She's Gone: A Novel

by Emmens, Joye

  She groaned; not another meeting at the house. He did forget her birthday. Well, she was not cooking for them tonight. She had three hours before he got back. Locking the house, she walked down the street and turned onto the stone path to the temple. In the lobby she taped a poster for the strike in the window and went into a meditation room where a small group had assembled. She sat on a mat and closed her eyes.

  “Breath in the light and bring your mind home,” the monk said. “The core of your being is the only safe place to call home.”

  She breathed in. It was her birthday. The day she was born. Unsettling thoughts and feelings rose and fell with her breath like the swell of the ocean.

  When Jolie got back to the house, no one was home. She ran a bath and added ylang ylang flower oil to arouse the senses. She slid into the foaming water, breathing the scent from faraway lands. A sense of inner peace filled her. When the water grew cool she got out and slipped on her new beaded dress and knee-high soft suede moccasins. She combed out her hair and tied the black velvet beaded choker around her forehead. Looking in the mirror she debated whether to change. Would Will like it?

  She could hear voices down the hall. In the kitchen, Will and Charlie stood by the counter, opening bottles of beer. On the kitchen table was a wrapped present. He had remembered. They hadn’t heard her come into the room and when they turned, they both stopped and stared at her. She scanned Will’s face. Did he not like the dress? She held her breath.

  Charlie gave a soft wolf whistle.

  “Watch it buddy,” Will said. “She’s mine, all mine.” Will went to her and gave her a kiss. “Happy Birthday, Little Wing. You look stunning.” He nodded to the present on the table. “Open it.”

  Jolie carefully unwrapped the paper, revealing a plain brown box. She opened it slowly to find three wrapped objects inside. She opened the large one first. Her eyes grew wide. Elated, she held up a 35 mm Nikon camera. And she thought he’d forgotten her birthday.

  “Wow, thank you.”

  Enthused, she opened the other packages. One was a wide angle lens and the other a telephoto lens. She smiled joyfully.

  “You’re back in business,” Will said.

  “With a Nikon no less,” Jolie said.

  “Your new camera for the cause. But no more off-the-wall projects,” Will said.

  Ignoring the comment, she attached the telephoto lens. At the window, she focused on a woman walking down the street. She seemed so close in the lens.

  “You could spy on somebody with this lens.”

  Ginger and Sam arrived with a birthday cake. Adam showed up later with pizzas and red wine. Daniel, Leah, and Sarah walked in sometime later. The party moved into the dining room and living room. Will played guitar. At some point, Charlie followed Jolie into the kitchen.

  “I’ve been meditating, but my mind wanders or I fall asleep,” Charlie said.

  “Well, that’s a start. At least you’re not thinking about Vietnam.”

  He grinned. “You’re always so positive. By the way, you look unbelievable tonight.”

  “Thank you.” Jolie put on water for tea. “I’ve been going to the Buddhist temple around the corner. Promise you won’t tell Will, though.”

  “Why don’t you want him to know?” He leaned against the counter next to her.

  “He thinks it’s a cult, and I’ll get sucked in.”

  “Is it?”

  “No. It is spiritual, though.”

  “I could use some of that.”

  “Come with me sometime and check it out.”

  He glanced into the living room at Will. “Maybe.”

  Jolie followed his gaze. Will had captivated all the girls with the song he played.

  “Has Marlena been around?” Jolie said.

  “No, I haven’t seen her for weeks.”

  “Can I ask you something?” Jolie said.

  “Anything,” Charlie said.

  “Did Will sleep with her?”

  He shifted his weight. “I don’t know. I honestly don’t know.” He paused. “I sure didn’t. She’s sort of fake or something.”

  She poured boiling water into a pot of bergamot tea, and they carried the teapot and cups into the living room where the others sat listening to music.

  She sat back and sipped the fragrant tea, alone in her thoughts. She was sixteen today. What was her family doing? At least they knew she was safe. She had tried to give them some peace of mind. The vision of her father sitting in the dark flashed through her thoughts. She set down her tea and slipped out of the room, not wanting anyone to see her tears.

