“Cool,” I said, though I was sure Livy could tell by the tone of my voice I wasn’t all that interested. What was the point? I had no radio, no record player. How could I possibly listen to Joan Baez?
“SuSu.There’s so much great music out there. It’s about peace and love. You would dig it all.” Hearing her call me SuSu brought back memories of a sweeter time. Besides Ron, Livy was the only one who ever called me that.
I shifted in my seat. No other way around it. I had to confess why I didn’t know about Joan Baez or any of the other protest music. Our friendship had ended before she would have known. “To be perfectly honest, Dad forced me to give up all rock music after what John Lennon said.”
She rolled her eyes. “Your dad isout-there.” With a soup spoon to her lips, she paused. “But you’re still gonna be a singer.”
My heart dropped as I slowly shook my head from side to side.
“Why not? You’re so good!”
I dipped my chin. It pained me to talk about it. “I just told you. Dad made me give up rock music.” As tempted as I was to tell her more, I didn’t. As far as I was concerned, she had lost the right to ask. I didn’t trust her anymore.
“You’re in college now. Can’t you just do it behind his back?”
“No way. This is my new life, Livy.”
With her lips pressed together, Livy squeezed her eyes shut. I knew she was probably holding her tongue; she knew all about Dad. But it made me wonder if she could be considering an apology for giving that liar Marianne Gentry my Beatles ticket. I was hoping she might finally admit what she’d done and say she was sorry for not calling for three years. “I have a record I want you to hear,” she said instead, completely ignoring what I’d just told her about Dad. “Let’s go to the music section when we finish lunch.”
With only fifteen minutes left in my break, we hurried over to the music department. It was a big waste of time, but I didn’t know how to stop Livy. She had always been headstrong.
She sprinted over to the B’s, then hurriedly flipped through the stack until she found a white album with a sunshine on the cover. Holding it up in front of her, she said, “This is Joan Baez. Oh, SuSu, you’lllovethis record. Joan’s a little edgier than Peter, Paul and Mary, but her voice is angelic. Like yours.”
Livy’s compliments made me curious. Compliments weren’t her style.
“All the songs were written by Bob Dylan—those two were in love—and it was recordedin Nashville.” She pointed to the cover. “That’s Joan’s artwork. How cool is that?”
I just stood there with an aching spirit as she shoved the album into the crook of my arm. The mere feel of it against my skin flooded my heart with a yearning I hadn’t felt in ages.
The next thing I knew, she was holding up an album with a hand-drawn painting of a pretty blonde on the cover. “This is Joni Mitchell. Wait till you hear her voice. Your whole life is gonna change. That’s her self-portrait, by the way.” She added the album,Clouds, to my growing pile, then, as an afterthought, said, “Y’all’s voices are similar.”
Before I could comment on her third compliment of the day, she scurried back to the C’s. “Hang on. You’ve got to hear this one first. It just came out in May.” She retrieved an album with three longhairs sitting on a dilapidated maroon velvet sofa and held it in front of her chest. “You will love Crosby, Stills & Nash. They harmonize like celestial beings.”
“Seriously?”
“Seriously. Crosby was with the Byrds. You know, ‘Turn! Turn! Turn!’” Shetriedto sing it.
Knowing that song well, frombeforemy rock and roll ban, I said, “The lyrics are straight out of Ecclesiastes.”
“No way.”
I jerked my head back. “You mean I know music trivia you don’t?”
Livy laughed. “I’d have never known that. Anyway, Stills was in Buffalo Springfield, and Nash was in the Hollies.” She sang the first line of a Hollies song we used to love. “‘Hey, Carrie Anne.’” She pointed to me.
“‘What’s your game now?’” I sang back.
In unison we crooned, “‘Can anybody play?’” It was so much fun it made me long to reverse time and never beg my parents for Beatles tickets.
“You’ll love them, man,” she said.
As much as I wanted to listen to the records, I handed them back, wondering if she’d paid attention to a word I’d said. “Rock and roll is a part of my past.”
Livy looked me dead in the eye. “I find that tragic.”
“That makes two of us.” I glanced at my watch. “Gotta go. I’ll get in trouble if I’m late.”
She put the records down and reached out for a hug.
