Woodstock Day Two #2
But Aphrodite couldn’t let it rest. “When John Lennon said the Beatles were more popular than Jesus, Psycho Dad burned her concert tickets.” She paused. “They were her seventeenth-birthday present. Paul was her whole world.”
The Paul comment was mortifying. My chest tightened.
I could see red. With pulse pounding, I sat straight up, glaring at Livy.
“He wasn’t just my whole world.” I tapped my chest. “Millions of other girls felt the same way. Still do.” I took an angry breath.
“George was your whole world. Davy Jones was too.” Shifting my gaze away from her, I stared at the lake.
The time had come. Even though Leon and Johnny were with us, I had no choice but to finally confront her about what had happened three years ago.
As I opened my mouth, intending to say, Are you ready to admit your lie?
And tell me the truth that you gave Marianne Gentry my Beatles ticket?
something she had said hit me like a baseball bat to the face.
Did she just say Dad burned my Beatles tickets?
I slowly turned my head toward her, as if I had a crick in my neck.
“Dad banned me from the concert. But he did not burn my tickets. He gave them to you.” I pointed straight at Livy’s face, a real Southern no-no.
With a slight shake of her head, she squeezed her eyes shut, then opened them wide, as if she was not hearing me correctly. “What? No, he didn’t.”
“Oh yes he did. So you could take your mother and little sister.”
A loud gasp spewed from Livy’s throat. “That’s not what happened! You must have forgotten.”
The tension, thicker than a copy of War and Peace, caused a hush to fall over all four of us.
It was high time I stood up to her. Unable to hold back another second, I leaned toward her.
“I have not forgotten one single detail about that day. I still think about it way more often than I should.” My nostrils flared as I crossed my arms in front of my chest. “I know what you did, Livy. Did you think I wouldn’t find out? ”
“Find out what?” There was a sharp edge to her voice.
“You know very well what I’m talking about.” With fresh daggers hurling, I dared her to look me straight in the eye and lie to my face. Yet again.
Her shoulders fell. She picked at her toes. “I didn’t think you knew.”
With a loud sneer, my voice escalated. “Are you kidding? Of course I knew! You saw me standing there with those protesters, but you hustled past, pretending you didn’t.
” I disregarded Leon and Johnny, not caring that they were watching the showdown or learning about my crazy family.
I was nearly shouting when I added, “I saw you with Marianne! I know you gave her my ticket.”
Air blew from Livy’s lips as she pressed a palm to her heart. “Can you please let me expl—”
“Of all people!” I interrupted before another lie could leave her lips.
“You knew I couldn’t stand her. She was the one who spread that rumor about you and John Dearing.
Not me. I would have never betrayed you like that, and you know it.
Why would I want Marianne to be the one to get my birthday present?
” Livy tried to interject, but I wouldn’t let her.
“You told me Kim was using my ticket. You lied to me.”
She stared down at her feet as if she was contemplating a response. Her voice was neither defensive nor angry when she said, “Marianne did not use your birthday ticket. Neither of us did.”
“Then how did you go to the concert, Livy? The tickets were sold out.” At this point, I was so upset I could hardly get the words out. “Dad gave all three of my birthday tickets to your family.”
“Suzannah,” Livy said, in that authoritative tone of hers. “That’s not what happened. Your dad burned your tickets. Or so he told my dad. He said he didn’t want anyone going because the Beatles were making devil music.”
Hanging my head in shame, I felt heat rush to my face. Livy had exposed my darkest stain.
“He left me at the last minute with no way to go. Thank God for Marianne. If she hadn’t invited me, I’d have missed out on the concert of a lifetime. Your dad’s the one who lied to you. Not me.”
I was the one who had missed out on the concert of a lifetime.
And spent three long years thinking Livy had betrayed me.
When, in actuality, it was Dad. “If what you’re telling me is true, then why didn’t you call me for three years?
It wasn’t my fault Dad burned the tickets.
Was that a reason to walk out on our friendship?
You were my best friend!” My voice broke. Tears blurred my vision.
Leon placed a hand on my back, rubbing his fingers across my spine. It gave me much-needed comfort.
“Your dad told my dad I couldn’t see you anymore,” said Livy. Her voice softened as she scooted toward me. “That’s why.”
“He what?” My mouth fell open. “My dad said that? Why?”
She lifted her shoulders. “He’s psycho.”
I covered my ears. I couldn’t hear anymore.
