Chapter Eight
When they came out of their bedroom, they saw Paula sitting in the front room taking off the heads of Amy’s Barbie dolls again. Amy remembered how annoyed it used to make her and asked her younger sister, “Why do you always like to do that, Paula?”
Her little sister answered, “It’s fun.” She was wearing a floral jumper with white patent leather shoes that she had been polishing with a banana peel.
Their Mom told her, “Paula. Throw that banana peel away. You can’t leave it lying around the house. It’ll attract ants.”
“Sorry, Mom,” she answered and went to the kitchen to throw it away.
They piled into their parents’ Ford station wagon. Their Dad wasn’t Catholic and only went to church on Easter and Christmas. Their brother still hadn’t come home, and Denise said to Amy, “I hope we get a chance to see Steve. I wonder where he’s been?”
Going to a Mass that took place in 1968 was a fun experience for Denise. In her 2018 life, she was a music minister at her church and played piano for the daily Masses. She also played at weddings and funerals. The “Jesus Freak” movement in Orange County was just starting in 1968, and the Mass that the sisters and their mother were going to was a “Folk Mass”. A lot of teenagers were there and upstairs, where the organist usually played, there was now a guitar player and a girl who sang and played the tambourine. There was a lot of hand-clapping throughout the Mass. It felt a bit like singing Cumbaya at a summer camp. Father Sammon gave the sermon and once again alluded to the Peanuts’ comic strip. He was famous for doing this and could always find deep meanings pertaining to faith and philosophy in the lives of Charlie Brown and his friends. Sometimes, he quoted popular song lyrics to drive home his point and the teenagers always liked it because it made him seem hip.
When Mass was over, Amy and Denise told their Mom that they’d like to walk home since it was such a nice day. She told them, “Okay. But don’t accept rides from any boys.”
Denise acted hurt. “Mom, I wouldn’t do that. I’m pregnant for goodness’ sake.”
“I’m depending on you to keep an eye on your sister. She seems a little wild lately.”
“I do?” Amy asked, confused.
“Oh, you know what I mean,” their mother told them and drove off.
They walked by The Saddlery on Newport Avenue that had a statue of a full-sized horse on its roof. The shop sold saddles, reins, and everything you would ever need if you owned a ranch. It also had cool clothes that the hippies liked. Inspired by seeing Neal Young wear a buckskin jacket on TV, Denise purchased one there. In 2018, Tustin was no longer an agricultural area needing a store that sold saddles and the iconic building was demolished.
They walked by the Jabberwocky, which advertised “apparel for young ladies,” where a lot of girls used to get their prom dresses. Amy told her sister, “I always wanted to go inside and look around, but I was afraid that they would know I didn’t have any money and kick me out.”
Denise said, “I went in there with Mom one day. She bought a very pretty dress.”
“How come I didn’t get to come with you guys? I would’ve loved to look around?”
“I don’t know.”
“Did you ever buy a dress here?”
“No. I made all my clothes, but I did come here for inspiration.”
“You have always been so talented!”
“Thanks. So have you. I could never embroider the way you do.”
“I’ll embroider the edges of pillowcases for you if you’d like.”
“I’d love to have them. And I’ll make you an apron.”
“Can you please make one in red-checkered fabric like the one you made for Mom?”
“Yes. I have some of that material left.”
“That would be great. I’ll feel like Betty Crocker.” Standing outside the door of the Jabberwocky, she told her sister, “Okay. Here’s my big chance. Let’s go in and look around. I was always dying to.”
“It’s Sunday, Amy. They’re closed.”
“Darn. Missed my big chance.”
Denise told her, “Who knows? Maybe we’ll be stuck in 1968 forever.”
“I hope not. I miss Sandy.”
“I miss Paul, too.”
“How are we going to get back to them?”
“I have no idea.”
“Do you have a plan?”
“Not really. What happens in movies or the Twilight Zone?”
Amy had an idea. “Maybe we need to get back to the photo booth. I have a feeling that if we did and took some more pictures, we’d be magically transported back to 2018.”
“I sure hope you’re right. How are we going to get to the fair? I’m not hitch-hiking again.”
“We won’t. Let’s ask Mom to drop us off there.”
“I hope she agrees to do it.”
“We could always steal the car.”
“I can’t believe you just said that.”
“Neither can I,” Denise laughed. “Desperate times call for desperate measures.”
They were quiet for a while as they strolled down Main Street. They passed by Rose Marie Draperies. Amy told her sister, “When I was going to Tustin High, I would walk by, see the ladies sewing, and wish I was there working, instead of having to go to school.”
“It was probably a sweatshop where the ladies got minimum wage if they were lucky.”
“You are kind of cynical today,” Amy told her. “It’s not like you.”
“Sorry. I’m just feeling a little morning sickness.”
“Do you want to sit down for a minute?”
“Sure.”
Amy directed her over to a concrete and wooden raised platform from the 1930s where the underground water supply was gushing underneath. It was in front of the beautiful Stevens mansion, a Victorian that was the “grand dame” of Old Town Tustin.
She told her sister, “There sure are some beautiful houses on this street.”
“I know. Don’t you wish you could look around inside?”
“You can look around during the home tours.”
“That was so cool when you put our family’s home on the tour.”
“It was cool that Paula was the docent who told 700 visitors all about our house and our family.”
“That must have been weird for you having all the strangers tromping through your house.”
“It was actually fun. I felt a part of history.”
Denise told her, “I’m feeling a little better now. Let’s go to Mom and Dad’s. I’m eager to travel back to 2018—especially so that I don’t have to put up with this morning sickness. I’d forgotten how bad it felt.”
“Can you stand up okay?”
Denise rose slowly. “Okay. I’m good to go.”