avatarRené Beauchemin - [he/him]

Summarize

NONFICTION

Chapter Ten— Making Arrangements To Stay With My Grandparents

In Search of the Magical Other — 10

Visiting my grandparents — image by author using NIghtCafe AI

I then walked to visit my French grandparents’ who lived nearby in an apartment building. Over the past two years, I had frequently stayed at their place when it was too late to catch a bus to the southern end of the city. From the shopping centre, I would usually catch a ride with someone heading toward Carlsbad Springs and the farmhouse.

I hoped they would continue to let me stay there when I needed a place to stay in the city, especially if I got a job working for Canadian Press.

When my grandmother opened her door and saw me, she wrapped her arms around me and yelled out to my grandfather, “Georges! C’est Robert!” Giving me a big kiss on the cheek, she asked, “Where have you been? Pépère and I have missed you. Did you bring Sandi with you?”

I told her the sad story while my grandfather sat quietly on one of the kitchen chairs. My grandfather was a quiet man, always in the shadow of his wife. He was of a slight build and not a tall man. I took after him in many ways; his quiet character, his looks, and his build.

I was their first grandchild and they were inordinately proud of me, thinking I was the brightest of their more than fifty grandchildren. My grandmother was short and stout and without question the center of the family’s universe. Where my grandfather was quiet and serious, she was always talking and filled with laughter and spontaneity. She rarely thought before speaking.

Mon pauvre, Robert,” she consoled. “We were sure that you would marry her. She was such a nice French girl. You would have made so many babies with her.” Unlike my mother, my grandmother welcomed Sandi into the family when I had first introduced her to them.

My grandfather simply smiled and nodded. “But maybe this is a good thing,” she continued, “Maybe God wants you to be with another young woman, the right woman.”

Mémère,” I reacted with a bit of shock. “She is the right woman for me. God had nothing to do with my losing her. It’s all because her mother is a sick woman and can’t stand to see Sandi finally happy when she’s with me.”

I asked my grandparents about again staying at their place, a small apartment on the ground floor of a relatively modern apartment building just a short distance from the Sparks Street Mall. They had moved there two years earlier when the opportunity to be caretakers of the building came up.

I then told them had to begin work in the north end of the city at a large grocery store for the next while until I could find a better job. “I start working tonight,” I added, “so I can’t stay for supper.”

“It’s good that you have a job already. Your mother needs the money to help feed your brothers and sisters. It hasn’t been easy since Lou, got sick and lost his job.”

My grandmother believed unquestionably in the role that children should play, in giving back to their parents. It was all about the family and never about the individual. At least for everyone but her golden boy, my father.

He was her favorite child, a fact not lost on her other eight children, a few of whom resented his special status. However, like their mother, most fell under the spell of my father as being the shining star of the family. “You’re a good boy, Robert.”

Promising to return in the morning after my work shift, I left the few things I had taken from the farmhouse, putting them inside the closet by the front door. Then I left.

I still had to make the long bus ride to reach the store, a journey that took two different buses and more than an hour to complete. Once at the store, I met with the day produce department manager who gave me a quick tour of the storage and work areas which would be my focus during the night shift. When I saw the size of the produce area, I began to understand why they needed two people to work the section at night when the store was closed.

The manager then asked me to demonstrate my skills in packaging trays of fruit and vegetables. I was familiar with selecting produce, placing them on cardboard trays, and wrapping them with plastic which was then sealed. Satisfied with the results, the manager gave me the opportunity to grab a quick meal in the staff room before the night manager arrived and the real work would begin.

The store was open every evening until eight with the exception of Saturdays when it closed at six. Though Benjamin’s shift wasn’t to start until ten, he was required to be there at least an hour earlier. As the time for his shift drew near, the night produce manager, Tim, arrived and was introduced.

Tim was a young man in his mid-twenties as far as I could tell. He was slightly overweight and was of Irish heritage. His red hair and beard made him look like someone who worked in the bush, a lumberjack, rather than a produce manager in a big city. I was relieved that he appeared to be a nice guy and not some old geezer who was always angry with the world.

The work was easy. There weren’t very many people working on the night shift, three people worked receiving and stocking shelves when not unloading the various trucks that brought in supplies for the store. Tim and I had to unload the produce truck that came in every morning around five, as part of our duties.

Tim had been working at the store since its opening, five months earlier. The guy I was replacing had quit more than a week ago, an event that meant Tim had struggled to get everything done without help while waiting for someone to take his place. Since I had produce department experience, Tim was relieved and soon decided I was his next best friend.

By two-thirty in the morning, we had done most of the work needed and decided it was time for a lunch break. Tim suggested I could take a short nap in the back room for a while, once we had eaten. Tim would wake me so we could go through the display cases in order to cull spoiled produce.

Tim would take a short half-hour rest once I was back in action. Then, we would clean up the receiving area and coolers in preparation for the day shift’s arrival. I began to think the job was worth the long travel despite the poor wages. If the job with CP didn’t pan out, at least I would still have a job that was enjoyable.

Previously

Thanks to Author, D. Denise Dianaty, Sarah ✨, Chris Floyd, Robert, Carrie, Mariana Busarova, Love, Block Wife, and all my other incredible readers.

Autobiography
Nonfiction
Canadian
Youth
The Outlier
Recommended from ReadMedium