by Shawn Inmon
“How could you? You never called us again, and we couldn’t find you. Your father hired a private investigator and he tracked you to an address in Berkeley, but after that you were simply invisible.”
“I was living in San Francisco, then about a hundred miles south of there.”
Dorothea nodded. “Get dressed and come downstairs. Juanita is making breakfast.”
Ten minutes later, Dorothea and Cassandra sat at the kitchen table. They both had coffee and Cassandra had a plate of bacon and eggs in front of her.
“Have you kept up with anything happening in Middle Falls?” Dorothea asked.
“No, not at all. The Middle Falls Chronicle has surprisingly little penetration into Berkeley and San Francisco.”
“Very funny. I thought you might have sought it out.”
“I just never thought about it. Why, what exciting news have I missed from Middle Falls?”
“Jimmy and Kristen were married a year ago. She’s pregnant with their first right now. I saw her mother in town the other day.”
Cassandra did her best to not show any emotion.
She’s pregnant with her first right now.
That was an icepick to Cassandra’s heart. She and Jimmy had never been able to conceive.
“That’s nice for them.”
“I know it’s hard, dear, but not totally unexpected.”
“Right. Of course not. I’m sure it will be a beautiful baby.”
She pushed her plate away half-eaten.
Chapter Fifty-Three
Jamison Collins was tied up in meetings all day and so was never able to return Dorothea’s call. When he walked in the door at 5:15, Cassandra was sitting in the living room waiting for him. Where else could she be? The Collins Estate was miles from town and she had no money and no transportation.
Jamison walked into the living room and stopped dead. He looked from Cassandra to Dorothea, Dorothea to Cassandra.
“Why didn’t you call me?”
“I might ask you why you didn’t return my call.”
Jamison nodded. “Welcome home, Cassandra.”
Cassandra stood and walked to her father. She had no idea how he would receive her, but when she got close enough, he grabbed her and pulled her to him.
He whispered in her ear. “We were so worried about you Cassie-girl.”
She nodded against his chest and said, “I’m sorry, Daddy.”
They sat in the formal dining room for dinner.
Cassandra had thought long and hard about how open she should be with her parents. In the end, she had decided to just be honest about everything.
So, over a lobster bisque that Juanita had made, Cassandra told them everything—flunking out of school, living with the four other girls, meeting Curlee and falling in love. She even told them about New Generation and how they had played at the first-ever Magic Mountain Music Festival. She did leave out the part about experimenting with drugs. Some things, she decided, just didn’t need to be talked about.
Over coffee, after the plates were cleared away, she told the story of how she and Curlee had lived in the ashram for six months and how much she hated it there.
“So this Curlee fellow is still there?”
“Yes. He took to it naturally. He was rising up in the ranks of the acolytes.”
“Your problem was, no Collins will ever rise through the ranks of the acolytes. We are not cut out for being an acolyte.”
“Yes, Daddy.”
“And then, you were here. How did you get here?”
“I hitchhiked.”
I don’t think I’ll mention angelic Watchers or magically reproducing Mustangs. That’s too much for them.
“What’s next for you, then?”
“I thought I’d get a job. Is it all right if I stay here while I look for a job and find my own place. I promise I will do it as fast as I can.”
“You’re welcome to be with us here as long as you need to be,” Dorothea said, looking at Jamison, who nodded his agreement.
Cassandra didn’t ask her father for a job at any of his businesses, and he didn’t offer. She wanted to do this on her own, and he wanted to see if she could.
She did ask if she could borrow her mother’s old car the next day to go look for a job, and they happily agreed.
CASSANDRA MADE THE rounds of most every business in Middle Falls the next day, filling out applications and doing her best to charm her way into a job. She struck out until she ran into Marge O’Day on the sidewalk.
Marge wanted to retire from running Mode O’Day, but she wasn’t quite ready to sell the business yet. That meant that she had promoted her longtime Assistant Manager to run the store, and she had room for a new Assistant Manager.
“Would you be interested in coming to work for me? It would help me oh, so much,” Marge had said.
Cassandra, of course, jumped at the chance. She never learned of the phone call Dorothea had made to Marge that morning.
Cassandra had done her best to keep from looking too far into the future since she had arrived home, but now she began to make some plans.
She estimated that if she didn’t go anywhere or do anything, she would be able to afford a small apartment above one of the shops downtown in a few months. That would mean she was close enough to walk to work, so she wouldn’t need to worry about buying a car, at least for a while.
For once, that plan worked out for Cassandra. She worked hard and learned the ropes at Mode O’Day and after she had been there for two months, she was able to move into an apartment above the Rexall Drug Store downtown, only a block and a half from the store.
Life was not perfect, of course, because when is life perfect? She still had times when she thought back nostalgically on the life she’d led in Berkeley and San Francisco—the friends she had made and the adventures she’d had.
One hot summer day, Cassandra was struggling with a mannequin in the display window. The mannequin was being recalcitrant and no matter what she did, Cassandra couldn’t manage to make it stand up properly. The sun poured in through the plate glass display window and she had sweat pouring off her.
