She's Gone: A Novel

by Emmens, Joye

“A sewing project.”

  “Sewing?”

  “You’ll see. I’m sure they’ll be wearing them soon.” Ginger’s horn beeped. “See you later. I’ll be back to work on the photos.” Jolie grabbed her purse and camera and dashed out the door.

  Ginger put the blue VW Bug in gear and they drove through the tranquil Sunday streets to Boston University. It was the first meeting since the Women’s Liberation Movement article ran in Central Underground Press. Jolie was nervous about seeing Elaine after the headline had gone wrong.

  Elaine stood in the front of the room, talking to a group. More women streamed through the door and helped set up. Jolie and Ginger took Elaine aside. “The headline was a mistake,” Jolie said. “We were betrayed.”

  Elaine shook her head. “No, it’s okay. Some of us talked about it, and after we got over the initial shock we realized we can use it to our benefit. We’ll show them we have a sense of humor and power.”

  The lecture hall quickly filled up. There were twice as many women as last month. Jolie looked around. Marlena was nowhere to be seen.

  Elaine took to the podium with the microphone and opened the meeting. She reviewed the platform that was aligned with the national strategy they’d agreed upon at the last meeting,

  “1. Equal rights and equal opportunity in jobs, pay, and education

  2. Establish childcare centers

  3. Repeal the anti-abortion laws”

  Applause rang out. Elaine continued, “This will appeal to women everywhere. The August strike will commemorate the date fifty years ago when the 19th Amendment was ratified to allow women the right to vote. It will also commemorate the resurgence of a major political movement for the liberation of women everywhere.”

  There was more applause. Elaine, dwarfed by the podium, had a huge effect on this crowd. Part of it was Elaine, and part of it was the future they would create. “Tell your mothers. Tell your sisters. Tell your coworkers. Make your signs. Let’s show up in force!” Elaine said.

  Ginger and Jolie sought Elaine out after the meeting. Leah and Sarah followed.

  “We want to help get the word out about the strike,” Jolie said. “We can print posters and bring them to the next meeting.”

  “With this crowd, we can post them all over town,” Ginger said.

  They sat down and created a draft poster with the date, time, location, and message. They would use Jolie’s photo of the sea of women at the last rally and Ginger would try her hand with the art work.

  Jolie and Daniel took down the eight contact sheets Daniel had developed while she was out. At the dining room table, Daniel looked at the thumbprint-sized photos on the sheets with a magnifying lens while Jolie cut the negatives, fit them into plastic sleeves, and labeled them.

  “There are some interesting shots here,” Daniel said.

  “Interesting good or interesting bad?”

  “They’re good. Some are so serious. I like the ones you took of them taking pictures.”

  “You wanted their portraits so I got one of each of them in action. You know, for when they’re famous.”

  Daniel laughed. “Here, your turn.”

  She eagerly scanned the contact sheets. “Wow, they really dug that cemetery.”

  Jolie labeled the negatives while Daniel labeled the contact sheet photos with the student names. When they were done, Daniel placed the contact sheets and negatives in his portfolio case.

  Jolie was restless. There was a meditation session at the Buddhist temple in a half an hour, and Will was never home until later. She told Daniel she was going out for a walk and would stop at the grocery store to get something for dinner.

  The temple was cool, the hushed atmosphere tranquil. Jolie went into a meditation room and joined a group. On the altar, candles glowed, and white flowers smothered the bottom of the Buddha statue. Blue smoke from sandalwood incense wafted through the room. They sat cross-legged on mats on the hardwood floor, facing the altar, eyes closed, hands in prayer position resting on the chest bone. The monk led three oms to the Three Jewels: Buddha, Dharma, and Sangha.

  The monk spoke in a hushed voice. “Peace starts within each of us. We cannot bring to the outside world what we do not have inside of us. Peace starts within our own hearts and minds. Once we have found it, and it is entrenched within us, we share it. Let your breath take you deep into your inner stillness. Find the deeper water of peacefulness within. Start by chanting silently: May I be at peace.”

