Seeing Red Read Online Free Page A

a
chair next to Jillian and grabbed a handful of journals and papers
in no particular order. All three rummaged and read some of the
passages to each other for the next few hours.
    January 5, 1990—Day182
    I am the author of my life. Unfortunately, I’m
writing in pen, and I can’t erase my mistakes.
    Jillian is seven months old now and doing great. She
should never have been on that plane at such a young age, and now
she is an orphan. She has a mess of red curls and big green eyes.
She’s going to look just like her father when she grows up. I hope
the resemblance is only physical.
    I’m also worried about poor Mary—she is so big now.
She says she’s not due for another month, but I see her growing by
the hour. There is no way she will make it another month with those
twins wreaking havoc in her belly. Regardless, we will still be
here a month from now, a year from now, a decade from now—if we
survive.
    -Helen
    January 15, 1990—Day 192
    Eat a live toad the first thing in the morning, and nothing
worse will happen to you the rest of the day.
    Tommy’s getting sick. I’m worried. He’s our best
fisherman. He says it is just a cold, but I remember when the pilot
started with that cold and those small spots around his wrists—he
didn’t survive. We cannot lose one more person. We are down to
fifteen people. We were thirty-four when we crashed, including the
crew on the plane heading back to the U.S. from India. I will pray
for Tommy tonight. Meanwhile, Jillian is growing and growing and so
is Mary’s belly.
    -Helen
    “Wow. I didn’t know there had been so many people
when we crashed. Helen saw a lot of people die throughout the
years. She never seemed disheartened by it.” Jillian said while
skimming through more of the journals.
    “She was a strong lady—never wanted anyone to see
her weak. Just like you, Jill.” Alexander added. Jill didn’t really
have a reply to that, so she kept her head down and kept reading
out loud.
    January 20, 1990—Day 197
    If you can’t see the bright side of life, polish the
dull side!
    We saw a plane yesterday, and jumped up and down and
lit the big fire we have set up. Nothing happened. Nothing ever
happens. I wonder if this is what Amelia Earhart felt like. At
least I have Matthew and the others. My dear Matthew’s such a good
husband; I am so lucky that he survived the crash. Mary is all
alone and very pregnant. I miss Esther most of all. Jillian needs
her mother here, and Esther would have been such a good mother. One
day I will tell Jillian all about her.
    I’m seriously getting concerned about running out of
ink and paper.
    -H
    January 24, 1990—Day 201
    Just remember if the world didn’t suck, we’d all
fall off.
    Tommy died two days ago. He’s buried with the rest.
It’s hard losing anyone—especially when the numbers are dwindling.
RIP, Tommy. You shall be missed. If someone finds this one day, I
hope that your family knows what a hero you were to us and how you
kept our bellies full of fish every day.
    -H
    March 27, 1990
    Always laugh when you can. It is the cheapest
medicine.
    Alexander and Oliver seem to be doing great. They
are now two months old. Mary is so strong—stronger than I could
ever be. She delivered those boys like a champ. Mike was great. He
may not have been an OB/GYN, but the skills he learned his year in
medical school paid off.
    A few days ago, while gathering some breadfruit and
mangoes, Matthew found some tampons, a toothbrush and toothpaste,
deodorant, some clothes, a blow-dryer (not so useful), makeup
(mostly melted) and a box of condoms. . . Hmmm, maybe we could use
them to carry water or something? I bet that was poor Rose’s
toiletry bag; may she rest in peace. It’s part of the commune now,
even the condoms! It’s probably been there for months, but that is
not a side of the island we normally go to because it is so hard to
get there. The mangroves are dense, and no one wants to get bitten
by mosquitoes and risk getting sick