by Emmens, Joye
Jolie had thrown herself wholeheartedly into cooking the pilgrim feast. The aroma of turkey, herbs and spices wafted throughout the house. She joined the group in the living room and sat on the couch between Will and Adam. Will played “Can’t Find My Way Home” on the guitar, a rippling torrent emanated from the strings.
As small talk ensued, Jolie’s mind wandered back to Nick and their conversation at the museum. From the periphery of her mind, she heard Adam talking to her. “Jolie girl, where are you? You’re a million miles away.”
Jolie looked at him and then glanced around the room. All eyes were on her, including Will’s who continued to strum his guitar. “Oh, just thinking,” she said. There was a knock on the door, and she got up to answer it. Lily stood with a bottle of wine.
Surprised, Jolie stood unmoving.
“Will invited me,” Lily said.
“Oh.”
Lily offered her the bottle of wine. They both glanced into the living room. Will smiled broadly at Lily. Jolie took the wine into the kitchen and checked on the turkey. When she joined the group again, Lily was sitting between Will and Adam. Charlie offered her his seat, but she shook her head and sat cross-legged on the floor with her back against the side of his chair.
Later, Jolie laid the feast on the table, and they sat down. Will toasted. “To the cook.”
“To the cook.” They all raised and clinked their glasses.
“To the turkey,” Adam said.
“To the turkey,” the group chanted and clinked glasses again.
Dishes of food were passed around. It was quiet for a moment as the first bites were taken. Hums of appreciation ensued.
Will started a lively political discussion. “There are three centers of revolution in the world: Moscow, Peking, and Havana.”
“Don’t forget Cambridge,” Adam said.
Detached, Jolie looked around the table at the group and the food. These were the same recipes her mom used. She had the sudden urge to call her, to hear her voice. She could see her so clearly.
Her thoughts were interrupted by Charlie’s voice. “Jolie? What’s the matter? You look so sad.”
“I was just thinking about my mom.”
Will quickly turned to her and held her gaze with a fierce intensity. He didn’t want her talking about home. There were too many ways to get tripped up in lies. She looked away and caught Charlie’s eye, his eyebrows raised in concern.
46
The Blue Hole
December was bitter cold and brought more snow. Jolie traipsed around the parks in the piercing cold, taking photographs. She had switched back to black and white film. The winter landscapes were too stark for color. The most beautiful place was the temple. Blanketed in snow, the Buddha statue near the pond encircled with tall bamboo brought her peace.
In the dark room she developed the contact sheet and thought about Nick. She hadn’t seen him since before Thanksgiving when they’d said goodbye at the museum. Each day at work she looked for him, but he hadn’t come. She missed him. His words still echoed in her mind. All of them. He’d surprised her by opening up and putting his heart on the line. That was brave. She’d come close to telling him the truth. It was an impossible situation. He had told her to think about it and to call him if she changed her mind, but he wouldn’t wait forever. There was no future for them, yet he tugged at her heart.
She shouldn’t think about Nick. Will was her man. She had changed her life for him, and she would stand by him. She clipped the contact sheet up to dry. The temple shots stood out in their intimacy.
In her spare time, she studied for her GED test and attended the chemical pollution meetings. Her passion for the forum was fueled by the gloomy winter. She continually brought their position articles into the office for printing and distribution. Will grumbled, but Adam printed the articles in the Central Underground Press, and Charlie sent them to agency subscribers. The subscribers clamored for more. The campaign to ban DDT was in full force.
On a sodden, blustery Saturday, Jolie stopped by the office. She had just come from an anti-pollution forum at Harvard and was delivering an article supporting the ban of DDT and other synthetic pesticides and herbicides. Will was there with Adam, Lily, and some shaggy looking students. The phone was ringing, and the telex chirped continuously. Jolie handed Adam an article to print in the next issue.
“DDT, it even sounds nasty,” Adam said.
“I don’t get the whole DDT issue,” Lily said. “It’s like such a small thing in the world to worry about.”
“It’s actually a big thing. We’re all connected to the earth. It’s affecting everyone,” Jolie said.
“It’s not affecting me,” Lily said.
“It’s hidden,” Jolie said.
Lily tilted her head and smiled dismissively. “Hidden? Like Don Juan magic?”
Jolie bristled. “DDT accumulates in soil and water and gets into the food chain. Animals eat the crops, we eat the crops and the animals. The pests become resistant, the farmers spray more powerful chemicals that flow into the rivers and into the sea, the fish die, humans get cancer….”
She stopped. Will had joined them and stood listening. “Anyway, we eat and drink pesticides, and now they’re in our bones. It’s basic biology. We’re polluting the earth and its inhabitants through human carelessness.”
“I wish you’d put that passion into things that need to be done around here,” Will said.
She glanced out the window. Rain came down in sheets, sideways in the wind. “I can help today.”
There was a price to pay for getting her articles published. Adam put her to work laying out the next issue. She strategically put the article championing the ban on DDT on the front page: DDT: The Elixir of Death.
