She's Gone: A Novel

by Emmens, Joye

  “You?” Charlie said. His dimples widened in his smile. “You live here?”

  She nodded, staring into his blue eyes. What was it about his eyes? Pain? Loneliness? They seemed burdened.

  “You’ve met before?” Will looked from one to the other.

  Jolie nodded. “I took his picture a few weeks ago at a demonstration.”

  Will asked Charlie about his plans.

  “Well, I’ve been back from Nam for two months. I visited my family for a few weeks, and now I’m here applying to colleges.” He paused. “I’m not sure what to do, really, but I need a job this summer.”

  “Where is your family?” Jolie asked. Will shot her a look. She wasn’t supposed to talk about family.

  “North Carolina.”

  “I could use you at Central Underground,” Will said. “You can be in charge of the war related articles. I can pay you a small salary. The demand from our subscribers for articles has skyrocketed. I can’t keep up.”

  “That would be good. I like what you’re doing,” Charlie said.

  “Coast to coast, there are about 125 weeklies that all need news,” Will said. “Combined, they have over a million paid subscribers and that doesn’t count the local distributers.”

  Charlie let out a low whistle.

  “Yeah, we are making some noise.” Will turned to Jolie, “What’s for dinner, Little Wing?”

  “Hmm, I hadn’t planned much.” Her mood was so low when she’d come home she had forgotten about dinner. “How about grilled cheese sandwiches and tomato soup?”

  “Okay with you Charlie?” Will said.

  “Sounds like comfort food.” Charlie’s eyes met hers again. She smiled, hearing the faintest hint of a southern drawl.

  Jolie got out tomatoes and began combining ingredients in a pot for the soup. Will went into the living room to change the album. Richie Havens’ “Motherless Child” poured out of the stereo. Will turned it up and played along with his guitar.

  Charlie stayed seated in the kitchen. “I thought about you. I didn’t think I’d ever see you again, and now I’m here in your house.”

  “You thought about me?”

  “Yes. Most people give me the cold shoulder when I’m in my uniform but not you. I had a strange feeling as you walked away. Like you hold the key to something. Something I need. Then you were gone, down the street.”

  She didn’t hold the key to anything. She was just a girl. She was searching for her own peace. It was out there somewhere, she just hadn’t found it yet.

  She stirred the soup. “What was Vietnam like?”

  “I don’t like to think about it. It’s hard to describe. It was atrocious. Yeah, I think that sums it up. Atrocious.”

  “Were you drafted?”

  “Yes. I went through boot camp and was shipped to Hawaii for training and then boom, we were dropped into the jungle of Vietnam. I was scared shitless.”

  “I hope my brothers don’t get drafted.”

  “I hope they don’t either. It’s a crappy war.”

  “What did you do there?” She wasn’t sure she should have asked and was relieved when he began to talk. Maybe the comfort of the kitchen, the music coming from the other room, and the fact that she had brothers put him at ease. She sat down across from him and sipped her tea.

  “I was a door gunner on a helicopter.”

  “A door gunner?”

  “Yes, a gunner.”

  Charlie proceeded to tell her about the gunner’s job: standing out on the helicopter skid, in a harness with the door open, machine gun in hand, providing reconnaissance for the infantry on the ground. She sat speechless.

  “The ship would dip and dive around the tree lines and villages. We were looking for Viet Cong soldiers. Our mission was to draw their fire, and then we’d engage them.”

  “You mean, you wanted them to shoot at you?” Her eyebrows arched in horror.

  “Yes, we had to draw them out, then we’d shoot back and protect our men on the ground. Our guys went door to door in the villages, looking for Viet Cong soldiers. When the battle was over we’d swoop in and pick them up and fly back to the base.”

  Jolie tried to envision this baby-faced twenty-something-year-old, standing out on the skid with a machine gun, killing men.

  “Weren’t you afraid, standing out there?”

  “Yes, you’re so vulnerable in that position. But sometimes, flying high over the jungle with the cool breeze flowing over your face, it was beautiful. Then you’d see a line of Viet Cong soldiers on a trail in the jungle and the adrenaline just takes over.” Immediately his expression turned anguished.

  Jolie sat there looking at Charlie. “You’re so lucky to be back safe.”

  “They wanted me to sign up for two more years, but no way. It’s no place for me. It’s no place for anybody.”

  They sat in silence for a long moment. She had wanted to know about Vietnam and now she felt sick.

  “Hey, do you want another beer?” Jolie asked.

  “Yes, please.”

  She liked him. He was polite. The front door opened, and Daniel came in, frazzled, holding a folder of papers in his hand. Jolie introduced him to Charlie.

  “Smells good,” Daniel said.

  “Do you have to grade all those papers tonight?” Jolie asked.

  “Yep.”

  “I’ll help you later,” Jolie said.

  “That would be great.”

  Will came in and helped Jolie make the grilled cheese sandwiches. That was one thing he could cook. They sat in the dining room, eating and talking.

  “Did you take any pictures in Vietnam?” Jolie asked.

  “I did…but…I don’t want to look at them any time soon.”

