Treasure & Jewels Ch. 01

"What do you think happens to us when we die, Bonnie?"

It was a silly question, asked by a silly girl, and I probably shouldn't have answered it. Maybe I was feeling nostalgic. Maybe the baking heat of summer was getting to me - or maybe I just wanted to stir up the pot a little.

"I like to think that if you're good, you get to go to Vernon. You swim in the lake, drink wine, dance all night and wake up every morning with the sun staining the inside of your eyelids raspberry-red, and find yourself all tangled up in the arms and legs of your lovers."

It got very quiet in the staff room after that. Oops. Silly Girl stared at me with her mouth open. Had I just said "lovers"? Yes. Yes I had. I took my tea, went back to my office, shut the door and stared into space tripping over memories of lost treasure, lost jewels, and lost lovers. Its been said that hell is knowing what heaven is and never being able to touch it. Thinking about that, it made we wonder. Was I blessed or cursed? Because I really have woken up to blazing sun that stained the inside of my eyes raspberry-red. I've drunk the wine, swum in the lake, danced all night, and woken to find myself very, very tangled up in my lovers.

It was Jules that first suggested the trip. On a Thursday night over beers at the local pub, he flat out told me. "Hart, you need to get away from all this. Take a vacation. You look awful. You really do. Why don't you take a break and come to Vernon with me and Trevor next week?"

Jules and Trevor. Trevor and Jules. Best friends that had practically grown up together. I was a late-comer to the group, meeting Trevor while at university. He'd introduced me to Jules and somehow they'd both found me worthy of admission to their own private "boys club". Only with me included it was "two boys and a girl club". Jules pretended not to notice and always called by my surname, Hart, in a casually formal, old-school kind of way. Trevor just made friends with girls easily and was unmoved by any girl-cooties on my part. He had no trouble calling me Bonnie. Since then we'd been a sort of inseparable Three Amigos. Or maybe Three's Company. Tough to say. We were just us.

Jules came from a wealthy oil-family. Intense, intellectual and brooding, he didn't quite fit his family's expectations of wealth and consumerism. His fair hair, blue eyes and rosy cheeks were totally opposite to his intense and cloudy nature. His non-conservative ideas about politics and power, stood him apart and made him a black sheep in his family fold.

Trevor however, was the negative-image shadow of Jules. He was uncomplicated and merry. Girls loved him. Children loved him. Mothers loved him, heck even stray dogs loved him. And he loved them all right back. One-liner, jokes, pranks, funny faces were his forte. Anything for a good time, and anything for a lady was his motto. People were drawn to him, and parties coalesced around him. I have many happy memories of Trevor at parties, girls hanging off him every which way, glass in hand, eyes shining, dark hair ruffled, winking at me as if to say "isn't this fun?"

Jules was right. I was hollow, empty and dull. The year before, I'd lost my younger brother in a car accident and the loss knocked me flat. I'd struggled ever since to re-weave the threads of my life, and to convince myself that it wasn't my fault. I wasn't doing so well. While Trevor and Jules had moved from university into good jobs and nice apartments, I'd struggled. I drank too much, behaved erratically, and as a result had been fired from a string of dead-end jobs. I had little motivation, and no heart for anything. Oddly though, I still had pride and somehow thought that I could hide it all and pretend I wasn't really touched by it. That Jules wasn't fooled was hardly a surprise. He was smart and knew me well. That he would say so though, so uncharacteristically transparent, stung. If Jules - master of the oblique comment - was telling me I needed a break, then it was worse than I knew, and I really wasn't hiding anything as well as I thought I was.

Hurt, I ducked my head and tears prickled behind my eyes. I might even have said "no" at that moment, except Trevor, serious for once, put his arm around my shoulders, his lips close to my ear and whispered, "Come for a ride. Let go."

There was a moment then, when the bar seemed to suck in around me, all noise seemed muffled, and I seemed to stare right down the futile hole I was digging for myself. Trevor and Jules floated there - close, concerned, and wanting to help pull me out of it. What could I do? I nodded. I let go. I went for the ride.

That weekend we headed out in Jules' fathers van. Jules had borrowed it, and the summer house in Vernon with the excuse that we would drive out and repair the wobbly pilings on the boat-jetty. The wobbly jetty was a family legend at Jules' house. The jetty had wobbled since day one, and so far as everyone knew, would continue to wobble for all its days. How Jules talked his dad into coughing up the van for the trip I'll never know. He had his own car. I can only think it was that because Jules drove with German-tuned precision and fluid grace, few people had misgivings about lending a car to Jules.

