Pageboy: A Memoir

by Elliot Page

Though I’m not sure that my father would have done much had he been there. He was different when it was just the two of us versus when it was the whole family. “If Linda and you were drowning, I would save you,” he would say in private. “Linda is not the love of my life, you are the love of my life.” This was a secret. I knew it was one without him directly saying so, because around Linda the energy was not the same. We had a song, Ruth Brown’s “Ain’t Nobody’s Business.” Dennis would blare it, singing along, while driving me to school. Around Linda that “love” evaporated. A transformation in the tone, the body, the face. A coldness, as if they’d conspired and teamed up, a frigid demeanor that made my eyes fall to the floor. She could be mean to me around the others but was worse to me when we were alone. I’ve kept these stories close; it’s hard even to share fragments of them here. My father did nothing, no protection. I yearned for time with my father, away from Linda. “You’re manipulating your father,” she spat once. The words, searing and sharp, they singed, a flash fry leaving a mark. Linda did not like us spending time alone together, every time, without fail, it created friction. They married when I was ten in our living room in front of the fireplace. I wore a little dress and I sobbed. Linda hugged me as if I was crying tears of joy. As if she loved me. As if we loved each other. I wept more and more. I put on an act, just like I did in all those cards I wrote expr...