  Sometime later a bell rang softly, and Jolie became aware of her surroundings. She opened her eyes and slowly focused on the room. Sublimely serene, her body felt weightless.

  She arrived home with an armload of groceries. Will stopped playing the guitar and came out to the kitchen.

  “I’ve hardly seen you all weekend.” He hugged her. “I thought you were going to stop by the office. We could have used your help.”

  “Daniel and I had a developing marathon for the student photos.”

  “The story and photos we printed Wednesday of the raid are causing quite a buzz. All of the papers are carrying it this week.” He gave her another embrace, more tender this time. “You look very sweet. And you smell good, too. What’s that scent?”

  “Sandalwood.”

  Incense from the temple clung to her hair and skin, but he didn’t need to know about the temple.

  36

  Dazed and Confused

  Jolie took the stairs to the house two at a time Wednesday after work. She was happy to be home. She paused at the door. It stood open a few inches. She cautiously approached and stopped at the threshold.

  “Will? Daniel?” No response. “Sam?” She inched the door open a little wider. “Anybody here?”

  She eased through the door and paused. The apartment was silent. Someone probably didn’t close the door all the way, and the latch didn’t catch.

  “Anyone home?”

  The kitchen and dining room looked normal. She walked into the living room. Nothing was amiss. She walked back through the house and shut the front door. Gingerly, she walked through the kitchen to the darkroom. She stopped short and sucked her breath in.

  Photos and negatives lay strewn on the darkroom floor. The developing equipment was knocked over. The instructions Daniel had written out and tacked to the wall lay torn into pieces on the counter.

  Heart pounding in her chest and ears, straining for any unusual sound, she moved through the hall to their bedroom. Dresser drawers were open, and the contents dumped on the floor. In the corner, her cigar box of beads was up turned. Silver beads, glass beads, shell beads, and turquoise beads littered the hardwood floor. Her small collection of books lay scattered about.

  What did they want? It was so destructive. The only thing of any value was her camera. The bottom dresser drawer where she kept it was open. Her camera was gone. Tears welled in her eyes as she searched the room, but it was nowhere to be found.

  They’d stolen her camera, her sole defining possession. It had become a part of her. She felt violated. She sat down on the bed, stunned at the deliberate chaos of the robbery. After a moment, she went into the kitchen and dialed the office. The line was busy. She dialed the other phone line and a volunteer answered. She asked to speak with Will.

  “He’s on the other phone.”

  “Please tell him it’s Jolie, and it’s urgent.” What if someone was still in the house? Unsettled, fear washed over her.

  Will came on the line. “What is it?”

  “Can you come home? We’ve been robbed,” she said, her voice shaky. She hung up the phone and stood rooted by the kitchen table. She heard footsteps coming up the stairs. Daniel came in the door and stopped when he saw her.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “We’ve been robbed.”

  She heard Old Blue come up the street and soon the sound of footsteps on the
stairs. Will and Charlie came through the door.

  “I came home and the door was open slightly,” Jolie said. They followed her as she walked through the path of chaos in the darkroom and their bedroom.

  “My camera’s gone,” Jolie said.

  “No, not your camera!” Charlie said.

  Will grimaced and methodically went room to room through the rest of the house. They followed. In the living room, the stereo, television, and Will’s guitar were there. Will walked into Sam and Daniel’s bedrooms. Everything appeared to be untouched, unlike the upheaval in their bedroom and the darkroom. Daniel’s camera sat on his bookshelf.

  In the corner of the dining room sat Daniel’s portfolio. Daniel opened it. The student negatives that Daniel and Jolie had carefully catalogued the Sunday before were safe inside.

  Daniel looked at Jolie. “That’s a relief.”

  “Those are worth more than any camera,” she said, tearing up.

