Goldsmith’s Department Store Memphis, Tennessee
Goldsmith’s Department Store
Memphis, Tennessee
Two weeks went by without so much as a phone call.
I was sure Livy would be on me like a rat on a Cheeto, persuading me to go to Woodstock. Boy was I wrong. Not only was there no persuading, but there was no Livy.
The loss of her a second time made me want to break down and weep. Having her back had been like finding that special something you thought you’d lost forever. We’d picked up right where we left off, as if a single day hadn’t passed without best friendship.
It must have been my comment about making my own decisions, but considering we’d just reconnected after three years, you’d think she would have at least called to see how I was doing.
Sure, I could have called her, but it was a matter of principle.
She walked out on me in the first place.
And that comment about going to Woodstock for Ron’s sake? What a low blow.
That was Livy. She could be ruthless if it meant getting her own way.
The whole way to work, I kept thinking about it. My big regret in our short-lived reacquaintance was not finding out why she had lied about giving Marianne Gentry my Beatles ticket and going AWOL the first time.
For the past two weeks, I’d been obsessing over that backstabber, wondering if she and Livy were still friends.
All those years ago Livy had told me what Marianne said behind my back, and her words still echoed as loudly today as they had three years ago.
“She said you were the one that told everyone I went all the way with John Dearing.” What a lie.
Marianne was the one who had said it. I’d have never betrayed Livy like that. Never in a million years.
Yet she had betrayed me.
I spent the first fifteen minutes of my workday tidying up the stockroom.
When I made it out to the floor, Gertie glanced up from counting money in the register.
Using her left palm as a shield while pointing her right index finger to the far end of the department, she softly singsonged, “You have com-pany.”
Well, what do you know? There stood Livy, studying a display of expensive lacy silk panties.
“Hi, Livy!” I called from the counter, my insides vibrating with relief.
She turned around with an excited glow. “Morning. I need some new lingerie.” With hands on her hips, she walked toward the register. “The sexier the better.”
“Oh my,” Gertie whispered, pressing a hand to her neck, then pointed to the wall display behind the counter. “Why don’t you try the Sea Dream Collection. It’s Maidenform.”
Livy glanced at the display. “I don’t think so, but thank you anyway.
” She then roamed around the department, stopping to finger every pure-silk garment she could spy.
At the sight of the Christian Dior display, she sucked in a breath, then held up a dainty pair of lace panties. “Now this is what I call sexy.”
“Mighty pri-cey,” Gertie singsonged under her breath. “May we interest you in a Dior brassiere to go with it?”
“No ma’am. Not today.” Livy grabbed three pairs of pastel-colored panties before her eye caught on something sexier. “Ooh la la, I love this baby doll nightie.” She pulled it from the rack, waving me over. “Help me decide.”
She headed straight for the largest dressing room, which was at the end of the hall. Once we were inside, she snapped the curtains shut. In seconds flat she had stripped down naked. The yellow panties were at her knees before I could stop her.
“Wait. You can’t try them on without these.” I handed her a pair of disposable paper panties from a stack on the table next to a bench.
Outraged, she snatched the paper panties from my hand, like I had asked her to clean my toilet. “How am I supposed to know how I look wearing these awful things?”
“Just do it. It’s the rule.”
“You’re such a rule follower these days.”
“I’ve been forced to be a rule follower,” I said.
Pulling them on reluctantly, she sighed, then stepped into the yellow silk panties and tugged them over the paper ones.
She slipped the baby doll nightie over her head, sliding it down to cover her voluptuous breasts.
Goose bumps had risen on her flesh. No wonder—Goldsmith’s felt like a meat locker.
Watching Livy pose in the mirror, turning this way and that, left me flabbergasted.
She was pretty three years ago, but now she had blossomed into a full-fledged model.
Perfect face. Perfect body. Tanned long legs that wouldn’t quit.
With her ankles touching, her legs passed the three-diamonds test with flying colors: one diamond between her thighs, one below her knees, and another above her ankles.
She cocked her head to the side, speaking to me in the mirror. “I wanna look sexy for my boyfriend.”
“Will you wear that inside the tent or out?”
Her face drooped. She peered at me with an annoyed glare.
“It just seems kind of dressy for an outdoor music festival.”
“Not when it’s been three months since you’ve seen your boyfriend.
” Livy adjusted the side mirrors to see her backside, her tan lines a dead giveaway of how she’d spent her summer.
The Fosters had a pool in their backyard.
“Speaking of the festival, have you given any more thought about going with me?” she asked. “I leave Thursday.”
