Prom Night in Purgatory (Slow Dance in P)

~6~

A Time to Build Up





Johnny had treated Maggie badly. He wasn’t sure why. She had made him angry. Again, he wasn’t sure why. Maybe it was the fact that she knew him – or some version of him – that Johnny couldn’t remember or hardly believe. When she told him he used to read to her, he had almost laughed out loud. He didn’t like to read. In fact, he hated it…didn’t he? The problem is, as soon as she said it Johnny remembered just the previous day when he had been wandering though Jillian’s house, at a loss of what to do with himself. He’d had the sudden urge to pull several books down from her overflowing shelves and dive in. He had even grabbed a copy of a book called A Tale of Two Cities, and before he had even opened it, he knew what the first words were…verbatim. He had opened it fearfully and read in growing horror. He knew the story…..with his eyes closed. He may have known more, but he’d flung the book across the room, breaking its binding. The cover had fallen off, and Jillian had looked pained when he’d shown her. It was one of her favorites, apparently. He’d felt like a heel. Then she told him it had once belonged to him. She said his mother had given it to him for graduation. There was an inscription inside the front cover.



May, 1958



To Johnny,

May it always be the best of times,

Love, Momma



Since he had been released from the hospital he’d spent most of his time in the garage with his car. Jillian had said his mother had never been able to part with it. She had kept it all these years – having Gene give it periodic tune-ups, keeping it in running shape. It was the only time he’d felt a glimmer of happiness since this whole horror show had begun. Plus, it had given him something to do. Then he had spent his time looking under the hood of Jillian’s car. There was no carburetor, and everything was smaller. Jillian said many things were computerized in cars nowadays. Then she had to show him a computer. When he’d touched it, a spark shot out from his finger tip and it had shorted out. Jillian had groaned. She’d been able to get it started up again, but as soon as he had touched it, it shorted out once more. He’d decided to stay away. He had been careful to not mess with her car – other than to change the oil and just look. So far the car still worked – computer and all, although he had been told he now had enough money to buy whatever he wanted, including a new car if he destroyed Jilllian’s.

Chief Bailey, with funds from Mayor Carlton and assistance from the the president of Honeyville Bank and Trust, had helped his mother set up an account that would provide reward money for information about his disappearance, but it would also collect interest and be available to Johnny if he ever came home. Dolly Kinross had always believed he would. When it became her responsibility, Jillian Bailey had minded the money religiously. She had happily informed him it was now his. There was over a million dollars in the account.

Now his thoughts slid back to Maggie. She wasn’t the kind of girl he usually went for. She wore big glasses, and she seemed kind of feisty. He’d always liked his ladies blonde, agreeable, and a little on the full-figured side. Maggie’s hair was dark and her frame maybe too slender, although he’d had to readjust his thinking when he’d seen her today. She moved like a dancer; she was graceful and lithe, and if he hadn’t been so distracted and irrationally angry, he might have liked to just watch her move, surreptitiously of course. She was funny, too. His mouth twitched a little, remembering....donut seeds. He had been in no mood to give into her attempts to make him smile, but he smiled now as he thought of her dopey jokes.

He hadn’t meant to grab her, or to kiss her for that matter. He had wanted her to tell him what she knew. But everything she said just made him more confused. He felt so out of control; and she was so infuriating, the way she looked at him like she understood what he was going through. Worst of all, she was in love with him. He could see it all over her face. And then he had seen that picture in the book she’d shown him. The picture of Irene in what appeared to be a peach dress, just like in his dream. Not red. And Maggie had commented on it too. All at once he had been suspicious that the universe was playing tricks on him, like his existence was just a wall of cards and any minute it would come crashing down and he would lose another fifty years.

It was then that he’d grabbed Maggie and held on. He had mocked her and teased her. But it was to cover his fear and to give himself an excuse to hold her tighter. She had felt good in his arms. Her taste was sweet on his lips, and he had forgotten for a moment that none of it was real. She had pushed him away, but not without kissing him back first.

She said she loved him. She said she would help him. But Johnny was fast coming to the realization that he was way beyond help. He was in quicksand up to his neck, and he was sinking fast. He almost welcomed the thought of oblivion and wished the end would come quickly.





Since the night of the fire that destroyed Honeyville High School, the town had scrambled to make arrangements for the 600 students that had been misplaced by the fire. Before the fall of 1958 and the erection of the new school, Honeyville High School had been located on Main Street. The original buildings still stood, but they had been renovated and were now used as city buildings, including a library, a senior citizens center, and a courthouse. The old school gymnasium had been used as a recreation center for the past fifty years, getting a face-lift every so often to keep it safe and habitable.

