Mirror, The (33 page)

"Sure it does," Ginny said matter-of-factly. "You're leaving for law school in six weeks. I'm not leaving for law school in six weeks. Seems pretty final to me."

Steve put a hand on her face and directed her eyes to his.

"You could come with me."

Ginny frowned. She remembered why she didn't want to have this conversation.

"Why would I do that?"

"I think the answer is obvious," Steve said.

Ginny gave him a hard stare.

"What would I do in Boston? Bag groceries and keep your bed warm? No, thanks."

"You could go to school. There must be fifty colleges in the metropolitan area alone. You could get a degree there just as easily as you could here."

Ginny considered telling Steve the truth. She knew that telling him she was a time traveler from 2020 would put a stop to the cohabitation talk. She also knew it would invite a hundred more questions – questions she no longer wanted to answer.

"I'm not going to Boston, Steve. I have a job here. I have a sister here. I plan to go to college here. This conversation is over."

Steve fixed his gaze.

"So what are you saying? Are you saying we're done?"

"No. I'm not saying that. I
am
saying that spending some time apart this fall may not be such a bad thing. You have law school. I have a life here."

"But …"

Ginny put a finger to his lips.

"I'm also saying that I don't want to talk about this anymore."

Steve frowned.

"All right. I won't bring it up again."

"Do you promise?"

"I promise."

Ginny kissed him on the cheek.

"Thank you," she said.

Steve laughed.

"I guess that takes care of one conversation topic," he said. "What do you want to talk about now?"

Ginny pulled out of his embrace and turned to face him directly. She smiled softly and ran a hand through his hair.

"We could talk about what you're going to fix me for breakfast or what we're going to do today. We could even talk about the weather."

She kissed Steve lightly on the lips.

"Or we could talk about nothing at all."

CHAPTER 56: KATIE

Seattle, Washington
–
Monday, July 20, 1964

"Do you believe in reincarnation?"

Ginny, sitting in one lounge chair, turned to face her sister, who sat in the other.

"You mean when you die and return as a toad?" Ginny asked.

"No. I mean when you die and return as another person, silly," Katie said. "Do you believe in that? Do you believe it's possible?"

"I don't know, Katie. It's not something I think about. I suppose it's possible. I didn't think time travel was possible before we walked through that stupid mirror, yet here we are. What does it matter? Are you planning to get reincarnated this week?"

"No. I'm not planning to 'get reincarnated,'" Katie said with a condescending edge. "I was just wondering. That's all. I've been thinking about it lately. I've been thinking about it a lot."

In fact, Katie had thought of little else since viewing the wedding photo of Michael and Katherine Hayes. She wanted to believe that the similarities between a couple that had married in 1917 and a couple that dated in 1964 were nothing more than astonishing coincidences, but her mind refused to rule out other possibilities.

"I didn't think Mike left room in your mind for anything else," Ginny said.

"You're one to talk. How did your weekend go?"

Ginny settled into her Naugahyde-covered command post and grabbed a cup of coffee from the end table. She took a sip and then gazed at her twin with tired eyes.

"We ate. We drank. We messed around. Other than that, we had a great time."

Katie offered a comforting smile.

"Things didn't go so well?"

"We got along fine. We really did," Ginny said. "It's just I finally realized that Steve and I don't have much more in common than a physical attraction."

Katie laughed.

"I told you that – more than once."

"I know. I know. You were right too. It just took me awhile to see it."

"So what are you going to do?"

"I don't know," Ginny said. "He was getting kind of clingy at the cabin. He even asked me to go to Boston with him."

"Are you serious?"

"I wouldn't joke about that. He asked me to leave with him on Labor Day weekend and set up a nice happy little apartment while he learns about torts and contracts."

"What did you tell him?" Katie asked.

"I told him no, of course. Can you just picture that scene?"

"He's falling for you, Gin. I have to say I didn't see
that
coming."

