“You’re like a marionette, aren’t you, babe? Dancing to everyone else’s tune?”
No one made Chel dance.
Carolyn wanted to be just like her.
1966
Once a week Carolyn received a letter from Oma, going over family news and whatever had been happening around Paxtown, which was never much. Mom called a couple of times a month, usually when Carolyn was away at class. The RM left notes in her box. Your mom called. They’re looking forward to having you home for summer break. Carolyn groaned. She didn’t want to go home, but she couldn’t afford to stay in Berkeley.
“If you don’t want to go home, babe, check in with the employment office. They can line up a job for you. We’ll get an apartment, have some fun.”
“I can’t afford an apartment, Chel.”
“Did I say you had to pay?”
Chel didn’t let up on the idea until Carolyn gave in. She figured staying in Berkeley with Chel might be easier than explaining to her parents and Oma why her grades had dipped dramatically. Mom and Dad didn’t put up a fight. That didn’t surprise her. Why would they care? But when Oma didn’t fuss about it, she wondered if anyone missed her. Chel told her to join the club.
Charlie, on leave after infantry training, came to visit one afternoon. He looked surprised when she answered the door. “I guess Berkeley is having its way with you.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Attitude, too.” He grinned. “Mind if I come in? Or are you going to leave your poor brother standing out here in the hall?”
She threw herself into his arms and hugged him. “Come on in. Take a look around.” Chel had rented the apartment furnished and added a few colorful pillows to the beige sofa, an Oriental rug under the coffee table. They’d nailed up posters of Venice, Paris, London, van Gogh’s Sunflowers, and Monet’s Nympheas, but it was Georgia O’Keeffe’s Grey Line that dominated the living room.
Charlie gave her a troubled look. “Interesting decor.”
“Glad you like it.” Carolyn lounged on the couch. “Chel pays the rent. Or rather her dad does. His secretary dumps money in her account every month.”
“Must be nice.”
“I think she’d rather have parents who cared.”
He wanted to know more about Chel. “She’s the first real friend I’ve ever had, Charlie.” She didn’t want to talk behind her friend’s back. “You want a glass of wine? We have Chablis or cabernet sauvignon.”
“I’m driving.”
She poured herself a tall glass and brought it back to the couch. He raised his brows. She lifted the glass. “Never seen a girl have a glass of wine before?” She drank deeply.
“Lots of times. Just not my little sister.”
She laughed, relaxed after half a glass. She asked him a couple of questions, knowing he’d take over the conversation. He talked about training and his new buddies-in-arms. “We’re all getting transferred to different bases. Dad says it was a lot different when he was in the military. They trained and went overseas as a unit. I’ll be going alone.”
Her muscles tightened. “Are you going to Vietnam, Charlie?”
“Not yet.”
She finished the glass of wine and thought about having another. Instead, she put the glass on the coffee table and leaned her head against the sofa. She wanted to cry, but it would only make him wish he hadn’t come.
Charlie tugged a strand of her hair. “Try not to worry about me so much.”
She rolled her head toward him. “Do you ever worry about me, Charlie?” Did anybody?
“I will now.” He leaned over and kissed her cheek before pushing to his feet. “It’s getting late. I’d better get on the road. You have to work tomorrow.”
Drowsy, she followed him to the door. “Tell Mom and Dad I’m doing fine.” If they asked.
He grinned. “I thought I’d tell them your apartment smells like pot and you keep bottles of wine in your fridge and pornographic art on your living room wall.”
“It’s a flower!”
He laughed. “Yeah, right. Some flower.”
She grinned, bolstered by the alcohol. “You have a dirty mind, Charlie.”
“Relax. I’m not going to tell them anything. If they ask, I’ll suggest they come see for themselves.”
“Like they’d have time for that.”
He hugged her and spoke seriously against her hair. “Don’t mess around too much, okay? I’d hate for you to have regrets later on.” He let her go.
She leaned in the doorway. “Didn’t you mess around when you were at USC?”
“Yeah, but I’m a guy. It’s permitted.”
“Male chauvinist pig.”
Punching the elevator button, her brother looked back at her. “Don’t go too crazy, Sis.” He jerked his chin up, gave her a sad smile, and disappeared into the elevator.
She went back into the apartment and poured herself another glass of wine. She cried and swore and wondered what the future held for each of them.
10
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’?”
Here it comes, Carolyn thought, trying to prepare herself. “I didn’t make dean’s list last time.”
“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.”