CHAPTER 68: GINNY
Friday, August 21, 1964
It began in a simmer and ended in a boil.
For nearly ninety minutes, four acts treated a capacity crowd to music that defined the day. Bill Black opened the show with rockabilly honed at the side of Elvis Presley. The Righteous Brothers kept it going with blue-eyed soul. Along with the Exciters and Jackie DeShannon, they succeeded in keeping the audience entertained and in their seats.
The band that followed did not. From the time it rushed onto the stage at half past nine, it fought a losing battle with an audience that seemed bound and determined to raise the roof, test the limits of law enforcement, and show a city what it really meant to be young, wild, and free.
Ginny had expected a scene. As a high-school junior, she had read a magazine article about this spectacle. She had read about the pre-concert build-up, the delirious crowds at the airport, and the mayhem at the Edgewater Inn. She knew that madness awaited but not madness like this. The frenzy around her was far more intense than anything she could have imagined.
The sounds hit her first. Ginny had been to football games and rock concerts where fans made more noise than a jet engine, but even they could not compare to the human drama at the Seattle Center Coliseum. The shrill, deafening screams cascading from balconies and ricocheting off walls were jarring, cutting, and relentless. They were the kind that shattered eardrums, rattled bones, and rearranged cells.
Then there were the sights – the surreal, stunning, mesmerizing sights that seemed stripped from a newsreel. No matter where Ginny looked, she saw movement – random, constant, violent movement. She saw young girls bounce in their chairs, tear at their hair, and clutch their throats and older ones throw jellybeans, flashbulbs, and themselves at an open stage. She saw wild women and girls gone gaga. She saw estrogen on fire.
"This is insane!" Ginny screamed.
"It is," James said. He broke into a smile. "Oh, baby, it is."
Ginny pulled him close and put her mouth to his ear.
"Thank you so much, James. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. This is the best time I have ever had. I will never forget this."
"You're welcome," James said.
"What?"
James laughed.
"I said, 'Enjoy the show.'"
Ginny heard the suggestion and proceeded to do just that. She kissed James on the cheek, grabbed his arm, and rejoined the fun. Like most in the crowd of fourteen thousand, she wanted to savor every second.
There was much to savor. When the Beatles had run into the arena, Ginny felt like she had been dropped in a dream – a dream where the dreamers could interact with what they saw and change events as they went along. This was not a newsreel on the History Channel but rather a tangible experience that she could relive in her mind for as long as she lived.
The band itself was impossibly young. Ringo Starr, the oldest of the four, was only twenty-four, with John Lennon just a year behind. George Harrison, the youngest, was twenty-one. Paul McCartney, twenty-two, looked eighteen. Dressed in glossy dark blue suits and ties, the Fab Four looked nothing like the counter-culture icons they would soon become.
Ginny focused more on what she could see than on what she could hear because the crowd had all but pushed the band to the background. Even from her seat ten rows from the stage, the music was little more than an accompaniment to a chorus of screams that never ended.
That didn't make the spectacle any less appealing. The audience was almost as interesting as the band. With the playing of each song, girls and women, who outnumbered boys and men more than twenty to one, went from frenzied to hysterical to delirious. One girl two rows up spun in circles and started to cry. Another fainted and fell to the floor. Dozens of others shook, rattled, and rolled when the Beatles broke into "Can't Buy Me Love." It simply didn't stop.
When she turned to her left, Ginny saw that those in her own group were also having a good time – particularly the girls. Cindy and Bernice raised their hands and stomped their feet every time the Beatles started a song and hugged each other every time they ended one.
Ginny loved watching the two get into the music, just as she had enjoyed listening to them chatter about boys, Girl Scouts, and high school on the ride to the concert. They had bonded like sisters almost from the moment they had met.
She didn't know whether Cindy Jorgenson and Bernice Green had been friends the first time 1964 had rolled around, but she had little doubt they would the second. Like Mike and James and even she and James, they would ignore their superficial differences, celebrate the things they had in common, and prove to those around them that friendship defied the bounds of race.
Ginny also took a moment to look at Mike and Katie. She liked seeing smiles on their faces, but she knew that the smiles masked serious pain. Mike Hayes was about to lose the two women who mattered most to him. Katie was about to leave the love of her life. Ginny did not at all envy her sister's situation. Then again, she didn't particularly envy her own.
When she glanced again at James, she saw someone she did not want to leave. Of all the boys she had ever dated, none had filled her with as much joy as the one standing at her side. She hated the thought of walking away, but she knew she would. She didn't have a choice.
Ginny thought of the people around her a moment more and then returned her attention to the stage, where the lads from Liverpool shifted seamlessly from "Roll Over Beethoven" to "Long Tall Sally." The crowd roared its approval. Ginny laughed as she pondered the durability of the average eardrum and the lifespan of human vocal cords.
As the last song neared an end, Ginny threw her arm over Katie and gave her a hug. She felt bad about fighting with her sister over nitpicky things and wanted to send her a message. No matter what challenges they faced in the next two to three weeks, they would face them together.
