When I first read Michelle Berry’s story “I Still Don’t Even Know You”, from her collection of the same title, I was struck by the raw, honest moments in the piece. Some writers shape lovely stories that avoid difficult moments, and some writers weave lovely stories that confront pain and confusion. Michelle Berry is in the second category of writers.
In “I Still Don’t Even Know You”, a couple celebrates their tenth wedding anniversary by going on a ski trip. Poignantly, this is the first trip they have taken alone in ten years.
The vacation, though, does not go well. During lovemaking Rebecca tries to hold her stomach in and “grunts” (53) with the effort; a romantic evening is ruined because “Jack trie[s] to light a fire and c[a]n’t”, becoming “huffy” when Rebecca, a former camp counsellor, takes over (52). On the ski hills, Rebecca’s “chatter” (52) irritates Jack and Jack’s quietness perturbs Rebecca. Jack takes an interest in teenage girls, and when one of them is rude to Rebecca, Rebecca pushes her over, marking the story’s climax. Rebecca skies away, and Jack stays with the girls. Still, Jack and Rebecca join up later in the lodge with new realizations: Jack is really afraid that they are growing old together, and he “blames” (59) Rebecca for it. He asks himself if “Rebecca feeds him, washes his clothes, makes the bed—can’t she control the aging too?” (59). Having skied alone for most of the day, Rebecca concludes that it was good not to have to talk and “fill in the blank spots” (59).
The small, subtle conflicts reveal that Jack and Rebecca do not fully know each other. Jack does not know of Rebecca’s concern with her weight, or that she talks so much because once their children were born “his eyes and mind were always occupied” (57) with them, and “she wanted some of him” (57). Rebecca couldn’t know of Jack’s worry about aging.
Berry’s skilled manoeuvring between the two viewpoints lights up the story underneath the story: within togetherness there is also isolation. In marriage, there are always two minds, two views, two worlds. And the individuals who make up the couple struggle to be fully known to the other, but cannot really be.
The setting beautifully supports the meaning of the story. The cold terrain is like Jack and Rebecca’s marriage: they can find time alone in the present geography, but cannot really escape each other. The ski hills have borders and night always falls– they must meet up later in their room. In marriage, spouses can turn away from each other, but the only way not to be together is not to be together.
In the end, having come to a deeper understanding of themselves, Jack and Rebecca put the day behind them. Rebecca says, “I didn’t even know we were fighting ” (59) and Jack says that he didn’t either. Their desire to be together, finally, is stronger than their desire to be apart. Forgiveness and forgetfulness help.
Berry has written a richly detailed, layered story worth reading slowly and carefully, and reading again.
Berry, Michelle. “I Still Don’t Even Know You.” I Still Don’t Even Know You. Winnipeg: Turnstone Press, 2010. 51-60.
The Vocation 