Preview: Shelter of the Monument by Yvonne deSousa
The following is an excerpt from Shelter of the Monument: A Provincetown Love Story. This coming-of-age memoir was written by Yvonne deSousa, a 1987 graduate of Provincetown High School and the author of MS Madness! A “Giggle More, Cry Less” Story of Multiple Sclerosis
Shelter of the Monument is a poignant narrative of a relationship that shouldn’t be and the complicated but influential ways it changed this young woman’s life. Beginning in the winter of 1987, it deals with growing up, relationships, addiction and life in all four seasons of Provincetown in the 1990’s.
Released in November of 2023, Shelter of the Monument was one of two honorable mention winners in the Indie Author Project Awards Memoir category and will be featured in the “Best of Books” section of the January issue of the Library Journal. It is available in town at Women’s Crafts, Botanica and the Provincetown Bookshop. You can also purchase Shelter online in paperback or ebook here.
For more about Yvonne or either of her books, visit her website yvonnedesousa.com. There you will also find her monthly chronic illness humor blog.
‘It was Christmastime 2003 in Provincetown, and I was picking up last-minute ingredients for the treats I would make later that day. I was a little melancholy. Our family home was rented out, and my mom had made the decision that it was time to sell. The upkeep and needed repairs to the old house had turned overwhelming. At my grandmother’s house, I was sleeping on the sofa, while my mother stayed in the guestroom. She was trying to figure out where she wanted to settle and if she wanted to buy something new or just rent. My grandmother and her brother had moved in together after selling their respective, older, large homes. At 84 and 90, they had done this so that they could look after each other in their final years. Downgrading, they had sold most of their belongings and with that, and the general exhaustion that hits the elderly, their new home had few decorations and even less holiday spirit. Drew, now 13, no longer appreciated the magic of Christmas that I so treasured and used to enjoy with him. It was the same with my younger brother and sister, who were also teenagers. Things in Ptown seemed different and even though I was there, I was more homesick than ever. I was trying to keep my holiday spirit up, but it was getting harder and harder with each snowflake that didn’t fall.
Exiting the grocery store, there he was. Richard was just going in and he stopped. We hugged and still, so many years after we had last been together, there was that twinge in my heart; a rush of gladness, excitement, sorrow and love, all combined into one comforting emotion. It didn’t matter that he wasn’t as dressed for the cold as he should be. Or that the drugs were clearly taking their toll. While still handsome, (he would always be handsome to me), he looked older and harsher than his 45 years. Yet it was so good to see him.
He asked how I was, and I told him about my life in Boston. I didn’t really live or work in Boston, but in the northern regions outside of the city. It didn’t matter. To us townies, everything north of the bridge was Boston. I asked how he was and as usual, he did not say much. I did not ask about Jesse. He was also a teenager now too, and based on prior conversations, I was worried that he may not have the best relationship with his father.
Richard walked me to my car, and I jokingly showed him proof of the dangerous city life I was living as I pointed out the three missing hubcaps from the tires of my Dodge Neon.
“They’ve all been stolen,” I told him. “Hey, if you want to get me a Christmas present that’s what I need, hubcaps.”
He had to know I was joking, but he inspected the naked tires anyway. Then he walked away from me into the parking lot.
“Aren’t you even going to say goodbye?” I shouted after him.
“I’ll be right back,” he answered.
I watched him looking all around as he walked.
“What are you doing?” I called out.
“I’m getting you your Christmas present,” he shouted back as he checked out the hubcaps on the other cars in the lot, looking for a match.
I couldn’t help myself and burst into laughter.
“Get back here!”
He came back, and we laughed together. We hugged again and said goodbye. Directly to our right, the Provincetown Pilgrim Monument stood grand and decorated right above us, just as it had that Christmas over ten years before. As he walked into the store, I thought, this Christmas at least I have this. At least I got this brief moment of time with my Richard.
And that was a lot.’