Previously published in Examiner
Part 9 of the Female Abuse Series
Case study of an abused Montreal Women and its tragic conclusion continued
The story is told by the narrator, (montreal mental health examiner) and takes place at the time she was doing her undergraduate work at Concordia University in Montreal; names and places have been changed to protect privacy.
Now for the beginning of the article
Jillian’s character was different from mine and so was her looks. She was 5’10”, had long red hair and dressed and looked like a love child straight out of the 1960’s, from the famous Haight Ashbury district of San Francisco.
Picture us walking down the street, this tall slim hippie lady with me, a short and very fat dark haired woman with an olive skin tone. I am sure we were a sight for sore eyes.
We really didn’t have much in common in terms of personalities either. Jillian was the artsy “laissez-faire” type of person and I was the down to earth, psychology student who needed to organize and make every second count if I was ever going to make it out of university alive.
Normally Jillian would never have been the type of person whom I would want to create and maintain a meaningful friendship with. It was my dear friend Angie who introduced us. Angie was certain that we would hit it off and in some strange way we did. I loved Jillian on one level and she irritated me on many others.
Now imagine the three of us walking down the street, Jillian the tall redheaded hippie, Angie the 5’7″ fiery chubby Italian girl, and me the short fat Anglo. I laugh as I look back at the picture forever embedded in my mind. We could have been cartoon characters – God I miss those days. They were some of the best days of my life.
Putting aside the differences in character, the three of us were friends – “tried and true” and we would do just about anything for each other. Angie had already told me a bit about Jillian’s life story even before I had the chance to meet her.
To be continued