Jolie walked into the high school in Dorchester one Saturday in December at the appointed time. A man led her and about fifteen others into a classroom and handed them each a thick GED test packet. A wave of uncertainty filled her. The weight of the test alone was intimidating. They took their seats at old wooden desks carved with decades of initials. The man read the test rules and sat down at the desk in the front of the classroom. He set the timer, sat back, and observed.
Jolie inhaled deeply. Release the tension, focus on the goal. She still hadn’t told Will she was taking the test. She exhaled and tried to relax. She either knew it, or she didn’t. She could always take it again if she failed.
She bowed her head over the desk, her fingers taut around the pencil as she read the first question. Calmness settled in as she worked through each section of the comprehensive exam.
At 4:00 p.m. the timer dinged. “Set down your pencils…now,” the man said. He walked through the aisles and collected the tests. “The results will be mailed out in January. Good luck, everyone. If you don’t pass, you’ll know from the score results what subject to work on.”
January seemed like an eternity.
Holiday lights brightened the winter gloom. Oversized ornaments sparkled in storefront displays, and large bows adorned doorways. Shoppers crowded the sidewalks along with street musicians heralding holiday music.
Jolie put up blue lights in the front windows of the house. She relished the holiday mood in the evenings. Daniel was drawn into the magic, never having had Christmas lights at home when he was growing up. She put up multicolored lights in the front windows at the office.
She printed and framed photographs as gifts. For Charlie, she selected the temple scene in the snow with the Buddha and pond. Leah would get a photograph of Central Park from their trip to New York.
For Nick, a photo from the Emerald Necklace hike, a landscape shot of Jamaica Pond in stark Ansel Adams style. She wrapped it and brought it into the restaurant. She stored it in her locker, hoping he’d stop in. His last words were to call him if she changed her mind. His phone number was tucked safely into her wallet. B
ut he stayed away. Would she ever see him again?
She stopped by the leather store and bought Will a soft brown leather notebook that he admired every time they went there. He unfailingly picked it up and held it, turning it over in his hands before setting it back down. It was the perfect gift. His old notebook had been missing for some time.
One Sunday afternoon, Will met with the professor at the office. When he came home later he said, “The professor invited us to his house for Christmas dinner.”
“Really?” Her face lit up. She envisioned a formal dining room set with china and crystal, drinking eggnog by a roaring fire—
“I declined.”
Her vision collapsed. “Why? That would be fun.”
“Where are Adam and Charlie and the gang going to go? They all expect to come here.”
She didn’t mind cooking, and Charlie and Adam always pitched in to help with the dishes, but he should have asked her. Maybe she wanted a change.
“Does Lily expect to come here too?”
“No, she’s going home.”
Everyone was going home. He moved to her side and stroked her hair as he always did. She stiffened. The gesture maddened her somehow.
As the holidays approached, the colleges went on winter break, and the mass exodus home started. Jolie tried to control her thoughts and not think about home. She had a new life now, and they knew she was safe. She had to let them go.
Things slowed down at the office. Will and Adam worked on the year-end issue. It was shaping up with a memorial to all the soldiers who had died that year. Music icons Jimi Hendrix and Janis Joplin would have separate remembrances. Charlie worked on a satire of the country’s failings. Adam selected Jolie’s photo of the temple in the snow as the full page cover with a Peace on Earth caption.
On Christmas day, Jolie withdrew to the temple. In the quietness of the vast wood-beamed library, she breathed in remnants of incense and read Buddha’s teachings. A different monk sat reading at the far end of the wood table. He acknowledged her with his kind eyes and faint hint of a smile.
She understood the three Noble Dharma Seals and Four Holy Truths, and now worked her way through the Noble Eightfold Path. She read a page and sat back to contemplate the meaning and connectedness of what she had learned. It all fit together so perfectly: transforming suffering into peace, joy, and liberation.
The new year rang in with an ice storm. Old Blue wouldn’t start in the arctic cold. Jolie rode the subway home every night after work. Her pea coat was too thin for the cutting cold, and she constantly tugged the beanie over her ears. The three-block walk from the T station to the warm house was bone chilling.
One night after work, an official-looking letter addressed to her was propped on the kitchen table. Her GED test results had arrived. Engulfed in trepidation, she glanced into the living room at Daniel and waved. With the letter in hand, she slipped into her bedroom. Her mind buzzed with anticipation. Breathe. She opened the envelope and read. In a daze she reread the short paragraph. She had passed all of the sections. Her High School Equivalency Certificate would be sent to her within the month. With letter in hand, she leapt into the air. “Yes,” she whispered.
Will came in and startled her.
“Why the big smile?”
She handed him the letter and waited in anticipation while he read. He’d be so proud of her. She was proud of herself.
He handed the letter back. “A lot of good this will do you.”
She turned his words around in her mind. It would do her a lot of good.
“It’s a step in my future.”
“Your future is the revolution. I have to make a phone call.” He turned and left the room.
She reread the letter once more, folded it and placed it in her bottom drawer next to the list of colleges Nick had given her. Nick. Her elation faded even more when she thought of him. He would be proud, but she couldn’t tell him. He assumed she was already a high school graduate.
