She's Gone: A Novel (26 page)

Read She's Gone: A Novel Online

Authors: Joye Emmens

BOOK: She's Gone: A Novel
3.72Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub

She lay back and inhaled, expanding her heart, the chakra center for acceptance, love, and compassion. She breathed out, sending energy to the base of her spine. She breathed in, moving energy back to the heart center. She breathed this way for a longtime, letting her breath move energy. Her mind was void except for the deep emerald-green color she floated in. At last she fell asleep.

The next morning, Leah, Jolie, Zack, and Sarah sat at the kitchen table planning the vintage clothing shopping spree. Zack knew a route to SoHo with only one train change. Leah’s mom hovered, trying to figure out the attraction to old clothing. She looked happy to have Leah back for a few days and the house full of life.

Jolie slipped out of the kitchen and went to the phone in the living room. She dialed the phone number Will had given her and asked to speak with Leon. He came on the line and they arranged a meeting two blocks from Leah’s for later that afternoon. She wanted to get it over with. Will had instructed her that she had to deliver it that day, the Fourth of July.

The foursome bade their good-byes and promised to be back for the late afternoon prayer service. When they got off the subway in SoHo, the temperature hovered near eighty-five degrees. The sidewalks swarmed with people.

They found a string of vintage stores and went into each, combing through the racks of clothes and accessories. Leah squealed in delight when she found a 1920s flapper dress. Zack stood inside the door of the shops, making faces at their finds, sometimes approvingly. Jolie held up a delicate sleeveless dress in white cotton and lace for Sarah, who tried it on.

“You look like an angel,” Jolie said.

Jolie tried on a silk blouse with intricately layered white lace stitching on diaphanous material; the bodice hugged her breasts. It was pure art. She came out of the dressing room.

“Ooh la la,” Leah said.

“Is it too tight?”

Zack shook his head. Her face grew hot.

Jolie bought the blouse, a 1930s black beaded cocktail purse, and a silk peacock print scarf in brilliant blue, green, and turquoise hues. She wore it around her forehead, tied at the side.

In the last store, Jolie held up a navy-blue military jacket, Sergeant Pepper style, to Zack. “Try it on.”

“I can’t wear that.”

“Yes you can, go ahead, try it on,” Jolie said.

He slipped it on and they stood side by side, looking in the mirror. The jacket transformed him. Leah and Sarah came over.

“Wow, you look so handsome,” Sarah said.

“It’s you,” said Leah. “You have to get it.”

Jolie and Zack smiled at each other.

“You’re corrupting me,” he said, holding her gaze.

“Me?” She reached up and ran her hand through his curls, smiling back at him in the mirror. She loved those curls.

Zack bought the jacket, and they headed down the street, hot and sweaty in the July heat. They passed a pizza joint and went in and bought large slices of pepperoni pizza and Italian sodas. Sitting in the window on well-worn stools, they ate and watched throngs of people pass before them. Women were dressed in jumpsuits, and hot pants. Couples wore stylish designer fashions, despite the heat. Shirtless men in jeans wearing beads and bandanas walked with their chicks dressed in cut-off jeans or miniskirts, colorful blouses, bangles, chokers, and love beads. Jolie had her camera poised, snapping shots of the circus around her.

“Here comes a midi,” Jolie said.

A fashionable couple walked by. The woman wore a white pleated midi, a sleeveless white silk top and a white beaded choker around her neck.

“What’s a midi?” Zack asked.

“The opposite of a mini, but shorter than a maxi,” Jolie said.

The girls laughed. Zack shook his head, baffled.

On the train back to Brooklyn, they made a pact to wear some of their vintage finds to the dinner after the prayer service.

Back at the house, Leah’s mom was finishing cooking, and everyone scattered to bathe and get dressed. Upstairs, Jolie sat on the edge of Leah’s bed. “Are you sure you don’t want to join us?” Leah asked.

“No thanks. I’ll stay here and meditate and maybe take a walk around the neighborhood and take some photos.”

When Leah and her family left, Jolie reread the letter to her family, addressed the envelope, and slipped it into her purse along with the envelope for Leon. What was inside Leon’s envelope and why did it have to be delivered that day? She wanted to read it, but it was sealed.

Jolie walked to the corner where she had arranged to meet Leon. She stood and waited, looking at all the passers-by. A man in his mid-twenties approached. She noticed his clothes first. He wore a tall black top hat and a long dark coat. He looked like the mad hatter. He was tall and had brown hair but she was sure she had never seen him before.

Her eyes darted around the street, her stomach in knots.

“Are you lost?” he said.

“No, I’m waiting for a friend,” she said.

“I could be your friend.”

She backed away. Where was Leon? She noticed a man across the street watching them, a newspaper under his arm. The mad hatter shrugged and walked on. She turned and walked down the street. The other man had crossed the street and was walking toward her. He had short brown hair and was smiling. He looked vaguely familiar.

“Jolie?” he asked.

She nodded, too anxious to speak.

“I’m Leon.”

She exhaled.

“You have something for me?”

She pulled the envelope from her purse and handed it to him. He put it in his newspaper. “Tell Will thanks for the support.”

Still unable to find her voice, she smiled briefly.

“The agency he’s created is amazing. Stay cool.” He turned and walked off.

She watched him disappear around the corner. Lightheaded from unconsciously holding her breath, she exhaled deeply, the delivery was done. But her relief was short lived. The phone call would be much harder.

She continued on to the phone booth she’d seen by the corner store, a few blocks from Leah’s. She slid in, closed the accordion door, and pulled out her coin purse filled with quarters, dimes, and nickels.