The school board and Mayor Pratt, along with the teachers and administrators of the high school, decided the best course of action would be to move the students back to the “old” high school for the time being, as it was the only facility large enough to accommodate the entire student body.

A new courthouse and county jail had been completed earlier in the year, and the city had planned on demolishing the building that had housed both the court and the city jail, now almost 100 years old. Instead, the space was reverted back to a high school and all the city functions were moved to the new court house, along with a few trailers and portables for the police station and other various displaced city offices. The people of Honeyville would have to do without a library and a rec center during school hours. The original high school cafeteria had been remodeled into a senior center long ago, so the old folks were misplaced during the day as well, relinquishing their space for its original purpose. In just a matter of weeks, a temporary high school was pulled together, and Maggie and her classmates were back at school. There were no lockers, very few computers, lots of thrown together work spaces and mismatched desks, but it was functional, and Maggie was glad to get back to some sort of steady routine.

Gus had moved to the new/old school with the rest of the high school staff, and Maggie still cleaned after hours, collecting trash in strange rooms and unfamiliar hallways, trying to pretend nothing had changed. But things had changed; Maggie felt the shift within herself was almost as noticeable as her altered surroundings. Maybe it was the age of the old school, or Maggie’s heightened sensitivities since the fire, but on more than one occasion she had seen glimpses of people and events long since past. There were no lunch ladies at the temporary Honeyville High cafeteria – the facilities weren’t sufficient, so students just brought lunches from home, but Maggie had seen a lunch lady with a white kerchief covering her hair, wearing a truly ancient pair of sturdy shoes and an apron covered dress, dishing up huge portions of nothing on tray after tray to kids who no longer lined up at her cafeteria window. One morning before dance practice she’d seen a boy in canvas sneakers and outdated shorts standing at the free-throw line, tossing up a ball that made no sound as it bounced off the gymnasium floor. The frequency of the sightings was unnerving, but Maggie attempted to ignore them as best she could. Usually, they blinked out in a matter of seconds, and Maggie was never truly frightened by them.

Dance team practices resumed, but the team now had to meet before school in the old gymnasium, and many of the girls complained about the rough floors and poor lighting. Maggie didn’t care as long as she could dance and, in dancing, lose herself for an hour or two. Region competition came and went, and then state. Then morning dance rehearsals were no longer scheduled as the end of the year drew close, but Maggie continued to come early before school, turning on the music and finding solace in the movement and a measure of joy in the quiet of the old gymnasium.

That morning she docked her iPod in her portable player and warmed up to a random selection, moving with whatever came out of the speakers. When one of Johnny’s old favorites filled the room, she moved to turn it off, hating the rush of emotion the music caused, hating that the song was ruined for her.

But she hesitated a breath too long, and the melody wrapped itself around her, almost begging for a second chance, and she found herself swaying in surrender. Up on her toes and down on her knees, stretching her limbs in silky supplication, she moved over the old wooden floors where many had danced before her. Her eyes were closed, allowing her to concentrate on the movement, and she didn’t see the room around her shift and slide into some place new, but she heard the music swell and change as the song came alive in living color.

Suddenly figures were swirling around her, faces smiling, skirts billowing, couples spinning and twirling to the music she had lost herself in. She stood under a huge fishing net filled with balloons and dripping with silver and gold stars. A band in matching sport coats sang to her left, but the sound she heard was not in sync with the moving lips of the lead singer or the flying sticks of the cheerful drummer, as if the soundtrack of time was disconnected with the picture playing out in front of her. It made her slightly dizzy, and she turned from the band, looking out across the floor that was now filled with ghostly dancers. A banner hung on the back wall proclaiming the theme of the occasion. “Under the Sea – Prom 1958.”

Maggie gasped and began searching the faces around her. He would have been here. The figures dimmed, and Maggie feared the vision would suddenly cease. Desperate, she pulled her glasses from her eyes, clutching them in her hand. Sure enough, the figures sharpened again, their faces as clear and their clothing as vibrant as if they were truly present. Was that Irene? A girl in fluffy peach sat by herself at a table with a huge shell centerpiece. She looked like she wished she wasn’t there. Maggie’s breath caught, seeing her aunt as a young girl. Her hair curled around her shoulders, and jewels sparkled at her ears and wrists. She was lovely. She fiddled with the drink in front of her and stared out at the dance floor longingly. A couple joined her at the table, and Irene’s eyes lit up and her face and hand motions became animated as she spoke to her friends. Then several couples danced between where Maggie stood and Irene sat, blocking her view. Maggie commenced searching for Johnny once more.

