An Angel, a Savior, and Jude

Abby Richardson

As I walked to class with Andy across the freshly spring-budded campus, I contemplated the thoughts that had built up over winter break.

“I think I have seasonal depression.”

“Well, I think you’ve got numerous things wrong with you. What’s the big deal?”

“Look, Andy, I don’t know. I just feel like the last few months haven’t been feeling right. It’s like the sun is dead and the snow is gone and everyone at work sucks.”

“Look, bud, I think that’s completely normal—you know, global warming. I mean who likes going to their job anyway?”

There was a moment of silence as the wind picked up, stirring the towering trees.

“I guess. I just feel like it wasn’t this way a couple months ago. Like remember when we went to the store and watering the flowers didn’t seem too bad?”

“Nope. Always sucked for me. Actually, it still sucks for me! Thanks for bringing that up. I hadn’t even thought of this season beginning until now.”

“Whatever. We’re going to go through it together. It’s not like I’m leaving anytime soon.”

“Ohhh, I know what all of this is about,” Andy said.

“What are you talking about?”

“It’s about your ‘girlfriend’ leaving, but uh… she’s been gone for six months, and a season is only about three months long, so your metaphor isn’t quite right.”

“Billie?! Billie Montegomery? No way! I was never interested in her. Just liked her company, that’s all. It wouldn’t even matter anyway. I haven’t heard from her in months.”

“Jude, you don’t need to lie to me, and you definitely don’t need to get defensive. I already know, I mean, how could I not? You’ve seen what you coincidentally found on the ground, and shoved in your pocket, before she left, right? It’s probably got your drool all over it. It doesn’t matter if she’s here or not. You love her, you fool! ” Andy said, as we headed into the large brick building. 

When I found out that Billie was leaving, I wanted something to remember her by, so I stole her scrunchie. She dropped it, and I had every intention of giving it back to her, but I couldn’t. The more I thought about it as I looked at the quilted patterns of various colors, hand-stitched together, I knew I couldn’t do it. Its puffy, pillowed ruffles screamed Billie Montegomery. When she told me that she was quitting her job at the store and going on some internship for marine biology, all my brain could do was scream Billie Montegomery. It wasn’t a big deal, I mean, I was coming here, to Johns Hopkins to study engineering, and she was going to study whales and that sort of thing. I’ll admit I didn’t know much about it, but I didn’t want to see her leave. We worked well together, I’ll say that much, and I couldn’t help but feel like something would be missing if she left. I’ll leave it at that.

However, I felt really guilty about taking this scrunchie. This one time I stole a fork when I was in preschool because I thought it looked really cool, but the guilt nagged me until it fully consumed me and I gave in. I brought the fork back the next morning. I couldn’t even keep it for twenty-four hours before completely losing my shit, and I wasn’t sure if guilt could be tolerated this time either. Though the stakes were much higher with Billie, I somehow managed to defeat the guilt (most of it anyway). It wasn’t really an accomplishment. I stuffed the scrunchie into my vest pocket and forgot about it after the second day. Thank God she never asked me if I’d seen it, but that was almost surprising, really. She never kept her hair down, not once. Even if her hair was already tied back, braided, adorned in various things, she still always had this scrunchie around her wrist, a Billie Montegomery staple. She saw me just about every day leading up to the departure and mentioned nothing—well, at least not about the scrunchie. She told me she’d come back after the internship and work for a while before taking the next steps toward her career. I didn’t believe her. She was a bit of a scatterbrain when it came to focusing on something like college or a job.

One month I remember her telling me she was going to draw caricatures of people for the rest of her life before she outgrew that business and started folding paper cranes to sell. She eventually grew out of that one too and thought she could knit. She made everyone the ugliest, itchiest scarves, but I wore mine every day that winter. Eventually, she came to the conclusion that she wanted to study sea life, which wasn’t out of character, given her sharing of sea facts all the time. I don’t know who the hell, other than her, finds it interesting that there are forty-two different types of dolphins, but for the sake of her continuing to talk to me, I did. Even though every couple weeks she would come up with something new she might want to try, her interest in aquatic life was consistent, I’ll give her that. 

Sometimes I still felt like I should have given it back, but the scrunchie’s subtle scent of Coconut Bliss brought about the image of her sun-kissed freckles, spelling out the words “I will return,” as if she actually might.