Sliding down onto the white leather bench, I twisted my hair into a bun, securing it with a pencil I’d spied on the table. “I have.”
“And?”
I shook my head.
With hands on her hips, she sighed. “Why not? I really want you to meet my boyfriend.”
“I’d love to meet your boyfriend. But the only way I could do it is to lie. If Dad caught me, and he would . . .” I shook my head, the consequences too horrible to imagine. “Not worth it.”
Livy sat down next to me on the bench. With her perky nipples smashed inside the see-through pale-yellow negligee, she looked like a Playboy centerfold.
“What I don’t understand is why he thought it was okay to send his young, eighteen-year-old son to the battlefields of Vietnam yet now requires his twenty-year-old daughter to live in a cloister. Psycho.”
She was right. But what could I do about it? I took a deep breath, exhaling loudly.
Livy stood back up and gazed at me in the mirror’s reflection. “I know you, SuSu. The festival is you. The true you. If you go, you’ll discover the real Suzannah.”
My shoulders fell. “Believe me. I plan to discover that girl as soon as I turn twenty-one. Not a day later.”
“Have you thought about moving across the river to Arkansas? People are legal adults at eighteen. Same with Kentucky.”
“I don’t know anyone in Arkansas or Kentucky,” I said with a sigh.
“Just trying to help.” Flipping her long hair behind her shoulders, she added, “At least you have cool new records. Have you heard the rest?”
“I can’t take another chance. Too risky.”
Livy’s face beamed with a sudden sunshine. “Bring them to my house tonight. You can have dinner with us, and we can listen together.”
“I wish I could. Mama’s been talking about making her lasagna all week. We’re having it tonight.” Mama’s lasagna tasted better than fudge. Even Livy couldn’t make me miss it.
She whipped around to face me. “You’re acting paranoid. Your dad is not going to catch you. When he goes to sleep, just listen in your closet like last time. Once you hear the records, you’ll change your mind about the festival.” Livy knew how hard it was, yet she wouldn’t stop.
I sighed. Loudly. “This is hard enough. Please try to understand.”
“I know it’s hard, but I’m telling you, the best bands in the world will be there.” She refused to take no for an answer. Always had.
I collapsed flat back onto the bench and kicked my legs in the air.
“Crosby, Stills & Naaaaash!” She turned back to the mirror with a hand on her hip and a tilt of her head. “Do you like?”
All I could muster was a nod.
“Do you think my boyfriend will like?”
“How could he not?” Geez, Livy. Could you be any more perfect?
“You’re right. I’ll take it. And the panties too.” She lifted the nightie over her head and stepped back into her street clothes.
I would have loved the chance to spend more time convincing her of the reasons why I couldn’t go to the festival.
Why it wasn’t worth the risk. Why my father’s dominating power still ruled my life.
But it wouldn’t have made any difference.
Livy would never understand. She came from an open-minded cool family with parents who trusted her to make her own decisions.
A truth about my family dawned on me right then. Oppression is just something you get used to.
I stood up. “Sure you don’t need a new bra?” I asked, gathering the merchandise she’d left on the floor.
Livy shook her head. “The only time I wear one is when I’m home.” She popped her home bra strap against her shoulder.
Once I’d written up the sales ticket and shown her the total, I was surprised she didn’t balk.
It was an exorbitant sale—for a twenty-year-old, anyway.
I was dying to ask how she could afford such a luxury, despite her parents’ money, but decided it was none of my business and certainly none of Gertie’s, who had been hovering around us like a dragonfly.
After folding the lingerie in tissue paper and placing it neatly inside a shopping bag, I walked around the counter to hand it to her. “Sorry it’s not working out for us to go to the festival. But we should still get together.”
“Call me,” she said. “We have the same number.”
“So do we,” I answered, my voice barely audible. Despite everything that had happened in our past, I groaned at the thought of losing her again. I’d been devastated by her betrayal three years ago. So much so that I had never allowed myself to imagine her reentering my life.
Livy took one step toward the escalator, then turned back around, lowering her voice for my ears only.
“Take a walk on the wild side, Suzannah Jean Withers.” She was referring to a book on the Central High summer reading list. I hadn’t been allowed to read it.
She had. “If you go to the festival, you’ll be the talk of Union U when you get there in the fall. ”
I laughed. “You’re so right about that.”
“At the very least, listen to the rest of the records.” With a hand on my shoulder, she gave me a gentle squeeze. “Today’s music is a reflection of what’s going on in our country. Society is changing. You need to be a part of the resistance. Ron’s life depends on it.”