More in Anger Read Free Page A

basics—that his mother and father were still living in Thornhill; that he had a brothernine years younger, and two older sisters, both married. But beyond that he would not go. Only once did he mention that his elder sister, Joan, had married “badly,” but when Opal asked for more, he would not elaborate.
    As their wedding plans progressed, Mac did tell her that he had written to his family in Scotland to inform them of the impending marriage, but he cautioned that she should not expect to hear from them. Also, he said quickly, they were poor: she should expect no gift. “Oh, I hadn’t!” she said, mortified. “I expect nothing at all!”
    When Opal telephoned Mac in Calgary with the exciting news that she had received a letter from his mother, she was broadsided when Mac immediately flew into a murderous rage. He yelled at her into the telephone. How dare his mother interfere with his plans. How dare his mother stick her oar in where it was not wanted. On the other end, Opal felt faint, felt ill, so surprised was she at the hatred in his voice that she dropped the receiver. And when, picking it up again with trembling hands, she tried to break in to explain to him that the letter had been such a nice letter, he refused to listen, refused to let her speak as he continued to shout, and then turned his fury on her. Of course Opal could not see what the problem was, he sneered. Of course she would take his mother’s part. That was a female for you. He spat the words angrily. He demanded that she forward the letter. Sobbing, she promised.
    After hanging up the phone, she collapsed on the carpet in the hallway, where her mother found her. It was three days before she could mail the letter to Mac, because she had gone straight to bed. She had never been spoken to like that. No one she knewspoke like that. And she didn’t understand, she didn’t understand —the letter was just a letter, a nice, warm letter of welcome.
    April 2, 1915
    My dear Opal Elizabeth,
    In this, my letter of greeting and welcome to you, on the eve of your becoming one of us, I have intentionally dispensed with any formality, and will therefore seek no excuse for the form of my address, and greet you in terms that I would a daughter, for is that not the position you are about to assume? To do otherwise would seem to me strangely not in keeping with the spirit in which this letter is written, nor would you, after reading it, take away the promise and feeling of a warm, and kindly reception, which I do here extend to you, and which spirit I am so desirous this letter should breathe throughout.
    To compliment you upon the happy event which is about to take place, would be out of place here: your combined good sense and personal knowledge of one another necessarily dispense with the need of remarks upon my part. Sufficient is it for me to say, that the qualities which have proved James to be a good son, and an excellent brother, give good promise of the future.
    Nor, indeed, will it be necessary for me to define any position for myself, or for the others. United, as a family, in the past, we have always been, united, in the present, we are, and for the future, we must remain so. Intermingled, in our lives, has been the loving desire to aid one another, in weel, in woe, and such, you will find, will be our desire,my dear future daughter, in the years that lie before us, when you will become one of our number.
    Finally, I extend to you a mother’s love, and with that, my duty is done.
    In conclusion, I would sign myself if not as yet, then, in the future, my dear daughter,
    Yours affectionately,
    Mother—Margaret Graham Macaulay
    Mac would later confide in her (without letting his eyes meet hers—his eyes skittered off her shoulder, and down onto the knees of his trousers, and the floor, and then back up to the cameo at her neck) about his relationship with his mother. Opal stayed still