Prom Night in Purgatory (Slow Dance in Purgatory) Page 23

  ~22~

  A Time to Lose

  Maggie picked Johnny up at eight o'clock in the pink Cadillac. She had resisted all his efforts to be the “man” and pick her up in his Bel Air. She remembered how, in Purgatory, he had wanted to drive the Cadillac, how he said he had coveted the car when spoiled Irene Honeycutt had received it on her seventeenth birthday. Now he would have his turn behind the wheel. Plus this way they could avoid Irene and any awkwardness. Irene had helped Maggie get ready, even getting a little teary when Maggie had donned the red dress. Maggie hadn't been able to explain that the reason Irene had never found the dress in 1958 was because Maggie had worn it back to 2011, skipping all the years in between. After all, there were never two red dresses. It made Maggie’s head spin just thinking about it, and she and Irene didn’t dwell on the tangled ball of yarn that time had become.

  Maggie knocked at Jillian Bailey's door and waited on the top step, the traditional roles on Prom Night reversed. Johnny answered almost immediately, and they stared at each other in awe, memories of another prom fresh in their minds.

  "That's my girl," Johnny breathed. "How is it possible that you look even more beautiful than you did that night?"

  "Modern make up and no nylons." Maggie grinned and stuck out one of her smooth, bare legs in her new red pumps. The original shoes had stayed behind in 1958, and Irene hadn't kept them the second time around.

  Maggie beamed and straightened Johnny's lapels. "No pink carnation this time, Mister. You and I need to match." She pulled the red rose from behind her back and proceeded to pin it on.

  "Let me get a picture." Jillian Bailey stood just beyond Johnny's right shoulder and ushered Maggie inside where the light was considerably better. Dusk had descended, and night was crawling into the sky.

  Maggie and Johnny looped their arms around each other, and instead of smiling into the camera, they ended up looking at each other.

  "Hey, you two," Jillian smiled. "Yoo hoo! Can you look right here?" She snapped away, but in the end the best shot was the first one, where they couldn't seem to tear their eyes away from each other. Jillian promised Maggie that she would send the pics to her phone.

  Maggie tossed Johnny the keys as they headed for the car. Johnny smiled and opened the passenger door, helping her in.

  "The old girl looks almost as good as she used to. Maybe just a little rusty around the edges," he commented as he pulled away from Jillian's house. "The transmission feels nice and tight."

  "It should. You just repaired it a few months ago."

  "I did?!"

  "Yes, you did. I sorta helped. Well...not really. But I kept you company. Told you blonde jokes and stuff."

  “Now that I can believe.” He grinned.

  The prom was being held in the parking lot of the burned out Honeyville High School. The Ladies Historical Society had held their auction the night before the big dance, trying to raise money for the new school that would be built on the very same site, and giving the community a chance to rally around the seniors who had lost not only their school a few months before graduation but all the decorations and supplies they had painstakingly gathered. Irene had found the record player she was looking for and donated it as well as several other things that she claimed it was time to let go of. The auction had been a huge success, and the townsfolk then helped to set up the space for “Beneath the Stars - Prom 2011.”

  It worked out that the prom was actually held “Beneath the Stars,” which seemed fitting. Maggie couldn't help but notice the similarity of the prom themes in 1958 and 2011, but was grateful she would be dancing with Johnny in the fresh air, where she would be safe from the pull of the past. Hundreds of silk trees lined the perimeter of the parking lot, and each had been densely strung with white twinkle lights, creating an enclosed dance floor. A popular band from Galveston had volunteered to play at the ravaged high school free of charge. Huge generators were brought in to power the band and the lighting, and several local businesses had donated tables and chairs, refreshments, and flowers to the senior class.

