She's Gone: A Novel (34 page)

“What?” Leah asked.

“He’ll only serve us if we’re his guests,” Nick said.

“I didn’t know you spoke Greek,” Jolie said.

“I’m Greek, through and through.”

The waitress came in with stuffed grape leaves. Nick took one and held it near Jolie’s lips. She opened her mouth and took a small bite. She closed her eyes as she savored the taste of the rice, pine nuts, and fresh herbs. Nick ate the remainder.

Tiropitas—cheese-filled phyllo triangles, and a plate of thick, sliced feta cheese arrived next.

“I think I’m in heaven,” Jolie said as Dimitri appeared with a tray of four dips: eggplant, garlic, cucumber, and taramosalata, a caviar made from carp roe.

He and Nick had another brief exchange, and Dimitri winked at Jolie and hurried off again. “What did he say?” Jolie said.

“He always knew you were an angel.”

“Little does he know,” Jolie said.

They passed the bread basket filled with slices of olive bread, feta cheese bread, and pitas. The tray of dips went around.

Leah groaned. “This is a feast.”

Nick laughed. “It hasn’t even started. Save some room.”

Two waitresses appeared with a layered eggplant dish filled with spicy lamb and a spinach pie made with delicate phyllo dough.

“Moussaka and spanakopita,” one said, pointing to the dishes.

“Oh my god,” Jolie said, looking at the steaming platters.

One waitress returned with stuffed tomatoes and leafy greens. Daniel’s eyes grew big, and he and Leah broke into laughter. Dimitri arrived with a platter of lamb and potatoes and announced, “Arni me patates.”

Jolie jumped up and gave him a hug. “This is the most fantastic feast I’ve ever eaten.”

Nick started a slow clap which the others echoed. Dimitri gave a quick bow and hurried back to his busy kitchen. Jolie took a photo of the table and all of the beautiful food.

A while later, they sat back with satiated smiles. One waitress cleared the dishes and brought coffee. The other waitress brought in a creamy custard pie and baklava.

Nick took a fork of baklava and held it out to Jolie. “Try this.”

She leaned toward him and opened her mouth for a bite. The flaky phyllo dough, filled with cinnamon and spiced nuts soaked in honey, melted in her mouth. He smiled and wiped pastry flakes from her lips with his napkin. Their eyes locked and a wave fluttered through her. He leaned in and kissed her ever so gently.

43

Falling Stars

The air was crisp and thin and smelled clean. The sunlight was translucent. Jolie walked to work, not wanting to take the subway on the cool fall morning. College students filled the streets. Across the street from a high school, she paused at a newsstand and watched the students through the fenced school yard, streaming to their classes. They were her age, but they seemed so young and carefree. She felt like an old soul, peering in on them. She should be in school. School for her had been easy and boring, but now she wanted to go to college. Dreading going to work, she idled at the newsstand, looking at the magazines. The headline on the
Globe
leapt off the front page
:
Jimi Hendrix, 28, Found Dead in London Flat
. Stunned, she bought the paper and stood on the corner, reading the brief article. Jimi Hendrix was dead. What a tragic blow. She walked to work, numb.

On Thursday morning, Jolie and her three yoga friends emerged from the temple into the bright October sunlight. The women talked and laughed as they walked along the stone path. They lingered near the water fall among the brilliant green bamboo stalks. Jolie hugged them good-bye and walked toward the street. A tall figure leaned against the dark wooden temple gate. It was Will. Jolie slowed her pace.

“So, this is where you go before work?” Will asked. In his hand was the schedule of yoga and meditation sessions she kept at home inside her drawer.

The women stood watching. “Most days,” Jolie said. She wouldn’t lie to him. She may have secrets, but she wouldn’t lie.

“I knew they’d suck you in,” Will said.

“Hey brother, yoga is not a crime,” Cheyenne said.

“Yoga? Now it’s yoga? Buddhism is a damn cult.”

“It’s not a cult,” Jolie said. “Buddhism and yoga have been around for thousands of years.”

“Join us sometime,” Molly said.

“Come on. I’ll drive you to work.” He turned and walked toward Old Blue parked down the street. She followed him, glancing back at her friends.

“See you next week?” Willow asked.

Jolie nodded and followed Will.

Will drove toward Harvard Square, silent, his eyes on the road. After a long while he looked at her. “I told you, I don’t want you getting involved with cult religions.”

“It is not a cult. I love the temple. It’s a positive influence in my life.”

He shot her a glance. “You don’t know who is involved there. They could be wacko fanatics.”

“How can you judge something you have no experience or knowledge of? Why don’t you come with me?”

Will pulled into a loading zone near Brigham’s. The engine idled. “I don’t have time for men in orange robes.”

Their eyes locked. A fierceness spread through her as she grasped door handle. “The temple is my refuge.” She opened the door and slid out. With the door still open she looked into his eyes. “I’m sorry you won’t join me but I won’t give it up.”

His eyes held hers. “I’ll pick you up here tonight at seven.”

Jolie looked back, eyebrows raised in a question.

