Jean

I have been friends with this family for as long as I can remember; my entire life. Friends with this sickeningly pretty family that grew up down the block from the house where I live.

I’m closest to the youngest son, Joe. He’s every girl’s dream and every guy’s ambition to be; charming, persuasive, clean cut, fun, and outrageous. The next oldest son is Chris. He’s a rougher version of Joe but with the same aesthetic qualities. The oldest son is Joseph, not to be confused with Joe, and he’s got a six year jump on Chris. He’s from their father’s first marriage and is a half sibling but contains all of the same qualities. As I said before it was a sickeningly pretty family. The youngest of the group is Jean. She’s the only girl in this family. Sometimes I forget she’s a girl. I can’t help it; all of my memories of her are from when she was a tomboy running around in the woods playing ‘War’ with Joe and me. Even when she was older she was always a little tough to be considered a girl – simply put she was never girly.

Since I could walk I’ve always played with Joe and Jean. You name it, we did it. Their parents even went so far as to start a Boy Scout troop of their own for the kids. Even though it was strictly for boys Jean was included in nearly every meeting, event, and pastime associated with the troop. How could I not think of her as a boy?

The older we got the less we all hung out. Joe and Chris got popular pretty quick in school and were out a lot with their new friends. When Joe entered High School he’d have outrageous parties at his house when his parents were away. When they were home we’d have them at my house when my parents were away. It was a good system. We had a blast. That changed a bit after Joe joined the Navy, like his older brother Joseph. Granted, when Joe came into town there was always a party so there wasn't much of a change in our friendship. I’d tease him about hiding the women and the Captain before he came to town.

When Joe wasn’t in town I occasionally spent time with Jean. By that time we had a lot in common. We were both interested in the Japanese culture, anime, and had the same general, philosophical ideas about life. It was different than when I hung out with Joe. Instead of partying, getting drunk and trying to persuade girls to sleep with us – Jean and I generally just talked or watched anime. In a way I guess you could say that Joe and Jean were two halves that made the perfect friend for me. I didn’t mean to but I guess that’s how I treated them back then.

When I was twenty Joe finally finished his last tour in Iraq and was stationed in the Keys, which was convenient since all of his family and friends live in Florida. Around that time I was really focused on working on my Kung Fu and sorting out my own life - I was aiming to become a Buddhist Monk. I was just a kid trying to do my own thing and make my own road to walk. Joe could take care of himself and was doing great, in my mind I guess I figured Jean was doing the same thing.

One night she called me out of the blue. We talked anime for about twenty minutes before agreeing to hang out. A little later she picked me up from my house and we went back to her parent’s house to watch anime and just chill. I had no problem hanging out and showing her my newest find. We had fun; it was a comedy and we laughed a lot.

Around eleven, a little over an hour after she picked me up, my day was catching up to me and I was really tired so I wanted to go home. On the way back she suddenly admitted to having a weird desire to disappear and take off. A part of her wanted to drop everything she had, everything she was doing, and simply disappear. To sever all ties she had in her life and travel the world, alone. For a minute I didn’t get it. This girl I’d known all my life was dedicated to her family. She loved them completely and utterly. Personally I couldn’t even picture her without them in the background. It was an impossible thing for me. How could she want to sever her ties with even her family?

I took her seriously and listened to what she said in a very logical, third person point of view. I responded with very a precise and careful dissection of her desire. Having the urge to run away is normal, I said, but severing all ties, including family, didn’t make sense. I couldn’t imagine never speaking to my family, I’d pressed, adding my own feelings into the mix. Plus, if you didn’t have your ducks all in a row you wouldn’t last long anyways, I’d added with what I thought was a great finish to the conversation. Surely then she would clearly be able to understand that this wasn't an actual desire to separate herself but simply a rash, temporary solution to the problems in her life.

I still remember how she sat in the car, with her window down and her elbow propped on it. She had her cheek in her hand and her head tilted far to the side, away from me. When the cars passed up the lights would shadow over her face like some odd monochromatic photo. I didn’t realize then that she’d never once made eye contact with me during the conversation or really took part in the conversation at all. She simply stated her ashamed desire and admitted to knowing it was foolish, selfish, and utterly cowardly. In the end I was tired and really just wanted to get home and crawl into bed. I didn’t want to have some philosophical conversation in the middle of the night. It was always something we could discuss later in detail anyways.

A week later she was gone. I’d gotten a call from Joe asking if I’d seen her lately because she wasn’t answering her phone and no one had been able to get a hold of her. Their parents had come back from their primary home in Georgia for Christmas and the first person they usually saw was Jean but she never showed up to greet them. Joe ended up driving up from the Keys a day earlier for his Christmas break and he and I went to her place to see if we could pull her from her cave. He’d gotten the key from his mom who hadn’t had a chance to make the visit yet but was worried about her since Jean tended to call her several times a day.

