Дуглас Престон - Jennie

I did a lot of growing at the bridge. We were young and naive, but real ideas were discussed there. It’s where I lost my virginity. There were girls that came with us; they thought we were cool. There was one girl named Crystal. She was pretty experienced. Sometimes when we were stoned we’d roll down a grassy hill nearby and try to stand up. It made us very dizzy. One time, Crystal and I were rolling down this hill, and I ended at the bottom and she rolled up against me. We were both stoned and laughing, and her miniskirt had kind of gotten hiked up around her thighs. Well... it happened pretty fast. I was fifteen. When it was over, wouldn’t you know it but there was Jennie, sitting nearby, staring at us. She had this look on her face — I don’t know if it was fascination or horror. Her hair was standing on end. Crystal didn’t care — I suppose she was used to people watching her have sex — but I was upset. It gave me the creeps, made me feel ashamed, as if my mother had caught me in flagrante delicto.

Anyway. About a year after that I got a real girlfriend. Her name was Sammie. Samantha. We both had big intellectual pretensions. I was going to be an artist; she was going to be a writer. We used to read Chekhov out loud to each other. We were together all the time.

We would drive down to a deserted parking lot behind the grade school and smoke pot and have sex. Naturally, we didn’t want Jennie along. I didn’t want her looking at me like that again. Jennie resented that. She hated being left out. She would throw a tantrum when I left in the car with Sammie, or she’d ignore me, pretend I didn’t even exist. She was very jealous. She actually hated Sammie. When Sammie came over, Jennie’s hair would stand out when she saw her.

Sammie tried to be nice to her and even learned a few signs, but Jennie would sign back Go away, bad bad, phooey , or Bite angry bite . Sammie would ask, “What’s she saying?” and I’d lie: “She wants an apple.” Sammie would bring her an apple and Jennie would back away, grimacing. I’d sign Jennie be nice! but she’d just sign back Phooey! It didn’t take Sammie long to realize that Jennie hated her. It was a sore point in our relationship. It really hurt Sammie’s feelings. I knew, deep inside, why Jennie was so rude and angry all the time, but I resented her behavior. I also felt guilty. Like somehow my relationship with Sammie was a betrayal of Jennie.

We make our lives so fucking complicated. What we value has no value. And what we don’t value is priceless.

Nineteen seventy-four. Oh dear. I’ll never forget that year. It was so difficult. And so hard on poor Hugo. He was a very sensitive man. Like Sandy. They were very similar.

That was also the year that I got up one morning and found Rev. Palliser asleep in our hedge. The poor man had become rather senile. He started coming by the house, banging on the door and wanting to play with Jennie. Just like a little boy. He got her confused with some sister he grew up with. And he talked constantly to his dead wife as if she were standing next to him. He would apologize and apologize for goodness knows what infractions, saying, “Yes, dear, no dear, I’m so sorry dear.” That sort of thing. It was spooky. He wandered around the neighborhood, walking into people’s houses, and the good citizens of Kibbencook couldn’t stand for that, so they trucked him off to the Kibbencook Nursing Home.

It was sad. He was a sweet man. These horrid new people bought the house and built a hideous modern wing on it with glass and chrome. Some fancy architect from New York. It was appalling. The construction was very loud, and they cut down the beautiful paper birch that must’ve been a hundred years old. People nowadays don’t care anymore how long it takes to grow a tree.

Jennie watched the whole thing with terrible anxiety. She used to stare out her window, with her hair halfway up, whimpering. She was particularly upset when the new people moved in. I believe she would have gone over there and caused trouble if we hadn’t kept her on a short leash.

Jennie missed Rev. Palliser. In fact, a very strange thing happened after they took Palliser away. From time to time she would sign: Go there? Go there? while pointing across the street, or God or Jesus . Those were signs Palliser made up, you know, in his attempt to convert Jennie to Christianity. Oh my goodness. At one point she kept signing Go there? Jesus, God , over and over, and she looked so sad.

I remember one day trying to explain to her what had happened. I signed Hendricks gone . Jennie did not like to hear that. She scowled and wrapped her arms around herself. Hendricks gone , I signed again.

Then the most extraordinary thing happened. Jennie suddenly screamed. I nearly jumped out of my skin. Her hair was raised up like I’d never seen it before. Then she signed Hendricks dead?

I was shocked . I’d never even seen her use the word “dead.” It seemed extraordinary that she could understand it, I mean understand the concept of death. Really incredible. But I’ll tell you, that scream said it all.

I signed No, Hendricks gone away .

She kept signing, Where Hendricks? Where, where? and I signed In town . And then she started to sign, Go see Hendricks! Go! Go!

I couldn’t bring an unruly chimpanzee into a nursing home. I said No.

She was very upset. She threw a tantrum, and I had to lock her in her room. Oh dear, when I think of all the tantrums she had then. Every day it was something else. I thought I was going to have a nervous breakdown. You don’t have children, so maybe you can’t imagine what it was like. It was every minute of the day.

Even so, Jennie wouldn’t leave the subject of Palliser alone. When we drove into town, she’d sign Hendricks! Go Hendricks! and have a fit when we wouldn’t oblige. I didn’t realize just how attached she was to that man. She never forgot him.

At that age, she’d throw a tantrum over anything. Like not being allowed to pick up the phone when someone called, or being told not to sit in a certain chair, or whatever. When she did pick up the phone, she would scream into it and hammer it on the table or stamp on it. Oh my goodness, it was so embarrassing sometimes, especially with people who didn’t know we had a chimp in the house. What they must have thought.

We had to restrain her more and more. We couldn’t let her outside except on a lead, and we had to reinforce her room and lock her in it more and more frequently. I hated to do it but there was no other way. No other way. She wouldn’t listen to anybody, except Hugo once in a while. But Hugo was gone all day. What was I supposed to do? Now you tell me, what in the world was I supposed to do? I was all alone in that big house, just me and Sarah.

That was another thing. Jennie made Sarah’s life unbearable. Sarah, who loved peace and quiet and order. They kept a distance from each other, but the whole environment was wearing her out. And me.

Jennie banged on the barred windows of her room and made a terrible racket. She ripped everything up. She pooped all over her room and peed everywhere when she was in heat. I had to clean everything up. Did I mention to you the trouble we had keeping a cleaning lady? Well, we’d given that up years ago.

What could I do? Handling Jennie was a full-time job. There was nothing left of me for Sarah. She was ten and full of plans and busy all the time, and I felt I was losing this whole part of her life. And I was beginning to be afraid for Sarah’s safety. Jennie was so big and boisterous, and so impulsive. Sarah was still a fearless little firebrand when it came to handling Jennie, but Jennie was so terribly strong.