I would never be able to forget her name, that much would stay true. It seemed to me like everyone else did, only remembering when hearing of it by my mouth to come to the realization that she did once exist in this town. I couldn’t understand how you could just forget. Forget about the words, the acts, the scrunchie, the guilt? I could never, and believe me, I tried. The thought of her still lingered in my mind, but there was no chance she’d return. She’d probably buy a boat and end up on the other side of the world, or pay rent on a submarine every month, just so she could be closer to the porpoises. That was random Billie Montegomery. I remembered a number of our conversations, the unpredictability of what the day would bring. Not all of them were very serious, but she’d set the mood for the rest of the day. Like when she would make fun of my dorky features.

“Oh, look at you. No retainer anymore?”

“Not a visible one. It’s an Invisalign.”

I pulled the retainer out, not thinking about how gross the strings of dangling spit would be, and felt mildly embarrassed, as I quickly clicked it back into place.

“Still a fake tooth on there, I can see.”

“Yeah,” I said, looking down at my feet, but glancing up nonchalantly for my eyes to meet her smile, as the mood for the day fell into place. She’d laugh and make jokes, but I didn’t really mind it much. 

But work was different now, and my mood no longer depended on Billie. This season’s flower delivery had shown up early, and Andy and I were not prepared. 

“Andy, where are we going to put all of these racks of flowers?”

“I say we can take them to the compost bins before the boss finds out they’re here.”

“Why did they even show up so soon? It’s supposed to frost in a couple of days.”

“Beats me. I’m looking forward to the frost, though.”

“What? Why?”

“If all the plants freeze, I guess they don’t need to be watered.” Andy laughed.

I appreciated his sentiment, since neither of us liked watering, especially after the experience we had a few seasons back. 

About two years ago, in June, I remember being out on the patio at the store, watering the plants. It was possibly the hottest day of the season, which of course meant that our supervisors would make the rational decision to have us water the plants for six hours on end. We were out there in the scorching heat, waiting for our short-lived breaks to come along. Andy swept the dead leaves and piles of soil away from the droughted sidewalk, sweat soaking the neckline of his shirt, making the parched concrete jealous.

“Jude, give me your hose,” Andy demanded. He took it from me before I could respond.

“Do you really think the boss wants to see you drinking out of the hose?”

He rolled his eyes at me, finished drinking, and sprayed me with it before shoving it back in my hands and picking up the broom. 

“What are you going to do? Snitch?” Andy remarked. 

We both knew I wouldn’t, but some days he really made me debate it.

“So which one of us should—” 

Andy intruded before I finished my question. “ME.”

“I didn’t even finish my sentence, and—”

“Look, sweetheart, we’re both dying. I need water and a Butterfinger, and you need to spend some one-on-one time with the girl. So when Billie gets back from break, I will graciously take mine while you two talk about how much you miss me when I’m gone.”

“You know I talk to her all the time, right?”

“Oh, yes. How could I forget? She picks on you and you take it like a real champ, turning into a tomato. Then, you try to say something witty back to her, but fail in your attempt.”

“Hey, that’s not completely true! Sometimes I get her back… and we have real conversations… about life!”

“Oh yeah, you’re right! Remember that time you really got her, when she told you that you seemed kind of short compared to Levi, and your way of ‘getting her back’ was to pick on her for wearing platform shoes, like that made you any taller.”

I glared at Andy, my attention slowly being redirected to the hose, noticing the glistening, cool, desirable stream soaking into the dry soil, wishing I was the plant being drowned in the glassy liquid. Then, it stopped. There was no more water flowing from the flexible green tube. I looked around for a cause, but the water was still turned on and supposedly running. I had my suspicions, though. Andy was being particularly annoying that day.

“Stop kinking the hose! It’s too hot for your stupid games!”

I dropped my head, waiting for the water to come back on after my comments, but it didn’t. I noticed two planted feet behind a rack of flowers about three spaces down from me. They were orange platform Adidas, and the mystery was solved.

“Oh hi, Billie,” I said, nervous that she thought I was mad at her joke.

“Is it really ‘too hot for my stupid games’?”

“Uh, no. I thought you were Andy, but he should be going on break, now that you’re back.”

I looked past the patio gate to see that Andy had taken off his vest and his shirt and his shoes, to sit out in the parking lot with his Butterfinger and car air conditioning.

“Oh my goodness!” Billie exclaimed. 

