Carolyn went home twice during the first part of her sophomore year, once for Thanksgiving and then for a few days during Christmas break. Both times Mom and Dad commented on her bell-bottom pants, embroidered blouses, leather fringed jacket, and moccasins. She’d let her hair grow and left it hanging loose rather than pulled back in a ponytail. They didn’t approve.
“How’re your classes going? Are they harder this year? What will you be taking next?”
Carolyn had expected questions, but this felt like an interrogation. “My main goal right now is to get through finals.”
“What do you mean ‘get through’?”
“We know.” Mom looked as grim as she sounded.
“I don’t think I’d make a good teacher. I’m thinking about changing my major.”
Dad raised his head and looked at her. “To what?”
“I was thinking about liberal arts. I’m not sure yet. I’m still trying to find myself.”
Dad stared, his eyes blazing. “‘Find yourself’? What’s that supposed to mean?”
Carolyn wondered what her parents would say if they knew how often she went to the Fillmore or that Chel had talked her into going on the pill. Carolyn had no plans to dive into the free love movement, but Chel insisted. She could be a bulldog about some things. “Never say never, babe. And better safe than sorry.” Chel wouldn’t let up until she got her way, which never took long. Carolyn had always been good at giving in. Chel-charismatic, fun, smart-made it even easier.
Mom and Oma started calling more frequently and asking more questions.
They also asked when Carolyn might come home for another visit. Carolyn found excuses to stay in Berkeley.
When Mom called and said Charlie had a month’s leave, Carolyn knew what it meant. He’d gotten orders to go to Southeast Asia. “He’s coming home, Carolyn. I know he’d love to spend time with you.”
Chel offered to drive. “Save you from taking the bus.” They piled into Chel’s new red Camaro purchased with “Daddy’s guilt money.”
As Chel turned in to the driveway, Carolyn spotted Oma working in her English flower garden. Oma stood, brushing off her hands, and shaded her eyes. Chel slowed enough that she didn’t leave a cloud of dust around Oma as they passed by and parked the Camaro behind the garage next to Charlie’s Impala. “Come, meet Oma.” Carolyn headed for the cottage.
Oma hugged and kissed her. “It’s about time you came home for a visit.”
“I’ve been avoiding everyone.” Carolyn meant it to sound like a joke. She introduced Chel.
Oma looked her over. “Would you ladies like some tea?”
“My favorite drink.” Chel grinned.
As they sat at the kitchen table, Oma turned her attention to Chel. She asked one question after another. Carolyn’s stomach tightened into a knot, waiting for her friend to say something outrageous, but Chel didn’t seem to mind the third degree. She easily avoided questions about her parents and talked instead about her succession of nannies and private tutors. She’d been sent off to a boarding school in Massachusetts, then to a finishing school in France. “I flunked out, of course, though I learned enough French to find my way around.”
Chel drank it all in. So did Carolyn, who had heard only bits and pieces of Oma’s story.
“Well, I’ve talked enough for today. You ladies had better get over to the house before your mother thinks I’m holding you hostage.” Oma walked them to the door.
“Your grandmother is the grooviest person I’ve ever met!” Chel said on the way to the house.
Charlie sat in the living room, watching television. He looked bored when Carolyn walked in. Then he saw Chel on her heels. Carolyn had never seen that look on his face before.
Chel dumped her backpack and stepped into the living room. She stopped in front of him, hands on her hips as she looked at him. “So you’re the superhero Caro talks about all the time.” Speechless, Charlie stared, a bemused smile curving his lips. Chel gave her growling laugh and cast Carolyn a catlike smile. Carolyn didn’t have to guess whether her best friend liked Charlie.
Carolyn hugged Charlie and introduced them formally. “We’d better stow our stuff in the bedroom, Chel.”
Mom stood in the kitchen making dinner. Her eyes widened when she saw them. Carolyn had already warned Chel her parents were uptight, workaholic, staunch Republican, churchgoing people. Mom managed a smile and a welcome. She looked at Carolyn, a flicker of desperation in her eyes. “Your dad will be home soon. He had to go into town on an errand.”
Chel tossed her pack in the corner of Carolyn’s bedroom. She looked around at the pink walls, lace curtains, white chenille bedspread with pink and white pillows, and Carolyn’s old rag doll. When she picked it up, Carolyn took it and put it on the dresser. “Oma made it for me.”
“A woman of many talents.”
They went back out to the living room. When Dad came up the drive in his squad car, Chel put her hand over her heart. “I haven’t even done anything, and here come the police.”
Charlie laughed. “Dad works for the sheriff’s department.”
She grinned at him. “I know, soldier.” She glanced at Carolyn’s face and leaned over to whisper. “You think he’ll shoot me?”
Over the next few hours, Carolyn realized Chel could play a role perfectly. She resurrected all the manners she had been taught at the Waldorf Astoria in New York City and impressed Mom and Dad with her erudite views on the world. When Mom asked if she’d traveled much, Chel talked about a half-dozen cities in Europe, various museums, and historical sites.
Dad finally brought up politics, much to Carolyn’s discomfort. Mom didn’t look any happier. Chel said openly she was against the war in Vietnam and talked about how America needed changes in civil rights. When Dad opened his mouth to speak, Mom tried to change the subject. Dad scowled, aware of Mom’s ploy.
Chel must have noticed too, and she trumped her. “I’d like very much to hear your opinion, sir, and how you came by it.” Her sincerity seemed to surprise Dad. In the space of a second, Carolyn saw her father look past the hippy garb, the wild hair, the bangles and beads and headband, to Rachel Altman. He laid down whatever weapons he’d taken up in his mental arsenal and declared a truce by talking fondly about his days at Berkeley.
Charlie could hardly keep his eyes off Chel, though he tried to hide his fascination from Mom and Dad. Carolyn understood how easily Chel could mesmerize people. She was bewitching Mom and Dad with stories Carolyn had never heard. She wondered how many of them were true.
After dinner, Chel started to help clear the table. Mom quickly protested. Chel suggested a drive. “I’d love to see the town that shaped you, Caro.” She invited Charlie, of course, but Mom and Dad came up with some lame excuse to squelch that idea. Maybe they’d noticed more than Carolyn realized.
Paxtown hadn’t changed at all. They cruised Main Street like high school girls and stopped in at the Gay 90s. Chel ordered beer and flashed her fake ID so fast the waiter didn’t get a good look at it, but he said he wouldn’t serve Chel unless she produced a birth certificate stamped with a government seal. Unrepentant, she grinned at him. “No law against trying.”
Chel wanted to see the church Carolyn’s family attended. “Think it’s open?” Chel got out and went up the steps to try the door. “Locked tight as a vault.” The windows were too high off the ground for her to peer in. “Where else did you hang out?”
Carolyn shrugged. “That’s about it.”
“Looks like the eighteen hundreds around here. You wouldn’t be able to sneeze in a town like this without having everyone know about it.” She grinned. “No wonder you’re so uptight.”
