Class of '59 (American Journey Book 4) (24 page)

"I'm not surprised," Mary Beth said. She gave Mark a sad smile. "It's going around."

Mark nodded.

"It is."

Mark resisted the temptation to elaborate. He wanted to say more. He wanted to
do
more. He wanted to act on feelings he had harbored for weeks, but he knew he could not. He had to man up and face the world as it was and not as he wished it to be.

So he focused on the music, the dancing, and the moment. He held Mary Beth close and moved in tight circles across the floor as "Tears on My Pillow" turned into "Since I Don't Have You" and "When I Fall in Love."

Mark did not look at Mary Beth's face during the last song. Nor did he look at it when the Wurlitzer traded Nat King Cole for Jo Stafford and "You Belong to Me." He did not want to see a smile or a frown or a glance that might somehow take away from the moment.

He could not maintain the posture for long. As Stafford began to sing about pyramids, sunsets, and marketplaces in old Algiers, Mark sensed a change – an unpleasant change. He felt Mary Beth slow her step and relax her hold. He heard her sniff. He saw her wipe away a tear.

"What's wrong?" Mark asked.

"It's nothing," Mary Beth said.

"People don't cry over nothing, Mary Beth. What's wrong?"

Mary Beth smiled through tears.

"It's just this song."

Mark slowed the pace even more.

"Don't you like it?"

"I love it. It's my favorite," Mary Beth said. She wiped away another tear. "I was going to play it at my reception."

Mark stopped the dance.

"I'm sorry. I didn't know. Do you want me to change it?"

Mary Beth shook her head.

"No."

Mark put his hands to her face.

"Are you sure?"

"I'm positive," Mary Beth said. She sighed. "Just hold me."

CHAPTER 39: PIPER

South Pasadena, California – Monday, April 20, 1959

Piper glanced at the girl with the grin and then at the woman with the smile and tried to decide which deserved her attention. She went with the former. Even in an interesting art history class, Sally Warner beat the
Mona Lisa
seven days a week.

Piper waited patiently as Sam Ginsberg, her goateed instructor, adjusted an easel supporting an oversized print of Leonardo da Vinci's masterpiece. When he turned his back and stepped toward the blackboard, she texted her BFF fifties style by passing her a folded note.

Ginsberg scribbled a few words on the board, turned around, and walked to a stool that stood next to the easel. He scanned the faces in his class of thirty and then plunged into the lesson, one of six on famous Renaissance paintings and the last before a midweek exam.

"Why is this woman smiling?" Ginsberg asked.

Piper saw a hand go up in the front row. Even from the back row she could tell the hand belonged to Bunny Martinez. The bubbly senior and recently elected prom queen never went anywhere without pink plastic bracelets on each wrist.

Ginsberg acknowledged the student.

"Bunny?"

"She's keeping a secret," Bunny said. "She knows something the artist doesn't and is having a laugh at his expense."

The teacher chuckled.

"She may be," Ginsberg said. "Da Vinci didn't leave us a lot of clues. Much of what we know about this painting comes from others. Does anyone else want to hazard a guess?"

Another hand shot up.

"
Mona Lisa
is smiling because she's thinking of killing someone," Tom Cline said. "Look at her eyes. She doesn't look happy."

Piper laughed with several other students. She knew Tom wasn't trying to be funny, but she thought he was funny nonetheless. If there was one thing she enjoyed about attending school in the 1950s, it was that no one checked their opinions at the door. They said what they thought and thought what they said.

Piper glanced again at Sally when Ginsberg got up, returned to the board, and wrote down two dates. She knew even before Sally dropped a hand to her side that she had a note ready.

The southerner reached to her right, took the note, and unfolded it on her desk. She scanned the vicinity for nosy neighbors. Seeing none, she read the message, let it sink in, and smiled.

"So what happened Saturday night? It's killing me not to know!"

Piper pondered the question, picked up her pencil, and scribbled a short reply.

"We kissed and made up!"

Piper passed the note to Sally and laughed when she started to read it. She knew her suggestive, detail-free reply would probably cause her friend to bust a vein. She returned her attention to Ginsberg when the oblivious instructor walked back to his stool.

"Can anyone tell me why the years 1503 and 1506 are important?" Ginsberg asked.

A cheerful junior raised her hand.

"It's when
Mona Lisa
was born," Sandy Perkins said.

Piper covered her mouth and bit her lip. It was all she could do to stifle a laugh. She would miss classes like this. She would miss it all.

The instructor smiled.

"You're close, Sandy. Though Lisa del Giocondo, the real
Mona Lisa
, was born in 1479, the painting that bears her likeness was 'born' between 1503 and 1506. Da Vinci did not just throw paint on a canvas and call it a day. He took three years to create the painting and during that time added numerous elements, including, some believe,
Mona Lisa's
iconic smile."

Sandy beamed.

"This brings me back to my original question," Ginsberg said. "If
Mona Lisa
is smiling, then
why
is she smiling?"

Ginsberg pointed to a boy in back.

"Randy?"

"She's smiling because she's plotting something," Randy Thompson said in a serious voice. "She's plotting something big."

"Is that so?" Ginsberg asked.

Randy nodded.

"She's going to put a frog in da Vinci's soup. She's mad at him for making her sit in a chair for three years and wants to put a croaker in his minestrone. It's the only thing that makes sense."

The class erupted in laughter.

"I like your interpretation," Ginsberg said. "I'm not sure many art historians would support it, but I admit it's the most creative I've ever heard."

Piper smiled when Randy acknowledged new laughs by standing up and bowing. One more student of art history had claimed his fifteen seconds of fame.

Ginsberg let his students enjoy the light moment until the talking and laughing subsided. Then he reclaimed control of the class and returned to the matter at hand.

"Can anyone offer a more grounded interpretation?" Ginsberg said. "Why is the
Mona Lisa
smiling instead of frowning? What is this young Renaissance woman trying to tell us?"

Piper looked at Sally as she scribbled furiously on a sheet of notebook paper. She didn't need to see more to know that her friend was not pleased with her five-word reply.

Piper prepared to receive the long message but withdrew her hand when Ginsberg rephrased his question and called on another boy. She leaned forward as the senior, who sat next to Wayne Bridges in the front row, started to speak.

"I don't think
Mona Lisa
wants to kill anyone or put a frog in his soup," Ben Ryan said. "I think she's doing what a lot of women did back then. She's sending a message to men."

The teacher put a hand to his chin.

"What message is that, Ben?"

"I think she's telling every guy who's ever messed up that there's always a chance he can make things right," Ben said. He turned his head, gazed at Piper with thoughtful eyes, and then returned to the instructor. "She's sending a message of hope and forgiveness."

Ginsberg scratched his chin.

"You got all that from a smile?"

"I did, Mr. Ginsberg. I do."

Piper did not gauge Sally's reaction. Nor did she acknowledge the snickers and grins. She simply gazed at the youth in the pressed white shirt and lost herself in the moment.

She was no longer a time traveler having an adventure or a high school student having some fun. She was a girl seeing a boy as she had never seen him before. She was a woman in love.

CHAPTER 40: MARY BETH

Los Angeles, California – Friday, April 24, 1959

Mary Beth heard the sounds before she saw the sources. Along with eighty others, she heard the grunts, chants, and calls of ten "Tahitian warriors" before they carried a sacred roasted pig into the courtyard of Zeta Alpha Rho and placed it on an altar.

"I take it the PC police are off today," Mary Beth said.

"What do you mean?" Mark asked.

"I mean times have changed."

"I imagine they have."

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.