Seeing Red (4 page)

-Jilly

May 1, 1999

Alexander is my best friend. I like getting sweet
potatoes and onions best because I’m sick of all the coconuts.
Yuck! But Xander and I climb trees together every day to get
coconuts because we need the coconut water. Xander got a point
today in our ongoing never-ending game because he got the most
coconuts. Oliver stands at the bottom and catches them. He says he
does that so that they don’t break when they hit the ground, but I
know that he’s afraid of heights. What a baby. He’s always telling
us to be careful when Xander and I race to the top or see who can
climb the highest. I hate that he calls me Jillian instead of Jilly
or Jill. It makes me feel like he’s mad at me. Oliver is dumb—dumb
and boring.

-Jilly

“Thanks a lot, Jilly.” Oliver said, making it a
point to accentuate
Jilly
. “I hope I’m less dumb and boring
now.”

“Hey, I was like ten years old. I always liked you
best, if that helps.” She said with a wink.

“Yeah right, these journals are very telling. The
truth finally comes out after all these years. I knew you loved
me.” Alexander retorted with a sexy little grin.

“Don’t flatter yourself, Alexander.” She rolled her
eyes at him. “I’d totally forgotten about that game we used to
play. It was like 1759 to 879. I was winning.” She laughed.

“You were most certainly not winning. I was kicking
your ass as I always did. I will read through every single one of
these journals to check the final score. I wonder if you wrote it
down.”

Jillian laughed. She had missed these two so much.
They continued reading . . .

May 2, 1999

I hate Alexander. He pushed me today, and I fell and
scraped my knee. I went to collect seashells along the beach to add
to the bucket I keep by my bed, and I saw a strange shell. It was
so pretty: point for me for getting such a beautiful seashell.
Helen says it is a cowrie shell. It’s different than any other I’ve
ever seen. It’s big and pink and very shiny. Xander saw me staring
at it and took it from my hand and ran away. I tried to catch him,
and when I did, he threw it into the ocean. I hate him. I threw a
rock at him, and I know it hurt because I heard a yelp and then
maybe even a cry. I ran into my room and cried by myself. I call it
my room, but it’s not really my room; it is where most of us sleep.
I can’t let anyone see me cry because then they laugh at me. But
I’m just so mad I can’t stop crying. I think I will make Oliver my
new best friend. At least he doesn’t push me. But he’s boring.

I don’t want to write every day, but Helen makes me.
She says it helps teach me to write and it helps so that we can
remember the things that happened on the island when we are rescued
one day. She tries to make the boys write too, but they never
do.

I keep seeing strange things. I’m scared of telling
anyone because no one ever believes me when I tell them. Xander
calls me a freak, and Oliver laughs at me and then ignores me. I
keep seeing a big boat and lots of rain. Why can’t anyone else see
it? It’s right over there by the mangroves where Helen and the
others don’t let us go. Maybe they know it’s there. They are afraid
we’ll get hurt trampling around the mangroves, but they should go
see the boat. I think the people on the boat are hurt, and it’s
raining very hard by the boat, but it isn’t raining here.

I’m going to find a prettier shell and hide it and
never show anyone so that Xander can’t get it from me. Maybe I’ll
show it to Oliver; he won’t throw it.

Jilly

“Jesus, Jill, you wrote about us a lot. You really
hated Alexander.” Oliver said.

“Well, he is a pain in the ass, and apparently, you
were a bore. I seem to indicate that a lot too.” She elbowed
Oliver’s rib. “Anyway, guys, no more for today.” She started
packing up the notebooks; her face was crimson.

“Jillian Stone, are you blushing?” Alexander reached
out to touch her cheek, but Jillian slapped his hand away.

“No. I’m just . . . I’m tired. Long day.”

“You hate it when people know you’re sad, and now
it’s right there—on paper and all over your red face.” He tapped
the page and then reached over and tapped her cheek.

“God, Alexander, you’re such a . . . Arghh.” Jillian
was frustrated beyond the ability of making a coherent
statement.

“You just hate when I call you out on things.”

“Shut up, Alexander. You’re just as bad as Jillian.
You never say anything that shows any sort of vulnerability either.
Leave her alone.” Oliver said, helping Jillian pack up.