“Oh, I know Andy is odd sometimes, but we love him for it.”

“No, not Andy. The song on the radio! Do you hear it?”

I listened to the low hum of the store’s radio speaker, playing some old song that I couldn’t quite put my finger on, and I watched her intently; her silky lips gently mouthed the words.

“I close my eyes, then drift away,” they spoke. That was sounding pretty good right now. “It’s Roy Orbison singing ‘In Dreams.’ You know, from the sixties?”

I nodded, trying to keep from drifting too far into her words, as she continued.

“Sometimes I wish it was the sixties and people talked to each other, like they used to, you know?”

Those words might have been the best I had ever heard fall gracefully from her mouth. They seemed so genuine, almost like she had longed for someone to speak with her and never stop.

“Yeah, I get that. They make conversation look so easy.”

“Right? I knew you’d understand. You’re the only one that ever really has.”

“What about Levi?” I spoke quickly, ruining a perfectly good moment, and regretting it instantly.

“Oh, you know, he’s not really interested in different decades and historical stuff. He understands more about cars and sports than I ever would, though. So I guess that makes us even.”

I forced a smile, thinking about our unwritten friendship that continued even through her foolish relationship.

She was dating this guy at work named Levi, to whom I will not be giving the title of co-worker, unless he earns it by actually doing something. He eventually broke up with her about a year after they started dating. When Andy told me this news I immediately blurted out, “WHY?” I couldn’t tell if the overwhelming elation had got to me or if it was an actual question. What was it that Billie didn’t have that a mouth-breather like Levi could get from any other girl? I mean, it made no logical sense. They couldn’t be any more different, having no common interests and him having a less than sufficient IQ. Seriously, I would be surprised if he could tie his own shoes. I guess their relationship must have mostly been based on physical attraction, which, hypothetically speaking, I could see if I were in Levi’s shoes, but I can’t think of any rational reason Billie would even want to stand near Levi.

I approached Billie with caution after receiving the news. She didn’t seem that upset, but I expected her to crumble at any moment. She never did. By the end of the shift I told her that I heard about what had happened, and she just replied with a nod, and I asked her if she was sad, but she replied with a hesitating shake of her head. I asked her if there was anything I could do. This made me feel very self-conscious about how many questions I was asking, but she didn’t reply. She just stood there. I stared at her, waiting for the possibility for her to cry or shout or punch me for me asking, but instead she grabbed me by my arm, pulling me toward the direction of the door. 

She didn’t seem that upset, but I expected her to crumble at any moment. She never did.

“Do you want to make a snow angel with me?” she asked.

I stared at her, confused. She gave me a slight smile. Then, without questioning it out loud, I let her lead me outside. This was a peculiar way of coping, but Billie was peculiar just the same. This was supposed to be the last snow of the season, and it hardly stuck to the ground. She directed me to the sidewalk she planned to spread her wings on. As I lay beside her, moving my limbs and laughing almost in sync, I admired her appearance, as if she were truly an angelic being. Her skin seemed as pure and delicate as the flakes beneath us, with her black twisted hair, slowly as if unknowingly, coming at ease, scattered in diamond droplets. Her eyes were squinted and her nose crinkled. Her everlasting smile became rather contagious. What was it that Levi didn’t see in her? It seemed so apparent, you wouldn’t even need to see her, but just hear her voice, the words that drifted from her sheer sparkling lips, that spoke of her disposition. When she sat up, that was the first and only time I had ever seen her hair down. The snow melted away fast, and so did she.

It seemed so apparent, you wouldn’t even need to see her, but just hear her voice…

About six months ago, there was Billie Montegomery. Since then, no letters, messages, or echolocation have been received from her. Until last Sunday, when I got a message that she was back in town, but I didn’t reply. Tuesday evening, I was walking with Andy back to the dorms.

“Have you seen Billie yet?” Andy asked.

“No, of course not.”

“Well, she messaged you didn’t she?”

“Yeah, what about it?”

“Don’t you think you should go see her? I mean you’ve been waiting every second since she left, and now you have an opportunity to see her. Like the real her, and not the picture of her you’ve been kissing on every night.”

“First of all, I’ve never done that, so stop making up shit. Second of all, I can’t. I just don’t have time.”

“That’s bullshit! You have every weekend for the rest of the freaking year wide open! You and I both know that you finish your homework before the weekend even hits, and you don’t have anything going on in your life. I mean, you’re not very popular, you know. Why are you avoiding her?”

