XI
Somewhere out there
Beneath the pale moonlight
Someone's thinking of me
And loving me tonight
Somewhere out there
Someone's saying a prayer
That we'll find one another
In that big somewhere out there
And even though I know
How very far apart we are
It helps to think we might be wishing
Under the same bright star
And when the night wind
Starts to sing a lonesome lullaby
It helps to think we're sleeping
Underneath the same big sky...
Somewhere Out There, Linda Ronstadt & James Ingram, Jr.
Manhattan, Present Day
The Celebration for Blair's promotion to Vice-President was well underway. It was an easy, low-key party, Blair wanting it that way. Besides having her father present, the most important guests were Mrs. Garrett, Dorothy and Natalie.
Dorothy was a junior not at Langley, studying theater and drama, her lifelong dream of being an actress coming into focus. Natalie was now established as a reporter with the Denver Post, and loving life in the foothills of the majestic Rocky Mountains. Mrs. Garrett was still running Edna's Edibles in Peekskill, although she had been contemplating retirement. She had earned it, she full well knew. The last five years, since Jo had gone missing, had aged her more than she cared to admit.
"Blair", Mrs. Garrett said, finally getting an opportunity to congratulate her surrogate daughter, "I'm so very proud of you." She gave the blonde a kiss on the cheek, and a loving embrace.
"Mrs. Garrett", Blair replied, happy tears in her eyes, "I'm not standing here without your help over the years. I mean that with all my heart."
"Oh, now you've done it', the older woman said with a laugh. "I didn't want to bawl today." Both of them laughed, continuing to hug. "Thanks a lot, Warner." Blair gave Mrs. Garrett a return kiss on the cheek.
In her wake, Tootie and Natalie came up, both of them looking conspiratorially at each other, then giving a mock bow before their older friend. Blair just rolled her eyes and laughed, the two long-time friends enveloping her in a group hug.
"You two haven't changed since the day I met you", Blair said, laughing, kissing them both on the cheek. "The Snoop Sisters."
"Yeah, isn't it cool?" Tootie winked at Blair, laughing as she did so.
"That's us, Tootie! Amazing that we're still as conniving, as mischievous, as resourceful..."
"As infuriating", Mrs. Garrett said with a wry look, breaking it.
"That was my next adjective, Mrs. Garrett", Natalie said deadpan, causing a new round of laughter.
Blair had already made the rounds in the large hotel conference room, and indicated for her friends to sit down with her. A waiter brought champagne to the table. Appetizers were to follow shortly.
"May I have the honor of making a toast?" Mrs. Garrett cleared her throat. "To Blair Warner. Honey, to see how far you have come -not just in your career, but as a wonderful, caring, loving woman, it's been one of the joys of my life. To you, Blair." She raised her glass, Blair smiling brightly.
"To Blair", Dorothy and Nat said in unison, the four of them lightly touching their flutes of champagne.
"Although she can still be a Princess", Natalie said with another deadpan expression, making Tootie and Mrs. Garrett chuckle. However the use of the name "Princess" suddenly made Blair Warner almost cry. The other three saw it, and knew why.
"Then may I make my own toast", Blair said. The look on her face took the breath away from the other three. It was filled with a tenderness in her eyes that none of them had ever seen. Mrs. Garrett, seeing this, knowing what Blair's toast was going to be about, had finally realized-as she had suspected Blair had finally realized-how she felt about Jo Polniaczek. "To Jo", Blair began, not being ashamed to let her tears fall. "I miss you, Jo, you grease monkey, and have every day that you've been gone. I still pray that someday, you'll come home. I miss you."
"To Jo", the other three said, soft tears cascading.
"To Jo", another voice said behind Blair.
"Mr. Warner", Edna said in mild surprise. "Uh, I mean, David, how nice to see you."
David went over to Edna, who rose from her seat, and gave her a sweet kiss on the cheek, making her blush. He then greeted Dorothy and Natalie.
"Were you eavesdropping on my toast, Daddy?" Even with tears still in her eyes, she gave her father an mock glare.
He held up his hands as if in surrender. "Guilty as charged, my dear." She gave him a huge hug, smiling into it. "And I must say, it was the best toast I think I've ever heard."
Blair blushed, making Tootie snicker, the other three ladies giving her their own evil eye.
"I know Blair just sat down with you, ladies, but might I borrow her for just a few minutes."
"Of course. David", Edna replied. "After all, she's your daughter. She's your family."
"And I should not have to remind you, Edna", David Warner said with a smirk, looking at the other three ladies, "that you three are just as much her family as I am. Please, never forget that. But I promise I'll have her right back."
