“I don’t know. But good for him. If more of our boys did that, Nixon would be forced to think twice about what he’s doing. More of our boys would be alive!” Her hand flew to her mouth. “Forget I said that. Ronny’s fine. I swear to God!”
My muscles stiffened as I swallowed renewed anger. Livy was not herself. Even still, I could hardly keep my patience. “I feel bad for Joan Baez,” I said. “She has to raise her baby alone.”
“You should feel worse for her husband. He’s the one in jail.” She uncrossed her legs and glanced at her watch. “It’s been four hours since last time. Let’s page my boyfriend again. Please.”
By now we had learned the other announcer’s name was John Morris. His exasperated voice rang out into the night sky. “I am informed that somebody somewhere is giving out some flat blue acid. It is poison,” he said. “It’s deadly serious, man. I’ve just been informed that we have four or five people who are a little sick from it ... no, fifteen. Be cool. And whoever you are, man, I’d love to find ya.”
“Are you kidding me? That ishorrible,” I said.
“Are you coming?” Livy asked, unfazed by the warning.
“Yeeees.I’m coming. Let’s get this over with,” I muttered under my breath.
As we turned to leave, Leon and Anne Marie glanced at me. I waved, and they waved back. But neither asked where I was going. It made me want to leave even less.
Like before, we squeezed down to the main stage. It took longer to get there because thousands more people had packed into the bowl. Livy handed another note that she’d already scribbled out on one of Johnny’s rolling papers to the same girl, Joyce. “Would you mind having my boyfriend paged again?” she asked. “Please.”
Joyce read the inscription. “No luck, huh?”
Livy shook her head.
“You’ll find him. Don’t lose heart.”
“I’ve already lost heart.”
Joyce must have taken pity on Livy.Andme. We’d been at the information booth only ten minutes when we heard the page. “Nick McCarthy, Livy is still looking for you. Please meet her at the information boothnow.”
Livy sucked on a cig, lamenting Nick’s absence, while I pretended to listen. But all I could think about was Leon. While she rehashed every reason why she was disappointed, and now furious, at herboyfriend, I ruminated on every second at the butterfly tea party, Leon’s butterfly kiss, and the moment I thought he might kiss me for real, if not for those horrid party crashers. That led to obsessing over him and tie-dyed-skirt girl until I felt sick. I didn’t hear another word Livy said.
An entire hour passed before she was willing to give up and head back to our spot.
While we squeezed between hundreds of people on the way back, a guy named Tim Hardin sang “If I Were a Carpenter.” Livy and I stopped where we were to listen. The song was achingly beautiful.
She placed a hand on my shoulder and spoke into my ear. “Can you believe you’re here?”
“No, I really can’t. I just hope Dad doesn’t find out. If he has me paged, I’ll die. I’ll be the first person in the world to croak of embarrassment.”
“That’s not gonna happen,” she said, like I was crazy to think it.
“Never underestimate my father, Livy Foster.”
My Beatles disaster roared back. I couldn’t quell the memory to save my soul. It may have been three years ago—and I may not have croaked from embarrassment then—but the horror of it all never faded from my mind. Millions of teenagers had fallen for the mop-headed boy with long dark eyelashes and the face of an angel, but I was the only one with a father mean enough to make me denounce him in front of the whole world.
Three Years Earlier
Mid-South Coliseum (My Beatles Disaster)
Memphis, Tennessee
Friday, August 19, 1966
Dad eased his Cadillac into the entrance of the Mid-South Coliseum, driving slowly through the crowd, where thousands of girls had lined both sides of the street. I ducked my head, praying to go unnoticed. The only reason I could breathe was the bag in my lap. I had left the top open on purpose. To look at him.
Like chocolate diamonds, Paul’s eyes sparkled at me from his best photo. Just underneath, more of his other magazine pictures created a thick pile. Each and every one colored my world cherry red, introducing me to fire and passion and a stirring between my legs that I could neither explain nor expel. All I knew was that I had fallen in love. How on earth would I live without him?
After circling the parking lot twice, Dad chose a spot not far from the front door. Before turning off the ignition, he glanced at my lap. “One day you’ll thank me for this, Suzannah. When you’re raising children of your own, you’ll look back and know that your father wasright.” He held up a finger to emphasize his words. “Your Heavenly Father will bless your obedience. I know what I’m talking about.”
Not wanting to look at him—any square inch of him—I kept my head down. Surely my Heavenly Father wouldn’t punish me like this. Exactly what had I done wrong?
