A Sunday Morning Detour.

It would not be too long after my own father’s passing when I would meet Bonnie’s father for the very first time. Although meeting my soon to be father in law turned out to be a negative experience in itself, it would end up being a positive experience for my relationship with Bonnie.

With Bonnie and me now planning our fall wedding, it would be just a matter of months until we would be living together. Bonnie couldn’t wait to move out of the apartment she shared with her grandmother Helen. Her grandmother could be very mean and vindictive and all over the stupidest things. From what I witnessed firsthand, Helen seemed to have multiple personalities and mood swings. She was always the sweet old lady whenever I was over visiting, but would often be a wretched old hag when I was not around.

Helen always forbid Bonnie from using any of her stuff when she was not there. Whatever Bonnie wanted or needed, she had to buy with her own money even if it was readily available within the apartment. Helen was a live in caregiver and she would be gone a week or two at a time working for other elderly people in their homes. She hardly ever stayed at the apartment, but when she did it would only be for a few days until she would be gone again and back working.

I will never forget the one night I went to pick up Bonnie and like usual I went up to the apartment to get her. Bonnie answered the door, but she only opened the door a crack and I could see she was crying. She told me that she would see me down in my car in a few minutes and shut the door. I had no idea what was going on, but I returned to my car and waited for her. Within ten minutes Bonnie was sitting in my car, she was still very upset. Bonnie told me that her grandmother was back home. She was crying because she had used some of her grandmother's sugar in her tea. Helen noticed some of her sugar had been used and slapped Bonnie very hard in the face.

Seriously?

I could not believe what Bonnie was telling me.

Helen was always falsely accusing Bonnie of using her stuff and taking things out of her room. She forbid Bonnie to ever go into her bedroom and only once did Bonnie show me inside her grandmother’s bedroom. The room was a total disaster and resembled that of a hoarder. There were boxes and garbage bags piled floor to ceiling completely covering the window and blocking out any sunlight. There were multiple boxes of brand new merchandise she never used, nor would she ever use. There were brand new fancy teapots with bone china cups and saucers that had just been sitting in the room for years.

Boxes of old perfumes that had never been opened and suitcases piled one on top of each other still with the tags on. There were fur pelts draped all over her bed with the only empty space being a little area where she actually slept. Bonnie told me she was so embarrassed by the state of her grandmother’s bedroom. She had only agreed to show me the room because I wouldn't believe it was as bad as she had made it out to be.

After seeing the room for myself Bonnie was right, it was real bad.

Every Saturday night after playing hockey at Forest Hill Arena, I would make a quick detour on my way to the Sky Ranch restaurant. It was usually around 2:30 am on Sunday when I would pass by Bonnie’s apartment on Lawrence Avenue. I always drove by after hockey, even before we were engaged.

On one Sunday morning I drove by and noticed that the living room light was on. I just assumed Bonnie could not sleep and was watching television as I kept driving. Within a couple blocks something was just not sitting right with me because I had never driven by and seen a light on before. I backtracked to her building and the light was still on so I parked my car and went up to see if she was okay. I knocked on the door and within seconds a woman answered the door. I double checked the number on the door making sure I had the right apartment.

I did.

“Who are you?” I asked, still puzzled as to why a totally strange woman was in my fiancé's apartment.

“I’m Carol. I am Bonnie’s dad’s girlfriend. We just arrived from British Columbia tonight.” She replied.

“Oh I see, I’m Mike, Bonnie’s boyfriend. Is she okay?” I asked.

“Yes, she is sleeping,” Carol said.

“Okay, I will drop by tomorrow,” I told Carol as I walked away from the door.

I skipped breakfast with the boys that night. I figured by the time I got there, they would all be finished eating anyway so I drove straight home. Little did I know after that night just how things were about to change for both Bonnie and me going forward.

It was early Sunday afternoon when I made way back over to Bonnie’s apartment. I had already talked with her on the phone that morning and she was not very happy. She told me that her father and his girlfriend just showed up unannounced after I had left to play hockey. They had driven from out west and needed a place to stay for a few days. They told Bonnie they had full intentions of getting their own apartment and moving back to the Toronto area.

Bonnie’s father's name was Don; he was an electrician by trade and was a chain smoking, chronic alcoholic for most of his adult life. Don was apparently quite the hockey player in his teens. Like many teenagers from the Kirkland Lake area, he was scouted to play professional hockey back in the old original six National Hockey League. Helen had a framed black and white team photo of when Don was on the Ontario Provincial Championship team back in the late fifties. The photo was proudly displayed in the hallway of the apartment.

But, like so many kids from northern Ontario mining towns, a combination of booze and girls would be his eventual downfall. Don would never be drafted and would never have a career in pro hockey. When Don was teenager living in Kirkland Lake, he was in love with a local girl named Bonnie. She was the love of his life.

Bonnie was from a wealthy family and her father looked down with disdain upon Don and his family who were from the other side of the tracks. Although Don and Bonnie wanted to be together, her father put an end to their relationship. Don was crushed and eventually ended up marrying Bonnie’s mother Lorna. Although Lorna tried, she would never be able to hold a candle to Bonnie who was Don's only true love.

When their daughter was born, Don insisted on naming his first baby girl after his only true love. He even went so far as to give her the middle name Dawn. It was Don's way of immortalizing a relationship he forever wanted, but could never have. Bonnie and Don would always be together in both my fiancés given and middle names, Bonnie Dawn.