“Vulnerability? You’re boring. She’s right. Oh, and
stuck up too. Who says things like that anyway? Vulnerability.
Pfft! You’re such a chick.” Alexander scowled.

“Anyway,” Oliver shook his head, “so when do you
have to return to Georgetown, Jillian?”

“Georgetown?” Alexander asked, confused.

“Yes, she just started Georgetown. She got a
scholarship. Our girl here was valedictorian at St. Mary’s,” Oliver
said proudly.

“How do you know?” Alexander asked.

“Because, Brother, unlike you, I care about other
people, and Jillian and I have kept in touch during the last seven
years.”

“Your little underhanded remarks are starting to get
on my nerves, Oliver.”

Oliver shook his head and didn’t respond.

“Anyway, I have to be back in a week, but I may just
head back tomorrow.” Jill replied.

“Why?” Alexander asked, sounding a little
irritated.

“I don’t know. I have no reason to stay. I don’t
want to stay in a depressing hotel for an entire week, and I have
some studying to do. I don’t know anyone here, and I haven’t
finished unpacking at the dorms and . . .”
Oh God, why can’t I
just shut up!

“Red, you’ve just given us like ten reasons. What
gives? Why don’t you just stay at Oliver’s apartment with us, and
we can hang out like old times?”

“Ugh, don’t call me Red, Xander! I hate that name.
Plus, you’ve just invited me to stay at a place that isn’t even
yours.”

“No, he’s right. Come stay with us. Alexander can
sleep on the couch, and you can take his room. Give us a week of
your time before you go back.”

“Wait! I wasn’t suggesting that
I
sleep on
the couch!” Alexander whined, and that gave Jillian the final push
to say, “Okay, I guess that would be nice. Give me the address, and
I’ll swing by the hotel first to check out and grab my stuff.”

“You only said yes so that I would have to sleep on
the couch.”

She laughed and winked at him, “Point for Jill.”

The rule of
brothers: If your brother gets something you want you: 1. Try to
steal it away from him, 2: Break it, or 3. Say it’s no
good.

-Helen

Jillian

Since the rescue, Oliver had kept in touch, and his
calls and letters had become different throughout the years:
sweeter, more loving. He was so protective of Jillian that
sometimes she felt that his letters and calls were toeing the line
of love letters. Plus, he looked so good now. Jill had felt a punch
to her chest when she saw him earlier that day, actually, when she
saw both of them. The line between familial love and lust was
becoming blurred, and she realized that in the last hours since
seeing them again, there were new feelings bubbling up inside that
hadn’t been there before. So, she felt a little awkward being alone
in the apartment with them after they finished lunch.

Oliver showed her around and told her to make
herself at home as he headed out to the supermarket.

With a gentle knock against Alexander’s door, she
asked, “May I come in?”

“Of course.”

Jillian walked into his room and lay next to him on
his bed. He was on his back with both hands under his head and legs
crossed at the ankle, looking up at the ceiling. He still looked a
little green from the hangover he was nursing. They both stared at
the ceiling in silence.

“Valedictorian, huh?”

“Yep.”

“Georgetown?”

“Yep.”

There were another few minutes of comfortable
silence between them. Unexpectedly, Jillian was left with a
tingling sensation from the inconsequential touch of their thighs
and elbows brushing against each other.

“Xander, why didn’t you ever call or write me?”

He sighed and closed his eyes. She felt the warmth
of his hand on hers as he reached over and interlocked their
fingers. His eyes were opened, but he didn’t speak because she knew
he didn’t really have an answer.

What could he say? He was a fuckup. He was too
stoned or drunk to write or call—the same reason he had been a
terrible son to Helen.

“Red. It sucks about Helen.”

“Yep, it really does suck.” She squeezed his hand
and added through gritted teeth, “Xander, don’t call me Red.” She
tried to pull her hand away, but he just held on tighter.

He ignored her comment. “What are we going to do
now?”

“What do you mean?”

“We’re supposed to be adults, right? We’re eighteen,
but I don’t feel like an adult,” he confessed. “I need a parent,
but Helen was my parent and now she’s gone. What now?”

