Jilly-Bean (Jilly-Bean Series # 1) (17 page)

She was overwhelmed by love, or was it jealousy? Whichever, it was a powerful emotion. In her head she went over and over the details of the night of the big split, his mannerisms and the words they had spoken. His worth in her eyes as a boyfriend, possibly even a husband, had risen considerably. Why? She could not explain. His very act of spurning her love had emphasized in her fevered imagination his unique qualities and traits.
He must love me,
she thought;
he just doesn't know it.
Yes, it was madness, or rather jealousy, which was destroying her.
Annie, I will never forgive you!
The thought that her best friend from early childhood was with her ex-boyfriend staggered the senses!

She couldn't recall what her life had been like before Matt entered it. Had she so suddenly misplaced her past or seemingly outgrown it? She no longer knew who she was. Her childhood self? Forgotten. Where would it all end? She felt powerless before her fate.

One night he did call.

She tried to remain calm as she pressed the receiver to her ear and heard his voice: “Jillian?”

Her eyes watered. She turned to face the wall, so that her parents or her brother would not see her. She felt faint. “Yes, this is Jillian speaking,” she said in a low voice, cradling the receiver with both hands to her ear, bringing his voice so close, she could almost feel his breath against it. “Matt, I have to see you. Can we meet somewhere?”

For long suspended moments there was just silence, only the sound of static: a bad connection. In the background she could hear nurses' laughter and talk.

“Jillian, have you been calling the office and hanging up?”

There was silence.

“Hello, Jillian— ?”

Jillian sighed, “I'm still here. What makes you think I would call you?”

“Well, the office has call-identify. Someone has been calling here from your hospital.”

“Matt, can we meet?”

“Sure,” he answered, sounding either surprised or alarmed. “What about tomorrow?”

Later, though, alone in her bedroom with the door locked, she sat in the middle of the floor and lit a candle in the darkness to summon the spirits of love.

They were sitting in the middle of a busy restaurant in Chinatown, waiting for their meal as people around them were speaking Cantonese or Mandarin. Jillian scarcely saw them; she was looking— no, staring— at Matt with a shy, hopeful smile, wondering how it would feel to be held one more time by those broad shoulders and arms. But Matt was looking elsewhere, avoiding her gaze. She had promised herself that she would not mention Annie's name, and yet the first thing she said, in a bitter tone, was, “So, you and Annie are an item?”

He remained silent.

The waiter approached the table and brought their order. She shifted nervously in her seat. Matt waited for him go before he said, “Yes, I'm seeing Annie. I thought you knew. I'm trying to live my life!”

He paused, studying Jillian's face. She was looking at him in silence. He took a few bites, then dropped his fork and grimaced. Jillian leaned over the table and spoke quickly, afraid to lift her eyes and meet his gaze. There had never been anyone else whom she had given herself to so completely. She was reaching for his hand, scarcely knowing what she said: “You are the very first person I have ever loved, Matt. We got serious. I've never been so close to anyone before.” Her voice sounded different; she didn't recognize it as her own. She could see her words were embarrassing him. Had she spoken too loudly? Her eyes flitted around the restaurant to see who might have heard, and she saw a few diners eyeing her curiously.

Looking at her gravely, and keeping his own voice low so the other diners wouldn't hear, Matt whispered, “Jillian I don't love you. It was a mistake.”

She lowered her own voice to a near whisper: “But I thought everything was going great between us.” If only she could find the right words to express how she felt! She knew she was in love. What else could it be?

“Jillian, you're falling apart. Don't you have anyone you can talk to? Are you and your mother close? Is there a therapist or priest you can talk to?”

Jillian was shocked and exclaimed, “A therapist? A priest? Why would I talk to a priest?”

“Okay, maybe a school counsellor? I don't know, Jilly. I can't help you. I'm not ready for a long-term relationship. After all, a kiss is just a kiss, as they say.” His eyes had a far-off look, as if in a dream.

“Matt,” her mouth felt dry as she reached for a glass of water and took a few sips, “there were some pretty weird coincidences that brought us together. I think we were fated to be together.”

Matt stared at her as if he hadn't heard correctly, shook his head as though he were trying to clear it and blurted out, “What?”