Ginny returned to James just as the Beatles took their bows and ran off the stage to the shock and dismay of the screaming faithful. They would not remain in the building long. Ginny knew from the magazine article that they would soon pile into an ambulance and try to slip past unsuspecting fans to their hotel. She knew they would make it, just as she knew she would make it safely to her temporary home.
Unlike the Beatles, though, Ginny didn't want to move quickly to her destination. She wanted a long, traffic-filled drive back to northeast Seattle. She wanted to talk and laugh with people who mattered and know that she had just had the experience of a lifetime.
CHAPTER 69: GINNY
Monday, August 24, 1964
"You're quitting?"
"We prefer to call it giving notice," Ginny said.
"You're quitting," Wade Greer said.
"We don't want to quit, Mr. Greer. We really don't. We like it here."
"Then why are you quitting?"
"We have new work and school opportunities in California."
Greer laughed.
"In other words you're homesick."
"We're homesick," Ginny said as she smiled sheepishly.
Greer glanced at Katie.
"Are you homesick too?"
Katie nodded.
"Well, I can't say I'm all that surprised. My own daughter came home from college after one semester. Some birds aren't meant to fly too far from home."
"That's a good analogy, sir," Ginny said. "When it comes to flying, we're dodos."
Greer sighed and leaned back in his desk chair.
"Would an immediate quarter-an-hour raise make a difference?"
"I'm afraid not, sir. We've already told our parents we're coming home."
"Then I guess it's official," Greer said. "We're all going to miss you here. You're both hard workers. The customers love you. Hell, the courtesy clerks love you."
Ginny and Katie turned red.
"No need to blush, ladies. It's a compliment," Greer said. "It's also my way of saying I don't miss much around here."
"You don't, sir," Ginny said. "When it comes to your workers, you're no do
do."
Greer laughed.
"I'm going to miss that too," he said. "Well, I should let you go. This is your day off and all. Be sure to let me know when you'll be available for a send-off. I know the staff will want to throw you a party."
"We'll do that, sir," Ginny said. "Thank you."
"Thanks," Katie added.
Ginny followed Katie out of the manager's office and into the main part of the store. A minute later they approached Checkout 2, where Mike and James bagged groceries for three attractive college-age women. The twins waved as they passed by.
"We'll see you tonight," Ginny said.
"I'm looking forward to it," James said.
When the girls exited the store and stepped onto the hot pavement of the parking lot, Silent Katie spoke up. She wore a worried face.
"I don't like the way those girls looked at Mike."
"What do you mean?" Ginny asked.
"I mean they looked interested."
"Get used to it, Katie. We're leaving. We'll be out of here in two weeks. You don't expect Mike to give up dating when we're gone, do you?"
Katie frowned.
"No," Katie said. "I still don't like it."
Ginny stopped when they reached the sidewalk.
"Do you think I want to go?" Ginny asked. "I don't want to leave James any more than you want to leave Mike, but I know I have to. We don't belong here, Katie. We belong in 2020. We need to think less about the boys and more about getting home."
"You're right."
"I know I'm right," Ginny said. "Come on. Let's get out of here."
Ginny waited for a bicyclist to go by and then crossed the street a step ahead of her sister. She was happy to see that the street was free of cars and the park free of people. The last thing she wanted to see on this generally pleasant morning was a red Corvette parked along the curb or a disgruntled law student sitting at a picnic table.
The twins continued to Forty-Fifth and the covered bus stop. When they reached a bench that had become their home away from home, they sat down and continued their conversation.
"I take it you have an exit plan," Katie said.
Ginny nodded.
"I do."
"Let's hear it then. What are we going to do for the next two weeks?"
Ginny stared at her sister.
"We're going to fix things, that's what," Ginny said. "We're going to tie up loose ends and clean up any messes. We're going to do our best to leave 1964 the way we found it."
"You make that sound easy."
"Then you're not listening very well. It won't be easy, Katie. It's going to be hard. It's going to be really hard."
Katie sighed.
"What do you suggest we do first?"
"We've already done it," Ginny said. "We gave Mr. Greer our notice."
"Then what do we do next?"
Ginny looked at Katie sympathetically and then lowered her eyes.
"We start to disengage."
"What?"
"We start telling everyone we know that we're leaving. We tell them that we're leaving soon and won't be coming back."
Katie looked away.
"Mike has already asked for our address in Thousand Oaks," Katie said. "He doesn't understand why we can never see each other again. I haven't had the guts to tell him why."
Ginny put a hand on Katie's knee.
"I haven't told James either. I haven't told anyone but Nana where we're really going. I don't know whether we should either, but I think we should at least consider it."
"Why?" Katie asked.
"Because it's the responsible thing to do. We need to be very clear about our plans so that Mike and James can get on with their lives – the lives they are supposed to lead," Ginny said. "It's time to move forward, Katie. It's time to say goodbye."
CHAPTER 70: KATIE
Thursday, August 27, 1964
The room was cheery and bright despite a figurative cloud that hung from the ceiling. Sunlight poured through an east-facing window and fresh flowers and greeting cards sat atop a rolling tray table. Even the painting on the wall of a girl walking through a spring meadow made the typically gloomy venue a little less dreary.
