Chapter 46 – February to May 1989

Colin interviews at five architecture firms, as well as with the commissioner for a job in the city planner's office. He receives a handful of offers and ultimately accepts a position in a small, private firm that appreciates his skills.

We look at houses and apartments together, taking Alex with us to the viewings. "What do you think?" I always ask.

"No," Alex always answers flatly.

I laugh, and Colin rolls his eyes. "If we're waiting for her to say 'yes' to something, we'll be looking in Oregon by the end of the month."

We finally find a two-bedroom duplex close to public transit, LFI, and Gaftin Architecture Associates.

"This is the one," Colin says. "Big kitchen, new plumbing, hardwood floors, a duplex instead of an apartment, and affordable. This is the place. What do you think?"

"I love it." I lean down. "What do you think, Alex?"

Alex shrugs. "Okay."

I laugh as Colin grins and picks her up. "Oh, you are my favorite person in the whole world! I could give you a thousand kisses. In fact, I think I'm going to give you a million kisses." Alex giggles as he swings her around and kisses her forehead several times. "One, two, eighteen, one million."

I laugh again. "If she has trouble with math later, it's your fault."

***

Kari unloads all of Tina's toddler items on us, including her bed, and she takes the crib back to give to another expecting couple.

Colin's father helps us transport the little furniture that we own and buy mismatched furniture at thrift stores including a bed, couch, dining table, and chairs.

"We're starting to look like adults," I grin as we lay in bed on a Thursday in April.

"Right, because the twenty-one-month-old traveling with us screamed of adolescence?" Colin quips.

"I'm supposed to be the sassy one, remember?"

He grins and kisses me. "Oh, I remember. My tall, sassy, assertive lady." He begins singing, intentionally off-key and falsetto. "You are my lady!"

I kiss him, gently shaking my head. "Only you."

"Well," he says quietly, "it is just you and me."

My whole body tingles. "No one else exists."

He rolls over, balancing himself above me, suddenly serious. "No one."

***

Tom offers Jonas the position in Minneapolis, and he moves in early May. Marjorie is ecstatic for me to replace him. Before Tom offers me the position, he asks me dozens of questions over a game of chess, which I win. Of our 348 games, I’ve now won 201.

"You're sure that this is what you want?" he asks for the fifteenth time.

"Yes, Tom. I can do it."

"I know you can, but is that what you want?"

"Yes,” I tell him. “I wouldn't have suggested it otherwise."

Marjorie rolls her eyes. "Can you just give it to her already?"

I point to her. "What she said."

Tom takes a deep breath. "Fine. After May 20, you'll be a Talent Associate, and you'll become the Deputy Director of the Creative Design Department on June 1."

Marjorie chuckles. "Yeah, because that negates the idea of leapfrogging. She’s not a new hire, Tom."

"I stand by my offer."

I shake his hand, a grin covering my face. "I'll take it."

Marjorie stands and claps. "Fantastic! Oh, I have to call Sam. She's going to be thrilled. She was hoping you would land the job. You know, she still credits you for Minneapolis."

"She should," Tom says.

Marjorie shakes my hand in both of hers. "We're going to do great things together. I look forward to many years with you as my deputy."

I smile. "Me too."

She looks at Tom. "Don't move this one to L.A. or some nonsense, clear?"

"Thank you, Marjorie. That will be all."

She grins. "See you Monday, boss."

"Well, I have a week off between my internship and my real job, so I'll see you then." I walk toward the door, then turn around. "Wait, are you coming to my graduation?"

Tom rolls up the chessboard. "You mean the one where you're the Speaker of Honor for your graduating class?"

My ears grow hot. "Yes, that one."

"The one where you're being recognized for holding a 4.0 for 135 hours, nine of which count toward graduate school. That one?"

I laugh. "All right, all right."

"Yes, Ra'Shelle,” he says kindly. “Kari and I will both be there."