'We were fated. I know this. I've been under your spell since the first time I saw you. I went to a séance, and the psychic foretold that I would find love: that I would find— you.” She went on to elaborate.

Matt listened to Jillian in stony silence, then looked away in disgust and laughed. “You think this is some kind of black magic? Jillian, have you completely lost it? I'm not under any spell.” He sat back and stared at her in disbelief.

The absurdity of her own words finally dawned on her.

He leaned forward and lowered his voice to a near whisper: “Jillian, we broke up. I moved on; you should too. I'm seeing Annie now. You know about Annie, of course? Has she spoken to you?”

He was suddenly on his feet, hovering over her, regarding her with a clinician's eye, as a doctor might look at a patient whom he has just told there is no hope. He then dropped three twenty-dollar bills on the table. He was saying good-bye. He said he had to get back to the hospital and made for the door through a narrow lane between the crowded tables. Jillian jumped up, ran after him and threw herself into his arms, but now they held no warmth for her. It was like embracing a shadow. In her humiliation, she couldn't even look up at his face. He stroked her hair and at first said nothing, then mumbled with what sounded like a groan, “Jillian, I'm— I'm sorry.” Or had she heard him correctly? He kissed her lightly on her cheek. Bitter tears were spilling down her face. After a spasm of laughter and crying, she wiped at her eyes and took a deep breath. She knew now it was over.

Summer in the city had become unbearable, humid and sticky. The hottest two weeks had arrived, when most people who could afford it and take the time fled to cottages or camping.

Jillian had received a picture postcard from Adam and Olivia of a black bear cub climbing a tree, looking forlorn and stranded, which now lay on her bureau. She read it, murmuring the words here and there below her breath: a short yet powerful message, inviting her to come and stay for even a few weeks if she liked. It had plainly been written hastily, since the handwriting was almost illegible, perhaps an afterthought. Well, why not? Her brother and his girlfriend were spending the whole summer at Algonquin Park as camp counsellors. Adam would celebrate his twenty-fourth birthday, July 23, with friends there. Her eyes fell again on the handwritten message:

“
Hope you're having a great summer in the urban jungle. Environment Canada is predicting record highs. Global warming is upon us. Love, Adam and Liv.
”

A week before, Jillian had stood on the front veranda, one hand shielding her eyes from the harsh afternoon sun, calling out last-minute goodbyes to the couple, who were both settled in their old Toyota, happy and so in love, honking and waving as the car sped off.

She ran down the stairs, out the kitchen door with the metal screen door slamming shut behind her and into the back yard, where she stood in the white sunshine as the grass rustled under her bare feet and her hair swirled around her head, making her dizzy. Puffy white clouds were speeding past making her feel small and weightless. She turned to look out into the garden, the landscape of her childhood. The smile quickly returned to her face as she remembered a sunlit day, not unlike this one: her parents getting down on their hands and knees, digging up the hard, pebbly soil with trowels and hand-pulling weeds along with a few tufts of grass here and there, which was all that had grown in the garden those many years ago. Much work had gone into bringing order out of chaos. The soil had been carefully prepared, mulched, raked and watered, so that now, every possible perennial flower and bulb that could grow in the zone-five Canadian climate was at home. She had only to shut her eyes to see fast-moving pictures of herself and her brother as children and hear again the sounds of their laughter.

She decided she would go to Annie's cottage. Why? She could not explain, even to herself. She consulted her calendar to see whether Ms. Bradshaw had scheduled her to work at the hospital July 1st and saw that it fell on a Sunday and her weekend was free! How she longed to escape the hot city!

In a tumult of emotions, Jillian approached her mother and announced breathlessly, “I've decided I'm going up to Annie's cottage after all, for the long weekend. Amelia has offered to give me a ride.”

Her mother was peering into a telescope.

“Which neighbour are you spying on, Mom?”

“Jillian, this is no joking matter. I'm looking at the stars. All our movements are governed by cosmic forces.”

Jillian regarded her with scepticism and concern. Not only did she look pale, but she also appeared to have lost a good deal of weight. She was visibly nervous and wringing her hands.
“Mom, I'm really worried about you. Maybe you need medical help, a therapist of some sort.”