Katie hoped it did, anyway. She wanted Mary Hayes to find at least a few reasons to smile as she sat upright in her hospital bed.
"How are you feeling?" Katie asked.
"My hip still hurts like the dickens, but overall I feel all right," Mary said. "I don't have the energy I had last week, but I'm still hanging in there."
"Do you know if your hip is fractured?"
"I don't. I should know later today when the doctor comes back with the X-rays. I don't think it's broken. I probably wouldn't be able to sit up if it was. Then again, what does it matter?"
"You can't think that way, Mrs. Hayes. You have to stay positive."
Mary paused for a moment when her eyes began to water. When she finished drying them with a tissue, she smiled and looked at Katie with admiration and affection.
"You're such a beautiful girl, Katie. Oh, how I'm going to miss you."
Katie put her hand on the hand of the woman who had taken a tumble that morning in her kitchen. She knew that Mary had maybe two months to live, but she was not about to play the gloom game. She had come to the hospital to raise spirits, not push them down.
"I'm not gone yet, Mary, and neither are you. You're going to be fine. If I have to come here every day to make sure of that, I will. It will be worth it."
Mary squeezed Katie's hand, sighed, and then turned to face the person sitting in the chair closest to her side. She looked at Mike thoughtfully with green eyes that had lost none of their luster over the summer.
"Hold onto her, son. Whatever you do, hold onto her."
Mike smiled at Mary and then shot Katie a glance.
"I'm trying to, Mom. I'm trying."
"I know you are."
Katie wanted to crawl under a rock. She hated knowing that she would soon break their hearts and gave serious thought to telling the truth about her past and plans for the future. Could telling the truth be any worse than stringing them along for another two weeks? She didn't know the answer. She knew only that she didn't have the courage to come clean right now.
"Is there anything I can do for you while I'm here?" Katie asked. "I don't have to work until tonight and would be happy to run some errands for you today."
Mary brought a hand to her chin.
"There is one thing."
"What's that?"
"Go for a walk with Michael. I plan to eat lunch in a few minutes and then take a nap, so I won't need visitors for a while," Mary said. "Go for a walk in the park across the street. Just knowing that you're enjoying each other's company will do me more good than flowers or cards."
Katie nodded.
"I can do that," Katie said. She grabbed Mike's hand. "We can do that."
"Then go. I'll be fine. Fractured hip or not, I'm not going anywhere."
Katie started to say something but paused when she saw a short, stocky nurse enter the room with a tray full of food. When the nurse put the lunch on the tray table and swung it toward the patient, Katie sat up and pulled Mike away from the bed.
"I think that's our cue," she said.
Mike leaned over and kissed his mother on the head.
"We'll see you in a bit, Mom."
"Take your time. Like I said, I'm not going anywhere."
Katie waved to Mary and led Mike out of the room into a long hallway. She then guided him down a flight of stairs to the lobby and the main entrance. She said very little until they walked across the street to a park that was similar in size and appearance to the one by Greer's.
"So what are the doctors telling you that your mother won't tell me?"
"You mean about her hip?"
"No. I mean about her cancer. Is there anything more you can tell me, Mike?"
Mike shook his head.
"There are a lot of things I could tell you, but they wouldn't make
a difference. She's dying, Katie. There's nothing doctors can do except to make her comfortable and try to limit her pain."
"Is it really hopeless? Is there nothing they can do?"
Mike looked away to hide misty eyes.
"No," he said. "There's nothing. I don't think she'll ever leave the hospital."
When Katie heard the words, she once again wondered whether it was too late for Mary. She wondered whether she would live long enough to even consider traveling to the future, where doctors might be able to at least buy her some time. She couldn't imagine Mary leaving Patsy and her granddaughter behind, but she would worry about that when the time came.
As they walked toward a fountain in the park, Katie took a moment to study Mike's face and noticed a change. Sadness and acceptance had replaced fear in his eyes. She couldn't imagine how anyone could handle so much bad news in a short amount of time, but he apparently had. In less than four weeks, Mike Hayes had become the picture of resignation – and courage.
"I know your mom's situation is bad enough, but is there something else that's bothering you?" Katie asked. "You seem even sadder than usual."
"I am," Mike said.
"Is it because of me? Is it because I'm leaving?"
Mike nodded.
"That's one thing. I don't want you to go. I still don't understand why you have to."
Katie searched for a good answer but couldn't find one. What kind of person left the love of her life for … economic opportunity? Ugh. She didn't want to even think of using that excuse.
"I'll tell you. I just don't want to tell you today. I want to tell you a week from Saturday."
"Why then?"
"There are two reasons. The first is that I want to tell you in a place where we can be alone. We'll see how your mom feels at the time, but if we can leave her for a night, I want to go."
"What's the other reason?"
"Let's go sit on the bench first."
"OK."
Katie led him to a nearby bench, which offered a splendid view not only of the fountain and a large play area but also part of Seattle's skyline.
The Mirror (Northwest Passage Book 5) Page 31