not care what Joe might think about her sudden disappearance.

She did one last round of the depressing mall to see if there was paid work where she could sit for most of the time. There was nothing available. Her next exit plan was to get back on the bus and see where that led, although she was becoming more and more nervous about the future with two lives in it.

Snow had been falling for two days when she left the mall for the last time.

Her backpack balanced her belly quite well but she could not see her feet. She slid on her rear end down the mall steps and into the parking lot. A car slowly driving by to the exit, just avoided hitting her. The driver jumped out and lifted her up onto her feet, proclaiming his apologies. When he saw her condition, he insisted on driving her to a hospital, or to her home, or to wherever she wanted to go.

She accepted the ride. She was shaken up, and in no condition to object. The young man took her heavy backpack off her shoulders and stowed it on the back seat.

The car was warming her nicely and the driver had a kind face.

When he repeated, Where to? she said he could drop her off at the nearest bus shelter. That got his attention.

Where do you live?

Not around here.

Where, then?

Don’t worry about me. I am not your problem. Thanks and all that but just drop me off.

They drove in tense silence for a few kilometers. Soon Nadine’s eyes were shut and she must have drifted off to sleep until he turned into a driveway in a street of mid-sized family homes and turned off the ignition.

"The temperature is about to dive tonight. You can’t be outside in your condition. I live here. My mother is inside. She will look after you until we find a place for you.

What’s your name?"

Surprise and shock made her blurt out her real name, Nadine Cowan. Surprise and shock brought tears into her eyes and rolling down her face. She mopped them up with the back of her gloves and let him help her out of the car. Her legs had gone weak.

He fetched her backpack and took her as far as the front porch. He took a door key out of his pocket.

Stay here for a minute. I’ll be right back.

She could have run on down the street but she was more tired and defeated than she had realized. Whatever was inside this ordinary house was better than the cold streets or open-to-the-wind bus shelters. She leaned back against the wall and waited for whatever fate had in mind for her.

Her eyes were closed again when the door suddenly opened.

My Good God in Heaven! You’re just a child yourself! Come inside this very minute.

A strong arm took hold of her and helped her over the doorsill. Warm air and good smells wafted out of a kitchen and grabbed her taste buds in both hands. She could no more resist than fly in the air.

Her coat was swiftly removed from her, and her damp boots were upended over a hot air vent. Her socks with holes over the big toes were now exposed. The grandmotherly type led her into the kitchen and pushed her onto a soft seat. She caught a glimpse of who she thought was the young driver but it could not be him, as this man seated by the fireside had a child in his arms.

All her attention went to the older woman in the apron who was ladling hot soup into a bowl and pushing a plate of buttered bread toward her.

Mercy! Mercy! You are an answer to prayer, my girl!

This last statement did not register until the next day. I was asleep before the final morsel of bread left my mouth. Whispered voices drew me back to consciousness, but I was warm and the sofa was soft and the cushion under my head was even softer. My bladder was telling me to get up now, so I rolled over and tried to untangle my feet from the covers. This action caught the eye of the young man sitting by the fireside. The one who gave me the ride. He rushed over and seemed to sense what I needed. He steered me to a small washroom and shut the door behind me.

Such relief! I threw warm water over my face and finger combed my long and tangled hair in preparation for the coming inspection. I could not do much for my clothes. My sweater was straining over my belly and the short