When we went inside her place it was completely empty except for a single table, her two cats, a load of cat food, a note, and her cell phone. The last message she left was ‘Please take care of my cats’ and that was it. No signature, no goodbye, nothing. Apparently she’d quickly liquidated all of her assets, including her car, and disappeared without a word to anyone. She only had six missed calls on her cell phone within the week she'd gone missing.

Thinking back I remember the small things that I didn’t consider before, like the conversation we had that night in her car that I never thought about again until she was already gone. I felt like such an ass. Was that conversation a warning or a cry for help? Even now I have no clue. Just thinking about it makes a great black hole appear in my stomach and makes me sick.

They were devastated; that sickeningly pretty family was devastated from the disappearance of one of their own. The idea that she was even capable of deserting them was unheard of. After all, Jean was the most affectionate person in the entire family - extended family included. She was constantly hugging all of her family members and talked to as many of them as she could. When she was younger she actually wrote a poem for her family after their maternal grandmother died of cancer and made sure every single one of them had a copy of it. One of her aunts had gotten so perturbed by her overly affectionate nature that she’d made a creed that Jean was only to hug her when she arrived and when she left – period. The one person no one could have ever imagined would want to disappear had done it.

The first few years after she left were a mess. Their mother didn’t take it well and even went so far as to hire a detective to find her, but that didn’t last long when they trailed her immediately to the airport where she’d taken an international flight to England. The trail was cold after she left the States. Their parents didn’t move or change phone numbers. They did nothing for years in hopes that she would attempt contact with them. So she could find them when she came home. Joe didn’t take it well either, he was pissed. He was beyond livid that his little sister would just up and take off like that, without a word. In his eyes she was disgraceful. Chris was upset and ended up seeking solace in his new marriage. Joseph was also angry with his sister who would do such a stupid, selfish thing. It was odd that out of everyone her brothers were most vengeful.

I just felt like an ass. For a long time I couldn’t get that picture out of my mind. The sight of her that night in the car with the passing cars’ headlights flashing sharply over her face. I felt like an ass and my regret for that night was gnawing at me from the inside out like a rotting ulcer I couldn't treat.

When I was twenty five I opted to have Thanksgiving with Joe and his family in Georgia. Joe’s parents came to pick us and the rest of the crew up from the airport in Atlanta. They lived on a mountain in Blairsville, a tiny town in northwestern Georgia, on a road called ‘Top O World Road’. The cabin was pitch dark when we came back and I remember helping Joe, Chris and their dad unload the van while their mom went to unlock the house.

It was weird because one second we were laughing and joking around and the next we were all looking at their mom because she’d just noticed someone standing in the dark near the front door and had yelled for the stranger to back off. Joe was halfway across the driveway to defend his mom when she suddenly opened the front door and turned on the porch light. It was Jean. A Jean I recognized but didn’t recognize at the same time.

She still had the family trademark blonde hair and blue eyes. She was still short and raised an eyebrow when she was skeptical. But this Jean was thin and lean, not the soft, slightly overweight girl I'd known before. Her skin was bronzed by the sun and her smile was lopsided and cynical. She had a single bag and was dressed in worn blue jeans and a simple white tee shirt.

Once the light was on we all just froze and stared at her like mice trapped before the ferocious cat. We just stared at this girl who had disappeared so silently and suddenly only to reappear five years later a completely different person. Their mom was crying and furious. I’d never seen her so emotional before. I’d been shocked when she’d slapped Jean across the face before beating her fists on her chest while crying and carrying on. Jean didn’t say anything. She didn’t even seem surprised when her mother slapped her. She simply closed her eyes and put her arms around her mother. She hugged her until she stopped hitting her. Until she simply hugged back, clinging to her like a broken victim being saved by her rescuer.

It was weird and I felt like I was invading on some special reunion I wasn’t ever supposed to witness. I just stood there while her mother sobbed in her arms. I watched while her brothers joined in the hug, wrapping their arms around their mother and sister. I just watched, dumbly holding the bags in my hands hardly aware of their weight. What else could I do?

This is where I am now. Sitting at the kitchen table with the family of friends I’ve always known and three seats away from the familiar yet utter stranger who’d invaded. Once everyone had calmed down they had gotten everything inside and sat at the table while she served drinks. I had a coke. Jean had water.

“Where have you been all these years?” her mother asked her eyes still puffy and red from crying.

Jean rolled the plastic bottle between her hands and kept her eyes on the table, “A lot of different places.”

