Seeing Red (24 page)

“I wasn’t ignoring you. I’ve just been busy.” She
sat up on her bed, lifting the covers to her neck, her back against
the headboard.

“I see that.” Oliver said, looking at her bed full
of journals. “Find anything?”

Jillian sat with Oliver, talking about their
discoveries. “Your mom was really scared and so was Helen. I wonder
what RT stands for. It’s driving me crazy.”

“I know, and I can’t stop seeing him.”

“What?”

“RT is the red-haired guy that I keep seeing and
feeling, and I am sure he is one and the same. I’ve been seeing him
more and more. I can describe him to you if you want.”

“Yes.”

“By the way, now I know that he is the one that
wrote the note. I can feel it when I touch the note. I feel his
energy on it. Remember, I only
feel
things of those I’m
close to. I may not know my father, but we’re linked. Our DNA is
linked. I
feel
him.”

“So you think he has the same thing you have? The
psychic thing?”

“You make it sound like I have the flu or something.
But, yes, I guess you’re starting to think like I am. Last night, I
thought about it, and maybe my mom knew that he was psychic or
something. There’s definitely something about the psychic thing and
the note. Let’s just finish these journals. I wish I knew his name.
I think that would make all the difference.”

“I’m going to see what I can come up with. I am
going to do some research on the Internet, using what we know so
far. Describe him to me.”

“As you already know he has red hair. It’s short,
but the same red tone as mine. I can see some of the curls around
the hairline. He’s not as tall as you: maybe 5’10” or so. He has my
skin tone. Pasty white,” she said with a self-deprecating smirk.
“He’s slim, almost frail, and I always see him wearing a suit.
Always looks very together. He has blue eyes and thin lips and
hollowed cheeks. His blue eyes are intense, and he wears reading
glasses sometimes. I have his nose. Small and straight. Almost
hawk-like.”

“My God, Jillian. Boxers or briefs?” He said
sarcastically. “That is detailed. I guess you can really see this
guy, huh?”

“Yep.”

Paul texted as they talked and Jill read and replied
when Oliver was busy talking to Heather.

Hey sweetie, I have some errands to do today and I
don’t know what time I can swing by to see you.

Jill: No problem. I’m looking forward to our trip
tomorrow.

Paul: Me too. Call you later.

She was actually kind of relieved because she wanted
to get some headway on these journals. She dove head-on into the
journals and put Paul and her impending trip in the back of her
mind.

She read a lot of frivolous gossip about some of the
people on the island: insignificant gossip but nonetheless,
fascinating to know what she missed through her innocent young
eyes. She read entries about herself and about the “spells” and how
Helen had been worried that it was epilepsy at first but as soon as
Jillian could speak, it had become apparent that these were not
epileptic seizures but visions of some sort. A few entries that had
been salvaged from the time on the island caught her eye. She
showed them to Oliver.

February 17, 1996

Alex and Jill are driving me insane! Their constant
arguing is becoming a real problem. Yet, they’re inseparable.
There’s a relationship between them like none other I’ve ever seen.
I think there are more similarities between Jill and Alex than
there are between Oliver and Alex, but I’m going to have to keep
them apart for a few days for my own sanity (and that of the rest
of the island)!

-Helen

August 22, 1998

Today Jill had a vision, and it was about Matthew.
She doesn’t really know how to pick her visions apart yet—all she
said was that she was sad about Matthew. I’m so worried. I’ve been
watching him like a hawk, and he seems fine. Not all her visions
are bad. Sometimes she’s dreamed about sunny days after endless
rainy days. However, she said, “Sad.” I will not survive here
without Matthew, and I’m not exactly sure how to handle this. It
breaks my heart to see Jillian suffer through these spells. She is
the only one, who knows what she saw, and she’s too young to fully
explain it, but I can feel her burning-hot skin and see the
exhaustion in her eyes afterwards. I need these journals to live—to
breathe. They are my escape. I hope that these are never found,
because I wouldn’t want my innermost thoughts and the secrets of my
dear sister and that of Jillian discovered. I’m starting to wonder
if these visions that my poor Jillian endures, have something to do
with Taylor and Esther.

