She's Gone: A Novel (32 page)

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 said? ‘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?”

The
Globe
had run an article with a picture of Daniel and his class, along with a few student photos. Daniel had insisted she be included, but the last thing she wanted was her photo or name in the paper. “It’s all about the students. Thanks again for loaning us the cameras.” She walked to the film counter. “I want to try color film. What does it cost to develop a roll?”

“Most photographers use color slide film. You develop the slides and then select which ones to have printed. It saves a whole lot of money.” He handed her a roll of color slide film. “The film is on me.”

“No. I can afford it. I need to pay.”

She thanked him and hurried to the T. She was anxious to start the weekend with her new book,
The Teachings of Don Juan
by Carlos Castaneda, a mystical journey with an Indian shaman.

Saturday morning at the temple, Jolie first meditated and then read in the sandalwood haze of the library. Each book, infused with layers of incense, emitted an intoxicating scent as she turned the pages. A monk sat at the far end of the long wooden table, absorbed in his own book.

She read the Buddha’s sermon about the Four Noble Truths. He believed that through individual practice and experimentation one could unlock the cause of one’s suffering and be liberated. He stressed the importance of finding out for oneself, thinking for oneself and using one’s own senses. The cause of suffering was unique to the individual and so was the path to liberation. She looked at the monk. It seemed so vague. How would she find the key to her emptiness? With each meditation she struggled with the empty space, the blue hole. She had to get through the hole.

She put the book back on the shelf and picked up a small worn volume on chakras, the seven energy centers in the body. She turned to the chakra depicted by sky-blue petals, the color of the blue hole she saw in meditation. It was the Vishuddha energy center, the throat Chakra. She read on. The fifth chakra governed communication, independence, fluid thought, and a sense of security. Knowledge speaks. Wisdom listens. Speak the truth. Live authentically. She put the book back on the shelf, overwhelmed with the multitude of meanings.

On her way out, she read a poster for a meeting that afternoon. “Save the Earth. Open Forum. Turn your concerns into actions.”
The Forum was at a Harvard lecture hall. Why not? Will was busy preparing for the march on Monday. A few months ago she would have been too intimidated to go on campus by herself, but not now. She would walk to Harvard Square and take color photos along the way.

The house was empty when she returned from the temple. She mixed up a batch of chocolate chip cookies to take to the office on her way to the meeting. Making cookies was always relaxing. While the cookies baked, she played Jimi Hendrix’s new album,
A Band of Gypsy’s
, and hummed along as she cleaned the house.

Ginger and Sam came in the door as the cookies cooled. “Yum, these are my favorite.” Sam reached for a cookie. “We just stopped by to get some of my clothes. We’re heading to Nantucket Island for the weekend.”

“What’s in Nantucket?” Jolie asked.

“My folks have a second home and a sailboat there,” Sam said.

“It’s full of quaint houses and big mansions, little shops, and restaurants,” Ginger said.

“We’re going to go sailing, eat fish and chips and drink Bloody Marys,” Sam said.

Ginger laughed. “I’m going to lay on the boat, read, and swim.”

“Wow that sounds idyllic.”

“I thought you were going to the Cape,” Ginger said.

“Plans changed. Will has the big march on Monday.”

“I think you’re blindly in love with a dictator,” Ginger said, only half joking. “You should have gone to the Cape. You need to have some fun.”

Jolie shrugged and handed Sam and Ginger a bag of cookies as they dashed out the door. Will a dictator? Was that how others viewed him?

She dressed in a pale blue gauzy shirt, cut-off jeans, and sandals. With the color film loaded in her camera, she picked up the large plate of cookies for the office and headed out. A wave of isolation rolled over her, and the familiar ache welled in her chest. She had a whole weekend of adventure ahead, yet she felt so alone. Maybe the gang at the office would cheer her up. She crossed to the sunny side of the street and let the sun warm her face and arms.

She heard the music halfway up the block. Country Joe and the Fish blasted out the open windows of the office, louder than normal. Charlie was there with three other students. They were busy opening and sorting a pile of mail and answering the constant ring of the phones.

“You’re looking lovely today,” Charlie said.

“Brought you something,” she said to Charlie. She placed the cookies on the kitchen counter and looked around. “Where’s Will?”

“Don’t know. He took off a while ago. Hey, I sent your articles to all the presses. And I sent the boycott article and list to my mom.”

“Your mom?” A smile spread across her glum face. She flashed him the peace sign.

“What are you up to?”

“I’m going to try out some color film and then go to a Save the Earth meeting.”

One of the students looked up. “I heard about that.”

“Nuke the gray whales,” Charlie said.

Jolie pushed his shoulder affectionately and left the office.

She walked along the side streets of Harvard Square, her eye focused on color, absorbed in finding photo subjects. Capturing the essence of the composition seemed harder in color than black and white. With black and white, she captured the soul. With color, the beauty of nature became art. She stopped and took a close up of an Icelandic poppy with its brilliant coral flower and bright green leaves set off by delicate tendrils. Harvard Square hummed with humanity. She snapped a photo of a Hare Krishna wearing a shimmering saffron-colored robe.

In the Common, she sat down on an empty park bench and observed the flow of people. She was seeing in color now. She conceptualized a photo series of chakra colors: red, orange, yellow, green, blue, indigo, and violet. Her mood warmed to the color images.

Across the street at Harvard, she found the lecture hall and stood in the doorway, surveying the room. It was packed. A few people in the front of the room by the podium looked vaguely familiar. From Earth Day? She found a seat in the back next to a young woman and took out a small journal and pen from her purse. Her shirt stuck to her back, sticky in the heat. Here she was, sitting in a classroom at Harvard. She smiled to herself. Okay, it was a Save the Earth meeting, but she was in a classroom at Harvard and it was good to dream.

A tall, lanky man with shoulder-length black hair and glasses stood at the podium and thanked everyone for coming. “This is an open forum. Everyone will get a chance to come forward and promote their cause. If we have common causes, we can join forces around the world and save the earth!”