That was the moment when Kristen Coleman, nee Paulson, walked into the store with another woman who Cassandra did not know. She was wearing a breezy summer sundress and wide-brimmed white hat. Her growing baby bump was fetchingly on display. She turned to Cassandra’s back and said, “Excuse me, can I get some help please?”
Cassandra turned and the two former best friends stood face to face. Cassandra was six inches higher, standing in the display window, but Kristen most definitely occupied the higher ground.
“Oh, Cassandra,” Kristen said, “I didn’t know you were back. Or that you are working here. How nice.”
You never called me Cassandra in your entire life.
“Been back a few months, now. You look wonderful. Mom told me you were expecting.”
Kristen patted her belly and said, “We’re expecting a Halloween baby. Jimmy’s over the moon.”
“Of course he is. He always wanted kids. So, what can I help you with?”
“Oh, now I’ve gone and forgotten what I came in here for. I’ll have to come back later. Come on, Sally, let’s go get a cool drink at the drug store.”
Okay, Kris. Not sure what I ever did to you, aside from making your every dream come true with Jimmy. That’s on you, though. I’d love for you both to be truly happy.
Chapter Fifty-Four
Cassandra fell into an easy routine. She worked at the shop from nine to five, Tuesday through Saturday and had Sunday and Monday off. Her mother often came to town and picked her up on her days off to go to lunch or to bring her out to the estate for the day. Their relationship changed and evolved and they became friends, more than adversaries.
Her father was still mostly distant, but that was true of everyone he knew, including Dorothea. Cassandra thought he was only happy when he was on the golf course closing a deal.
Cassandra rang in the New
Year in a quiet celebration with her parents at the estate. They all stayed up past midnight to celebrate the arrival of 1969.
None of them were too sad to see 1968 go. Between the continuing war, the protests at the Democratic Convention in Chicago and a general sense of unease in the country, it had felt like a difficult year and they all hoped better things lay ahead for them.
Jamison at least took comfort in the fact that Nixon had beaten Humphrey in November. He thought Nixon was far too moderate on many issues, but he might have left the country if Humphrey had been elected.
As the calendar turned to a new year, Cassandra spent her evenings in her apartment or at the Middle Falls Library, checking out something to read. Her life, in almost every way imaginable, was the opposite of the bohemian life she had lived with Curlee and Billie.
She still thought of them often, wondering what they would think about something she had read, or a conversation she overheard. She believed she would never see them, or anyone she had met in California, again.
She was wrong, at least partially.
One spring afternoon in 1969, she was alone in the store, merchandizing a new shipment of swimsuits. The bell above the door chimed and she looked up to see Floyd Curlee. The sunlight poured in behind him, lighting him with a beatific glow.
“Excuse me, miss. I’d like some help with buying some jodhpurs.”
Cassandra’s mouth opened and shut, but no sound came out.
“You know, jodhpurs. I read in a Paris fashion magazine that they are going to be all the rage on the west coast this year. Surely a fine store like Mode O’Day must be on the cutting edge of this trend and have a full supply.”
“Who—wha—what are you doing here?”
“Perhaps you’ve listened to too much of that loud rock ‘n roll music the kids are listening to and you’ve damaged your hearing. I told you—I want to check out your supply of jodhpurs.”
“Floyd Curlee. I’ll give you one more chance before I throw you out on your ear. What are you doing here?”
“Apologizing? Not really doing a bang-up job of it, am I? Let’s try this, then. I’ve been a complete fool and broken the heart of the woman I love.”
“That much is true. You did.”
Curlee’s smile faded. “I know, Cass. I’m an idiot. A moron. An unbelievable buffoon.”
“Where’s your robe?”
“Relegated to the dustbin of history, I am happy to say. Bahrti has been arrested and deported back to India. The acolytes grabbed everything that wasn’t tied down and scattered for the hills. Of course, all the good stuff that wasn’t tied down had already been spirited away by Bahrti, so there wasn’t much left. I’ll tell you, this whole experience has made me cynical.”
“Now you’re cynical? Where was that cynicism when I was shouting from the mountain tops that he was a fraud and a phony?”
“I have no defense. I throw myself on the mercy of the courts.”
“This court has no mercy. I offered you mercy the day I was going to walk out of there with nothing and you turned your back on me.”
“You’re right. And I know I don’t deserve another shot now, but can you give me one anyway?”
Cassandra looked at him placidly. She had dreamed for months that he would come looking for her, crawling his way back into her life and begging for forgiveness. He hadn’t shown. She gave that dream up like she had so many others.
Living in the ashram had not damaged him any. His hair was long and curly, over his collar. He had shaved his beard and looked as good as he ever had. To Cassandra, that was saying something.
“I can’t, Curlee. I just can’t. In the back of my mind, I will always be waiting and wondering about what crazy hare-brained scheme you’re going to fall for next. What’s the next crazy dream that you’re going to pursue, leaving me in the dust?”