-H

April 8, 1998

Jill had one of her visions today. It makes me
nervous that others on the island will find out it is not epilepsy.
The only one that seems to understand is Alex. That boy is astute!
I think that these visions can present a real problem for Jill out
in the real world. Here, there is not the maliciousness that there
is out there. Maybe that’s what Esther was running from. She never
mentioned Taylor had any special gifts, but I wonder if that is
what she feared.

-H.

“Oly, who’s Taylor? Have you read anything about a
Taylor in any of your readings? Jill asked?

“No. No Taylors. Look, I’ve been keeping notes on
all the names of everyone she talked about, and there’s no one by
the name of Taylor.”

“It sounds so familiar though. Doesn’t it? Do you
remember if there was someone named Taylor on the plane with us
when we crashed? When we were younger or something? I have a weird
feeling about this Taylor character.”

“Nope. Nothing. There was a copy of the manifest in
the box you have me. I have it and I don’t see any Taylors on the
list.”

“Taylor. Taylor. Taylor.” She kept saying his name
under her breath while she thought. “I’m missing
something—something important. I can’t pinpoint it, but it’s
significant, and it’s bothering me all of a sudden, and Taylor has
something to do with it. I wonder what Taylor’s last name is?”

There was a knock on the door that startled them
both. They had been so deep in thought. She quickly grabbed all the
journals, stuffed them in boxes, and closed her bedroom door before
opening the front door.

“Hi, ma’am. You Jillian Stone?” It was the
mailman.

“Yep. That’s me.”

“Sign here, please.” She signed quickly.

“Thank you.”

“Have a nice afternoon.”

“What’s that?” Heather asked, now in the kitchen.
Oliver looked curious as well.

“Have you two met?” Jill asked Oliver and
Heather.

“Yes. I met her this morning when she let me in;
she’s as sweet as you’ve mentioned.” He smiled and winked at
Heather.

“You’re a charmer, aren’t you?” replied Heather.

As Jill was about to open the letter, dismissing the
little flirtation that she’d just witnessed, there was another
knock on the door.

“Wow, it’s busy around here today!” Heather yelled
from the kitchen.

“Paul?”

“Sweetheart.” Jill let him in and closed the door
behind her.

“Paul, what are you doing here? I thought you had
errands to run?”

“I thought I’d bring you some lunch.” He held out a
bag.

“That’s so sweet, thank you.” She gave him a kiss on
the cheek, and he turned his head and planted a slow and tender
kiss on her lips. Her legs wobbled, suddenly becoming liquid.

“You are?” In her Paul-induced haze, she had
forgotten that Oliver was there. He didn’t seem too thrilled about
Paul’s affection.

“You must be Oliver.” He said, extending his hand to
Oliver.

“Um . . . yes. I’m Oliver. And you are?”

“I’m Jillian’s boyfriend, Paul Black.” It was not
visibly apparent who was more surprised by the term
boyfriend:
Jill, Heather, or Oliver.

“Boyfriend!” Heather came around the corner from the
kitchen, accidently crashing into Paul.

“Hi, you must be Heather. I’ve heard all about you.”
Heather looked at Jill confused and Jill shrugged.

“Um, it’s nice to meet you Paul. Aren’t you Jill and
Alexander’s teacher?” It was a snarky comment from Oliver, and it
was evident that it was taking all of Paul’s self-control to keep
his cool.

“Actually, the correct term is professor, and the
semester ended. We weren’t dating while I was her professor.”

“Oh, I didn’t realize you had a boyfriend, baby.”
Oliver said. He made it a point to use his normal term of
endearment, obviously trying to ruffle some feathers. Jill didn’t
answer, since she hadn’t known either.
Awkward!
The only
thing missing to make this a complete and utter clusterfuck was for
Alexander to come prancing in.
Please dear God, don’t let Xander
come over now. Please God.
Jill silently prayed. Oliver and
Paul were silently sizing each other up.

“Um . . . so, are you going to stay for lunch,
Paul?” Jill asked nervously.

“No sweetheart. I just wanted to bring this to you
and let you know that I would see you tomorrow.”

“Okie dokie.” Okie dokie? Ughh. What a dork.

“It was nice meeting you both. Bye.” He gave Jill a
soft and slow kiss that walked the fine line between decent and
about-to-have-crazy-wild-sex.

When the door closed, there was silence for a brief
moment. It was broken by Oliver who asked Heather, “Did you know
about that?”

