Prom Night in Purgatory (Purgatory #2)(35)
Maggie giggled. Who was it that said every generation thinks they invented sex? Things weren’t so very different in the ‘50s it seemed. “I liked them. I wonder why Irene’s never mentioned them?” Maggie mused thoughtfully.
“You know Irene?” Lizzie frowned.
“Yes. I live with her. She’s my great-aunt. Just...a long time from now, that’s all.”
“Do I live with you too? Am I a grownup like Daddy? Am I beautiful? Did I marry James Dean? If I didn’t, I hope I at least got to marry Johnny....”
Maggie felt a familiar tug from somewhere deep inside and gasped a little, recognizing the sensation and what it might portend.
“Lizzie. I don’t think you and I can talk about this. I won’t be able to stay for long if we do. Does that make sense?”
Lizzie sat up and peered into Maggie’s eyes. “You’ll disappear?” she whispered, distracted from her line of questioning.
“Is that what happened last time?” Maggie queried softly.
“Yes. You just faded away.”
“I don’t want to fade away...not yet.” Thoughts of Johnny surfaced to the forefront of her mind. She wanted to stay a little longer. She needed to stay a little longer. She didn’t know if she could change anything, but she wanted to try.
“What year is it, Lizzie?” She hoped the question would not make her disappear.
“It’s 1958, silly,” Lizzie said, dumbfounded.
Maggie nodded, strangely comforted by Lizzie’s response. If Prom 1958 was tomorrow night, Johnny would be there. A realization shook her suddenly. Irene had said there had been a girl at the prom in a red dress, just like hers. Could it have been Maggie? Her mind tripped and stuttered over the possibility. She felt a wave of disorientation wash over her, and she pushed the thoughts away, worried they would pull her under. She smiled brightly at Lizzie, willing herself steady.
“I am silly, huh? I’m also stranded in your house with no clothes and no money, and I’d like to stick around for a while, if that’s okay with you.”
“Neat-o! Let’s find you something to wear. And let’s go have an ice cream. I’m tired of being cooped up in my bedroom. It’s almost dinnertime, and I’ve been in my pajamas for three days!”
Maggie begged for the bathroom and a toothbrush and met Lizzie in Irene’s room when she was finished using the toilet and scrubbing her face with the cold cream she found in the cabinet. Lizzie was already dressed and had laid out an outfit on the bed, complete with a bra with cone shaped cups that looked more suited to Wonder Woman than a pretty seventeen-year-old like Irene. Maggie looked at it doubtfully. The panties laying beside it would cover her belly button.
“I think you should pull your hair up in a ponytail. It won’t look quite so babyish that way. And here’s a hair ribbon that will match your sweater.” Lizzie seemed so pleased with herself that Maggie decided not to complain about the underwear, or the comment that her long hair was “babyish.”
“While you get dressed, I will run downstairs and take care of Nana. She can give us some of her grocery money, and we’ll have dinner at “The Malt.”
Lizzie buzzed out of the room, and Maggie proceeded to pull the borrowed clothes on. She pulled on the bra and panties, feeling like she’d stepped into a commercial for synchronized swimming. She chortled at her bullet shaped breasts, outlined perfectly by the fitted blue sweater Lizzie had picked. The blue polka dot pants were high waisted; they had to be to cover those giant undies. They looked like capris....or cropped equestrian pants. She slid her feet into the white flats and dutifully pulled her hair into a high ponytail, tying the ribbon around the elastic band.
Twirling in front of Irene’s mirror, she wondered if she would dare leave the house this way. She picked through the makeup on Irene’s vanity, finding an eyelash curler, an eyebrow pencil, and a round tin of eyeshadow that slightly resembled what she used in 2011. There was a little brush and a rectangular pan of something that said “Maybelline.” She stared at it, puzzled. She decided to leave it alone. Instead, she lined her eyes with the black eyeliner pencil and dabbed on a little shadow. She applied some red lipstick, which seemed to be the only shade Irene had.
She supposed she would do. It was then that Maggie realized not only did she not have her glasses here in 1958, but she didn’t seem to need them. She spun around, focusing her eyes on every corner of the room and then swinging back to her befuddled reflection in the mirror. Crystal clear, all of it. It didn’t make any sense. But at least she wouldn’t go stumbling around while she was here, squinting and bumping into things.
“I’ve got two dollars! We’re going to eat like kings! We even have enough for a show!” Lizzie burst into the room waving the money around in her hand and dancing around. “Nana gave it to me! She thinks I am meeting Eileen and Lucy. I decided not to tell her about you until tomorrow. Don’t worry. I’ll sneak you in tonight. She doesn’t come upstairs after bedtime unless I screech like a banshee, which I sometimes do. Seeing ghosts isn’t always the funnest talent.” Lizzie slipped her hand into Maggie’s and proceeded to pull her out the door and down the stairs, never even pausing for air.
“You can ride Irene’s bike. She never rides it anymore, not since Daddy bought her a car. You do know how to ride a bike, don’t you?” Lizzie walked to the garage and opened the door, flipping on the light to brighten the interior. Within seconds, Maggie had assured Lizzie that she did indeed know how to ride a bike, and they were off down the street, heading downtown for supper in 1958.