“You’re my crazy dream, Cass. Since the moment I saw you in the crowd at Sproul Hall, you’ve been my dream. I know I got a little off track, but I’ve never stopped loving you. All I’m asking for is a chance.”
She stepped toward him, touched his cheek.
“I know I’m your dream right now. Today. But what about five years from now? What will it be then? I’m sorry, Curlee. I can’t say I don’t love you, because I do. When I needed you most, you turned your back on me. I can never trust you again.”
For once in his life, Curlee found himself at a loss for words. He stood quietly for a long minute, then turned and walked out of the shop.
Cassandra did not go after him.
Chapter Fifty-Five
Seeing Curlee in Middle Falls, hearing him apologize, might have made Cassandra feel better.
It did not.
Somehow, having that little kernel of a dream that she held onto come to fruition, then deciding to kill that dream herself, made everything worse. In some ways, she felt like she did the first day she got back to Middle Falls.
The scab had been ripped off the wound and she had to start the healing process all over again. She did that by continuing to follow her schedule and to not make any crazy, life-altering decisions.
Cassandra was shocked when she went into the library two weeks later and saw none other than Floyd Curlee sitting at one of the tables, reading Albert Camus’ The Stranger.
What the hell?
She approached the table where he was sitting and said, “What are you doing here?”
Curlee raised a finger to his lips and pointed at the librarian’s desk. In a whispered voice, he said, “I’ve got to read here in the library. Since I don’t have any local ID, they won’t give me a library card to check books out.”
“No, I mean, what are you doing still in Middle Falls?”
“It’s a nice little town. Thought I’d stay for a while and check it out. It’s a free country, right?”
“I’ve said it before, I’ll say it again. You are the most frustrating man I’ve ever met.”
“You’ll have to pardon me if I choose to believe that the depth of your anger at me is masking other strong feelings for me. Love, perhaps.”
“Right now, I am masking the wish to throw this book at your head.”
“I see a new headline in the Middle Falls Chronicle tomorrow: “Former peacenik arrested in library rumble.”
Cassandra tried to speak, but knew that nothing good would come of it. She turned on her heel and stormed out, completely forgetting to return her book or pick up the one she had reserved.
In the months that followed, Cassandra did not see Curlee often. He did not stalk her, come into her shop, or hang out in places he knew she would be, with the possible exception of the Middle Falls Library.
Even so, she saw him often enough to know that he was still in town, which infuriated her. She did her best to forget he existed, and she would almost succeed, or so she told herself, when she would see him again.
This dance went on for almost six months. Curlee had found a job at Safeway, in the produce department. His work overseeing the vegetable fields at the ashram had finally come to some use. Cassandra saw him there, putting out iceberg lettuce or picking through a pile of cucumbers and plucking out any that were not good. She never spoke to him when she saw him , but since it was the only grocery store in the downtown area, it was inevitable that she would see him there.
Each time she saw him, she thought he looked a little more like the light was going out of him. The charm and wit which had always been on display were dampened. She knew it wasn’t an act, a ploy for sympathy, because he was always that way—even when he didn’t know she was around. Seeing him like that clawed at her conscience a bit, but she just reminded herself of the scene in the ashram that morning, then went on about her business.
She knew that he would give up and move on eventually, because that’s what Curlee did. He always sought the easier path.
Except, this time, he didn’t. He continued to live in Middle Falls, a very un-Curlee kind of town, and work a very un-Curlee kind of job.<
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Finally, all the anger that she had built up in the time since she left him dissipated.
One night, she walked past a small bar called The Office. The joke was that they had a sound-proofed telephone booth where guys could call home and tell their wives they were still at “the office” without lying. The problem with the joke was that everyone in town, including all the wives, knew about it.
As Cassandra walked by, she glanced inside and saw Curlee sitting at the bar, watching a baseball game. He wasn’t hunched over, moping. He was just sitting alone, watching the game quietly. Somehow, seeing him that way melted her heart in a way that none of his apologies and charm had been able to do.
She watched him from the sidewalk for a long minute, considering, then went inside.
She sat on the stool beside him and asked, “Who’s playing?”
“Honestly? I have no idea. I hate baseball. I just didn’t want to be in alone in my room tonight. So, here I am.”
“Sometimes, you’re too charming for your own good, you know.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means that when you blew into town all high and mighty and spouting witty one-liners, you were sure that I would fall for you all over again.”
“I guess. Probably. It’s always worked for me before.”
“And it can work for you again, some day, when you’re in trouble for coming home late for dinner, or for forgetting an anniversary. But it won’t work for a betrayal. It can’t. And what you did to me at the ashram was a betrayal to me.”
Curlee nodded.
“I went there for one reason only. Because I was in love with you and I wanted to help you follow your dreams. I thought you were my future and that would include going on crazy adventures like that together when we were young. But I needed to know that someday we would settle down and live a real life. More than anything, I needed to know you had my back. That morning, you didn’t have my back. If I ever have that feeling again, I’ll be out the door and down the road.”