Jolie had invited Leah to the Georgia O’Keefe art exhibit that Saturday. She had discovered O’Keefe’s art when reading the Alfred Stieglitz photo book that Will had given her. His photos of his wife Georgia intrigued Jolie and then she fell in love with her art.
Jolie sat in the grandeur of the hushed lobby of the art museum. She jumped up when Leah walked in. “You’re going to love Georgia O’Keeffe’s paintings,” Jolie said, hugging her. “They are colorful and organic.”
“Organic?” Leah said.
“Like primal and indigenous.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, but I can’t wait to see them.”
Inside the exhibit they moved slowly through the large-scale paintings. One depicted a ram skull with a blue morning glory, others were large scale flowers that filled the canvas. In another, the expansive sky and brown cliffs reverberated the stillness, the remoteness, and the beauty of the desert.
They stood in front of a large white flower. A hint of pink seeped from the edges, flowing around and into itself. “It’s erotic,” Jolie said.
“It’s surreal,” Leah said.
Jolie stood gazing at the painting, transfixed by the beauty. Leah tapped her arm. Jolie followed Leah’s gaze. Her heart thudded. Nick and a girl with shoulder-length dark hair stood in front of a large landscape, holding hands. Jolie stood rigid and watched as Nick and the girl moved closer to them. They looked at ease with each other. She couldn’t take her eyes off Nick. Her stomach flipped, and her face warmed. As Nick led the girl to the painting next to where they stood, he saw her.
“Jolie! How are you?”
“Fine. I’m fine.” She smiled at him.
“Angela, this is Jolie and Leah.”
His old girlfriend? “Angela? From Chicago?” Jolie asked.
Angela nodded and looked confused.
“She transferred to Radcliffe for the winter quarter,” Nick said.
“Nice to meet you,” Jolie said.
He had moved on. He wasn’t waiting for her to change her mind. Standing next to him, her emotions caught up with her. Would she regret not telling him the truth about the tangled web of her false identity? Would he still love her if he knew? She swallowed and regained her composure.
“I have a photograph for you. Stop by the restaurant.”
“I will,” he said.
“Bye,” Leah said, pushing Jolie along. “Good to meet you.”
As they left the gallery Jolie glanced back and met Nick’s gaze. His brown eyes were sad and devoid of the usual sparkle. He smiled wistfully and shook his head.
On a slushy Saturday, Jolie and Charlie walked to the office after meditation at the temple.
“Do you see a hole when you meditate?” Jolie asked.
“No holes, other stuff, but no holes,” he said.
“I see a blue hole when I meditate. It started a while ago and now it is always there. I’m drawn in to it, but I can’t seem to let go and get though.”
“Keep trying. Maybe it’s the window to enlightenment.”
They laughed. She glanced at Charlie and warmed with affection. She suddenly realized something. Charlie was more than a friend, he was her liaison. He stood up for her and now they shared a spiritual connection.
“Tell me what the monk meant when he said a wave does not need to die to become water,” Charlie said.
“Oh, well, a wave is already water. The ground of a wave is water. As he’s said before, we need to look deeply and touch the ground of our being: nirvana.”
Charlie stopped on the corner and turned toward her. She stopped walking and continued. “We don’t have to attain nirvana, because we are already dwelling in it. It is within us. We only need to touch it through understanding and insight.”
“Have you touched it?” Charlie asked.
“Not yet.” She smiled.
At the office, they warmed their hands over the rusting radiator. Bob Dylan moaned from the stereo. Lily was sorting mail at a table nearby.
“How’s school?” Charlie asked her.
“I dropped out,” Lily said, twirling a strand of long blonde hair around her finger.
Dropped out? “Why?” Jolie asked.
“Will wants me here full-time.” She beamed an angelic smile.
“You dropped out of college to work here?” Jolie asked.
She nodded, still smiling. “He thinks I’ll learn far more here.”
Jolie looked at Will, who was talking intently with T.J., and then turned back to Lily, stunned. Her dream was to go to college and Lily had just let it go, for Will. Her throat closed up, and she couldn’t breathe. Why couldn’t Lily fall in love with Adam or Charlie? Why did they all fall for Will? Without being conscious of moving she found herself on the sidewalk walking in the direction of the house.
“Jolie,” Charlie called after her.
His footsteps fell close behind, and she willed herself not to cry.
47
Whisper Words of Wisdom
Spring was just around the corner. Jolie walked to the temple almost daily before work. She continued to see a blue hole when she meditated. In the temple library, she studied Buddha’s teachings of the eightfold path. One morning when she entered the library, a familiar monk sat reading. She sat nearer to him than usual. He glanced up as her chair screeched against the floor.
“Can I ask you something?” she said.
“Of course, my child.”
“When I meditate, I see a blue hole. It seems to invite me through, but I stop at the edge.”
“You are suffering,” he said, “but you’ve come far. The initial stage is earnestness. The desire to understand your suffering.” He sat back and looked at her. “The hole may reveal your obstruction, the cause of suffering. Your spirit is asking you to search deeper for what you want.”
“I am searching but at the edge of the blue hole I seem to hold back.”