Mary Beth watched with amusement as the warriors – college boys with painted faces, nose rings, and wild hair – turned to face the diners and pounded their bare chests. She laughed when they raised their hands and danced in place to the beat of distant drums.
"How come you're not up there?" Mary Beth asked.
"I'm not because I'm a senior," Mark said. "Seniors are excused from warrior duty. Juniors are not. Freshmen and sophomores happily volunteer."
Margaret Pringle grinned at Mary Beth. She sat next to Dennis Green on the other side of their long table for twenty.
"Don't let Mark fool you," Margaret said. "He'd be up there now if he didn't have a reputation to protect. In fact, I believe he was a server last year."
Mark laughed.
"I was."
Mary Beth smiled. She could picture Mark in a loincloth. She could even picture him grunting, groaning, and beating his chest. She had long since ceased to make assumptions about a thoughtful young man who continued to amaze, inspire, and endear.
Mary Beth looked at Mark, who looked handsome enough in a blue flowered shirt, and then at Margaret and Dennis, who looked just as smart in matching Hawaiian attire. She wondered if college students had always had this much fun during midterm week.
She adjusted the carnation in her hair when she felt it slip. The flower matched a hot pink floral dress she had purchased for a song six days earlier.
"You look pretty in that dress," Margaret said. "Did you make it?"
Mary Beth laughed.
"I bought it. I couldn't sew a button on a blouse if my life depended on it."
"Did you buy it around here?" Margaret asked.
"No," Mary Beth said. "I bought it in Pasadena last weekend when Mark's mom and I went fabric shopping with my sister. She's going to the prom with Mark's brother tomorrow."
Margaret stared at Mark.
"Let me get this straight. You and Ben are dating sisters?"
Mark smiled sheepishly.
"We have for a month now."
Margaret laughed.
"That sounds positively southern."
Mary Beth ignored the dig. She knew that Margaret meant no offense. She also knew she had a point. Brothers rarely dated sisters, just as boys from 1959 rarely dated girls from 2017.
"It has been interesting," Mary Beth said. "The four of us have been inseparable since we took a road trip to Las Vegas."
"When did you go to Vegas?" Dennis asked.
Mary Beth regretted her comment the second she made it. She didn't want to talk about trips to Nevada any more than she wanted to talk about trips to the fifties.
"We went about a month ago," Mary Beth said.
Dennis turned to Mark.
"How come I never heard about this? You used to tell me everything, buddy. Now I hear you ran off to Vegas with girls you barely knew."
Mark glanced at Mary Beth before proceeding.
"We didn't quite run off with them," Mark said. "Ben and I met Mary Beth and Piper at a gas station in Barstow as we all headed to Nevada in separate cars. When we learned the girls had just moved to California and didn't know the region very well, we naturally offered our services as guides. As fate would have it, they decided to keep us."
Dennis looked at Mary Beth.
"I didn't know you had a car."
Mark jumped in.
"She doesn't. She rented a car for the trip to Vegas."
"Is that so?" Dennis asked Mary Beth.
Mary Beth nodded.
"It was a one-time thing. I hope to actually buy a car this month. I don't want to depend on Mark or the bus system every time I need to get around."
"I don't blame you," Dennis said. "What are you looking to buy?"
Mary Beth gave Mark a playful glance.
"I'm thinking about an Edsel."
Dennis laughed.
"You are adventurous."
Mary Beth considered keeping the conversation going but decided to let it die. She knew she had dodged a bullet and saw no point in inviting more questions and potential trouble.
She took Mark's hand under the table, gave it a gentle squeeze, and mouthed a "thank you" when he looked her way. Then she settled into her seat as the Tahitian warriors brought the first steaming plates of two-finger poi, lomi-lomi salmon, and haupia to her table.
For the next hour, Mary Beth enjoyed fine cuisine, glasses of okolehao moonshine, and music by a quartet that played everything from "Pearly Shells" to "The Hukilau Song." She spoke to Mark in a soft voice when she saw other couples move on to private conversations.