“I know. I have no one left either. I feel so lost
and alone, but we’ve lived such a strange life, and we’ve always
survived. We’ll survive this too. Remember Helen’s funny little
life lessons? One that always keeps me hopeful is, ‘Everybody wants
happiness, nobody wants pain, but you can’t have a rainbow without
a little rain.’ Xander, this is just one big puddle of rain in our
lives. Remember you have a brother and you have me. Don’t keep
pushing me away. Call me; write me; visit me.”

“You’re not alone either, Red. You have us. I
promise I’ll keep in touch this time around.” He turned his body,
his forced indifference gone, and gave her a big hug. It was a
tender and cathartic hug, unlike the sloppy one at the funeral.

When Oliver returned, he found his brother and
Jillian on the bed, just staring at the ceiling holding hands.

“Scoot over,” he said, plopping on the bed and
grabbing Jill’s other hand.

All three lay in silence, staring at the ceiling.
The fan was on, and they stared at it going round and round. It was
the first time all three had been together in seven years. She felt
so at home and
right
being there with them—just being. They
were her family. It didn’t matter that Alexander was a mess. He was
her
mess. And Oliver was her rock. She could always count on
him.

“This reminds me of those nights when we lay on the
beach, staring at the sky, waiting for a shooting star. We’ve
probably seen more shooting stars than anyone else on the planet.”
Jill turned and looked at Oliver, who was looking up, and she
kissed his cheek then turned and looked at Alexander and kissed his
cheek. “I missed you boys so much.” She did a sit up to get out of
bed and left the room.

***

Alexander

Oliver took the opportunity of being alone with his
brother to talk to him about his concerns.

“Alexander, I need to talk to you.”

“What?” Fuck, here we go again.

“Even though Helen’s gone, my plans haven’t changed.
I’m still leaving for that internship soon. My lease is almost up
on this apartment, and since I will be traveling so much, I’ve
decided not to renew it.”

“What?”

“I’ve been telling you for months about my plans,
but you don’t listen. You’re always drunk or stoned. I don’t want
to leave, thinking that you’re going to be homeless or something. I
need to concentrate on my work, Alexander.”

“Fine.”
Shit!

“Fine?”

“Yeah, fine. Go.”

“Alexander, are you listening? You need to look for
a place to live. You need to go back to school or get a job or
something. You can’t live off the trust fund forever, and at the
rate you’re spending it, you’ll be broke within a year. You’re a
mess. I can’t live my life looking out for you anymore. I need to
start living my own life.”

“I never asked you to take care of me. I didn’t know
that it was a burden having me live here.” He jumped off the bed,
got out of his suit, and put on a pair of jeans and a white
t-shirt. “My life is in order! I don’t need you telling me what I
can or cannot do! You’re my brother, not my mother or father. Plus,
you are boring as hell; even Jillian at ten years old could see
that. One day, you’ll regret you didn’t have more fun when you were
younger. I don’t need you to tell me what to do with my money.
That’s my money to do with as I please. It’s from the plane crash,
and I deserve that money just as much as you and Jill. I’m not
questioning what you do with it, so fuck off.” He was yelling and
frantically grabbing clothes and throwing them in a duffle bag.

Jillian rushed back in the room when she heard the
commotion. “What’s going on?”

“Mind your own business, Red.” Alexander yelled as
he continued packing, his serene mood replaced by blinding red
rage.

***

Jillian

“Where are you going?” She asked, looking at
Alexander, but when he didn’t answer, she turned to Oliver,
“Where’s he going?”

Oliver shrugged. “I was trying to have a mature
conversation with him. I need him to get his shit together. I’m
starting my internship soon and I can’t babysit him anymore. He
can’t be bringing random women into my home and drinking and doing
all sorts of drugs. I don’t want to lose my twin brother. I want
him to get his life together. But, of course, his reaction is to
run. That’s what he always does, Mr. Avoids-the-problem.”

“Xander?” She stepped closer to him, but he
continued going through his clothes. “Please don’t go. You asked me
to stay. I’m staying. I haven’t seen you in so long, and the day I
see you, you’re going to leave?” Jillian was pleading. This was the
new and improved, calm, non-cursing Jillian, who she planned on
taking to Georgetown. A week with these boys would definitely test
her non-cursing resolve. She was very close to yelling at Alexander
with a few choice words.