  39

  A Band of Braless Bubbleheads

  On August 26, women around the country united for marches, protests, and strikes. The Boston Women’s Strike was scheduled for five p.m. Jolie and Leah left work early. They told Frank they weren’t feeling well, and it must be highly contagious because they were both sick. They hopped in Leah’s car and drove to her apartment. Leah parked, and they walked toward the bandstand on the Common.

  “Wow, look at the crowd,” Jolie said. She had never seen so many women in one place before. If only Will were here to see, maybe he’d take them seriously. Hundreds of women had descended upon the Common. Cameramen and reporters cowered on the sidelines, intimidated by the swell of women.

  Elaine introduced the speakers as they took the stage. Curious bystanders watched from the edge of the crowd. The throng of women responded to the speeches with cheers and chants. After the last speech, women and girls linked arms and marched around the Common. Jolie, Leah, Sarah, and Ginger marched in silent solidarity. Women carried signs and banners: Women Demand Equality; Don’t Iron while the Strike is Hot; End Human Sacrifice—Don’t Get Married. A group of women marched in academic gowns with a banner reading VERITAS, Harvard University’s motto, the Goddess of Truth. Jolie photographed everything.

  At the house that night, Ginger and Jolie watched the news with Sam and Will. The news man uttered condescending remarks describing the events around the country. He likened it to an infectious disease and claimed the women of the movement were nothing more than a “band of braless bubbleheads”.

  “We’ll show him what a band of women can do,” Jolie said.

  “We’ll boycott their TV stations and not buy the products they advertise,” Ginger said.

  “Right on,” Sam said.

  Will shook his head, and got up and left the room with his guitar. Jolie and Ginger exchanged a look. Jolie shrugged and turned back to the TV. The convergence of women in Boston and New York and around the country was overwhelming. Women in Paris and Amsterdam had also taken to the streets.

  Jolie spent the weekend printing photos from the Women’s Strike. On Sunday, Ginger stopped by with two draft articles. One highlighted the strike; the second article’s headline read: Women Unite: Boycott These Products. We Will Not Be Degraded. Underneath was a long list of household products that were advertised on the major networks. Together, Jolie and Ginger edited the articles and picked out the photos, focusing on the banners, signs, and massive crowd.

  “I’ll bring both articles to the office and get them sent to all of the other underground presses to run,” Jolie said. “We’ll show them what an infectious disease can do.”

  When Ginger left, Jolie packed up the photos and articles and walked to the office. The day was warm, and the breeze carried the faint scent of honeysuckle. She felt so alive. As she approached the office, refrains from Crosby, Stills and Nash’s “Ohio” spilled out of the open windows. Adam, Charlie, and a black guy with a huge afro worked in the living room, laying out the next issue. Will talked on the phone in the dining room area and never looked up. She strode over to the guys and set down the packet with the photos and articles.

  “Jolie girl,” Adam said.

  Jolie put her hands together in a prayer position o
n her heart, bowed her head once, and smiled.

  The black guy held out his hand. “I’m T.J.”

  She shook his hand. “I’m Jolie.”

  “Don’t I know. Your name comes up a lot around here.”

  “Did you call the Globe?” Charlie asked.

  “The Globe?” she said.

  “The Boston Globe. They called Will and wanted to run some of the student photos.”

  “They did? They do?” Why hadn’t Will told her? “I haven’t heard about it.” She looked at Will who was still on the phone.

  “I’ll find the message for you.” Charlie walked over to the desk where Will sat with his feet up and rifled through a stack of messages. He returned and handed her a paper with a name and phone number.

  “Thanks. I’ll have Daniel call them.” She glanced at the paper and slipped it into her back pocket. She looked at Adam. “I’ve got two articles for you to run and lots of photos.”

  “I don’t know if we have room this week,” Adam said.