"Thanks for inviting me," Mary Beth said. "I haven't been to a luau since my parents took Piper and me to Hawaii when I was twelve. This is really fun."
"It is," Mark said.
Mary Beth looked at her date.
"I could get used to this, Mark."
Mark returned her gaze.
"I already am."
"I know," Mary Beth said. "It seems we're both on the same page."
"Do you want talk about it?" Mark asked.
"I think we should."
"OK."
Mark sipped the last of his okolehao, wiped his mouth with a napkin, and tossed the cloth on his plate. Then he got out of his chair and helped Mary Beth do the same.
"What are you doing?" Dennis asked.
"We're going for a walk," Mark said.
"Do you want some company?"
"No. Not this time. Mary Beth and I need to sort some things out."
"Suit yourself. Have fun."
Mark nodded but did not respond. He instead escorted Mary Beth past three other tables, the musicians, and the remains of the sacred pig to the back of the fraternity house. A moment later, the couple walked out the front door, stepped onto a noisy street, and considered their options.
"Where do you want to go?" Mark asked.
"Let's go someplace quiet."
"This is Los Angeles. No place is quiet."
Mary Beth smiled.
"Let's just walk."
"OK."
Mary Beth thought about what she wanted to say as the two moved slowly toward a campus that was both shutting down and coming to life. Those who worked at the university and lived someplace else hurried to cars, buses, and peaceful weekends. Those who lived on the campus or in nearby fraternities and sororities hurried to parties, functions, and other social gatherings.
"What are you thinking?" Mary Beth asked.
"I'm thinking we have a problem and need to find a solution," Mark said.
"Is there a solution?"
"There has to be."
"What if there isn't?" Mary Beth asked. "I can't stay here. You can't leave. You have family and friends. You have a life. You have the same things here that I have in 2017."
Mark stopped and faced Mary Beth.
"Are you saying it's hopeless?"
"No, Mark. That's not what I'm saying. I'm saying I don't have a solution. I'm saying there may not be a solution."
Mark gazed at Mary Beth for several seconds but did not speak. He just looked at her with eyes that reflected sadness, hopelessness, and a trace of anger.
"Let's find a place to talk," Mark said.
Mary Beth nodded.
"OK."
The two needed only a minute to find a suitable venue. They walked to a shady spot between two academic buildings, turned to face each other, and resumed their difficult discussion.
"I'm sorry for snapping at you," Mark said. "I'm just frustrated. I'm used to solving problems. It's easy to do in engineering classes. It's not easy to do with you."
Mary Beth smiled.
"Is that your way of saying you like me?"
Mark brought his hands to her face.
"It's my way of saying I love you."
"I love you too," Mary Beth said.
Mark leaned forward and gave her a tender, lingering kiss. Then he gazed at her for a few seconds, smiled, and laughed.
"I think I've loved you since you confronted me outside the
time tunnel. I can still picture the smirk on your face when you asked if we were 'having fun yet.'"
"I don't smirk, Mr. Ryan. I grin slyly."
Mark laughed.
"I stand corrected," he said. "I fell in love with a grin."
"I suppose that's better than falling in love with a classroom observation of the Mona Lisa," Mary Beth said. "That's what Piper did."
"I don't follow."
"Ben made a comment in their art history class on Monday. He said the reason Mona Lisa is smiling is because she's sending a message to men who mess up with women. She's sending a message of 'hope and forgiveness.'"
Mark laughed.
"He said no such thing."
"Oh, yes he did. He uttered those exact words in front of the whole class," Mary Beth said. "He looked Piper in the eyes when he did it too."
"What did she do?"
"She melted like butter in a pan. She's in love, Mark. She's just like the rest of us. She's in a spot with no way out."
Mark sighed.
"Have you paid your rent this week?"
Mary Beth nodded.
"I've paid through the end of the month."
"That's good," Mark said.
"The rent is not the problem though. Neither is money," Mary Beth said. "The problem is that we can't stay here forever. As much as I want to, we can't. At some point, we have to go."
