Survival ...Doomsday Preparedness
― Sylvia Plath
Lily and I met in her sophomore year—I was pursuing graduate studies in Victorian Literature, and she was studying the modern novel, so our paths didn’t cross academically—and there was no conflict of interest, except in our personal life. We were planning to be married that June and her father was vehemently opposed. Mind you, her father was both vocal and vehement about anything he opposed.
Frank Warner was a true extremist—most would view him as an eccentric. As far as I could make sense of his worldview, I’d categorize him as a Prepper. He wanted to retreat from the contamination of the world and survive what he believed to be the coming Apocalypse.
The majority of his beliefs would identify him as a Luddite. He mistrusted technology and preferred the simple life living off the land. But I could tolerate Frank and suppress my anger toward him if he were less strident and intrusive in the affairs of his daughter. Lily ran away to university to escape his overbearing manner, but he constantly shadowed her and made her life miserable.
One day we were having coffee in Hart House and suddenly Lily looked at me earnestly and asked, “Why don’t we elope and move to England?”
My jaw dropped in surprise.
“You can’t be serious,” I replied, but she was. I could see the panic in her huge dark eyes.
“Think about it, Martin—you could study at Oxford or Cambridge—what better place to pursue your studies of Hardy?”
She was right. It would idyllic and a dream worth pursuing—except for one thing. I had just been offered a position teaching Literature at Victoria College in the University of Toronto. It was the opportunity of a lifetime and I’d be a fool to pass it up. Lily agreed, and put on a cheerful face, but the disappointment lurking behind her dark eyes was palpable.
Over the next few days I struggled with my decision, waiting to see if the prospect of being married and living apart from her father would mollify her fears, but it did not. If anything, Lily seemed to grow more resigned to a lifetime of being harassed. I couldn’t bear to look at her sad face any longer. I resolved to decline the College’s offer and to apply to Cambridge.
But before I could contact the College, my life was suddenly turned upside down. Lily had gone home to the family farm that weekend to retrieve a few of her belongings, and apparently disappeared.
Her father showed up next day at my apartment demanding to talk to her, but of course, I assumed she was with him.
Neither of us believed the other and it was quite tense until I suggested we contact the police—that seemed to have a sobering effect on her father.
“You really don’t know where she is, do you?”
I shook my head, desolate, a stream of images running through my mind and a sickening feeling in my gut.
I decided put aside my anger and try to work with the man.