Time Drifters
Chapter Thirty-One: It Takes Three To Tango

I always thought that history was supposed to look huge. Big, like the front of a museum with statues of lions and impressive architecture. Solid columns that said, “Stop right there and look at me.”

So when we’d finally found Hemenway Hall, the place where students on campus told us there was going to be a dance, I was a bit disappointed. And downright skeptical.

It didn’t look like much more than a small apartment building. Being only two storeys tall, and with windows that showed there were rooms on both levels, I had serious doubts that this was going to be place for a spectacular party, let alone an important event like saving the future.

“Maybe it’s bigger on the inside,” said Thomas.

“Dr. Who!” exclaimed Calico.

“Exactly!” said Thomas. The two of them suddenly looked much closer to the same age, jumping up and down and laughing.

“Dr. who?” I asked. This sent Calico and Thomas into fits.

“No, seriously?” I said, annoyed. “You’re talking about a TV show… right?”

“What?” Calico seemed offended.

“Exterminate. Exterminate,” Thomas said in a robotic voice, lurching towards me with one palm open like a claw.

“Stop it!” I said, backing up.

They blustered over one another, giving me an immediate barrage of instruction about the Time Lord and his Tardis; a blue police box that he traveled around in.

“Who’s your favorite Doctor?” Thomas asked.

“Oh, I don’t know,” Calico said. “We just started getting it on Saturday afternoons.”

Thomas nodded, his tongue flicking out to rest on his lips. I’d guessed by now this action was practically necessary for him to think deeply about something.

Jazz music blared out suddenly from the second floor, but the volume was quickly lowered.

“It’s starting!” I said, running in through the front door.

We passed smaller rooms on the ground floor and discovered another section that jutted out the back at a right angle. It was a relief to see activity in the rear foyer and on the staircase, but without any throng of partygoers; we likely hadn’t missed anything.

Following a couple of girls up the steps, we soon discovered a sizeable room on the upper level. It wasn’t quite as big as a full gymnasium, but it already looked festive.

There were windows along one wall, with a single row of chairs in front. At the far end, there was a banner hung proclaiming the event: Welcome Class of ’43.

“You here to help set up?” asked a young woman with a sweet face. “I’m Karen,” she added, “part of the freshman organizing committee.”

Calico introduced herself and then explained the presence of Thomas and me as being nephews she was stuck looking after for the evening. Karen took it all in stride, although I could see that there was something happening between the two of them. Karen kept eyeing Calico’s dress, while Calico fussed with the fabric amidst smiles and nods.

In moments, Thomas and I were plunked into the corner near the source of the music and then given a pile of red and blue rubber balloons. An Asian student seemed happy to pass the assignment to us, giving a quick demonstration of how to tie off the loose tube, before he turned to talk to his friend who was rifling through a case of record albums. They looked smaller than the big ones my Dad had.

“Those are 78’s,” Thomas said. “See? Guy Lombardo and Harry James? Really old school.”

“That’s cool, “ I said. “You like music.”

“Love it,” he said, losing his grip on a balloon. It took off over the shining wooden floor making a gross noise and we both laughed.

Our mentor returned and gave us a remedial lesson in balloon inflation.

“Are you Japanese?” Thomas asked.

“From Korea,” the young man answered.

“Oh,” Thomas said. “So your name isn’t Sam.”

“No,” he responded, returning to the demonstration. We vowed to do better and we did get the knack of it. But as soon as we’d blown up two or three balloons, they were whisked off by giddy girls to be bundled and tied into clumps and taped to the walls. Thomas and I fell into a kind of competition and I have to say he was doing better than me, especially since I was getting very light headed.

“I don’t feel so good,” I said.

“Food!” Thomas said, purposefully letting go of his half inflated balloon so he could follow a lady crossing the floor with a bountiful plate of treats. She was headed for the table at the end of the gym where Calico had helped to spread tablecloths, all the while chatting with Karen and her friends. I saw the lady pointing to her watch and then wagging a finger at Thomas when he reached out to the plate. Even so, she acquiesced and put something into his palm.

“Date squares, she said,” Thomas told me, smelling the prize. He took a bite.

“Can I have some?” I asked, already salivating.

“Half,” he said, breaking it apart and handing me the piece.

“What about Cali?” I said, turning just in time to see her hurrying for the stairs. Something was up. We abandoned our post and ran after her.