Mark met Mary Beth's gaze.
"Can you give me a few days to think of something?"
"I can. I can give you a week if you need it."
"What about Piper?" Mark asked. "Would she be willing to do the same?"
"I don't know. She may be willing to give you a year, for all I know. I have no idea where her head is right now. She's been a different person this week."
Mark nodded.
"Give me a week then. If I can't think of something by next Friday, I'll take you through the tunnel myself."
"That's fair," Mary Beth said. She kissed him and took his hand. "Now let's enjoy the rest of the evening."
CHAPTER 41: PIPER
South Pasadena, California – Saturday, April 25, 1959
The setting was unlike any Piper had ever seen. Sometime between her last physical education class on Thursday morning and her first twentieth-century prom on Saturday night, the Midway High School gymnasium had become a place of magic.
Five thousand balloons clung to the ceiling. Crepe streamers hung from the balloons. Photo booths and food stations, reflecting a medieval theme, lined two walls. Perry and the Paychecks, a local dance band, played fifties favorites to three hundred couples in pressed suits, fluffy dresses, and fancy shoes. "A Knight to Remember" had become a night to remember.
Piper embraced it all as she sat with Ben, Wayne, Sally, and several others at one of sixteen tables that lined the bleacher wall and faced the stage. She had decided to rest only after dancing for nearly an hour to "Jailhouse Rock," "Tutti Frutti," "Rock Around the Clock," "Johnny B. Goode," and other songs that defined a generation.
"I'm in heaven," Piper said.
Ben smiled.
"I've been there for a month."
Piper pondered the comment, waited for Wayne and Sally to turn their attention elsewhere, and then looked at her date. She saw pure contentment.
"I'm sorry I put you through all that misery," Piper said.
Ben sighed.
"That's all right. I deserved it."
Piper laughed.
"Is this the boy with more girlfriends than my area code?"
"No," Ben said. He chuckled. "I killed him last week."
Piper studied his face.
"You have changed."
Ben looked at her thoughtfully.
"I've come to my senses, Piper. I don't want to lose you."
Piper flinched when she heard the words. She heard determination, not resignation, in Ben's voice and wondered how much longer he could keep his hope alive. She wondered how long she could put off the inevitable. She clasped his hand under the table and thought of other things.
She didn't find that very hard to do. She had pondered a lot in just the past ten hours and had accumulated enough food for thought to fill a supermarket.
Piper had started the day with a trip to a Pasadena beauty parlor and continued it with stops at a florist, a department store, and the Painted Lady. Thanks to Mark Ryan, her daytime chauffeur, she had been able to do everything she needed to do to prepare for an important date.
Ben had spent the first part of the day fishing with a friend. Told by his mother to leave the house and not return before two, he did as instructed. He went to the Santa Monica Pier and came back at three smelling like mackerel, but he was more than ready to greet his Cinderella when Mark and Mary Beth delivered her in an Edsel at five after five.
After a dozen motherly hugs, photographs, and the exchange of corsages, Ben drove Piper in his freshly cleaned T-Bird to a Chinese restaurant in Pasadena, where they enjoyed dinner with Wayne, Sally, and three other couples. They arrived at the high school at eight fifteen.
Piper turned her attention to others when Perry and the Paychecks took a break and scores of couples left the floor for refreshments, restrooms, and fresh air. She could not help but admire the effort her classmates had put into the dance, the evening, and themselves.
Piper sat up and straightened her strapless dress, a powder blue cascade of tulle, taffeta, and lace that Donna had put together in just three days. She wondered whether she would ever again look as good as she did tonight. She wondered whether she would ever again feel as good.
She wallowed in the good feeling for a moment and then turned to the handsome young man in the white jacket, dark slacks, and bow tie. She sensed that his mind was elsewhere.
"What are you thinking?" Piper asked.
Ben smiled.
"I'm thinking about a conversation I had with your favorite person."
Piper stared at her date.