David escorted his daughter to a private room just off the main conference room, where there was a large desk, and even a telephone. David had simply wanted a moment alone with his only child.
"I'd say the party is a success, don't you, Princess?"
Blair laughed. "I think it is. It's still a bit overwhelming, even if I've been around such madness my whole life."
David laughed heartily. "That's true, but when it's focused on you, it can be a bit intimidating. Every time it's 'in my honor', it scares the hell out of me."
Blair looked genuinely surprised. "Really? You never could tell, Daddy. You always look cools as a cucumber."
"Believe it, honey. I've had years of dealing with it. I'd rather recognize others than to have them fawn all over me."
"I don't think that's why you pulled me in her, Daddy, is it?" Her eyes twinkled at him.
"No, it's not", he said softly. "I was watching you, and listening to you, when you made that toast to Jo. It truly was beautiful. And I could tell the look on your face was..." Even David choked up at what he had heard and seen. "May I be so bold to opine that, after five years of going through this heartache, I believe you finally have come to terms with your feelings for Jo?"
Blair was quiet for a few moments. Through the half-decade since Jo had vanished, Blair had tried hard not to think of her feelings for her best friend, even as she prayed every day for Jo's safe return. She knew that her feelings had changed.
Or had they?
Blair had always wondered about her boy-crazy days at Eastland and Langley, and yet she had never done more than kiss a boy. She had made some good friends from some of the boys she had casually dated, and had made enemies of others, like Brock Worthington. Yet she had to admit that, from the moment she met Jo, she found something thrilling about her rival-turned-friend. Maybe it was because she was so different than Blair herself, and did things that Blair, coming from high society, could never get away with. Add to the fact that the former gang leader was brilliantly intelligent, and was loyal to a fault, and Blair had discovered someone that had become precious to her.
Yet Blair Warner couldn't remember ever having romantic feelings for Jo. She certainly found Jo incredibly attractive. Jo was athletic, very fit, but also had enough curves to attract attention when she chose to not dress in an androgynous manner. Yet she had been engaged to Eddie Brennan? Was that all for show? Was it to placate her parents, who obviously had more than a little trouble with Jo's sexuality?
Yet her father's question brought it-fianlly-to the forefront of Blair's consciousness. What did she feel for Jo? She certainly loved Jo dearly, but was it love beyond friendship, or did she think it was love beyond friendship, simply because Jo had been gone five years, and Blair still ached to have her friend back? And in the end, with Jo gone, seemingly for good, did it really matter?
"I know I love Jo with all my heart, Daddy, but I don't want to get my hopes up. I mean, it's been five years..." Blair choked back the tears. "Five years since she left. We don't even know if she's alive", Blair continued. "I know if she came back, I'd forgive her without hesitation, and do whatever I can to help her. But right now, I just have to protect my heart, in case..."
"I understand, Blair", her father said sadly. "I hope to hell that news never reaches us, but it is a possibility. There's nothing wrong with protecting your heart, but keep part of your heart open in case she does come back, or is found, because I have a feeling", David concluded with a smile, "that if she ever does come home, you'll never let her out of your sight again."
Blair's eyes widened at that remark. Was it that simple? Would it simply take Jo showing back up for Blair to finally accept her love for Jo?
"You might be right, Daddy", she said, but with an impish grin, "although you make me sound like a stalker."
David laughed, seeing her sudden change in mood. "That's more like it. But also remember, if Jo does turn up, we don't have any idea what she's been through, or what her physical and mental state is. If we find her, you're going to have to be incredibly patient with her."
"I know", Blair said, a smile still on her face. "Isn't that what love and friendship is about?"
Four Weeks Later
The project that Natalie had suggested just before joining The Denver Post had taken on a gargantuan life. It had evolved from simply a series planned by The Post, to one involving newspapers all over the country, and even CNN. Rachel Schofield, the Managing Editor of The Post had attended a conference of editors from other publications and TV/cable news outlets. While there, she had brought up the subject of their upcoming series on the homeless in America, and before leaving the conference, others were begging to be a part of it.
The logistics had finally been set up so that The Post, along with the Los Angeles Times, San Francisco Chronicle, Miami Herald, Dallas News, Boston Globe, New York Times, Cleveland Plain Dealer, and the St. Louis Post-Dispatch, along with CNN, would begin working on the story, with The Post being the clearing house for all the material. Final editing would be done by The Denver Post and CNN, who would run a two-hour special on the problem of homelessness on the day the first stories would be published in the newspapers.
It would take several months to put everything together, but everyone involved felt it was something that had to be done.