There! Against the back wall, standing beneath the banner. Something about the figure was familiar. Maggie leaned this way and that, searching for the boy beyond the milling apparitions. All the boys were dressed in white jackets and black pants, making it difficult to distinguish one from the other. There he was again. It was Johnny! Maggie angled for a better look. A blonde girl with a truly magnificent cleavage was standing close to him, holding onto his lapel and smiling up at him flirtatiously. Maggie’s heart twisted painfully in her chest, and she wished she hadn’t been so eager to identify the familiar face. She gripped her glasses tightly. Johnny may not want her anymore, but she didn’t think she could watch him with another girl, even if it had all been long ago.

A tall, sandy-haired boy with an easy smile and the requisite white jacket appeared beside Johnny and whisked the buxom blonde from Johnny’s arms and out onto the dance floor. The boy laughed back at Johnny as if he’d scored the winning shot. Johnny just smiled and shrugged as he watched the couple twirl away. Suddenly he froze, and he seemed to be looking right at her. Maggie turned, trying to determine what held him transfixed. She couldn’t see beyond the couples surrounding her, and she turned toward him again.

He seemed to be looking at her, but he wasn’t the only one staring. Irene’s eyes were trained on her as well, a slight furrow between her slim eyebrows. Roger Carlton stood behind Irene with his hands braced on her chair, and he straightened, his eyes narrowing in recognition, as if he had just noticed her too. Surely they weren’t looking at her!

Maggie looked down at the clothes she was wearing and then back up again, almost dizzy with the illusion she was witnessing. She was still wearing snug black dance shorts and a bright pink sports bra, with a thin white tank over the top. Her feet were bare and her hair was bound back in a long ponytail, and if she were actually visible, the whole room would be gawking. But the couples dancing around her seemed completely unaware of her presence -- as was always the case in her visions. One couple danced so close she should have been able to feel the swish of the girl’s skirt and the brush of their bodies moving past. She felt no such thing. Yet Johnny was transfixed, staring at her as if he couldn’t look away. He’d started making his way toward her, moving between the tables that lined the dance floor.

Maggie turned again, scanning the room for what could have so captured his attention. A flash of red caught her eye, and she strained on tiptoe to see beyond the dancing crowd. A girl in red stood in the entrance to the gym. Maggie sidestepped another couple attempting the jive and strained to get a better view. Johnny continued to move toward her, and had Maggie not seen the girl in red, she would have sworn he was looking at her. Her heart pounded in her chest, and she rubbed her hands anxiously on her dance shorts.

He was ten feet away. Gus’s fear-filled eyes rose up in her memory, his warning sounding like a clanging bell in her head. “Be careful, Miss Margaret. My grandma wasn’t just an observer of the past; she was a full-fledged participant.” Maggie closed her eyes, shutting out Johnny’s approaching figure, pressing her hands to her face, willing herself away from the dizzying promenade taking place around her.

“Maggie?” Johnny’s voice was filled with question as his hands settled on her shoulders.

Maggie cried out and stumbled back, her legs tangling beneath her. Johnny’s arms slid around her, and her eyes shot to his. He steadied her, his body firm and solid against her chest. Maggie’s eyes dropped to his shoulders encased in black cotton. No white sports coat, no perky pink carnation.

“Maggie?” He said her name again, and his eyebrows were drawn low over his sky blue gaze. “Are you all right?”

Maggie pulled free of his arms, looking around the empty gymnasium, where every trace of glimmering stars and glittering people had dissolved into the quiet present. She stood beneath the basketball hoop where she had seen the ghostly boy diligently practicing his shot. Her iPod made a new selection, a Katy Perry song with an addictive hook -- definitely not 1958.

“Maggie!” Johnny shook her a little, and his voice rose in concern.

“What are you doing here?” she blurted out and pulled away again, but she felt her legs wobble beneath her. She slid ungracefully to the floor and pulled her knees to her chest, breathing deeply and trying to gain her bearings.

He didn’t answer her immediately but squatted down beside her, reaching out to tilt her chin toward him.

“Your pupils are so big your eyes look black,” he scolded, as if she had any control of what her pupils did.