Very solemnly, Jules looked around the spotless, leather interior. "I told my dad we'd be very careful with it." He said. The corner of his mouth quirked. Shoulder checking meticulously he pulled on to the on-ramp, accelerated seamlessly into traffic, and smoothly removed the no smoking tag dangling from the rear-view mirror. Stuffing the whole thing in his mouth, he chewed savagely. We hit the highway pressed into our seats from the acceleration with Jules yowling like a berserker spitting fragments of the tag out the window. As it turned out, it was not the only rule that would get broken on that trip.

All the way west I felt my spirits lifting. It felt to me that each kilometre took me farther from home and the guilt that followed me. Watching the country roll by, get damper and prettier and farther and farther from dry, scratchy Alberta was like feeling more and more of the stones I wore around my neck fall by the wayside. By the time we stopped for a coffee-break mid-afternoon, I was feeling like I just might be part of the human race after all. Stopping to change drivers in a small mountain town late in the afternoon, I was sure of it.

Leaning against the van smoking and looking toward the strip mall off the highway I caught sight of myself in the window-glass. I had agreed to come to get away - shake off the shackles and lighten up, but found myself heavily and awkwardly wilting in an old pair of sweat pants, a yellowed T-shirt and a run-down pair of sneakers. I had a moment of feeling out of step and out of place, like I'd shown up at a fancy dress party in jeans. It felt important to peel off the layers, shed my skin, and get some sun on me. I felt I'd been a prat and a wet blanket - but reflected that there was no particular reason I had to stay that way.

"Hey," I said "I need to pick up a pair of sandals. Lets go over and check out "Village Family Closet" over there.

Jules looked at his watch and cocked an eyebrow in mild disbelief. Shopping, particularly for shoes bored him to distraction. That, and we had at least an other hour to go before we got to Vernon. Trevor thumped him on the back and shrugged.. "Hey man, the lady says she needs a new pair of shoes... Let's go."

Shoes. Ha! I'm sure the good and dowdy matrons of Village Family Closet thought we were absolutely insane. Trevor and Jules camped it up and played it over the top, pulling over folding chairs and sitting outside the change room pretending to snap photos and write fashion reviews as I twirled and strutted about in a variety of dime-store fashions and flip-flop sandals.

Surreptitiously, I stuffed the sweats and T-shirt in the garbage at Village Family Closet. I was still a prat, but at least I didn't look like quite such a sad-sack walking back to the van. I had on a tank-top and denim skirt that Trevor had bought for me, and a bag full of summery clothes in my hand. Neck and shoulders bare to the whispering breeze and setting sun, I felt freer and lighter than I had in a year. The skirt, honestly was a bit short, and the beaded sandals were cheap and flimsy, but I'd somehow wriggled out of my old skin - and that felt surprisingly good.

"The Summer Place in Vernon" was an old rambling farmhouse, not really in Vernon, and only partly renovated. I'd been invited several times to stay over summers, and much to the amusement of Jules' father always asked for the "Attic Room". The attic room was flooded with light from a large stained glass window done in vines and grapes. It was a large room, with an oversized feather bed and came complete with its own tiny little Juliette balcony. From the balcony, it was an easy climb onto the roof - something Jules, Trevor and I used to do late at night to get high, talk, and stare at the stars. It was the highest room in the house, in the un-renovated portion, and hotter than hades in the summer. I absolutely loved it.

It was almost dark when we arrived. Without much discussion, we pulled snacks from the cooler and wandered down to the wobbly jetty to eat, drink and smoke. The summer place sits in a secluded nook . At night the skies are so dark stars are reflected perfectly in the water. With a little wine and weed in you, its easy to imagine that there is no sky and there is no lake - just a vast, never-ending field of stars. Our conversation turned to wondering if we were alone in the universe, the nature of space-time, and the meaning of god. It was nice, and lazy, and not too serious until Jules got all intellectual on us. He started expounding on theories, debating arguments, and got lost in his own voice. He lay on his back, waving his arms to emphasize his points, and was almost three quarters of the way to proving there was no God, when Trevor and I met each other's eyes across him. Trevor winked and I grinned. Acting as one, we both reached out and smoothly rolled Jules off the jetty and into the lake mid-sentence.