"I didn't either."

"Are you going to go out again?"

Ginny nodded.

"We're going to a concert Saturday night in Portland."

"Portland?"

"Yeah, I know. It's crazy," Ginny said. "We won't be back until after two."

"You should just get a room and come back on Sunday."

"I thought about it, but I decided it wasn't a good idea. If we get a room, I'll end up sleeping with him again. I don't want to do that. I'm done with sex."

Katie laughed.

"What's so funny?"

"I never thought I'd ever hear you say those words," Katie said.

"What words?"

"I'm done with sex."

Ginny blushed.

"Well, it happens sometimes. Don't make a big deal out of it."

"I won't. I just think it's funny."

Ginny sighed.

"It's best this way, Katie. I need to start pulling back. So do you."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean we both need to start thinking like people who won't be here much longer. It's not right to give our friends the impression that we'll be around past September."

Katie nodded and lowered her eyes. She had no business teasing Ginny about Steve when she had not come to grips with her own special friendship.

"I don't see a lot of enthusiasm in that nod," Ginny said. "Please tell me you're not going to wait until the last minute to break up with Mike."

"I'm not. I just need more time."

"Well, don't take too much. I'm serious. We don't need any more complications. That's why I'm slowing things down with Steve. I don't want any more complications."

Katie started to say something but stopped when the telephone rang. There was nothing she had to say that couldn't wait a few minutes – or even a few weeks.

"I'll get it," Ginny said. "It's probably someone from Greer's."

Katie pondered the comment about complications as Ginny ran into the kitchen and picked up the receiver on the third shrill ring. She conceded that Ginny had a point. She needed to break up with Mike and do so sooner rather than later. To wait until the last minute would be selfish, counterproductive, and cruel. The question, as always, was how to do it.

Three minutes later Ginny walked into the living room with a red face and a big grin. If she had been asked to work, it had been for triple the pay.

"Let me guess," Katie said. "It wasn't Greer's."

"No."

"Steve?"

"No again."

Ginny sat in her chair and stared at her sister with lively eyes.

"It was James," Ginny said. "He asked me to a movie."

"James?"

Ginny nodded.

"What did you say?" Katie asked.

"I said yes, of course."

Ginny widened her smile.

"We're going to the drive-in Friday night."

CHAPTER 57: GINNY

Friday, July 24, 1964

Sitting in the front seat of Marvin Green's 1961 Ford Country Squire Station Wagon, Ginny turned to her left and looked at her date with amusement.

"James?"

"Yeah, Ginny?"

"I have a question."

"What's that?" James asked.

Ginny smiled.

"Did you know what movie was playing tonight when you asked me out?"

James squirmed behind the wheel, flashed Ginny a nervous smile, and turned away. He had held her gaze for nearly a second.

"No."

"I didn't think so," Ginny said.

They both laughed.

"I'm sorry. I don't read the papers much."

"I'm not criticizing," Ginny said. "I like it when people throw caution to the wind."

James looked through the windshield at the outdoor movie screen. When the projector rolled the opening segment of
The Incredibly Strange Creatures Who Stopped Living and Became Mixed-Up Zombies
, he buried his face in his hands and shook his head.

"Oh, jeez, there's that title again. You're never going to forgive me."

Ginny laughed hard. She couldn't remember a more inauspicious start to a date or a more enjoyable one. She loved seeing her friend and coworker in an unguarded moment.

"I forgive you," Ginny said as she caught her breath. "There's no way the
Sun
could have published an ad for this movie. It would have required too many typesetters."

"I hope you're right. I could use a good excuse right now."

Ginny placed her hand on his.

"No matter how this movie turns out, James, I want you to know that I appreciate the thought. Dancing zombies beat candlelit dinners seven days a week."

"You're just saying that."

Ginny smiled.

"You're right. I'm just saying that."

James laughed.

"I'll do better next time."