  Her mouth opened slightly to speak but nothing came out. Didn’t have room? He could make more room. He could add as many pages as he wanted. She searched his face and saw the sparkle in his eye. She grinned. He always knew how to get a rise out of her. Proudly, she unveiled the photos and the two articles and set them on the long table. Adam, Charlie, and T.J. scanned them.

  “A boycott? A lot of good that will do,” T.J. said.

  “Fifty-one percent of the population are women and we do eighty-five percent of the shopping,” Jolie said.

  “The chicks that read this paper hardly buy anything,” Adam said.

  “We’ve got to start somewhere. Women talk to women, daughters talk to mothers. It’s a sacred sisterhood.”

  Charlie smiled at her. “Sounds like a cult.”

  Adam flipped through the photos of the strike. Will came over to see what they were looking at. He picked up the two articles and scanned them. She knew they were good.

  “Jesus, Jolie. First you spent all that time on the student photos, and then on that strike, and now a boycott?” He flipped the articles back onto the table.

  Pain flashed through her. She was aware that all eyes were on her. Charlie shot her a glance and their eyes met.

  “You’re just wasting your time,” Will said. “The Socialist Movement is far more important.”

  Her throat constricted and she could hardly find her voice. She straightened the articles on the table. “I’m not wasting my time. We have momentum. Look at this crowd.” More women had turned out for the strike than any of the Socialist Movement protests. She handed the articles and photos to Adam.

  Adam held them up.

  “Man, look at all of those women,” T.J. said, whistling softly.

  “These are good photos,” Charlie said.

  At least Charlie and Adam were on her side. The phone rang, and someone called out for Will. He went to take the call. She looked at Adam. “Can you run these this week?”

  “Of course I’ll run them.”

  Charlie moved toward Jolie and gave her a quick hug. “We’re with you.”

  “Can you send these articles and photos out to all the subscribers?” Jolie said.

  “Consider it done,” Charlie said.

  Jolie glanced over her shoulder at Will as she slipped out the door. His back was toward her, and he was in an intense discussion with someone on the other end of the line. She didn’t like conflict between them. Her chest and stomach felt crushed by a weight. Her earlier enthusiasm was squashed. He always made her causes seem trivial. The strike had been a success. They’d drawn a huge crowd, and she had helped make it happen. Will should be proud of her.

  Without thinking, she changed her route and walked up the stone path to the temple. Alone in a meditation room she sat on a mat. The room was cool, sheltered from the outside heat. With closed eyes she considered Will’s hurtful comment. She was not wasting her time. The monk’s words from a previous meditation session came to her: Nothing is permanent, actions have consequences, change is possible. Change was possible. She focused on her breathing and tried to slow the torrent of mental noise. Why hadn’t Will told her about the message from the Globe? Did it get buried in the pile of other messages? She exhaled and let go of the tension. The sapphire-blue hole slowly appeared through the tunnel of darkness.

  40

  She’s a Rainbow

  “This is my last week,” Leah said to Jolie in the restaurant locker room. “I’m so sick of ice cream. I can’t wait to be done with this place and this rat-infested basement.”

  “We’ll still be friends, though,” Jolie said.

  “We’ll always be friends. Can you come to the Cape this weekend?”

  Leah had invited Jolie to Cape Cod for Labor Day weekend. Her parents and Sarah’s parents had rented two cottages. Zack was coming, too.

  “I’m not sure. I haven’t asked Will yet.”

  “Don’t you want to come?”

  “Yes, it sounds amazing.”

  “Then just come. Why do you have to ask permission?”

  Jolie didn’t respond. Leah didn’t really know Will. But she was right. Isn’t that what they were fighting for? To make their own decisions?

  Leah tied her apron around her waist. “Well, I hope you can come. Zack and my parents keep asking me if you’re joining us. They’re driving me crazy.”