“It’s getting dark earlier. I don’t want you going home alone.”

She walked into the restaurant, relieved that Will now knew about the forbidden temple. There were enough secrets to maintain. She didn’t want to hide anything from him. She was at last liberated from that secret.

Will picked up Jolie that night and announced he had to go back to the office to finish an article. She followed him into the office. Lily was sorting mail at the kitchen table. She flashed Will a bright smile. It instantly faded when Jolie appeared behind him. Will headed for the typewriter in the dining room.

In the living room, Adam, Charlie, T.J., and a few other men she didn’t recognize debated something she couldn’t quite hear. Jolie joined them. She could smell incense and maybe hashish? The discussion stopped.

“Jolie girl,” Adam said. “You haven’t graced us with your presence in days. Where in the world have you been?”

“Will told me she’s been hanging out with men in orange robes,” Charlie said. His boyish smile and dimples brightened her mood.

Jolie placed her palms together pressing them lightly on her chest and bowed her head.

“Right on,” T.J. said.

“What are you guys plotting?” Jolie said, glancing around the room.

“The usual,” Adam said. “A united front against capitalism.”

“Anyone want tea?” Jolie said. A resounding yes came from the group. Adam introduced her to the guys she didn’t know. Jolie went into the kitchen and put on the kettle. Charlie followed her.

“So tell me about this secret cult you’ve joined,” Charlie said. “Will asked me today if I’d go with you and check it out.”

She glanced at him. His eyes were smiling. She didn’t need Charlie to check it out, but she did want to take him there. “I think you’ll like it. Meditation is better there, deeper. I release the outside world as soon as I enter the gate.”

Lily paused sorting mail and looked at Jolie. “How’s
Don Juan
?”

Jolie ignored her sarcasm. “It’s an interesting book.”

The kettle whistled, and Jolie brewed two pots of hibiscus tea. She poured a cup for Lily without asking and set it down on the table. “Oh, thanks,” Lily said, looking up surprised.

Jolie and Charlie carried the tea into the living room, pouring a cup of the fragrant crimson tea for Will on the way. He hardly acknowledged it, the typewriter keys flying over the page. Jolie sat down with the group.

“So, Jolie girl, I’m dying for some of your home cooking. When are we going to get an invite or are you fasting, too?” Adam said.

She looked at Adam and then to Charlie and laughed. “I guess it’s time to plan a dinner.”

On the coffee table, the headline of
Central Underground Press
stared back at her:
October 5, 1970. Janis Joplin, 27, Found Dead in Hollywood
. Jolie sucked in her breath. “Janis died?”

Three weeks ago Jimi had died and now Janis? A hollowness filled her. Why hadn’t Will told her? She moved to the stereo, put on “Summertime” and slumped on the couch. Had everyone lost their way? She glanced in at Will. Lily leaned over him with some mail, her breast brushed his shoulder. Jealousy stabbed her. She leaned her head back and closed her eyes. Nothing seemed right anymore.

44

Freedom’s Just Another Word

The next morning, Jolie emerged from the T station into a burst of red and white flashing police lights. Fire trucks and police cars blocked the Harvard campus entrance. Her pace slowed as she walked through small groups of students milling around, talking. The entrance was cordoned off with yellow crime tape. In Brigham’s she started her shift, uneasy with the scene outside.

A woman student ordered coffee and told Jolie a bomb had exploded in the Center for International Affairs at one in the morning. No one was injured.

A bomb at Harvard? That was getting close. An eerie blanket of doom draped her. Bombs wouldn’t solve anything. At least no one had been hurt.

Throughout the day, all of her customers speculated about who was responsible for the bombing. Was it the Weathermen, the Black Panthers, the students? Will picked her up when her shift was over. He sat impassive as she slid into Old Blue.

“Do you know who did it?” she asked.

“What did you hear?”

“Oh, just speculation. No one has claimed responsibility.”

“The FBI will be all over town. We have to be careful.”

They didn’t talk the rest of the way home, both lost in their thoughts. Though they were innocent, the possibility of another FBI raid frightened her. Even with fake IDs, they could be discovered, couldn’t they?

Jolie and her yoga friends walked out of the temple into a light drizzle. She felt light and harmonious.

“Was that your boyfriend last week?” Molly asked.

Jolie nodded.

“He seemed pretty uptight,” Willow said. “We were worried about you.”

“He’s just protective,” Jolie said.

“Too much protection can squash your soul,” Cheyenne said, “and stifle your freedom.”

They stopped and huddled under Molly’s oversized yellow-and-red umbrella.

“Freedom is the most important thing that any of us has,” Cheyenne said. “You should never let it go, not even for love.”

Jolie didn’t respond. She hugged them goodbye and set off in the light rain for work. When she glanced back, they stood watching her as they talked under the colorful umbrella. Was Will squashing her soul? He was a strong man. Dominant yet charismatic. That was one of reasons she loved him. That’s why everyone loved him. He was a pillar of strength, but she too was strong.

