She's Gone: A Novel (30 page)

38

Come Together

After they returned from camping, Jolie devoted her spare time to the student photos. She developed prints before she went to work and again in the evenings with Daniel. The darkroom was small and they were limited to how many they could print in one session. Daniel added another drying line. Prints hung everywhere in the small space. The finished photos were spread out on the dining room table and chairs. Summer school was out in two weeks and they had to finish the project.

“Why are you doing this?” Will asked, one night in their room.

Her mind raced. What was it now? He didn’t like her interest in meditation and Buddhism, the Women’s Liberation Movement, the Roxbury High photo project, and her so-called bourgeois friends.

“Doing what?” Her stomach tightened and she held her breath.

“Why are you spending so much time on the photo project? You’re preoccupied with it.”

“I’m doing it for the students.”

“You’ll never see them again.”

“That doesn’t matter. You should have met them. And their photos are good.”

“You’ve spent so much time and energy on this. I could have used you at the office.”

“We’ll be finished soon. His students are so excited. Is Adam still going to print them in
Central Underground
?”

“Yes, but he’ll need some kind of a story to go with the photos. You know, the lead-in article. The who, what, why, where, and when. We’ll run them next Wednesday. I just want you to be done with it.”

Didn’t he see that she enjoyed the project? But it wasn’t worth arguing about. She had to learn to shake off his slings and arrows and not be so sensitive. His criticism would make her stronger, and besides, was it so bad that he wanted her all to himself, all of her energy focused on him?

By the end of the week, all of the photos had been printed, including the ones Jolie had taken of the students taking pictures. She spent the weekend with Will at the office. She laid out the special photo insert, six photos per page.

“You’re going to use up a lot of ink, Jolie girl,” Adam said, looking over her shoulder. “It will cost you.”

Her head snapped around, and she saw the twinkle in his eye.

“Sorry to hear about the robbery,” Adam said.

“What do you think about the Marlena theory?”

“It does piece together. As revenge for her betraying us, we’re writing an article: ‘I Slept with an FBI Informant’.”

Jolie looked at him, her throat tightening, “Who slept with her?”

Adam looked around the office. “Well, me for one.”

Her stomach and chest tightened. She ran though the interactions she’d seen between Will and Marlena. Was Will writing the ‘I Slept with an Informant’ story? She willed herself to stop thinking any negative thoughts. In the Buddhist practice of right mindfulness, love is spoiled by insecurity and possessiveness. Focus on love, compassion and wisdom. Marlena meant nothing to Will.

She regained her composure. “Would you do me a favor?”

“Anything for you, Jolie girl.”

“Can you print posters for the Women’s Strike for Equality? I’ll have the layout ready in a week.”

“Women are striking?”

Jolie smiled. “All over the country.”

“Sure, just clear it with Will.”

Why did she have to clear it with Will? Weren’t they equals? Jolie finished up the photo spread, proofed it once more, and walked over to where Will stood with Adam and Charlie. She set the layout before them. “It’s print ready.”

“It’s about time,” Will said.

“I’m going to get groceries on the way home and cook a big dinner,” she said. “I haven’t cooked all week.”

“We know, Will’s been complaining,” Charlie said.

Jolie looked at Charlie and Adam. “You’re both invited, of course.”

She walked out into the warm Sunday afternoon. The photo project had been all-consuming. Her mind was full of the images. When she closed her eyes at night or in meditation, the photos were there, burned into her retinas. At least they weren’t images of Vietnam like Charlie had.

Jolie turned the corner and automatically walked through the open gate and up the stone path to the temple. Soft pink lotus flowers with yellow centers were open to the sky, stretching tall from the lotus pads floating in the pond. If only she had her camera to capture the beauty, the peacefulness. Giant koi swam serenely below the lotus pads. She’d bring Charlie here sometime.

She removed her leather sandals inside the temple door. The floor was cool on her feet. In the meditation room, golden-colored candles and frankincense incense burned on the altar. Delicate pink and white flower petals lay beneath the Buddha statue. A handful of students sat cross-legged, waiting. The monk instructed them to place their hands in prayer position against their chests with a pound of pressure. A harmonic tenor filled the room as they chanted three oms.

“Bring your scattered mind home,” the monk said. “All the fragments of ourselves will become friends. Follow your breath.”

“To fly you need two wings. Compassion and wisdom,” the monk said. “Compassion comes from the heart. Breathe light into the heart. In time, wisdom will come to you and liberate you from suffering.”