He surfaced spluttering and roaring, long blond hair dripping water into his face, looking and sounding like a Viking berserker. Trevor and I fell about the jetty laughing uproariously. I laughed until my sides ached and my eyes watered

"SonofaBITCH!" he roared. "Oh! Laugh will you, you ingrates? Well who's laughing now? C'mere you bastard!" With that he grabbed Trevor and hauled him into the water. Trevor, I'm sad to say, screamed like a school-girl all the way in. "Dickhead." pronounced Jules dunking Trevor's head under the water for good measure.

I laughed and chortled and clapped my hands with delight. "Oh God" I gasped "that was so freaking funny! Jules, you should have seen yourself. You were still yapping away when you hit the water and you landed, still talking with your mouth open. You must have swallowed half the lake! And you, Trevor, you squealed like a stuck pig." I wiped my eyes, still giggling, and shaking with mirth. "Ooh ha ha - what?" I asked noticing they were both standing in the water and staring at me. "Oh no!" I said. "Don't even THINK that. Don't you dare!" I scrambled back from the edge of the jetty as they both moved in, clearly intending to pull me into the water. "My new shoes!" I exclaimed as Trevor managed to catch one of my ankles. "My new skirt!" I hollered when Jules grabbed the other.

"Will you come quietly?" asked Trevor, taking a two-handed grip on my ankle.

"Fuck that!" I exclaimed. "You'll have to drag me kicking and screaming!"

Trevor and Jules shared a look, shrugged, and pulled. I did kick, I did scream, and that was how I went into the water - hollering and laughing both at the same time.

Under the surface, water filled my eyes and ears like healing balm. Kalamalka Lake has a current to it, and surfacing I let the flow take me gently away staring up into that endless field of stars. Dreamily, I heard Trevor and Jules sporting in the water and swapping insults with cheerful abandon. After a minute or two, things got quiet and I turned around, flutter-kicking my way back to the Jetty. Standing, I found the water deeper than I had judged, and the current more powerful. Nothing serious - but I stumbled and went under. Under water I bumped up against something large and solid, and for a frightening moment thought I had met Ogopogo, the mythical lake-monster.

Not the monster. Jules.

He steadied me, my back pressed against his chest. "I've got you." he said quietly, putting his arms around me and bracing us both against the current. His body was strong and solid and his thighs pressed invitingly against me. Something struck me then. Perhaps the way he said it. Maybe it was the way his arms went around me. Something had been uncovered and brought to the surface in that moment. I turned around and stared into his face. His regard was calm, patient and honest. I saw something then that had always been there, but simply hadn't registered with me until then.

"How long?" I asked him. Sure, it was an oblique question - but I thought he understood it.

"Since the second time I saw you." he said still holding my gaze.

"The second time? What about the first time?" I asked. Mostly genuine, but a little teasing too.

"The first time I met you, you were with Trevor. I thought you were one of his girls."

"Yes, but we know that as far as Trevor is concerned, every girl is 'his' girl." I reminded him.

"Yeah, but he's my best friend, Hart. There's some things you just don't do - and messing with your best friend's girl is number one."

And then he kissed me. Soft and deep and soulful, he kissed me. My head was full of stars to begin with, and the kiss brought back that floaty feeling of being suspended between the ground and the sky. The water made me floaty, and the current seemed to push me tightly against him. I felt immersed in the kiss and buoyed up by it. He kissed me again, and I somehow found myself floating in his arms, lifted up by the water, my legs wrapped around his waist, drinking in his full, wet, deep kiss. His hands gripped my thighs, lifting and holding me. His fingers met the point where my panties defined the line between thigh and crotch, and slipped just past it, under the elastic. I was startled. Perhaps restrained from going further, although not necessarily opposed. I made a surprised noise and a little jerking splash.

"Hey!" exclaimed Trevor, abandoning his own floating star-gazing experience. "Jules? Are you hogging Bonnie all to yourself over there?"

"I was. Yes." said Jules matter of factly with no trace of rancour and not breaking our embrace either.