“Like where? Why did you leave?” Joe asked, his right hand curling into a fist. I could see the major vein in his neck pulsing like it always did when he felt out of control and helpless.

Jean finally looked up at her brother. He was a year older than her but she seemed to have surpassed him by generations. “First I went to England but I left almost right away and went the Ireland. I stayed in Ireland for a few months before traveling by car through Europe. When I got to Italy I took a flight to Japan. I stayed there for a little over a year and then I flew to Egypt. After Egypt I went through to Peru and then flew to Alaska. I left there almost immediately and traveled across Canada before I came back to the States. I traveled over the nation for a while and I just flew in today from Montana. I took a taxi from Atlanta.”

We all stared at her in until Joe jumped up, his face red and angry. Joe always had a temper. “Why did you leave?”

My eyes darted back and forth between them, the angry brother and the collected, alien sister. He'd asked the major question. The one thing everyone needed to know.

“I simply needed to get away Joe. That’s all.” Jean replied.

The room got extremely quiet. It was so tense I actually felt my lungs working harder to breathe. I didn’t want to be there. It was awkward and I wasn’t a part of this family. So, I stood up and I left the cabin, retreating to the wrap around porch. It was pretty cold outside so I hugged my arms close to my body and stared out over the Mountain View from the balcony. I stayed there long after the lights had started going out inside the cabin. I was just debating on whether or not to go back inside when Jean joined me on the balcony.

I was surprised to see her. For a minute I didn’t know who it was and almost introduced myself. She’d pulled on a black leather jacket and with all the rings on her fingers and piercings in her ears she reminded me of a punk rocker, she was just missing the guitar. My mouth dropped open when she lit a cigarette and began to actually smoke it right in front of me. The Jean I had known would never touch a cigarette or taste the nicotine that had killed her beloved grandmother when she was ten. Before she’d left Jean had been an advocate against smoking and drugs. She’d even lecture her own mother when she’d succumb and smoke one here and there. I certainly did not know this Jean. I couldn’t even stand to see her holding the cigarette to her mouth so I didn’t look at her anymore and simply focused on the view again.

“Aren’t you going to say anything?” she asked. I could hear her blow the smoke from her mouth. I frowned in distaste when the acrid scent reached my nose.

“What would I say?” I countered. I could play this game of tag just as well as she could I was sure.

“How could you leave? Why did you leave? What did you do all that time?” she mocked. I heard her take another drag of the cigarette. I could imagine her inhaling that curling smoke into her once pristine lungs. It made me sick.

“I have no reason to ask you anything.” I could feel the resentment curling in my stomach. Here all this time everyone had worried about her and she just waltzed back like nothing had ever happened. All this time I’d actually felt guilty for not taking some other route during our conversation that night in the car; for not staying with her and talking everything through. This new Jean probably didn’t remember the conversation at all anymore. She probably didn’t even give a damn about anything in her life prior to her disappearance. Well fuck her, I thought.

“I’m sorry.”

I felt my hands curling into fists against my sides. I clamped my arms down tighter on them and gritted my teeth. “I’m not the one you need to apologize to.”

“You’re the only one I need to apologize to,” she countered quietly. I was so shocked I naturally spun around to stare at her, my jaw hanging in surprise.

“What? Why?”

She sighed; smoke trailing in a stream from her mouth before she snuffed the cigarette against the banister. She folded her arms and leant against the wooden banister, staring off over the scenery. For a long few minutes I didn’t think she’d answer. I just watched her in stunned silence and for some reason my heart was pounding and I just felt like shaking her. Why did I need and apology? She’d hurt her family the most. I wasn’t a part of that family. What did I have to do with anything? I wanted to yell this to her. Force her to reconcile with her mistakes. Make her admit that she had made a mistake and had simply come home to correct it.

I was just getting ready to turn and march back into the cabin when she finally turned and looked at me. I was frozen by her slow, sad smile and unable to wrench my eyes from hers.

“I’m sorry Al.” she repeated. The words struck me like a baseball bat to my gut. I turned away from her and bit my lower lip feeling like a daft idiot when my eyes filled with tears.

“I’m sorry Al.” she said again. I turned my back on her and squeezed my eyes shut. I stood like a statue when she hugged me from behind, her thin arms wrapping around me. “I’m sorry Al.” she repeated again like a broken record.

I felt my fists loosen and my head hang. With every apology my resolve to be angry at this stranger weakened. I just stood there and let her hug me while I cried silently and forgave her. I’d always remember how she looked that night in the car before she left but now I’ll remember her when she came back, hugging her mom tightly under the porch light in the middle of the night. I'll always remember the soft apologies she whispered to help me heal the void of regret I'd carried for so many years.