Chapter 20: Voices From the Past

November 12,1981

Sometimes I almost forget that I know ‘little things’ about the world, too. By this point, the world of 1981 had settled into ‘big things’, which I knew sometimes — depending on how big — and ‘little things’, which I didn’t. I hadn’t remembered my day-to-day life very well; I doubt many people do. And of course, there’s the ripple effect. Or chaos theory. Whichever. My life in 1981 was almost unrecognizable from the first go-round, in many ways. Sure, Mom, Dad, the house, those things were superficially the same, but the dynamics were sometimes very different. Likewise, Ms. Henry’s English was the same, but I wasn’t, so that class was similar but different.

Then something comes up that reminds me there are little things that remain the same, through all the ripples. I decided I’d save this up for Angie. Her life was even more disconnected from the little things, of course; virtually nothing that happened this year could be similar for her.

Meg called us both over. “I’m not surprised; I figured you’d have to be completely inept to not make chorus, and you’re not completely inept. And you’d have to be unrealistically talented to displace the kids who’d been working on those roles for a couple months.”

“Yeah,” I nodded. “Plus, that would be incredibly awkward.”

“Yup. I hear you’re both understudying a role, though. Which isn’t as big as it sounds; Steffie has a lot of understudies.”

I shrugged. “It’s experience, and either the experience will tell one or the other of us that we don’t want to do it, or we’ll be sucked completely down the rabbit hole.”

“It’d better not be completely! You’re both too good to lose you to the dark side of the dividing wall!”

We both laughed.

“Just remember. When on road trips, you may not act like Drama kids. Sometimes I wonder how Steffie has any hair left!”

Angie smiled. “Are they really that bad?”

“No. Worse. Much worse.” Meg shuddered. “I’ve kicked kids off the traveling squad for things that Steffie smacks their wrist for.”

“Maybe we’re just better at misdirecting. Or talking ourselves out of trouble.”

She laughed. “You have a point there. I know some things about a certain former team member, for instance, that he doesn’t know I know. If I officially knew them, I’d have had to kick him out. That would have cost us a considerable number of wins. And that’s much more him being sharp than me lending a blind eye to things.”

“Anyone I know?”

“Maybe.” She had a bit of a smirk. “Anyway — enjoy yourselves, but don’t fully embrace the drama, that’s my advice!”

9:30pm

Angie snuggled up. “So, you had something to tell me?”

“Yeah. Something funny happened in Chemistry, and while the story is funny, you’re the only one who’d understand the biggest part of why it’s amusing, or thought provoking, or whatever.”

“One of those things, then.”

“Yeah. But not in any weird way, just funny. Nothing unusual. Except that it happened, I guess.”

“Explain.”

“First, I guess, it made me think. Obviously, you have no context for this year. Or last year, or next year. You might for senior year, who knows?”

“Right, but by then things will be so different that I don’t know if any of that context will matter.”

“See, that’s mostly where I am. I’m in different sessions of classes; I have different interests, different friends, all that. Sometimes a little echo turns up. Dad having a customer issue, something like that. But they’re little; I don’t remember Dad’s work stuff very well.”

“Of course.”

“So, today in Chemistry, Ms. Hancock threw an eraser at Morty. Beaned him, right on the forehead, too.”

Angie blinked. “Huh? What? Can she do that? And what does that have to do with ... oh. She did that the first time?”

“Yup. Only I never saw it.”

“Explain!”

“So, I’ve known this story for, oh, forty years. Only, today I saw it. We were discussing catalysts. Ms. Hancock was explaining what they do. Morty was confused; legitimately or not, I don’t know. I suspect it was one of his games. We’ve changed him, and he’s better, but he’s still Morty.”

“Right.”

“So, he said, ‘I just don’t get catalysts, Ms. Hancock’. She picked up an eraser and flung it, beaning him on the forehead like I said. He jumped up and yelled, ‘Hey! What’d you do that for?’”

Angie started giggling. She’d pretty much gotten it.

“She explained, ‘I just gave you an example of a catalyst reaction. You reacted, but the catalyst was unchanged. See how that works?’.”

Angie giggled more. “That’s clever. So, what about not seeing it?”

“It happened in 2^nd period. I didn’t have Chemistry 2^nd period, nor did I have Morty in my class. I heard the whole thing second-hand when Morty and another guy, I forget who, told us the story between classes.”

“I agree, that’s freaky. Out of the blue something pops up that you know happened, only it’s happening right around you when it didn’t before.”

“It’s just interesting. Day-to-day we’re just, you know, us. Fifteen-year-old kids going through high school. We know some stuff we shouldn’t, both about classes and history. We know things to avoid, but, say, we’ve got no more clue than anyone else in Debate or Drama about how tournaments or ‘Brigadoon’ will go. And next year I won’t be any better except for little things; sure, every tournament next year will be somewhere I’ve been, probably, unless Meg changes the schedule, which is possible. But I won’t be the same. Plus, Sue won’t be the same, Gene won’t be the same, and Cammie really won’t be the same if she’s back. And so forth. It’s entirely possible I’ll walk into a room and half-remember the other team, but that won’t matter. Or some little incident will happen, like this one.”