  Will put his arms around her. “Don’t worry, I’ll get you another one. I’m just glad you’re safe.”

  They moved into the living room and sat down. Charlie brewed tea and brought her a cup.

  “Thanks,” she said, taking the cup. She looked at Will. “Who did this? What do they want?”

  “What do you mean?” Will said. “We got robbed, that’s all.”

  “This wasn’t random. I feel like they targeted you and me. They destroyed our bedroom and the darkroom. They stole my camera. They didn’t touch your guitar or the stereo or Daniel’s camera. I don’t think they even went into the other bedrooms. I don’t know if they took any photos or negatives.”

  Charlie shot Will a look.

  “What?” she said, looking at Charlie.

  “Charlie found some of Marlena’s handwriting. We compared it to the writing on the wall. It does look like Marlena’s,” Will said.

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Daniel said.

  “We think Marlena is an informant for the FBI,” Charlie said.

  “Which chick is Marlena?” Daniel asked. “The voluptuous one with the gorgeous brown hair parted down the middle?”

  “Yeah, that chick,” Charlie said.

  “The FBI?” Daniel said. “I just passed her this evening with some older guy hurrying down the street to the T a few blocks from here. She recognized me but didn’t say anything. They were in a hurry.”

  “Marlena? You saw her this evening?” Jolie said.

  “I didn’t remember her name, but I definitely remember her.”

  “Go look through your photos and negatives and see if anything was taken besides your camera,” Will said.

  Dazed and in shock, she walked into the darkroom and flipped on the light. She sat on the floor, picking up the negatives and printed photos that lay in disarray around her. Someone had been in their house, their bedroom. An uneasiness spread through her. Daniel came in and started straightening the photo equipment.

  “Oy vey. Did they have to make such a mess? Why would the FBI come and steal your camera?”

  “Maybe they’re harassing us for publishing photos of the raid at the office,” Jolie said.

  “Well, there are more cameras where that one came from,” Daniel said.

  “Right on,” Jolie said, cheering up a bit.

  She sifted through the prints and negatives, putting them back in order. The only photo missing was the one of Will on the camping trip, sitting in the door of Old Blue playing the guitar. That was strange. A tinge of jealousy burned through her. Had Marlena fallen for Will? Her jealousy turned to panic. Or maybe they weren’t done with him yet. Now they had a photograph of him. Could they trace him back to California?

  Later that night, Will and Jolie picked up the tangle of clothes strewn on their bedroom floor. Jolie carefully folded everything and put them back in the drawers. She scooped the beads into the cigar box and arranged her books on the shelf. She held out the small tin she kept their savings in. The only savings Will knew about.

  “They didn’t touch the money.”

  “Let’s get out of the city this weekend. We’ll go camping in Maine,” Will said.

  That was a surprise. The last trip, he couldn’t wait to get back. She hesitated. She and Daniel had plans to start printing the student photos and there was a workshop at the temple Saturday with a Buddhist monk from Tibet. She’d bought a book on Tibetan Buddhism. But he didn’t care about the student project and she couldn’t mention the temple. If she didn’t go he may never want to go again.

  “Okay.”

  “Charlie wants to come too. He’s never been to Maine.”

  “Well, that makes three of us.”

  He wrapped his arms around her. “Don’t be so glum. I’ll get you another camera.”

  “It’s not that. I’m scared. The FBI might have been here, in our house, our bedroom. What if they find out who we really are?”

  “They won’t. We have new identities now.”

  “They took your photo with them.”

  37

  As Tears Go By

  On Saturday, Will and Jolie packed Old Blue with food and camping gear and drove north. Jolie sat cross-legged behind Will and Charlie on the bench seat, overjoyed they were leaving the city. She quietly hummed “Here Comes the Sun” as she took in the new scenery. Two hours later, they were on a rocky coast in Maine. Will drove through the campground. The lone pay phone by the showers looked out of place among the towering trees. Her head tingled at the sight of it. Could she risk a call home?