Johnny, still naked, piped up. “Ladies, ladies. There’s no reason to fight. This weekend is about peace and love. You said it yourself, Suzannah. You guys were best friends. Can’t you kiss and make up now?”
Livy laid a hand on my knee. “My parents weren’t making me burn my Beatles stuff. Or boycott the concert. Your dad was. He told my dad he thought it would be best if we didn’t keep company anymore. Who knows what goes on in his head? That’s why I didn’t call you.”
With a palm to my forehead, I muttered, “My God.”
Leon clutched my shoulder, saying in a soft voice, “I’m sorry that happened to you.”
I peered at him, my world shattering all over again. “I’m sorry you had to hear this. You too, Johnny.”
“Suzannah.” Livy’s voice was gentle, laced with compassion. “I’m sorry it happened to you too. You and Ronny have been through a lot.”
Johnny clapped his hands together. “Hey, man, can you guys kiss and make up now?”
Livy pulled me into a hug. But all I could give her was a limp embrace.
A choppy sea of emotions surged through my head.
On one hand I was relieved to learn she had not betrayed me.
Part of me wanted to break down—right then and there—and weep over all the wasted time away from my best friend.
Sob over the endless energy I had expended on anger.
But the other 50 percent of me couldn’t get past the gall of her to prance her nude body around the boy she knew I wanted.
Sure, it was Woodstock. Lots of people were into free love.
But still. Who does that to a best friend?
With a look of exasperation, Livy pulled away.
I couldn’t muster up the energy to feign goodwill; I was exhausted from hardly any sleep. Awkwardness returned, but I owed Leon some sort of an explanation about my father. “My dad’s super strict,” I told him. “He’s an army colonel. Very tough on my brother and me.”
“Is he in ’Nam?”
“No. He’s retired. He probably wishes he was so he could whip my brother into sha—”
“The brother he forced to enlist in this horrific war.” Livy straightened, pressing her fists into her waist.
I glared at her. “If you would hush your mouth, maybe, just maybe, I could finish my sentence.”
“Yeah. Let her finish.” Leon’s deepened tone surprised me. It must have surprised Livy, too, because she shuffled next to Johnny, buttoning her lip. For once. She stretched out her legs, tapping her feet together.
“My dad probably wishes he was in Vietnam,” I said. “So he could slap my brother and all his rebellious soldier friends into shape.”
Livy couldn’t let it rest. “Poor Ronny. He didn’t have a chance.”
I looked at her with renewed resentment. “You say that like he’s dead.”
“I didn’t mean it like that,” she said. “I meant he didn’t have a chance to go to college first. With his friends.”
“Son of a bitch,” said Johnny. “I’d kick my dad in the nuts before I’d let him make me go to ’Nam.”
“You don’t know my dad,” I said. “It’s impossible to say no to him.”
“The army colonel thing is rough,” Leon said. “I had a teacher my freshman year at Penn State. Old guy. Retired high-ranking officer in the army. Biggest dick who ever lived.”
“That’s just the tip of the iceberg,” said Livy. “He’s over-the-top religious.”
“What’s your religion?” Johnny asked me.
I’m seconds away from slapping her across the face, I thought but answered Johnny anyway. “Southern Baptist.”
“Did your brother try for conscientious objector status?”
“I have no idea, Johnny. I don’t even know what a conscientious objector is.”
He started to explain that it would have gotten Ron out of combat, but Leon interrupted, “My mom grew up Southern Baptist.”
Surely this was a joke. “Really?”
“Yup,” said Leon.
“Is she from the South?” I asked.
“Well, yeah. Georgia. She’s a peach. She talks just like you.”
I couldn’t believe my ears. We had something else in common.
“When she married my dad, she converted to Catholicism. So they could appease my grandparents and get married in the Catholic Church. Why do you think I have so many sibs?” Leon said, letting one of his man-giggles fly.
“Catholics are against the pill,” Livy explained, like we were all—including Catholic Leon—morons. “Blows my mind every time I think about it.”
“That would be my parents’ philosophy. Not mine.” Leon stood. “Let’s get back to the bowl. I’m ready to boogie.”
“Me too!” said Livy, quickly rising to her feet. She was done with the conversation.
And so was I.
She turned to Johnny. “Let’s go find grub first. I’m starving.”
“You and me both,” Johnny said, finally putting back on his filthy clothes.
Leon snickered. “Good luck. This joint is all out of grub.” He offered me his hand and pulled me up. My ankle turned on the uneven rock, but he caught me before I fell.
I couldn’t have cared less about finding food. All I wanted was to go back to our kiss.