“I’m fine,” Maggie protested, pulling her chin from his grasp. “Just give me a minute to catch my breath.”

“You’re definitely not fine,” Johnny argued. Jillian had oh-so-innocently told him that Maggie danced before school started every day. Johnny knew Jillian thought he owed Maggie an apology, although she had never said as much. Jillian just kept dropping little bits of information, bringing Maggie’s name into the conversation, mentioning her dance team’s victory at their recent competition, telling him what a “lovely girl” she was.

Then last night Johnny had dreamed about Maggie again. They had been dancing on a beach, the moon lighting the sand and shimmering off the water. Music had drifted down around them and he had felt almost weightless, suspended in the sweetness of her smile, the feel of her arms around him, the slide of the silk bodice of her dress against his open palm. Johnny woke with Maggie’s name on his lips and such an aching yearning to see her that he had showered and come to the school, planning to watch her from a distance without revealing his presence. He had told himself once he saw her the feeling would abate.

Johnny had heard music from the hallway and he had hesitated, worried that he would give himself away when he opened the old gym door. Luck had been on his side because the door was propped wide and he slipped inside, the early morning shadows and the poor lighting of the ancient gymnasium providing sufficient cover. Maggie had been facing the opposite direction, moving to a song he had never heard before. He leaned against the metal bleachers and drank her in -- a lithe form in clothing designed to move but not to entice, though he found it did both. She took his breath away. The realization was met with swift resistance. He didn’t want to like her. He didn’t want to need her.

Then the music changed, and Maggie stopped, turning as if she didn’t like the selection. It was a song Johnny had liked from the moment he heard it: the Skyliners singing “Since I Don’t Have You.” It was a brand new song his senior year in high school. He had probably danced to that song in this very gym, surrounded by his friends. Maggie spun, and for a minute Johnny was sure she had spotted him. She threw herself into the song, long limbs and sweet curves calling him to dance with her. He had found himself moving towards her, wanting to join her, wanting to close his eyes and move to the memory encased in the song. And then she had stopped, as if she’d forgotten the steps.

He’d stopped too, suddenly awkward and afraid, not knowing how to explain himself. But she had looked right through him. Johnny froze, watching her as she seemed to be lost in thought, her eyes shifting here and there like she was taking in the details of the empty room. A small smile had played around her lips, and he had thought maybe she was playing with him. He moved toward her again, and this time Maggie’s eyes had locked on his. She had looked down at her clothes and then behind her, as if she couldn’t believe he was looking at her. He had said her name but she didn’t respond. She’d rubbed her eyes, almost as if she couldn’t believe he was there and he had said her name again, reaching for her as she swayed and staggered dizzily.

Now Maggie was looking at him as if she was losing her mind. Maybe she was... although he wouldn’t swear by his own sanity.

“I’m fine,” she said it again, this time with more conviction. “You just startled me.” She got to her feet defiantly and walked to her blinking music player. She pushed a button and silence filled the space where the music had been. Johnny didn’t comment but let her retreat, wishing he’d stayed in the shadows.

“Why are you here?” she asked again, and her voice was small, as if she didn’t really want to know.

“I came with Jillian.” Okay that was a lie, but he wasn’t about to tell her he had dreamed about her and couldn’t stay away. “I just wanted to see the old place.” Another lie; he didn’t care if he ever saw the old place - which had gotten significantly older since he’d last walked the halls. “She told me you might be here.” At last the truth, but where did he go from here?

Maggie nodded, waiting for him to explain further. He shrugged, pride warring with principle.

“I’m sorry I kissed you.” He was so full of shit; that was the one thing he wasn’t sorry about. “I mean, I’m sorry I...acted the way I did, that day in the garage. I asked you to come, and then I was a jerk. I’m sorry.”

Maggie seemed surprised by his admission, and her face relaxed into a smile. It warmed him, seeing the pleasure his apology brought her.

“It’s okay. I understand,” she said softly. “But thank you.”

A loud bell clanged through the gymnasium like a runaway train and Maggie and Johnny both jumped. Maggie cursed under her breath and seemed to realize she had lingered too long.

“I have to go...” She stuttered, grabbing up a duffle bag and forcing her music box inside of it. “I’ll see you soon...okay?”

Johnny nodded, and watched Maggie run from the gymnasium on light feet, leaving him alone, standing in a place that echoed with a million yesterdays. He thought he glimpsed a flash of red at the outside entrance , but when he turned his head there was nothing there.