One of the first things CNN did, at the suggestion of Rachel Schofield, was to interview Blair, Tootie, Mrs. Garrett, and Natalie. Natalie was intrigued that she would be one of the people writing part of the story, but also being a part of the story. She was looking forward to the challenge.
San Diego, California
At least I don't have to worry about a fuckin' blizzard this year, Jo Polniaczek, now with completely blonde hair, again cut very short, thought with a tiny bit of satisfaction. About a year ago-or was it two? She couldn't remember anymore. Whenever it was, she had spent a few bitterly cold days and nights and contended with a blizzard in Denver. San Diego had none of those problems.
If you were going to be homeless and hiding from your past, San Diego was about as good as it got. Year-round, the weather was pleasant, and the sun shone most days. No 120 degrees Fahrenheit, or -20. Usually between 65 and 80 every day, with a view of the ocean if you wanted to venture to take a look at the mighty Pacific.
Yet for Jo, five years into her self-imposed asylum, that was about the only good thing in her life. Now down to no more than ninety pounds, strung out most days on either alcohol or, occasionally, on heroin, most of her life past slowly, bitterly alone, bitterly delusioned with what had become with her life, but too stubborn and, in a perverse way, too proud, to return home and have anything to do with her family.
It was near dusk, and Jo was actually on the beach-Coronado Beach, considered one of the better beaches in the area. Nestled just west of the San Diego Naval Base, and the Naval Amphibious Base Coronado, the beach took up a swath of land between the Pacific and San Diego Bay. It could be a pleasant place to stay-the city even allowed the beaches to remain open after dark, and didn't mind the squatters, as long as they didn't gather in great numbers. Jo was pretty much alone on her spot, a small fire started in a pit from pieces of bark and some leaves off of nearby palm trees. It wouldn't last forever, but it would allow Jo to relax and think-neither were things she did very often.
She had cut back some on her heroin addiction. She knew she couldn't kick it without help, but she had been able to use less of it, relying more on alcohol these days to deaden her pain and loneliness. Occasionally, she had struck a friendship or two in the different cities that she had transited over the years, but usually kept to herself, as most of the homeless did, only coming into contact with others as needed, the most obvious place being a homeless shelter. She didn't frequent those, but did go usually once a week to get a shower, eat a decent meal, and even pick out some different clothes, that could be available at a given shelter. But she almost never spent the night at one.
As Jo relaxed, with a fifth of bourbon sitting on her lap, she let her weary mind travel back to The Bronx, and even Peekskill. She didn't allow herself to reminisce often on those long-ago, far away places, but occasionally, she would think of Jesse, or her Uncle Sal, or her cousin Pauley. She tried to avoid thinking of her parents, although she would sometimes smile at some of the times they had spent in her younger years.
If there were any pleasant thoughts, it usually would be about Peekskill, Eastland, and Langley. It would be about Mrs. Garrett, who had meant so much to Jo, and who Jo knew she had greatly let down. Her mind would wander on her times with the Snoop Sisters, Natalie, and Tootie, and the hilarity and friendship those two had given her, even as they could also drive everyone else crazy at times.
But most of all, she thought about Blair Warner. Her beautiful Princess. Jo rarely looked at a TV or a newspaper, but she had read that, recently, Blair had made Vice-President at Warner International. She had seen a news report while in a homeless shelter one day, feeling a mixture of both immense pride in her best friend-or former best friend, she corrected herself-and abject bitterness that she was so far from the love of her life. Blair had looked as beautiful as ever. Then again, Blair had always looked beautiful.
Jo's green eyes reflected back the orange/red glow from the small fire that crackled occasionally in front of her, in her half-inebriated state, she could swear she saw Blair in those flames somehow. In their days at Eastland and Langley, Jo and Blair occasionally sang together-Blair having the far better voice, but Jo's wasn't half bad.
As the she focused on the fire, and the image of Blair she had in her mind, she absently thought of a line from a song that used to play on her mother's record player. She laughed when she thought of who sang the song-The Partridge Family-but it was a song she had always enjoyed, and she began singing one of the verses as she closed her eyes, dreaming she was with Blair.
I left home
It seems like a century ago
I never thought
That I could miss anybody so
But now I know
Everywhere I go
(Everywhere I go)
Everything I do
Every song is you
Searched my mind just to find
Something I always knew
Everywhere I go
(Everywhere I go)
Every thing I do
Every song is you
Searched my mind just to find
Something I always knew
Every song is you...
As Jo sang the song a few times, she started to drift off, finally getting one of the few decent nights' sleep that she had received for a half-decade.