  “Sorry, Jolie is curious about everything. She wants to understand the universe and everything in it,” Will said.

  She frowned. Why did he treat her like a child? She wanted to learn more about the war. She wanted to see a real soldier’s photos not what they broadcast on the news.

  “No harm in that,” Charlie said, looking at Jolie. “I’ll bring them over sometime.”

  Their eyes met. Those pained eyes didn’t match his baby face and soft-spoken demeanor. He did need something, but what?

  30

  Pussy Power

  Ginger’s horn honked twice and Jolie sprang down the stairs to the waiting car. They were going to hear Gloria Steinem speak at Boston Common, but first they were stopping at Leah’s.

  “I can’t wait to hear Gloria speak,” Jolie said. “Let’s write an article about it and I’ll get Adam to print it.”

  Ginger smiled at her enthusiasm. They parked and walked up the steps. Leah and Sarah were in the kitchen, eating bagels and cream cheese and something pink.

  “Help yourselves,” Sarah said, pointing to the bagels.

  “I love lox and bagels,” Ginger said.

  “What’s a lox?” Jolie asked.

  “Cured salmon, try it,” Leah said.

  Jolie followed their instructions and assembled a poppy seed bagel with cream cheese and lox and took a bite.

  “Umm,” Jolie said, enjoying the smoky salmon flavor entwined with the soft cream cheese and warm bagel. “Why don’t they have these at Brigham’s?”

  “We’ll eat these everyday when we go to my parents in New York,” Leah said.

  “You’re going to New York?” Ginger said, looking at Jolie.

  “For the Fourth of July.”

  “Will’s okay with you being gone that weekend?” Ginger asked.

  “He doesn’t know yet. He shouldn’t mind though,” Jolie said.

  “I don’t know…he keeps you on a pretty tight leash.”

  Did he keep a tight leash on her? Weren’t guys supposed to protect their woman? “I feel pretty free.”
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  A huge crowd had attended the Gloria Steinem event and her speech was eloquent. She warned there could be no simple reform. It would have to be a revolution.

  Jolie and Ginger had written an article about the event and it was set to run in the press with two of Jolie’s photos. One photo showed the sea of women in the background and was focused on a woman holding a sign: Rise Above Oppression. The other photo was of Elaine Wood and Gloria Steinem on the bandstand. The headline: Women Unite for Liberation.

  Jolie dropped by the office on her way home from work. She was tired from serving customers all day but their story and her photos would be in the new Central Underground Press issue. She smiled inwardly. This was their revolution, for women and by women.

  Will, Adam, Coulter, and Charlie were in the living room, discussing how to expand the paper’s readership. The teletype machine Will recently installed clattered incessantly with stories coming in from around the world.

  “We’ll include not only politics in the press but poetry and cartoons,” Adam said.

  She listened for a while, not wanting to interrupt but dying to see a copy. Where were they?

  “It should only include politics,” Coulter said.

  As usual he continued to clash with the others. Why did Will keep him around? She tried to ignore him but he was a fixture there now.

  “With more content, the papers will appeal to a wider audience,” Will said. “Our political message will reach far more people.”

  She glanced around and saw a stack of freshly printed papers by the door. She sailed over and picked one up. Will looked her way and the conversation died. All eyes were on her. The photographs of the event and the article were on the front page. They’d made the front page. The headline jumped out at her. She stared at it and looked at Will and the others. Adam was smiling. She stood rigid, anger exploding in her head.

  “We put it on the front page for you, Jolie girl,” Adam said. “It’s a good article.”

  She looked back to the headline: Pussy Power.

  “Who changed the title?”

  “Marlena,” Adam said.

  “Marlena? This wasn’t Marlena’s story to change.”

  “It’ll sell more papers,” Adam said.

  “Pussy Power? You guys don’t get it, do you?”

  “She thought it was catchy,” Coulter said.

  Jolie’s head jerked to look at him. “Fuck you, asshole.” She stared at the cover and back to the group.

  The men glanced at each other.

  “I told you she’d be pissed,” Charlie said softly.

  “I didn’t know she had it in her,” Adam said. “She’s always so sweet.”

  Coulter was silent.

  She stormed out the door, taking the paper with her. Will caught up with her on the sidewalk. “Marlena’s got to go,” she said.

  “We can change it before we send it to the agency subscribers.”

  “She’s undermining the paper and maybe even us.”

  Will clasped her shoulder with his left hand. “No. No one can undermine us. You’ve got to believe that. You and I have to stick together. She was just trying to sensationalize the headline. Come back in. I only have another hour of work to finish.”

  She glanced back at the house. Coulter stood watching them from the window.

  “No, I’ll see you at home,” she said.

  She walked back to the house, humiliated. Did they really think that headline was acceptable? She was even more determined to support the Women’s Liberation Movement. They’d start their own damn paper. She’d talk to Ginger. And what would Elaine think? The paper had already been distributed in Cambridge and Boston. A sinking feeling overcame her.

  At the house she was greeted by Daniel who sat at the dining room table, grading papers. She unfolded the paper on the table in front of him.