The weather had turned cold and darkness descended by early evening. Jolie missed sitting on the back porch, reading. Like the temple, the porch was her sanctuary from the roommates at times. She wanted to get their own place and have Will to herself. With winter coming, the house seemed closed in.

Jolie poured over the For Rent advertisements in the paper until she found it: a quaint two-bedroom brick townhouse close to the office. She could turn the other bedroom into a photography studio and meditation room. In the backyard, she would plant masses of flowers and grow herbs for cooking and tea.

Jolie broached the subject with Will. “I found us an apartment.”

“You what?”

“I saw a For Rent ad in the paper. I’ve walked by it on my way to work a few times. It’s a cute brick first-floor apartment near here. It has two bedrooms with a small backyard and porch. It’s perfect.”

“What’s the matter with this pad?”

“I want our own place. We could use the second bedroom for a darkroom.”

“You have a darkroom.”

“We can afford the rent. I’m tired of roommates, even if they’re good people.”

“I like it here. We have the run of the place. I know you’re safe when I’m not around, plus they love your cooking.”

From the finality of his tone she knew the conversation was over. The vision of the brick townhouse crumbled. At least they weren’t in a commune. Her bank account was swelling and in the new year she’d try again. She sat back, silent. She couldn’t plant a garden in the winter anyway.

In the meantime, she would focus on studying for the GED test. She would surprise Will by getting her diploma. But would she be able to pass? Every morning after he left for the office, she meditated and methodically read through the stack of textbooks Daniel kept in the dining room.

Charlie met Jolie at the house Saturday morning, and they walked to the temple to meditate. “What can I expect at this Buddhist temple?” Charlie asked. “Do I need to know anything?”

“No, I don’t want to influence you. Just experience it. It’s different for everyone, depending on your demons.”

He looked at her. “You have demons?”

Her face flushed warm. “Sure, everyone has something that troubles them. It may seem small to others but huge to them.” Her mom and dad flashed before her. Her demon would be giant to everyone.

They passed through the open gate along the stone path and a peaceful feeling engulfed her. The Japanese maples glowed deep red and gold. The waterfall splashed rhythmically on the rocks in the pond. Jolie pushed open the thick door. They took off their shoes and coats in the tall entry and retreated silently across the wood floor to a meditation room. Five men and women sat on mats. Sandalwood incense burned on the altar and the Buddha statue seemed to float on white flower petals. The monk acknowledged their presence. They closed their eyes, and he led them through three oms to Buddha, Dharma, and Sangha.

Jolie snuck a peak at Charlie. His eyes were open slightly, watching the monk. It would take him a while to get settled.

She focused on the monk’s words. “Look inward and bring the mind home. Accept whatever thoughts arise. Acceptance reveals the good heart which dissolves unkindness, torment, suffering, and the pain within you. Draw your breath into your heart center. As your chest expands with your breath, your heart opens and expands. The hearts greatest lessons are patience, compassion, and unconditional love. Be kind to yourself.”

Her mind drifted to her parents and the pain she had caused them. Would they have unconditional love for her? Remorse gripped her. How could she ever be free from that? She didn’t deserve to be free from it. Be kind. Be kind. Be kind. She had Will now. He was what she wanted. She drifted into her breathing.

The monk tapped a clear note on a chime, and it rang long and pure throughout the room. Slowly she opened her eyes. Charlie smiled at her. They sat for a moment, soaking up the inner glow before rising. Silently they padded through the temple, put on their shoes and coats, and walked out into the autumn morning.

Charlie walked to the bench by the pond and sat down. Jolie sat beside him. “I see what you mean,” he said. “It is better here. I really got lost in my mind.”

Jolie stared at the waterfall. “I was floating, and my heart was beating green,” she said.

“Well, don’t tell anyone else that. They’ll think you’re crazy.”

They sat quiet for a moment, nodding to others walking by on the path leading to the street. “So there are no initiations or payments required?” Charlie asked.

“No brain washings either. They do accept donations.”

“I’m so relaxed. Can I come with you on Saturdays?”

“Only if you wear a copper-colored robe.”

He shot her a look. “Yeah, right.”

They got up and walked back to the house. Charlie left Jolie by her steps and walked on to the office. “I’ll give Will a full report,” he called back to her. She flashed him a peace sign and smiled widely.

In November they had their first snow. Jolie stood out on the back porch, watching it fall. She tugged Nick’s beanie over her ears and fingered the Harvard logo. The snow had accumulated quickly on the bare field behind the house. The porch light lit up the delicate flakes as they floated to the ground. Daniel, Sam, and Ginger joined her. Will was still at the office.

“I’ve never lived where it snowed before,” Jolie said, her voice small on the dark porch.

They looked her way in amazement.

“It’s not winter without snow,” Daniel said.

Nick stopped in to see Jolie every week. He usually brought her something: a used book, an aged black-and-white photo postcard of somewhere in the city, a book of poetry, a list of colleges in the area. She looked forward to his visits but never knew when he would appear. He was busy with his classes.

“I’ll take you to the
Ansel Adams
exhibit this weekend before I go home for Thanksgiving,” he said.