"You spoke to Vicki?"
"No," Ben said. "Vicki spoke to me. She walked up to me when you and Sally went to the restroom and started talking. She wanted to get some things off her chest."
"Do I want to hear this?"
"I think so."
"What did she say?" Piper asked.
"She said she likes you."
"Vicki Cole likes me?"
Ben nodded.
"She said she misjudged you. She said she misjudged us. She said she has never seen two people look happier than we did when we walked through the door tonight."
Piper furrowed her brow.
"Do you think she meant it?"
"I dated Vicki for eight months, Piper. I know her as well as anyone. I know when she means something," Ben said. "She likes you. She respects you too."
Piper smiled.
"I guess I should be thankful."
"You should," Ben said. "Vicki doesn't like or respect many people."
Piper thought about the comment for a moment and considered a reply. She started to say something about respecting Vicki too but stopped when she saw a familiar face approach. She had not seen the teacher since he had returned her art history exam on Friday morning.
"I see that class is still in session," Sam Ginsberg said to Ben, Piper, Wayne, and Sally. "How are my students doing this evening?"
"I'm doing well, Mr. Ginsberg," Piper said.
"Me too," Wayne added.
"Me three," Sally said.
The teacher looked at Ben.
"How about you?"
"I'm enjoying myself," Ben said.
"That's good."
"Do you have chaperone duty tonight, Mr. Ginsberg?"
"Indeed, I do, Ben. I volunteered my services tonight. So did my wife," Ginsberg said. He turned to a slender redheaded woman. "Nancy, this is Ben Ryan, Piper McIntire, Wayne Bridges, and Sally Warner. Each is a student in my art history class. Students, this is my wife, Nancy."
The five exchanged greetings.
"Sam has told me about all of you," N
ancy said.
"I hope good things," Ben said.
"Of course."
Ginsberg smiled.
"Ben is the student who made the astute observation about the Mona Lisa."
"Is that so?" Nancy asked.
Ben grinned.
"I'll say anything for an A."
Nancy tilted her head.
"So you don't believe what you said?"
Ben ditched the grin. He looked at Piper lovingly, took a deep breath, and then returned to the woman with the pointed question.
"I didn't say that, Mrs. Ginsberg," Ben said. "When I said the Mona Lisa was sending a message to men, I meant every word. I think she was telling us there is nothing an apology or a bouquet of flowers or a kind gesture can't fix."
"That's a beautiful thought," Nancy said. "I can see you mean it."
"I do, ma'am."
Nancy smiled at Piper.
"Hold on to him, dear. They don't come that way out of the box."
Piper giggled.
"I'll do my best, Mrs. Ginsberg. Thank you."
Nancy nodded.
"I think we've explored this subject to everyone's satisfaction," Sam Ginsberg said. He smiled at his pupils. "I hope you all enjoy the rest of the evening."
"Thanks, Mr. Ginsberg," Ben said.
The teacher waved at the four and then guided his wife toward other tables, other students, and other opportunities to engage in small talk. The couple found a receptive audience at nearly every table. Chaperones had a way of getting and holding people's attention.
Piper used the downtime to relax and take it all in. She praised herself for giving Ben another chance and giving the fifties another week. If she remembered nothing else about this moment and this night, she would remember that she had found the experience she had sought.
Piper looked at Ben as Perry and the Paychecks returned to the stage, picked up their instruments, and gave them a test. She spoke when he met her gaze.
"Did you really mean what you said in class?"
"Yes, Piper. I did," Ben said. "I know people think I said it just to impress you, but I didn't. I said it because I believe it. Even if it sounds silly, I believe it."
Piper touched his forearm.
"I don't think it sounds silly."
Ben laughed.
"I'm glad someone's in my corner."
Piper gazed at the boy she had misjudged more times than she could count. She vowed to never again doubt his words or his intentions. She lost herself in happy thoughts until her BFF snapped her out of a daze with an untimely observation.
Class of '59 (American Journey Book 4) Page 19