***

I’m wearing my wedding dress under my graduation gown when Shannon knocks on the door.

Alex runs toward her, screeching. "Aunt Shannon!"

I smile at Shannon. "Thanks for looking after her."

"Are you kidding?” she asks. “We're thrilled for you two, but we have no desire to attend a college graduation. This is great."

"Uncle Derek!" Alex shrieks.

Derek picks her up. "Hey, squirt." He looks at a plastic shopping bag carefully taped to the front of her shirt and tucked into her shorts. "What are you wearing?"

"It's my smock," Alex replies, rubbing her hand down the plastic. "See?"

Derek nods. "I see." He looks at me.

"She's an artist.” I wink.

"Of course she is!" Derek says with exaggeration.

"Her idea. Well, her idea was to hang it around her neck, but I convinced her that this was better."

I hand Shannon a bag of Alex's toys. "Thanks, again. We'll see you all in a few hours."

Colin walks into the room, adjusting his tie. "What do you think?"

I place my hands against his chest. "I think you'll be very handsome after you lose this terrible graduation robe."

He kisses me softly. "I'm glad you were able to wear the dress again. It still looks amazing. I'll have to dance with you tonight."

"And then enjoy taking it off, right?" I ask.

He laughs and kisses me again. "That too."

I smooth his shirt over his shoulders. "Can you believe we did it?"

"Survived nearly four years without killing one another?" He inhales sharply. "I’m sorry. Bad joke."

I wave my hand. "Don't worry about it. Not that. The fact that we made it through four years of college… with 'A's'."

"And a baby."

I sigh happily. "This is a huge day."

He slips on the robe and grabs his cap. "Have your speech?"

"Yeah, but it's pretty cliché," I say.

"All graduation speeches are. 'The past is the past, but the future is the future.' Something like that?"

I grunt. "Maybe I have laryngitis."

"No, you do not. C'mon, woman, you're going to be amazing!" He takes my hand and interlocks our fingers. "Let's go, babe."

We walk down the busy hallway and into the quad. He kisses my cheek and squeezes my hand. "I'll see you after."

I sit in the front row and listen as guests arrive. Eventually, the college president begins to speak, followed by the board president, then a successful alumna. I’m not paying attention until Professor Truman strolls to the podium. I straighten in my sea.

"This year, I requested the privilege of introducing our Student of Honor, Ra'Shelle Dawson." He pauses and smiles at me before continuing. "Ra'Shelle took every class that I taught. Fundamentals of Drawing was her first college course, and she submitted some of the most brilliant pieces I have ever seen. Her work has only improved and, while I know that so many of you will be great artists and other professionals, I don't think there's a better artist graduating in this year's class."

My entire face burns, and I want to hide under my sheets.

"But that's not why I asked to introduce her,” he continues. “In addition to being a great artist, she's an excellent person. She's compassionate–almost to a fault–giving, considerate, and respectful. She's also incredibly humble, so she's probably terribly embarrassed by this high praise. Oh, she's also graduating with a 4.0, so I guess that's something too." Professor Truman chuckles. "It is my absolute pleasure to introduce Ra'Shelle Dawson."

As students and guests applaud, I walk to the podium. He shakes my hand and covers the microphone. "I know about... well, I just know that you're incredible. You deserve this, truly. Congratulations, Ra'Shelle."

"Thank you, Professor. I really appreciate everything you taught me."

He gently places his hand on my shoulder as he steps away. I take a deep, slow breath, and place my index card on the podium but don’t look at it.

"Well, I didn't know that he was going to introduce me,” I start, “so he's right, I'm completely embarrassed. Please don't hate me. I'm sure I'm not the best artist in this crowd." I smile. "We all know how Professor Truman loves to exaggerate."

There are chuckles throughout the students and faculty.

I place my hands on the podium. "My husband's version of this speech is 'the past is the past, but the future is the future', so if you think this speech is sappy or cliché, just remember that you could be listening to him instead."