I didn’t answer, just shook my head. “See you at the store later,” I mumbled before taking a different route to the dorms, observing the brick below me, which seemed more vibrant and whole than I felt.

Honestly, every aspect of Billie Montegomery was enthralling, but I never expected her to return. I thought of her freckles as deceitful when they were indeed whispering the truth. She was here, like actually here, and yet I couldn’t bear seeing her. What was wrong with me? 

I grabbed my uniform and headed out the door, making my way from the campus to the store. After opening the door, I rang the bell at the entrance and went to the back. Then, I zipped up my vest and slumped my hands into its pockets. I felt the ruffles, the fabric graced with Coconut Bliss, remembering the snow angels, the jokes, and the departure. Suddenly, I wasn’t going to clock in. I dropped my head and exited the building, ringing the bell again. I didn’t know if anyone had seen me, but I continued anyway. I went back to my dorm and messaged Andy that I couldn’t come to work and that I wasn’t feeling well. He told me he would cover for me if the boss asked, but I’m not so sure he believed my excuse. He probably thought I was avoiding him too.

I sat at my cluttered desk, and read Billie’s message so many times that you would have thought I was memorizing different mechanics for a final. It was engraved in my brain.

Hey Jude, don’t be afraid, I’m back from my internship and wanted to know if you could hang! 

She must have thought she was fairly clever when she quoted a Beatles song to begin talking to me. Classic Billie Montegomery. But I was afraid. What if she’d changed? What if she wasn’t a scatterbrain anymore, and she knew exactly what she wanted? What if she wanted to live on a ship for the rest of her life, and never be heard from again like some sort of pirate? What if she hated me and she only wanted to see me one last time to tell me how much she loathed me in great detail? What if she thought I was a jerk for not responding yet? She had to know that I was in college and that it could get busy, right? I mean, I wasn’t busy, I was just busy avoiding everything, avoiding Andy, and Billie, and work, but she didn’t know that. It wasn’t like she could see right through me.

My hands trembled as I began to type the words that would reunite us. Each letter felt heavier and heavier, like an increasing amount of weight was being placed on my chest, and the air escaping my body would not be replenished. It was all laid out, right on the screen of impending doom.

Sure, how about Saturday? I’ll give you a tour of the Hopkins campus.

I’ll admit that it wasn’t clever like hers, it wasn’t endearing one bit, and it sounded rather dull, but it’s the best I could do under such conditions. All I had to do was hit the send button. Just hit the send button. The send button. Send it. Nope. 

I went to Andy’s door at 3:47 a.m. and knocked until he answered, which I timed to about seven minutes and thirty-five seconds. Then, there he was, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, in a bathrobe, with hair that looked like he had stuck a fork in a power outlet. My savior.

“I think I have insomnia.”

“Jude, it’s too late for your stupid metaphors. Go to bed,” he said while slowly closing the door.

“Andy, don’t close the door. I can’t sleep. I’m ill. I just told you.”

“Okay, we’re not in Frozen, so don’t pull this whole ‘please don’t shut me out,’ Disney princess kind of crap on me. And you’re not sick. Just sick in the head.”

“Andy, maybe you’re right, but what do I do? I think I’m incurable!”

“Sweet little Jude. Stop being a pansy and message the girl already. Haven’t we already gone through this?”

“But Andy, I did… sort of. I just can’t send it.”

“Give me the phone. I’ll do it for you.”

I reluctantly handed him my phone, while my heart plunged into my stomach and made me nauseous. He held the phone for longer than expected.

“What are you doing?”

“Just holding onto it until you can’t push unsend anymore.”

“Thank you—” 

Andy cut me off before I could finish my thanks. “Good night,” he said as he slammed the door in my face.

Now all I had to do was wait for her response, if there was one. What if she didn’t respond?! What if I lost my chance before even taking it?

*

I woke up the next morning to find no response. I was running on about two hours of sleep, as I dragged my tired, overly sweaty body to the cafeteria to eat a bowl of cereal. Andy appeared at my table a while after, but I think I was blinking one long blink for the entire time he walked over. He slammed his plate of food on the table to wake me up and grab my attention. 

“How’s the girl?”

I rolled my eyes so far in the back of my head that I could almost see my weary brain.