Seriously, I can’t make this fuck'n shit up.

And, here I thought my parents were total whack jobs.

Don seemed like a pretty nice guy when I first met him on that Sunday afternoon. He was already drinking rye and Cokes when I arrived. I remember him rolling his own cigarettes; there was a blue can of Player's tobacco, a pack of rolling papers on a little table beside him. His fingers were badly nicotine stained, he had a full head of unkempt greyish hair and he spoke softly.

Carol his girlfriend was more of a hanger-on than a girlfriend. She had elected to travel across Canada with Don only because she most likely had no other alternatives. My first impression that afternoon of their relationship reminded me of a Billy Joel lyric from the Piano Man.

'They're sharing a drink they call loneliness, but it's better than drinking alone'.

After talking with Don and Carol and watching a bit of television, Bonnie and I went out for the rest of the afternoon. Bonnie confessed to me she did not think her father and Carol would be leaving anytime soon. Helen had always babied her father and she would let him stay for as long as he wanted to. If that was indeed true, then our evenings of being alone together in her apartment were over for the foreseeable future. It had only taken less than a day, Don and Carol had already become a nuisance and a thorn in my side.

Bonnie’s prediction that her father would be not going anywhere anytime soon turned out to be correct. As the weeks passed by, Don and Carol were still living there. They were sleeping on a futon mattress just behind the couch in the living room. The apartment always reeked of cigarette smoke and there were always cases of empties piled up beside the door.

I found Don to be the nicest guy when he wasn’t drinking. We would have great discussions about hockey and other things we both had an interest in. We watched many Leaf games together in the apartment. Sadly, Don would always be drinking and by late evening he began to slur his words and would begin to ramble on. That would be my cue to start yawning, say goodnight and head on back home to my apartment.

After a couple months, Don’s act was now wearing thin with me and I began to resent him more and more. Both Don and Carol were nothing but a couple of freeloaders. They both spent their days just watching television and hanging around the apartment. I have no idea where Don got his money from, but there was always enough cash for his two favorite vices, booze and cigarettes.

I can only assume that Helen was financing his habits.

While living there he had already been caught stealing meat at the nearby Loblaw’s store as well he was arrested for drunk driving and had his driver’s license taken away. Seriously, I don’t know whose father was more pathetic, Bonnie’s or mine. There were times I wished Don would just fuck off and die already, like my own father he was nothing but a waste of space. Eventually, Carol the hanger-on left Don and went to live with other relatives who lived just outside of Toronto.

Don was a member of the North York Veterans Club and Legion Hall up on Yonge Street. Once Carol left, he began to spend a great deal of his time there drinking with his buddies. One of his Legion buddies was an old man named Buzzer. Buzzer had to be seventy years old if not older. Don would bring him back to the apartment after the Legion closed and they would spend the rest of the night drinking while Bonnie was sleeping in her bedroom.

Buzzer would drink himself to oblivion before pissing his pants and passing out on the couch. Don had absolutely no respect for his daughter or her living conditions. I knew Bonnie had to get the hell out of there and away from her father ASAP.

Everything came to a head one night when Bonnie’s mother called from Los Angeles. Don answered the phone and told Bonnie it was for her. I knew Don knew it was Lorna, but he just handed the phone to Bonnie and I could tell he was pissed off. Bonnie was having such a jovial discussion with her mother and there was lots of laughing. Bonnie seemed very happy while sitting on the floor talking with her mother. Like Don, I was also sitting in the room watching television. After about ten minutes their conversation ended and Bonnie hung up the phone with the usual 'I love you too'.

Don was incensed; he began screaming at Bonnie about how dare she have anything to do with that bitch. Bonnie became very upset and went to her room crying while Don followed her down the hall still yelling and screaming. I stood in front of Don and he went to hit me. I grabbed his arm and told him if he hit me it would be the biggest mistake he ever made. I promised him that I would beat the shit out of him right there in the hallway.

Don went back and sat in his chair and didn’t say another word. I told Bonnie to grab some stuff for the night because she was no longer living in her apartment while her father was there. Bonnie agreed, she had had enough and she packed up a little gym bag. We drove over to my apartment and my mother was home. I explained what happened and told my mother Bonnie could not live in her apartment any longer. My mother agreed and said Bonnie could stay with us for as long as she needed to.

The following evening after work, Bonnie along with my brother and me went back and moved out whatever else she needed from the apartment. Don was sitting in his usual chair and didn’t say a word the whole time we were there. After a couple trips, everything Bonnie needed was moved out of her bedroom and into my apartment. Bonnie had very little in the way of furniture or big items with the exception of a couple pieces that had sentimental value. We had already decided that once we got our own apartment we would be starting fresh and buying all new furniture anyways.

Bonnie’s apartment on Lawrence Avenue will forever hold many wonderful memories for me. I experienced many firsts that I know I will never forget.

It’s too bad Don and Carol showed up like they did when they did. We could easily have coped with her sometimes nasty grandmother because she was hardly ever there. Helen was tolerable, but with Don now living in the apartment, it just became too unbearable for Bonnie to continue living there. It was not a good environment for a twenty year old young woman to be sleeping in her bedroom while her alcoholic father was bringing drunks over to the apartment.

Both Bonnie and I really hit the jackpot when it came to fathers.

Our pathetic fathers.