The image of her father crying rose in her mind. Fighting tears, she breathed deeply. She had to heal the pain in her heart. Jolie imagined a ball of emerald light hovering above her head. She breathed in, drawing the energy through the crown of her head until it flowed down, filling her heart center with warm, positive energy. She breathed out, creating a protective aura around her.

When meditation was over, Jolie was in no hurry to leave. She stretched her legs, stiff from sitting cross-legged. She got up and walked out with three other women she had gotten to know. The women stopped at the counter in the lobby and looked at the class schedule.

Cheyenne looked at Jolie. “Do you want to come to yoga with us?”

“It enhances the practice,” Molly said.

She wanted to learn yoga, but she hadn’t wanted to go alone. “Sure, I’ll join you,” Jolie said.

“See you Thursday morning then,” Willow said.

They walked out into the late afternoon sun and went their various ways. Yoga at the temple, one more thing she’d have to keep from Will.

Monday night, Will and Jolie watched the news. The reporter was broadcasting from the Statue of Liberty: “Today brought the first hint of actions to come. Over a hundred women went to liberate the Statue of Liberty, unfurling a banner on her pedestal reading
Women of the World Unite
, sending a message to the world of the upcoming strike and march.”

Jolie jumped up from the couch. “Did you see that? I wish I’d been there.”

“What are one hundred women going to change?” Will asked.

Ignoring his question, she rushed into the kitchen and called Ginger. “We’re going to change the poster design. We’ll use a photo of the Statue of Liberty I took from Sunset Park and create a banner with Women of the World Unite on it.”

On Jolie’s way home from work on Wednesday, she stopped at the office to drop off the final design of the strike poster. She handed it to Adam for printing.

He held it out at arm’s length and whistled softy. “Roll over, Beethoven.” He looked at Jolie and then to Will with a question in his raised eyebrows.

“Go ahead, print them. She even talked me into publishing the damn thing,” Will said.

Jolie gave Will a hug. “The strike is going to be big.”

“Yeah, right. Probably fifty women will show up,” Will said.

It was press day. She was anxious to see the student pictures published. A stack of papers sat next to the door, hot off the press. She picked one up and carefully opened it to the photo spread. There was Daniel, talking with his students while they looked on with rapt attention. It was followed by her short article on the class field trip. She focused on their photos, slowly turning the pages. Tears blurred her vision.

She looked up. Will and Adam stood watching her. “Thank you, it’s beautiful.”

Will walked over and stroked her hair. “Not as beautiful as you.”

Jolie and Will left the office together, driving home with a stack of newspapers for Daniel and his class.

The next morning Jolie went to the temple for yoga before work. She grabbed a mat and stretched with the other students. A male yogi led them through yoga poses. “It is through the breath that we can truly link the mind to the body,” the yogi said. “Let your breath guide your movement and let your movement follow your breath.”

They followed his breathing techniques and poses. Some poses were easy stretches. Others were awkward and hard to maintain. “Let your body encompass the relationship with your mind. Let your mind encompass the relationship with the earth and then the universe,” the yogi said.

Jolie practically floated to the T station, her body buoyant and graceful. In the Square, she stopped in the camera shop. Niles smiled at her from behind the counter. She handed him a copy of
Central Underground Press
. He laid it out on the glass counter, and they looked through the photos together.

“How did you get them to print this big spread?”

“My boyfriend runs the agency.”

“Ah, well no one else would give those kids the time of day.”

Jolie walked over to the used camera case. “My camera was stolen.”

“Your camera? Sorry to hear that.”

“I’m saving for another one. Be on the lookout for a good used one.”

They talked cameras for a while before Jolie dashed off for work.

Adam stopped by the house that night with a large stack of the strike posters. He set them down and handed one to Jolie. She scanned it quickly. The artwork was well done. The vibrant colors leapt off the page. Adam had gone all out on the detail of the printing.

Her eyes fixed on the banner across the photograph of the Statue of Liberty. She turned to Adam and Will who stood watching her. This couldn’t be happening again.

She looked back to the poster and turned to Adam. “You’re kidding right?”

“No, we took a vote and this won, hands down,” Adam said.

Jolie turned her gaze back to the poster. The banner read: Pussy Power. She looked at the tall stack of posters and stood speechless. Her thoughts exploded and her heart throbbed in anguish. Why weren’t they taken seriously?

Adam picked up another poster from the stack and handed it to her. The original slogan, Women of the World Unite, was printed on the banner.

“We’re just messing with you, Jolie girl,” Adam said, laughing. “I only printed ten of those to get a rise out of you.”

Jolie let out a long sigh and shook her head. “You’re a cruel man, Adam.”