There’s scattered laughter as I find him in the crowd, grinning and mouthing “I love you.” I take a deep breath.

"I didn't join a sorority or the soccer team, so most of you only know me as 'that woman who is always in the library' or 'that woman who beat me in a chess game'." I shake my head. "Sorry about that.

"In my first class, I met the man who is now my husband. Nearly two years ago, we adopted a baby girl, and I think she's the best artist that I know."

Scattered laughter again, I assume primarily from parents.

"I stand before you with two years of work experience and a secured job opportunity on Monday… So, actually, if you want a reason to hate me, I guess that should be it."

Too many students laugh.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry." I straighten. "I stand before you as a passionate artist with a job that I enjoy, a loving mother of a brilliant toddler, and a generous wife of an equanimous husband. I stand before you having never used drugs, despite being the daughter of an addict. I stand before you as a college graduate, despite discrimination and bullying in secondary school. I stand before you as an adult who just moved into a quiet, safe neighborhood, despite a childhood entrenched with gunshots and sirens.

"When I met my husband, I finally felt like I belonged and am forever grateful for his patience. With his help, and the help of Professor Truman, other faculty, and two amazing mentors, I became someone completely different from the broken woman who started here four years ago. It is only because of those people that I am able to stand before you at all.

"Whether you're an artist, scientist, athlete, or teacher, you will always need to rely on other people. Embrace it, relish it, and absorb it. It is through surrounding ourselves with great people that we are able to become great ourselves.

"You should all be very proud. Congratulations."

The president extends his hand as he steps up to the microphone and speaks over the roaring applause. "Ladies and gentlemen, Ra'Shelle Dawson, graduating summa cum laude with a Bachelor of Fine Arts in Fashion Design and a Bachelor of Science in Business Administration."

The applause grows as he hands me my diploma. "Congratulations, Ms. Dawson."

"Thank you. I'm really looking forward to whatever happens next."

The End.

***

Acknowledgements.

The Sixties Scoop was not limited to Canada, nor is it–by far–the only atrocity perpetrated against Native Americans, First Nations, and members of other Indigenous groups. Heartbreakingly, these problems still persist; as of this writing, Indigenous and Native American children are egregiously disproportionately represented in the Canadian and American foster care systems. Cultural genocide deserves international acknowledgement, and I hope that Deere’s story helps shed light on this horrific era and harrowing problem.

Ra’Shelle has appeared in several manuscripts over the past fourteen years. Thank you to all of my beta readers, especially those who read the numerous drafts that will never be published.

Multiple lyrics appear throughout the book, and I want to credit the musicians who sang those songs: Ella Fitzgerald, Buffy Saint-Marie, Madonna, Jermaine Stewart, James Taylor, Prince, Bill Withers, Gregory Hines and Luther Vandeross, Lionel Richie, Simon and Garfunkel, Gladys Knight & the Pips, Billy Joel, Stevie Wonder, Raffi, and–of course–Freddie Jackson.

In a similar vein, I would like to recognize the phenomenal talent of Tom Ellis and Brianna Hildebrand in their cover of “Bridge Over Troubled Water”. I listened to their version literally hundreds of times while editing this book, and their incredible harmony is what persuaded me to add the song to the otherwise brutal Chapter 23.

I will always be grateful to the teachers who nurtured and encouraged my writing, and I appreciate educators everywhere who find ways to strengthen students’ natural talents and help foster a love of writing.

I am eternally indebted to the Colin-esque people in my life who have patiently supported me through various struggles in my personal and professional journeys. Some of you saved my life.

I would like to extend a wholehearted thank you to all therapists and healers–professional and otherwise–who provide a path for recovery, and self-love to anyone who can identify with Ra’Shelle’s trauma. “Faith and love reproduce, and their ripple effect can save lives.”

To anyone who can relate to Ra’Shelle’s or Colin’s circumstances, please know that you are not alone. It is never too late to speak up, reach out, and be loved.