There was a larger sidewalk at the back of the building, with a spacious lawn that extended beyond that out to palms and bushes. She wasn’t anywhere in sight.

We started to look through the rooms on the ground floor and finally came to one with an open door.

I stepped inside. Calico was leaning up against the windowsill, her shoulders slumped.

“Calico?” I said. She flinched, but she didn’t turn. “Are you okay?” I stepped closer and Thomas followed but then Calico held out her hand like she wanted me to stop.

“I’m fine… just silly,” she said. She looked out the window and I saw her fingers quickly wiping her face.

“Was it the girls?” I asked. “Were they mean?”

“No… no, not mean,” she said, bowing her head again. “They were excited about the dance. Sayin’ how they loved to swing and jitterbug.” She drew in a deep breath and exhaled quickly.

“I’ve worked all my life to be as good as a man at what I do,” she said. “Except for some natural strength, I’ve done pretty good, too. I’ve even fought for the rights of women, back in Drifts and in my own time. Takes guts, too. Lots, truth be told. More than what many men I know could’ve mustered.”

Her voice cracked and I could tell that she was fighting back tears. I just didn’t know what to do. My Mom usually got me a drink of water when I was sad. I looked at Thomas but he was fidgeting over by a set of bookshelves.

“Thing is… Like Momma told me so many times… there are times you wanna know how to be a woman,” she said, quietly. “This boy, from Billings. There was a dance.”

She stopped and shook her head, finally turning around to face us.

“Bein’ a damned fool, is all,” she said. “Not here to pity myself. Just seeing how my own stubbornness has put something else in harm’s way. Or someone else. I’ll just grab some rope and tie the Nipper down if I have to.”

“Ouch, Cali!” I said, “That’s horrible. Don’t say that!”

“What?”

“That ‘N’ word,” I said. I wanted to explain it but then I remembered Thomas getting after me on my first Drift, saying how people had to be left to the prejudices of their own times. I turned to look at him, expecting an ear full. I was surprised again that he was so small. He didn’t even seem to know what we were taking about.

“I can teach you to waltz,” Thomas said. “At least a box step.”

“I know that, too,” I said.

Calico looked at us and then rolled her eyes in exasperation.

“We got less than an hour until the dance starts,” she said. “We gotta figure out a way to find Sam Taniguchi so we can keep him here. I don’t think I’ve got time for the Arthur Murray Dance party.”

“It won’t take more than ten minutes to learn it,” I said.

“And what about jitterbug? Or swing?” she said.

“That’s just people flinging themselves around,” Thomas noted, gyrating and flipping his arms in the air as he spun on the spot.

“No,” Calico countered. “It was very choreographed. You had to know the steps. That’s like saying that anyone can Tango.”

“You gotta start with something,” Thomas said.

He stepped up to Calico and held out his arms.

“You’ve gotta be kidding,” Calico said, looking down at her small escort. “I’ve roped and tied cattle taller than you.”

Thomas spun backwards and started to step from side to side.

“One, two, three,” he said, shifting and stepping to the right. “One, two, three.”

“Come on,” I urged her, taking her hand and falling in step with Thomas.

I almost stepped on Calico’s foot and she moved to get out of the way. And that’s when she finally started to try. Thomas dropped back and took her left hand. Soon the three of us were repeating the same side-to-side steps and counting out loud, like chanting monks.

“Keep doing it and I’m going to take your hands,” Thomas said, mirroring her steps. She was too busy concentrating on her feet to interrupt him.

“Now we start turning just a bit,” he added. I could see that he was applying pressure to her hands but nothing was happening to her body. The more he pushed, the more her hands moved, but nothing else.

“No, these have to move,” he said reaching out and grabbing her hips, palms and fingers plastered to her dress. Calico was lightning quick. She grabbed Thomas under the arms and lifted him straight up in the air.

“Touch me again like that and your nuts’ll be hanging in a tree for the squirrels,” she hissed. “Got it?”

Thomas’ eyes were staring into Calico’s. He nodded quickly and she put him down.

“Sorry,” she said sheepishly, adjusting the waist of her dress back down into place.

“I think what he means is, you have to turn,” I offered, stepping away to a safe distance and giving a demonstration. She watched me and began to shuffle in place for a moment. And as she turned, her eye noticed something on the bookshelf.

“Bingo!” she said.

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