  Will pulled into a campsite. They walked to a massive granite outcrop and watched the waves crash far below. Jolie stood between Will and Charlie and linked arms. They breathed in the clean air, tinged with the sea, spruce, and fir.

  “We need to get out of the city at least every other weekend for the rest of the summer,” Will said.

  She smiled. That would never happen.

  “Let’s walk down to the beach,” Will said.

  Maybe he did like nature, or maybe he liked it when Charlie was around to talk to.

  Later, they sat at the picnic table. Will strummed his guitar, working though a new song he was writing. Jolie stood and stretched. “I’m going to go meditate.”

  “How did you learn to meditate?” Charlie asked.

  “My friend Jasmine taught me. It’s part of my life now. Do you want me to teach you?”

  “Yeah, I’d like to try it. You seem to be at peace with the world. Maybe it would help me.”

  At peace? He had no idea how conflicted she was. Nobody did.

  Will rolled his eyes. His fingers deftly worked out a melody.

  Jolie and Charlie walked down to the rocky outcrop. The ocean stretched for miles below. They sat on a flat granite slab in the afternoon sun.

  “Start by making yourself comfortable. You’ll need a mantra.”

  “A mantra?”

  “It’s a word or a saying that you chant silently to calm the thoughts that fill your mind. I’ll share mine with you. It’s ‘om’.”

  “Om? That’s it?”

  “Yes, om. Chant it silently.”

  “What does it mean?” He looked at her quizzically.

  “In one translation it means ‘to become’.”

  “To become what?”

  She smiled, remembering her own questions to Jasmine the year before at the ranch. She knew so much more now. “To become free from suffering. To become liberated and happy. To become anything you want to become, I guess.”

  “Oh, okay. I’m ready.”

  “Close your eyes and let the sun warm your eyelids. Breathe through your nose and relax. Breathe in, expand your diaphragm. Breathe out and release. When you exhale, your belly wants to touch the front of your spine. It’s the way babies breathe.”

  Gulls cried overhead.

&
nbsp; “Breathe in and out slowly. Quiet your mind. Focus your thoughts on love and kindness. If your thoughts stray, focus on your breath and chant om. Release your troubles and give in to the tender embrace of solitude.”

  They sat in meditation. The sound of the surf breaking on the rocks below faded into the atmosphere. The phone booth popped into her thoughts. It would be too risky to make a call with Will so near. She pushed it aside and chanted om.

  After some time, she emerged from the depths of calm. Charlie still had his eyes closed. His shaggy brown hair ruffled in the breeze. She unlocked her stiff legs and stretched on the rock.

  Charlie opened his eyes. “My butt is asleep.” He straightened his legs.

  She laughed. “We’re sitting on granite. How was it?”

  “It was calming,” Charlie said. “I can’t turn off all of my thoughts and images, but it does take them down a notch. I think I fell asleep.”

  “It takes practice. What kind of images go through your mind?”

  His brow furrowed as he traced a mineral vein in the granite with his finger. “Stuff from Nam.”

  She slid over and gave him a fleeting hug.

  Will was writing in his leather notebook when they returned to the campsite. “Well?” He looked expectantly at Charlie.

  “I learned how to breathe like a baby and chant.”

  Will shook his head. “You’re both wasting your time.”

  “No,” said Charlie. “I liked it. I’m going to try it again. It takes practice.”

  Jolie smiled and suppressed a laugh.

  Charlie pitched his tent while Jolie got out their picnic dinner. Will started a campfire. After dinner they talked by the roaring fire, mesmerized by the flames and cricket song.

  The phone booth by the showers called to Jolie. It hovered in her thoughts. She was still haunted by the phone conversation she’d had in New York with her brother. She could call home from Maine. She had enough coins. She always had a purse full of change from tips.

  “Jolie?” Will startled her. “I was talking to you. Why are you always a million miles away?”