“Don’t worry. She’ll reply.”

“What makes you say that?”

“She likes you. She wanted you to come to her. Didn’t you read the message?”

I looked at the message to see if she had sent something that I didn’t see when the phone was in Andy’s possession.

“What the hell are you talking about? It’s the same message from before. It just mocks my name and asks if I want to see her.”

“JUDE… really?!”

Angry and confused, I stared at him.

“What’s the next lyric in the song ‘Hey Jude’? Seriously, sometimes I don’t know how you got into this freaking school!”

I looked it up on my phone rather than waking up my hazy memory, and Google said:

You were made to go out and get her.

“OH MY GOD! DID SHE MEAN TO DO THAT?!”

I didn’t need to ask him, though; of course she did. She was clever-minded Billie Montegomery.

*

She responded to my message two nights later, and I heard my phone go off, but I didn’t have the courage to look at it until morning. I didn’t sleep very well, but I didn’t want to jinx it by looking. Billie Montegomery was my tomorrow, or so I hoped.

Then, it happened. My alarm went off, it was Saturday, and the first thing I did was check the message to see the outcome. 

Of course! I’ll be there at 2:00.

Oh, balls! She was going to be here at 2:00! I put on my finest hoodie, one with no stains, and a pair of jeans, cleaned my retainer, and slipped on my glasses. I looked like a nerd, how disheartening. I took off my glasses and stuck them in my pocket. After breakfast I cleaned my room until it was spotless. It was showtime. I went out and waited by the campus entrance. And waited. And waited. And waited. It was 4:30, so I messaged her.

You still up for the tour?

No response. Five o’clock came about and it was time for my shift. Just what I thought. Billie Montegomery is a dirty liar. 

I went to the store, clocked in, and became a mute. Andy asked me how the tour went, and I just shook my head. 

“I’m sorry, man. Maybe she just forgot and you guys can arrange another time. After all, don’t you always call her a scatterbrain?”

I shrugged and walked away. How could she do this to me? How could she forget? She messaged me just last night! Well, no more Billie Montegomery! She could become a pirate, and marry an idiotic whale named Levi for all I cared! I’d forget about her just as fast as she forgot today. Except I wouldn’t! But that’s only because I’m a decent person!

I was halfway through my shift and everyone knew not to ask for my help at that point, other than the dumb customers. I shoved my glasses in my pocket with the quilted fabric that held tarnished memories, then laid my forehead down on the store counter, as I waited for my shift to end, hearing the bell ring as people came in and out. Andy was standing next to me at the register and he tapped me on the shoulder. I didn’t sit up, nor did I speak. He did it again.

“What?!”

“Turn around,” he replied.

A blurry figure stood before me. I tried to make out who it was, without seeming like I cared too much.

“Wow, no glasses now either. That Invisalign really changed you.”

My heart beat at a rapid pace, and my face was surely turning red. I stared at the figure and my mouth went dry. That voice. I could picture her lips, with the sheer sparkles and that hair that somehow beams brighter than the sun even through its darkness. 

“Hey, Jude, I’m sorry I let you down. I made it to your campus, sort of. I couldn’t seem to walk up to the entrance… or park the car. So, I guess I just drove around the block a lot, and that’s not really the campus, but I meant to come see you. I just had to work up a little courage is all… and… well….”

I nervously pulled my glasses out of my pocket, and slipped them on. In addition to being mute, I was now paralyzed as well. She seemed anxious, as she looked down, chewing her lip. She didn’t look the same as I remembered her. Her hair was down, covering her face. I pulled the scrunchie out of my pocket and handed it to her.

“You found it? And you kept it all of this time? You weirdo!” she teased.

She put her hair up immediately, and both of our demeanors instantly changed. She was more different than I initially thought. As she smiled, she revealed her braces that matched the color of her orange platforms, and the acne sprinkled in amongst her freckles. She looked like a nerd, how relatable. I couldn’t take my eyes off her, as she jittered in place, anticipating a reaction to her new look. She was beautiful, and no acne or braces could change that. She could go get headgear for all I cared. The angel had finally taken a human form.

She caught my smile, and sudden relief came over her when I caught her arms as they wrapped around me, Coconut Bliss.  

“You have found her, now you’ve got her,” she whispered.

There she was, seasonal depression, sun, snow, insomnia, and my tomorrow, or so I hoped. That was Billie Montegomery.

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