Against the Wind. Jim Tilley
“ —But she didn’t, and you left when you realized that Jean-Pierre wasn’t going to change. Why did you choose Picton?”
“A friend told me of an open position for an English teacher at the high school— We came without even visiting it first. We were that desperate. Luckily, it’s worked out well.”
“And Jean-Pierre?”
“We haven’t had a serious discussion since I left. I see him once a month when he picks up and drops off Jules.”
“When are you going to resolve the marriage one way or another?”
“Soon— Tomorrow, after Jules gets back from his weekend trip to Montreal.”
Ralph can’t help but interpret her response in terms of his own selfish desires. It’s good news or bad depending on how it’ll work out between her and Jean-Pierre. Either way, a no-lose outcome for her. She’ll get back together with Jean-Pierre or move on. He doesn’t want to think about it; he’d prefer to hear more about Jules. “How did you convince yourself that Jules’ situation was gender dysphoria?”
“How can you ever know something like that?” She pulls her chair closer to the table and leans forward as if she’s finally on the verge of divulging a long-held secret. “Please— Let’s not go there. I’ve already had enough therapy.”
He shuffles his chair back up to the table and takes her hand again. “What did it do for you?”
“It helped me realize that Jules is a survivor— That I’d worry less if I trusted him to take charge of his life.”
“But he was too young for that.”
Lynn wells up. “The alternative was unacceptable.”
“Would it have come to that?”
“Who knows?— Jules is tough— He’s put up with a lot— ”
“Like what?”
“I found blood on his sheets one morning when he was sixteen. He’d used a paper clip to scratch ‘I am not me’ into the underside of his forearm. Can you imagine doing that to yourself?”
She says that Jules had himself committed to a mental institution. Jean-Pierre drove to Picton to sign the papers because she couldn’t bring herself to do it. Jules missed Christmas at home that year. “When he was discharged— ” She dabs her eyes with her napkin. “When he was discharged, I had a stack of presents for him. He refused to open any. Said he didn’t deserve gifts— Had six weeks of schoolwork to make up for midyear exams. I’ll never forget— I didn’t think it was possible— I know I couldn’t have done it.”
He takes both her hands in his. “Done what?”
“Learned the course material in two weeks. Two A’s and two B’s, the only B’s he’s ever had.”
“Seriously?”
“He’s the best student in the school. I think getting those B’s scared him more than anything else.”
Ralph squeezes her hands gently and releases them. “I could tell when I met him how smart he is.”
“You have no idea.”
No, he doesn’t. Doesn’t have any idea at all about what Lynn has been through. With Jules. With Jean-Pierre. The conversation has been difficult for her. Ralph suspects she hasn’t been able to speak about it with anyone other than her therapist. He draws back a little from the table again, unsure of what to say next. She breaks the awkward silence.
“I’ve learned that Jules knows what he needs to do to keep going. He changed his name— Made a corset to hide his breasts— Insisted on top surgery— Began hormone therapy.”
“Testosterone injections?”
“Yes.”
“How did you get comfortable with that? Don’t they cause a woman to become sterile?”
“They do. I didn’t get comfortable— I had no choice.”
“If you could do it over, would you do anything differently?”
“That’s a question I try never to ask myself. I don’t know— I’d probably have tried to persuade him to have some of his eggs harvested and frozen— Too late now.”
“That wouldn’t have been consistent with the view that Juliette never existed.”
“You can’t expect everything to make sense— ” she says as she fidgets, using the nail of her right index finger to scratch away the polish from the nails on her left fingers. “Life for us was a state of constant triage.”
“And now?”
“We’re doing much better. We take it a day at a time.”
Ralph notices her use of we. He takes her hand again. “It’s not as bad anymore,” she says. “These days I worry about the future, not the present.”
“Life’s going to be tough for Jules,” he says.
“Until he has bottom surgery. Afterwards too probably— Whenever that is— Can you imagine not having a normal sex life?”
“Yes—unfortunately,” he says. They both laugh and let the conversation end there. He pays the bill.
They leave the restaurant and amble back to the hotel. When they reach the entrance, Ralph suggests walking along the waterfront. There’s something he wants to show her. He keeps hold of her hand until they come to a large inlaid stone compass on the promenade. He leads her to the western compass point, leaves her there and walks to the southeastern point. “Face outward,” he says. “I’ll do the same— These are the directions to our homes. As we travel along these lines, we move farther apart.” He walks back to her. “Isn’t this better?” He puts his arms around her and kisses her on the lips, more firmly this time than he had at her home. He clasps her hand again. They walk back to the hotel entrance and through the lobby to the elevator.
Outside his room, Ralph says, “Come in for a drink. It’s too early to call it a night.” He expects her to hesitate but she doesn’t.
Ralph and Lynn arrive at the retirement home as his mother is returning from church. They wait in the lobby as Claire goes up to the apartment to bring Gordon down to go out to lunch.
Aunt Lucy’s, his father’s favorite restaurant. They are greeted warmly and shown to a booth in an alcove. Claire recaps the minister’s sermon for Gordon. He asks several times why he hadn’t attended the service. Lynn learns firsthand why a meal off the premises with Gordon is an ordeal. At first he can’t remember whether he’s ordered and then, after he’s been reminded that he has, can’t recall what he’s asked for. Answering the same question for the third time, Ralph says, too curtly, gauging by Lynn’s expression, “Dad, the food will be here shortly. They’re going to poach the salmon the way you like it—pink in the middle.” He looks to Lynn and shrugs, partly in frustration, partly in apology for his tone. To her, he says, “All salmon is pink in the middle.” She squeezes his hand.
After lunch, Ralph and Lynn drop off Claire and Gordon at the retirement home and excuse themselves. Ralph announces that he’ll be back in the evening to say goodbye before returning to Toronto. They drive downtown to the lakefront and stroll through the park talking about one hundred thirty-five degrees of separation.
“We’re walking west along the lake,” Ralph says. “Toward your home. I’d like to spend time with you there.”
“I’ve thought about it since our dinner in Toronto,” she says. “I’d like to have you visit, but I don’t think the timing is right.”
“Why not?”
“It’s