  There is something very sexy about a guy who can dance, and apparently Johnny had been practicing some modern moves in the three days since Maggie had popped the question. It's amazing what someone can learn from satellite TV. Maggie was stunned and thrilled in equal measure. But the slow songs were the best, and Johnny held her like there wasn't another girl in the vicinity, which of course, there was. And the girls were all aware of him. Maggie caught several of them gawking and pointing and practically drooling when Johnny let loose on the dance floor. The boys seemed to be increasingly angry over the attention he was getting from their dates; there was even a bit of a dust up at one of the tables. Derek and Dara were arguing quite publicly about the looks she was giving Johnny, and Derek ended up pushing away from the table, knocking over his chair, and storming out of the circle of lit trees to where all the cars were parked. Several of his friends seemed unsure of what to do, and Trevor ended up being the only one who followed him out. Maggie shrugged. She really didn’t care about Derek or Dara.

  Unlike most of the couples who made an appearance at the dance to see and be seen, get their pictures taken, and quickly leave, Johnny and Maggie lapped up every song and every second. Nobody else existed, and nobody else mattered for one night. If Maggie could stay in a moment forever, this one would have been a contender; purgatory had become paradise, and Maggie happily lost herself in it. Even the blackened remains of the high school, foreboding in the velvet moonlight, cast little shadow over her bliss.

  Unfortunately, it appeared that Derek's jealousy got the best of him, and when the last song ended and Maggie and Johnny left the prom hand in hand, they discovered all of the tires on Irene's car had been slashed. The car sat in an embarrassed slump, and Maggie cried out and Johnny swore, closing the distance at a run, squatting down beside the right front tire, which was completely flat, the gash puckered and gaping.

  Maggie bit her lip to keep from screaming out in vexation. She wished suddenly and fervently that she and Johnny could just run away together. She was so done with Honeyville and high school. But just as quickly, she stopped herself, quelling the thought. On this night especially, she was mindful of her blessings and grateful that for the first time, maybe even since her parents died, that she had hope for a future with someone she loved.

  “I’m guessing you’ve got a spare in the trunk, but one spare isn’t gonna do us much good,” Johnny sighed. “Who would do something like this?”

  “Did you notice all the looks you were getting from the ladies?”

  “Absolutely.” Johnny smiled deviously, his eyebrows waggling.

  “Yeah, well so did all the other guys. I’m guessing one of them - and his name starts with ‘D’ and end with ‘erek,’ was a little jealous of your hot moves and decided to take it out on our cool ride.”

  Maggie hunched down beside him and sighed. “How many blondes does it take to change a tire?”

  “Only one, sweetheart, but this blonde can’t work a miracle.”

  Gus’s portentous words echoed in Maggie’s mind. Don’t forget your miracle so quickly. “This blonde IS a miracle,” Maggie said quietly, sliding her hand into his.

  Johnny’s eyes softened, and he leaned in and kissed her slowly and then stood, pulling her up beside him.

  “We aren’t taking this old girl home tonight. You got any friends who could give us a lift?”

  Maggie looked around at the mostly deserted car lot and then back toward the tree-lined dance floor. The band was disassembling and moving gear into the back of an old Ford pick-up overflowing with speakers and equipment. They weren’t going to be able to squish in there, and Maggie didn’t know any of the band members. Her eyes roved past the few remaining couples all walking out to their cars. One car pulled away as she watched, and another couple she knew only vaguely climbed onto a Harley Davidson Motorcyle, the girl hiking up her skirt and pulling on a helmet. The hog rumbled and belched, and they pulled
away without a backward glance at the marooned Cadillac.

  “Maggie! Do you guys need some help?”

  Maggie swung around to see Jody Evans turn off the twinkle lights at the perimeter of the dance floor and head towards them. Jody was on her dance team, and she had always been nice to Maggie, helping her out with her make-up the night of the fateful winter formal, and never letting Dara’s opinions sway her.

  “Jody!” Maggie called, relieved that someone she knew still remained at the dance. The place was now almost deserted. “We’ve got a little car trouble here. We need a lift. Could we catch one with you?”

  “Sure! My boyfriend manages the band. We’re just helping them load up, and then we’ll drive back to the lead singer’s place to unload. The committee will come back tomorrow to take down all this other stuff. It’s way too late tonight to mess with it, and I don’t think anyone’s gonna run off with silk trees or twinkle lights. ‘Course, judging by your car tires, there are some definite jerks out there. Geez! Who did that?” Jody’s eyes widened at the damage done to the Caddie’s tires.