"Oh." said Trevor bobbing over. "No fair. Can I have a kiss too, Bonnie?" From behind me, he put his hands lightly on my hips, an invitation for me to accept or decline. I looked at Jules. He cocked his head and raised an eyebrow at me. Not threatened, not jealous . Just wondering how I would respond. I could have sworn that Jules relaxed his arms and turned me slightly. I could have sworn that Trevor tightened his and pulled me slightly. Both of them would later swear otherwise - that it was entirely me and me alone that turned.

Kissing Trevor was like being drunk on wine and wrapped in soft velvet Trevor can never be described as anything other than "pretty". He's blessed with geometrically perfect features, all cheekbones and angles and full sensuous lips. Strong white teeth, aquiline nose, and as I found out with the kiss, a dexterous and talented tongue. The consummate seducer he was, he didn't embrace me, letting me instead stretch up to meet his lips and kiss him. The kiss was a knee-buckler, and I sagged back against Jules afterwards.

The end of that kiss could have turned out so awkward, and it could have turned out so weird, but it actually turned out to be funny, and fun - and elementally, the three of us behaving just the way we usually did.

After kissing Trevor, I said the first thing on my mind which was a completely innocent "I really want to get out these wet clothes!"

"Rowl!" Exclaimed Trevor making a perfectly comical lecherous face.

"Hoho!" crowed Jules, "She's got to have it!"

There was a moment of tension then, as though by mutual agreement we had all decided to get out of the lake, when we all spotted the half-full bottle of wine still sitting on the Jetty. Who would be first there, and the one to claim the prize? It was a slow-motion race, wading through chest-deep water, splashing, cursing, jostling, and giggling all the way. I made it first, snatched up the bottle and raced up the lawn to the house with Trevor and Jules in hot pursuit.

Up the stairs and through the door, the three of us tumbled into the attic room in a breathless tumble.

"Its mine!" I cried "all mine, buah-ha-ha" and gulped down the remaining wine. I set the bottle down triumphantly and turned to peeling off my wet and clammy clothes.

"Ah shit." said Jules, and having kicked off his wet jeans and shirt fell on the bed in mock dismay, deprived of the prize of the bottle of wine.

Trevor, more particular about his clothes was trying to thread his sodden belt out of the belt loops, presumably to hang it up to dry, but was hampered by his inability to stop laughing.

"Aw crap, Bonnie. It's good to hear you laugh," he said. "We haven't carried on like that since before the crash."

It was such a perfectly natural thing to say. But also the perfectly wrong thing to say. The words were like a bucket of water that sobered all of us instantly. The laughter of the evening completely left me, and I felt cold fingers of dread and panic thread their way through me. I didn't cry, I just felt cold and numb all over again. Exactly the way I'd felt pretty much every day for the last year.

Jules sighed a long serious sigh and linked his fingers behind his head thoughtfully. "Hart," he said, "It wasn't your fault. For God's sake, it was not your fault! You lent your brother your car. - so what? Your involvement ended at that point. What he did in that car, what happened in that car, what happened to that car, has nothing, nothing to do with you, or any choice you made. Why you tear your heart out for it every day; or why you feel that you need to keep on suffering for something that never even had anything do with you is completely beyond me. It makes no sense and I don't understand it, but goddamn it, Hart, I'd do anything in the world if meant I could get you to stop punishing yourself over it."

Despite the muggy heat in the room, I froze to the floor, and the blood drained from my face with a dizzying rush. I stared at Jules mutely, wanting very badly to back away from the nail that had just been precisely hammered on the head. Behind me, Trevor let out his held breath in a rush.

Jules' face was as white as my own. He closed his eyes slowly. "Oh God...Hart...That's it, isn't it?

I nodded one time, the truth out and hanging there. I couldn't stand myself. I did feel like I was responsible. It was my car, and if I hadn't lent him the car he would still be alive. I couldn't punish myself enough for that thought. I certainly had tried. Working at a futile job, drinking myself to oblivion, denying myself every happiness and every future was trying. It was driving me into the ground trying - but broke, miserable, and falling to pieces trying, I just couldn't seem to make myself hurt enough to scour that guilt away.

Jules sat up in the bed and held his arms out to me. "Oh Jesus!" he said softly "Come here, you poor fucked-up thing, you." He held me tight to him his arms clasping me tight to his chest. I thought that Jules expected me to cry, then. His body was warm, but it couldn't touch the numbness I felt numb. My secret being out didn't help much. The guilt was untouched and I was still just ice inside.