“No. I knew they were dating, but she never
mentioned boyfriend, and, honey, by the look on her face, I don’t
think she knew either.”

“Helloooo, I’m right here. I can hear you.” Jill
said, still baffled over Paul’s visit.

“She seemed nervous, didn’t she?” Oliver continued
talking to Heather as if Jill weren’t right there in the room with
them.

“Well, that’s most likely because you weren’t
exactly on your best behavior, Mr. Jacobs.” Heather retorted.” I
didn’t know you guys were like boyfriend/girlfriend. He seems too
old to be using that term anyway.” Heather said, addressing Jill
this time.

“I didn’t know either.” She replied.

“How do you feel about that, Jill?” Oliver
asked.

“I don’t know. I definitely like him. He’s so
intense but makes me feel wonderful, and he’s so—”

“Gorgeous. Girl, he’s one gorgeous man.” Heather
interrupted. Oliver’s face became red, and his fists clenched and
unclenched by his side.

“Well, yeah. He’s gorgeous, but I don’t know. He
asks all the right questions. Wants to know me. Really know me. He
constantly surprises me. I guess we’ll see how it goes.”

“I don’t like him.” Oliver hissed, his knuckles
losing all color.

“I think that was evident by your silent pissing
contest.”

“Xander is going to be mad as hell. Damn, I’m mad as
hell.”

“It’s nothing. I think he was just jumping the gun a
little. I think he got nervous seeing you here and just blurted out
boyfriend. We’ve only been dating for a few weeks.”

“So what? He kissed you as if he were marking his
territory? I don’t like it, Jill. I don’t like him.”

“Surprise, surprise. You don’t like my potential new
boyfriend. I wonder why that would be?” She was being completely
bitchy and immediately regretted it. “Oliver, let’s not talk about
it. Let’s go back to the journals, okay? We were on a roll.”

“Fine.” He looked hurt. Jill knew he had put his
feelings out there just a few weeks ago, and she had squashed them
into little tiny pieces.

Jillian gave Oliver the last few journals, and while
he read, she did some research on RT.

She put every word she could think of on the search
bar. She put red-head mobster, red-haired criminal, redheaded
doctor, red-haired psychic, and red-haired RT. She tried a dozen
combinations when it hit her.

“Wait, Oliver. I got it. His last name is Taylor.
It’s R. Taylor. That’s what she meant. R—”

***

Oliver

That was the last thing he heard from Jill for the
next hour. “Jill?” She went completely still, sitting on a chair by
the table. Her eyes were open, but her body was immovable. The skin
around her neck began reddening, and the red was slowly crawling
upwards towards her face, until her cheeks were scarlet. Heather
ran to Jill, not knowing what was happening or what Jill and Oliver
had been doing all day with the journals.

“Jill, what’s wrong?” Heather shook her.

“Shit,” was Oliver’s only reaction.

“What’s wrong with her? Should we call an ambulance?
Why are you so calm?”

“Shit. She should’ve told you. How could she not
have told you? You’re her roommate; you were bound to find
out.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Heather, I hope you don’t get weirded out, but Jill
occasionally gets these premonitions and goes into a sort of, I
don’t know, trance.”

“Premonitions? Like a psychic?”

“Exactly. Whatever she sees or feels during her
episode, ends up happening. It’s never good.”

“What do we do?”

“There’s not much we can do but wait. This takes a
toll on her. Feel her cheeks; she’s burning up. Can you grab a wet
paper towel or something? I hope that . . .”

He reached for his phone. “What?” Heather asked
Oliver, alarmed.

“I’m calling Alexander. It’s usually about one of
us. I hope it’s not Alexander.” The phone rang, but he wasn’t
answering. “Damn it! He’s not answering. Jill? Please snap out of
it. Look at me! Is it Alexander? What’s wrong, baby?”

“Are you sure this is normal. She’s so still. Her
eyes are completely lifeless. She’s still holding her pen with a
tight grip. It’s so scary, Oliver.” She patted Jill’s forehead and
the back of her neck with a wet towel.

“Normal? No, Heather, this is certainly not normal.
Nothing about this is normal, but it is what it is, and, yes, this
is pretty much how it goes. She just sits super still with those
dead eyes looking at something, until she just snaps out of
it.”