  Maggie let the question slide by, not wanting to point fingers when she wasn’t absolutely sure of the offender. “Are you sure we could squeeze in? The truck looks pretty full.”

  “Oh sure. We’ll figure it out.”

  But Jody’s optimism was short lived. The lead singer, the drummer, Jody, and her band manager boyfriend were all going to cram into the front seat of the truck. There was no way Johnny and Maggie were going to fit.

  “We might be able to get one of you in the back if you hold one of those speakers in your lap, but it ain’t gonna be comfortable man,” the drummer volunteered hesitantly, addressing Johnny.

  “I’m not leaving Maggie here alone.”

  “Johnny, I’ll get in the car, turn on the radio, and lock the doors.” Maggie shrugged. “Plus, it’ll take you ten minutes to get to Jillian’s house and be back here with your car. I’ll be fine. I used to ride my bike to and from this very school by myself, day in and day out.”

  Johnny shook his head again. “No. We’ll walk. It isn’t that far.”

  “In those shoes?” Jody laughed, looking at Maggie’s high red heels.

  “I’ll carry her,” Johnny offered, as if he thought he really could carry her for three miles.

  “In that dress?” Jody laughed even harder. “I’ll stay with Maggie. You jump in the cab with the guys, Johnny, and you and Maggie can take me home when you get your car,” Jody suggested cheerfully.

  “Uh, Jody?” Jody’s boyfriend definitely did not like that idea. He obviously didn’t want Prom Night to end so soon, especially without even taking his date home.

  “This is crazy,” Maggie sighed. “I can’t hold a speaker on my lap. It’s bigger than I am, and I sure as heck can’t walk home. Jody, we’ve already kept you guys long enough. Just let Johnny jump in the back, and I’ll wait here for ten minutes for him to come back with his car.”

  Johnny scowled. He didn’t like her idea, not at all. Unfortunately, it seemed the only solution, so after some growling and some worrying, he wedged himself into the crowded bed of the truck, straddling a speaker and keeping the cymbals from crashing together while he kept the snare from toppling over on top of him. The others piled in front as planned, and Maggie walked to the pink Caddie, now alone in the completely deserted lot. She waved and climbed into the car. She turned the key and lit up the console, flipping on the radio to keep her company until Johnny returned.

  Her phone bleeped. It was going dead. Maggie clicked on the picture messages Jillian had sent, hoping she had enough power to open them. The first picture that opened was the first one Jillian had taken. She and Johnny were standing close, and her head was tilted up to his. They were gazing at each other, smiles of pleasure curling their lips. Maggie caught her breath and felt her eyes swim. It was perfect; finally, a happy ending. Her phone bleeped again. She turned it off and sat back, smiling, with the picture filling her vision behind her eyes.

  Johnny still had the radio tuned into the oldies station. A song Maggie faintly knew trickled out of the slightly tinny speakers and into the car. Maggie's smile broadened and her feet jived a little in time with the rhythm. She had heard this song somewhere before, but she couldn't place it. ”And we’ll be rocking and a’reelin...”

  Lights flashed from behind her closed lids, and Maggie blinked in surprise. Johnny couldn’t be back already.

  The lights slid past the Caddie, and Maggie's view was suddenly obscured by the people that were sitting on the hood of Irene’s car. She screeched and jerked upright, her eyes swinging wildly to the right. A mint green car, similar to Irene's in year and make, was parked next to her. Another pair of lights slid past and then another. A black truck with rounded edges and ancient curves jerked to a stop to the left of Irene's Cadillac, and Maggie cried out and then bit back the sound when the driver of the truck tossed a startled look her way. The driver's side window was down. The song that had been on the radio was now inside and outside of the car, as if the vehicles surrounding her were tuned into the same station.