  After work, Jolie went straight home. She sat on the back porch with a book in her lap. She too was sick of waitressing. Leah, Sarah, and Charlie were all starting college next month. They were moving on and she was getting left behind. She should study and take the GED test. If she passed she would earn a High School Equivalency Certificate and then she could apply to colleges. Tomorrow before work she’d go to the Cambridge Library and find out how to sign up for the test.

  The front door closed with a shudder. Will found her out on the porch. He kissed her on the top of her head and sat down next to her. He talked excitedly about the Socialist Party march he was organizing for the upcoming weekend.

  “We are growing a bigger and more radical Socialist Labor Party.”

  “The march is this weekend?”

  “It’s on Labor Day. You’re going to take photos, remember?”

  “Leah invited me to spend the weekend with her family on Cape Cod. They have cottages on the beach.”

  “You want to spend the weekend with some bourgeois people, barbequing and drinking cocktails when you could be making history?”

  Her heart sank. She needed to be strong. “The cottages sound like fun, and they’re not bourgeois. Leah and Sarah’s mothers are both supporting the product boycott.”

  “I need you to come and take photos. This is important to me.”

  “Charlie can take the photos. I’ll lend him my camera. I can develop them when I get back.”

  He reached for her hand and squeezed it. “No, you need to stick with me.”

  She knew he wouldn’t take no for an answer. Why was she disappointed? He only wanted her with him, by his side. Jolie listened as Will explained the Socialist Labor Party developments.

  “Ché Guevara taught us that revolutionaries move like the fish in the sea. The mistrust that so many people have for this country’s capitalist and imperialist politics has created an ocean of revolutionaries,” Will said. “And there is an ocean of returning students to recruit.”

  Like fish in the sea. Her mind wandered. Nick would be back next week. She’d plan the hike through the Emerald Necklace Parks for whoever wanted to come.

  “We’re going to abolish capitalism and reorganize the U.S. into a socialist state. We’re preparing the party for war.”

  This caught her attention. “War?”

  “We’re becoming a cohesive and disciplined organization.” Will paused. “Remember what Fidel Castro sa
id? ‘A revolution is not a bed of roses. It is a struggle to the death between the past and the future’.”

  “But it won’t be a real war,” Jolie said.

  “It depends how it plays out.”

  The week seemed to drag on forever. Jolie told Leah that Will was organizing a protest on Labor Day and she had to be there. Leah tried her best to change Jolie’s mind, but to no avail. Friday came. It was Leah’s last day. Dimitri cooked them both a special lunch, and they ate together in the break room. Over the summer, Dimitri had warmed up to Leah.

  Leah drummed her fingers on the table. She had four hours left on her shift. She looked over at Jolie who had hardly touched her food. “Why so quiet?”

  “Just thinking about the weekend.” Jolie looked at Dimitri. “What are you doing this weekend?”

  “Working.”

  “Working? Here?” asked Leah.

  “No, on weekends I cook at my cousin’s restaurant.”

  “You never told me that,” Jolie said.

  “You never asked.”

  “What kind of restaurant?” Jolie asked.

  “Greek, of course, in the Back Bay. Stop in sometime.”

  Jolie wrote down the name and address on her waitress pad. The closest thing she’d ever had to Greek food was a gyro sandwich from a street vendor.

  “You seem sad. I’ll call you this weekend,” Leah said, getting up from the table. “We’ll be bored without you.”

  Warmed by their friendship, Jolie cheered up as they went back to their stations. After work, she stopped at the camera store. Niles was standing behind the glass counter reading the latest issue of Central Underground.

  “Nice photos of the strike,” he said with a nod to the paper. “You got another camera?”

  “It was my boyfriend who bought the used Nikon and two lenses from you.”

  “Will is your boyfriend?”

  Jolie nodded.

  “I’ve heard a lot about him. It was an honor to actually meet him.”

  She smiled. Will had that effect on everyone.

  “I saw the kids’ photos in the Globe,” he said. “They did a nice spread. How come you weren’t mentioned?”