“Jillian, have you considered that there are more dead people in this world than living? Their atoms and molecules are floating all around us.”

Jillian shrugged. “Okay, Mom, whatever you say. Amelia has offered to give me a ride up to Annie's cottage. I'll be taking Molly with me.”

Her mother did not answer right away. She seemed dazed and looked tired as she crunched up her face and queried, “I didn't know Amelia could drive. When did she get her licence? Aren't there some kind of restrictions for young drivers?” She turned to Jillian and gave her a vacant stare, waiting for a reply.

Jillian drew a blank: “Restrictions?”

Ever since Mr. Mueller's funeral communication between Jillian and her mother had just about come to a halt. Her mother seemed lost to the spirit world.

Mrs. Crossland shrugged and returned to the telescope, avoiding eye contact. “I thought there were, Sweetpea. Are you sure you're going to be all right up there with those friends of yours? I thought you weren't getting along with Annie.”

Jillian spoke gently, refusing to answer her question directly. “Sure, Mom! Why shouldn't I be okay?”

She set out Friday morning to map her journey. A slightly shaky hand reached for an Ontario road map and traced the route northbound along the Trans Canada Highway No. 7 to the Kawartha Highlands: the destination, a cottage on Lake Kasshabog belonging to Annie Treadway's parents. But beneath her excitement ran an undercurrent of anxiety and panic. It was the July 1st Canada Day long weekend, the first official long weekend of the summer, and a group of friends were to share a guest cabin; no rain was forecast, and it promised to be a weekend of fun, barbeques, canoeing and swimming. The only problem was that Jillian had never learned to swim.

She was contemplating the journey, dreading the possibility of getting lost in the wilderness, driving aimlessly along dirt roads. She had heard that the northern Ontario wilderness was home to wolves and black bears. She printed out the directions from Google Maps on the Internet, then carefully folded the paper and placed it in her pocket. She then packed into her leather knapsack a change of clothing, sleepwear and toiletries.

Moments later, she trotted down the stairs and heard her frantic, excited voice calling back, “Love you, Mom! Love you, Dad!” She slipped on her Birkenstocks and rushed out the door, with Molly tagging along to a waiting car driven by Amelia. Jillian lifted her hand and stood for an instant, as if captured on a Polaroid, waving one last time to her mom and dad, who stood on the veranda looking on. She let Molly into the back seat, then in herself beside her friend.

Amelia drove her SUV at the speed limit of 60 kilometres an hour, first east along the Gardiner to the 401, up Highway 7A with the tires kicking up pebbles along the way. The drive to Lake Kasshabog would take three and a half hours. The car radio was tuned to CHUM FM, which was playing mainly eighties rock music, and they either sang along with it or kept up light breezy talk. Jillian glanced out of the window, looking sightlessly at the magnificent landscape as if in a trance. They passed through a village with small clapboard shops painted in milk-paint yellows and blues, festively decorated with red and white Canadian Maple Leaf flags fluttering in the wind, then by a field with misplaced wooden beams and collapsed walls— the ruins of an old house or barn on land that was too poor to repay tilling in the age of mechanized agriculture. Jillian turned to her friend, lightly touched her on the arm, and said, “I don't really know why I'm going. Do you?”

“No,” replied Amelia.

“Is it so wrong to want to be loved?”

“I don't know. I've never been in love myself. It's all about vanity, I think. It's become too superficial.”

“I don't know what my goals are any more,” exclaimed Jillian fiercely. “What's happened these past few months? My goals were always mapped out for me from an early age, and these messy emotions have turned everything upside-down.”

“How have your goals changed, Jilly, at least for the short term?” Amelia asked. “You're still going to Queen's, and you know where you're going to live and what you're going to study, so what's turned upside-down? You have to take charge and not let these emotions control you. You live and learn from these experiences and move on. That's your choice. No one can make that decision for you.”

“But can't you see?” Jillian was shaking with emotion. “I have no control of my life. I don't know what's happened to me. I'm cursed! ”

Amelia gave Jillian a startled look, then wisely turned her attention back to the road. “Cursed? I think we should turn back. You're in no shape to see Annie with Matt.”