  “That’s Chuck Berry, folks...” An announcer’s voice bounced glibly over the tail end of the song, reading a commercial for Crest toothpaste: “Look Ma, no cavities!” Nobody on the radio spoke that way anymore. Maggie groaned in growing horror. How had this happened? She was in the car! This wasn’t possible! Maggie’s ever-accommodating brain supplied an answer almost immediately. She was wearing clothing from the 1950’s, listening to oldies in a car that had been in her family for decades. She groaned again and slammed her hand against the dash in frustration.

  She wasn’t wearing her Saint Christopher medal. It hadn’t gone with her dress. She cursed herself and fumbled for her phone desperately, hoping for something to pull her back to the present. It was gone. Her purse, which had been sitting on the seat beside her only moments before, had disappeared as well. She had pulled her right foot from her shoe when she’d climbed into the car. The shoes were new, and she’d formed a small blister on her little toe while dancing. Her right shoe was missing. She looked down at her left foot, still wearing the high red heel and then at her bare right one and back out at the crowd that was forming beyond the car. Trying not to panic, she turned the radio off and rolled down her window a few inches, hoping to ascertain where -- and when -- she was.

  “He’s here!” a girl squealed, and the voices beyond the Caddie’s windows rose and fell in excitement.

  “Kinross is here!” The shout went out across the parking lot.

  “Paula, don’t say anything!” It was Irene’s voice. She and her friends must be the girls sitting on the hood of the car.

  “Yeah, Paula!” someone chimed in. Was that Shirley or Cathy? Maggie knew she had heard that voice before. “You always spill the beans!”

  “Roger is up to something!” Irene said in a low, firm voice, and her friends quieted down. “He wants us to send Johnny inside the school, but don’t any of you do it!! Do you hear me?”

  “But Irene!” Paula wailed. “He’ll be mad! He is still your guy, isn’t he?”

  Irene didn’t respond. Maggie began to shake. She knew where she was. Oh, heaven help her! She knew where she was.

  ***

  2011

  The truck full of drums, speakers, lights, and equipment rumbled to a stop at the blinking red light. Johnny shifted his weight, trying to keep the cymbal from dinging him in the head. He had a bad feeling and wished he’d never agreed to leave Maggie behind, even for ten minutes. And he’d left her at that God-forsaken school. Just looking at the burnt out remains made him break out in a cold sweat.

  Johnny felt sick and head-achy, and if he didn’t get out of the bouncing truck soon he was going to be sick all over the equipment. This was not the way he had envisioned the night ending. He needed to get back to Maggie.

  Jody Evans called out to him through her open window, verifying the directions to Jillian’s. She was perched on her boyfrien
d’s lap, her head almost touching the roof of the overcrowded cab. The light turned green, and Johnny tried to answer, but his throat was suddenly so tight he couldn’t breathe.

  “Johnny?” Jody peered through the back window, craning her head this way and that.

  “Who are you talking to, Jody?” Her boyfriend laughed.

  “Yeah, Jod. Most guys don’t like it when their girls call them by the wrong name,” the lead singer drawled.

  “What did I call you?” Jody laughed, addressing her boyfriend.

  “You called him Johnny,” the drummer teased. “His name is Jeremie. And mine’s Craig....in case you’re thinking about replacing Jeremie.”

  “Shut it, Craig,” Jeremie threatened cheerfully.

  “I wasn’t talking to you, Jer. I was just thinking we needed to....to...” Jody’s voice broke off, and a puzzled look marked her pretty features. “Weird. I just totally forgot what I was going to say. And I feel like it was important. It’s almost like Deja vu...or something.”

  Something crashed in the bed of the truck, Craig swore, and then Trey, the lead singer, threatened randomly, “Whoever didn’t tie down that cymbal is going to buy it if it’s busted.” He slowed to a stop at the side of the road, and he and Craig spilled out of the driver’s side door.

  “Shit!” they heard Craig shriek. “The speaker tipped over, and the cymbal is shoved through the snare drum!”

  Jody and Jeremie joined the melee and commenced rearranging the equipment so they could make it home without further incident.

  No one seemed to remember that there had been someone in the back of the truck...someone they had agreed to help, someone who had been holding the cymbal that had skewered the drum. Reduced to a vague and fleeting sense of something forgotten, it was as if he had never been there at all.