  He scanned the front page. “That’s kind of rude. The photos are good though.” He looked up at her.

  She was unable to speak, tears welled in her eyes.

  “There’s a letter for you on the kitchen table.”

  Jolie left the paper where it lay and went to get the letter. She never got letters. She took it into the bedroom, sat on the bed, and opened it slowly. It was from Nick. Inside was a card with an Andy Warhol painting. It was from his tomato soup can series. She smiled, remembering their lighthearted debate at Brigham’s on whether Warhol’s paintings were art or a gimmick. She had considered them commercial illustrations but Nick thought they were clever. Inside the card was a letter. She unfolded the yellow legal size paper and read:

  Dear Jolie,

  Thanks for the photos. I’m happy to hear you’re showing your photographs at the camera store.

  My internship isn’t too exciting. I’m researching court cases and delivering documents all over the city on my bike in the sweltering heat.

  I’m looking at the photo of you by Emerson’s gravestone. There is something very different about you from the other girls I meet. Maybe it’s your innocence and quest for knowledge or the way you stay true to yourself. Anyway, don’t ever change.

  See you in September!

  Nick

  Next to his name he had drawn a peace sign and a little cartoon man trucking along. She smiled again. She put the letter in the card and tucked it in her drawer. She lay back on the bed and closed her eyes, thinking of the day at Walden Pond. She felt so tired. In the morning she would go to the temple. It always revived her spirit.

  She woke a little while later. The room was dark. She must have dozed off. She heard Will’s guitar coming from the living room and went out to join him. Daniel was watching the news.

  Will glanced up at her as she came in. “I thought I’d let you sleep.”

  “Listen to this,” Daniel said, looking at the TV.

  Will stopped playing and Jolie eased onto the couch next to him. Massachusetts Senator Ted Kennedy was about to be interviewed. The news announcer proclaimed the House of Representatives had approved the Senate’s proposed amendment to the U.S. Constitution to extend the right to vote to citizens eighteen years of age or older.

  “Those who are old enough to fight are old enough to vote,” the Senator said. He stated America’s ten million young people between eighteen and twenty-one were fully capable of the privilege. The bill had been sent to President Nixon for his signature.

  Will raised his fist. “Right on.”

  Jolie and Daniel did the same, their mood jubilant.

  Daniel turned to Jolie. “You can vote now.”

  Could she? But that wouldn’t be right. She wasn’t really of age.

  She looked from one to the other. “Just think. Ten million more voters. There’s a revolution right there.” And half of them were women.

  Jolie hadn’t yet told Will about the trip to New York in two weeks. It was Friday and she planned to cook a good dinner and bring it up. Jolie walked into the house after work with two sacks of groceries. George Harrison’s new album All Things Must Pass moaned from the stereo. That meant Daniel was home. She put the groceries down and joined Daniel, Sam, and Ginger in the living room.

  Ginger thrust her hands on her hips and tried to hide her smile. “‘Pussy Power?’”

  “We need our own paper,” Jolie said.

  “Oh come on, it was cute,” Sam said.

  “Our movement has been reduced to cute? You’ll see,” Ginger said.

  “I got stuff for dinner. Can you stay?”

  “I’d love to. I haven’t had a good dinner since the last time I was here,” Ginger said.

  “Count me in,” Sam said. “I’ll do the dishes. How’s that for equality?”

  Jolie rolled her eyes and went to shower off the restaurant smell. When she came back into the kitchen she found a full house. Will, Daniel, Adam, and Charlie stood in the kitchen
, talking with Sam and Ginger about an incident that happened the day before.

  “One of the Central Underground paper hawkers was arrested for loitering and selling the papers without a permit,” Will said, filling her in. “They held him overnight in jail.”

  “I found out this morning and went down and demanded his release,” Adam said. “I told Boston’s finest that permits are not required to sell papers.”

  “That’s harassment, plain and simple,” Daniel said.

  All heads turned to Daniel. He never said much in this group, always overpowered by more dominant personalities.

  “It’ll backfire on them. We’ll put it on the front page,” Will said.

  Jolie started cooking. Good thing she’d shopped for food. She needed to talk to Will. They shouldn’t taunt the police. What if it backfired on Will and he landed in jail? She looked up to find Charlie’s gaze on her. They shared a smile. He was a gentle spirit despite his Vietnam stint.

  Ginger offered to make the salad. “I’m working on a satirical Pussy Power cartoon to run in the next issue. So far I have a lion as the pussycat.”

  “How about a lion, a tiger, and a black panther? Sisters for Liberation!” Jolie said.

  They laughed. Will came up behind them and put his arm around both of their shoulders. “What are you two conspiring about?”

  “Pussy Power, the revenge,” Jolie said.

  “Remember, I didn’t have anything to do with it.”

  Jolie glanced back at him. But he hadn’t stopped Marlena, had he?

  The group moved into the living room. Charlie stayed in the kitchen with Jolie.

  “I got into Boston University,” he said.

  “What are you going to study?”

  “Psychology.”

  Jolie told him about the commune in Eugene with all of the psychology graduates, their endless conversations on the psyche and the intimidating two-day encounter session.