“Right. And senior year, who knows? I may run into a few of the same things. But I’m so different! I’ll probably be in different sections of my classes, I have friends now, all that.”

“I feel like we’re ... molded ... by what went before. I still have issues from having been married unhappily for so long. You still have issues from what happened with Max and college going to hell and stuff. But we’re not those people, and while the world is the same, our little corner of it isn’t.”

Angie shook her head. “I can’t make myself feel like I’m, what, um ... hell ... thirty-three, right? It’s absurd. I can’t feel anything like that.”

“Me neither, and for me it’s fifty-six or so. We’re both a mature fifteen, that’s all. Some days ... many days ... I barely even think about it. And then, wham, an eraser flies across a room and it all comes flooding back in.”

“We’re so lucky. For whatever reason. I’d love to have a clue what the reason is, even if it’s some meaningless random factor in the universe.”

“I almost said ‘Glitch in the Matrix’, but I think that movie postdates you, so, kinda a useless reference.”

“Explain?”

“Nah. Some things you just have to see in their own time. If I told you some movie was going to be great nearly twenty years from now, you wouldn’t appreciate it when it happened.”

“Fair enough. But also, totally weird.”

“We should sleep.”

“We should.” We rubbed noses. She hopped up. “I love you, Steve.”

“Love you too, Ang.”

Nov 13, 1981

The phone rang about 7pm. “Hello?”

“Hey!”

“Hi, Candice! How’re you?”

“Really good! Happy Friday the 13^th!”

I laughed. “Called to scare me?”

“Nah. It’s just been a bit. You’re so busy! I want to get together sometime soon, but I don’t know when. I’m busy, too.”

“How’s school?”

“Classes are boring. I did all this stuff a year ago. The rest is fun.”

“Sherry?”

She laughed. “Sherry is definitely fun. And we’re officially at the ‘girlfriends’ stage.”

“I’m happy for you.”

“I knew you would be. How about you? Any progress?”

“Progress. I’m dating Jasmine Nguyen. We’re not at the ‘boyfriend/girlfriend’ stage yet, officially, but I think that’s a matter of formalities.”

“I know her. She was in a couple of my classes. How’d you get together?”

“Angie. She set up a blind date to the Halloween Dance. It was that or annoy her. Jasmine was a much better idea.”

“Obviously. So?”

“So, Jasmine and I went to Homecoming. And then I had my first date with her Thursday a week back. And my second, Sunday.”

“Wait. Wouldn’t Thursday be your second date?”

“Nope. First date. Ever. Nothing else has ever been a ‘date’. Plenty of dating practice; no dates.”

She laughed. “Oh! Well, I suppose so! My parents called the dances ‘dates’.”

“Mine sorta did, but we determined that Thursday was really the first ‘date’ date, as in, non-chaperoned official parentally-recognized social outing as a couple. Two couples; Angie and Gene went along. To both of those.”

“What’d you do?”

“‘Full Moon High’ on Thursday.”

“Ewwww!”

“How much of ‘Melvin And Howard’ do you remember?”

“The good parts. Oh, the movie? Fine, point taken. And the second date?”

“‘Brigadoon’ downtown at the Music Hall.”

“That is one cool date.”

“She’s in Drama and she loves musicals.”

“Even more cool. What’s it like dating one of the infamous Drama kids?”

I laughed. “She’s causing trouble. But it’s good. We’re taking it slow and I’m trying to remember that I’ve been told that they tend to have brief, intense relationships. Repeatedly.”

She giggled. “Yeah, they do. What kind of trouble?”

“Angie and I taking chorus and understudy roles in Steffie Smith’s spring production.”

“Oh! I need to make the parents get tickets to that! What are you doing?”

“‘Brigadoon’.”

“I upgrade my previous comment. That is one seriously cool date, if she’s going to be acting in the show.”

“Oh, she will be! We don’t know what; Ms. Smith hasn’t announced roles yet.”

“Super-cool, still. OK, well, I’m going to find a way to get together. Not at Thanksgiving, but you know what I’m most thankful for this year.”

“I can think of a few things, all related.”

“Yeah.”

“And you are high on my list.”

“Aw. Still sweet.”

“You are, too. Want me to put Angie on?”

“Please! I need to tease her about being a Drama kid now!”

“Angie! Phone!”

November 14, 1981

Dr. Stanton smiled as I settled in. “So, what’s new over the past two weeks?”

“Let’s see. A dance, two dates, a new extracurricular, an iffy tournament, a call from Candice. That’s probably about it.”