She dialed the operator and after depositing the coins according to the operator’s instructions, the call was placed. The phone rang once. She envisioned the dining room where the phone sat on a corner table. The French doors would be open overlooking the ocean. It rang twice.

On the third ring she heard, “Hello?”

“James?”

“Yes?”

“It’s Jolie.”

“Jolie! Where are you?” Her brother’s voice sounded so close and wonderful. Her pulse surged.

“I’m out here…somewhere.” She wanted to tell him but thought of the private detective in Eugene.

“We’re worried sick about you.”

“I’m fine. I’m safe. How are you?”

“Where are you?”

“Can I talk to Mom or Dad?”

“They’re not here. They’re out of town for the weekend. They’re so torn up about you. Dad has been searching everywhere. He’s been traveling, trying to find you.”

He’d been traveling? She thought of him searching for her.

“He thought he found you in Eugene but you vanished.”

Had it been her dad in Eugene? “I know.”

The operator broke in requesting another coin deposit. Tears blurred her vision as she dumped out the coins onto the shelf and deposited the required amount.

“Jolie, come home.”

“Not now. I have a life out here.” She looked out the phone booth window to the park across the street.

“We all want you back. You won’t be in trouble if you come home. Everything has changed. They just want you back. Nothing is the same here without you.”

“I will, someday. I just wanted to let you know I’m safe and I’m doing well. Please don’t worry about me.”

“Of course we’re worried about you. Can you call back soon? When Mom and Dad are here?”

“I can call back tomorrow.”

“They’re not back until Monday. Can you call then?”

“It’s hard. I don’t want the calls traced.”

“They’ll be crushed they weren’t here to talk to you. I almost don’t want to be the one to tell them you called.”

Her heart pounded in her ears and her throat closed up. “I want to talk with them too. Tell them I’m fine and I love them. I’ll try and call again soon.”

“Jolie, just come home.”

“I’m mailing a letter.”

“Do you need anything?”

“No, I have everything I need, except for you guys.” The operator broke in, asking for more coins. She deposited the last of the coins. James updated her with the goings-on of the family. Tears streamed down her face. She couldn’t wipe them away fast enough. She was talking to her brother. It was so good to hear his voice. When she ran out of coins, all she could hear was, “Come home, Sister, please just come home.”

Jolie hung up the phone and slumped to the floor in the phone booth. Crushed by a weight, she hugged her knees and sobbed. After a while she became aware of tapping on the glass.

She heard a woman’s voice. “Are you okay?”

She looked up to see two women standing next to the booth, waiting their turn. She stood up and walked out. Numb, she crossed the street to Sunset Park. The park was full of families with Fourth of July picnics spread out on blankets on the grass. Footballs, baseballs, and Frisbees flew by. She found a tree away from the action and sat cross-legged on the grass in the shade. Across the park the skyline of Manhattan stood out. Her head hurt from crying and her entire body was in knots. She thought contacting her family would ease the pain but now she felt worse.

Overcome with nausea, she replayed the conversation. Her parents were torn up and she’d hurt them inexcusably, but they still loved her. She couldn’t face them now. Or could she?

But what about Will? He loved her, too, and they’d started a life together. She wanted to be with him. She tried to balance her emotions. She must be deeply flawed to have done something that horrendous to her family. Girls didn’t just leave home. What was wrong with her? She closed her eyes, fighting back tears, but they flowed through in a river.

They still loved her.

A Frisbee grazed the grass near her and sunk to the ground. She rose, tossed it back, and started to walk back to Leah’s. At the edge of the park she paused. The Statue of Liberty loomed far off on the skyline. She snapped a picture of it and walked on. Near the corner store was a mailbox. She took the letter out of her purse, kissed it, and whispered, “Please forgive me.” She dropped it into the mail slot.

She’d done what she came to New York to do.

Leah and her family were still out. Upstairs, she washed her face with cold water; her head pounded from crying. In her guest room, she meditated. Her mind was stuck on Anahata, the heart chakra. She focused her energy flow into the heart and inhaled the color of emeralds, envisioning an emerald-green line flowing through her body and through all of her energy centers. Later, when her eyes blinked open, she was calm, but her heart was raw with a dull pain.

She showered and laid out her clothes for the festivities. The last thing she felt was festive. She dressed in a fringed skirt, sandals, and the vintage blouse she’d bought that morning. The undulating lines of lace on the blouse reminded her of waves lapping at a shore. She took the blue-green peacock-colored silk scarf and tied it around her neck. Voices and footsteps came up the stairs. There was a knock on her door. Leah looked in.

“We’re back. Are you okay? You look so, so, oh I don’t know, serene…but sad.”

Jolie nodded.

“Meet me in my room.” Leah dashed down the hall.

Jolie and Zack met up in Leah’s room. Leah wore her flapper dress. Zack wore the Sergeant Pepper jacket, despite the heat. Leah was hyper and tried out some flapper dance moves. Soon they were trying to outdo each other. The doorbell rang, and they bounded downstairs. Sarah and her parents had arrived for dinner.

Sarah stood in the foyer in her new vintage sleeveless lace shift, looking cool and crisp in white with her dark curls. Leah’s mother and father turned to see the three of them standing behind them in the living room.

“What in the world?” Leah’s mom said, looking at Zack in his jacket. Zack saluted. Her eyes landed on Jolie’s scarf. “Is that a Versace?” She came closer to inspect.

Other books

Blood Game by Ed Gorman
The Mad Bomber of New York by Michael M. Greenburg
Two Lives by William Trevor
Rite Men for Maya by Renquist, Zenobia
The Best Friend by Melody Carlson
The Choirboys by Joseph Wambaugh
Legend of the Sorcerer by Donna Kauffman