"This is fine, James. I'm going to have a good time. So are you," Ginny said. "I only wish Mike and Katie could have joined us. Katie loves these movies. She says monster musicals are Milk Duds for the soul."

James shook his head.

"See? Even Katie thinks the movie is a dud."

"James?"

"Yeah."

"Are you being needlessly difficult?"

"Yeah. I guess I am."

They laughed.

Ginny took comfort in his laughter. Though she could see that James was still more than a little anxious, she could also see that he was beginning to settle in. He was starting to get comfortable around her in what had to be an awkward situation.

She was not at all surprised that James had rolled the dice on a drive-in. He had no doubt wanted to avoid the kind of ugliness they had encountered outside of the Phoenician in May. By choosing a theater twenty miles from home, he had also increased the likelihood they would not run into someone they knew – someone who might ask a lot of questions.

When she saw James become comfortable enough to extend his arm along the top of the front seat, Ginny turned her attention to the film. She adjusted the monstrous metal speaker hanging from her window and dug into the bowl of buttered popcorn that James had purchased shortly after their arrival. She resumed the conversation when the movie hit a slow spot.

"Can I ask you another question, James?"

"Sure," he said. "Just don't make me laugh."

Ginny smiled.

"Was this your idea?"

James laughed.

"No. It was my mom's."

"Your mom's?"

"Yeah, my mom's. She kept hounding me after you came over for dinner. She kept asking me, 'Why don't you ask Ginny to a movie?' I got tired of her hounding me, so I called you up."

"So I'm really going out with your mother."

"Yeah. You are, in a matter of speaking."

Ginny laughed, followed by James.

"Truth be told though, it wasn't just my mom's idea," James said. "I wanted to ask you out. I wanted to ask you out a long time ago."

"Then why didn't you?"

"I was scared, I guess. I didn't want to cause any more trouble for you like that day at the theater. You deserve better than that."

Ginny closed her eyes as she thought of the nastiness that afternoon and of the lasting scar it had left on the most vulnerable member of their group. She hated that a brief act of intimidation and racism could profoundly affect one man's thinking for weeks to come.

"There was another reason as well," James said.

"What's that?"

"I knew you were seeing that Steve guy. Mike and Katie told me you two were pretty tight. I didn't want to get in the middle of that."

Ginny looked away and again considered his words. She couldn't blame a couple of bullies for that. She had made that bed, literally, and slept in it a few times. Ginny berated herself for missing the cues. She would have loved nothing more than to have gone out with James a second time – and a third and a fourth.

"I'm sorry you had to deal with all that, James," she said. "There's not a lot I can do to make amends except to tell you I'm glad you called me. I'm glad to be here."

Ginny slid across the seat to James' side and pulled his arm over her shoulder. When she saw him smile and nod, she leaned her head on his shoulder and watched the rest of a movie that went by in a blur. Though
Zombies
would never win an Oscar, it would always have a welcome place in her neighborhood of memories.

The drive back was long and relatively quiet. James and Ginny made a few observations about the movie, music, and the protest photo in the
Sun
but otherwise kept to themselves.

Ginny knew it would be like this. They were returning from a real date – a one-on-one date. Real dates ended differently than get-togethers with Mike and Katie or others from the store. Real dates created anxiety and raised expectations.

Ginny thought about anxiety and expectations when they approached the university district and later when James drove the station wagon into the driveway of the duplex, turned off the ignition, and looked at her for more than a minute with fear-filled eyes. When it was clear that the driver wasn't going to say or do anything before 1965, the passenger took charge.

"Are you all right?" Ginny asked.

"I'm all right," James said.

"You're nervous though. I can tell."

James laughed.

"Yeah. I guess I am."

"That's understandable. This
is
new ground for us."

Ginny took a breath.

"I can also understand if you're a little confused," she said. "I have, after all, put you in kind of a spot. I haven't really explained why I agreed to go out tonight when I'm technically seeing someone else."