You've Got To Hide Your Love Away - Chapter Six: I Feel Fine [PG]
-South of Nowhere
-Ashley/Spencer
-Most definitely AU. Various POV's. Some angst, some humor, some fluff. Set during the years 1964 - 1965. Yes, the title is a Beatles song... and all the chapter titles are Beatles songs, too. Why? 'Coz I rock. Expect lots of music references as well.
-'And then you feel guilty for wanting something more than this ‘Kyla Davies, 2464 Pinewood Drive, Hollywood, CA 90078’
-PG
The first of September finds Spencer back home, a summer that started off like every other one since she was eleven - the Father, the Son and the Holy Ghost all tucked away at camp; taunts mixed with popsicle-stick houses, confessions before and after every breath - and, yet, a summer that ended with what Spencer can only call promise and hope.
Ashley Davies.
The name alone causes Spencer to smile softly to herself, while Glen eats his pancakes and talks with his mouth full… while her father drinks his coffee and while her mother hums her way along every surface of the kitchen - cleaning up breakfast before it is even over.
And Spencer, for all her dreaming of leaving Ohio's forests and towns, has missed this.
She has missed the way Glen yells around every corner of the house, never taking into consideration that the person he is shouting for (or shouting at, we've had a few spats over the years) could be in front of him. She has missed the way that her father greets her every morning, the same way since she was four, a ruffle of her hair and a kiss to her cheek - he always carries the scent of aftershave and soap and it will cling to her long after she has gone to school.
And her mother, while so hard understand sometimes, is a welcome sight, too.
Spencer loves the way that her mother's eyes light up when she walks into the room, like everything is perfect once mother sees daughter.
And maybe, sometimes, it is just like that. Or, at least, Spencer likes to think so - on this day, the only week left before school starts up again, her mother is so happy to have her children home.
It isn't about regulations and restrictions.
It's about love.
"Have you ever heard of Dick Dale, Glen?" Spencer asks suddenly.
She had intended to ask her brother in private, knowing that to mention this in front of her parents would bring up curiosity - from her father, gentle and from her mother, probing.
She supposes it is just the way mothers and fathers behave, but Spencer had this almost overwhelming urge to keep everything associated with Ashley to herself.
Not like a secret, not really - but… special. This is special to me and I want it to stay that way.
But the question popped out all on its own, whether Spencer wanted it to or not. That seemed to be the case in anything that involved Ashley Davies - words just tumble out onto a piece of paper or out of her mouth and Spencer can't stop it from happening.
Glen wipes his lips on his shirt sleeve, much to their mother's irritation, and takes a big gulp of milk before answering.
"Yea, of course. How do you know of him?"
"Uh… Patricia, uh, mentioned him."
"He is the tops, Spence. That's surfin' music. Big on the west coast."
"Like California?"
"Where else, squirt?"
"Glen! Don't call me that!"
"Call you what? A squirt? But that's what you are…"
They continue this for a minute or two, Spencer with her fake pouting and Glen with his fake teasing (well, it is real teasing but not mean spirited at all) until their mother gets in their line of vision and turns her gaze onto Spencer, reminding the girl all to late on why she didn't want to ask her brother about Dick Dale in front of anyone else - especially her mother.
"Who is Patricia? A girl from camp?"
"Yes."
"And she was listening to this 'surf' music at camp?"
"No. Just talking about it, that's all."
"You know I don't like you two listening to that kind of… music. What about The Kingston Trio? They're fun and wholesome."
This is their mother at her most familiar - the woman who still looks young and vibrant, keeping up with what is vaguely popular on the radio… and then deciding if her children should be allowed to listen to it or not.
The Kingston Trio and Connie Francis are in.
Almost everything else is out.
"Aw Mom, that's squaresville. Besides, 'Tom Dooley' is about murder. That's not wholesome."
"Glen…"
Their father doesn't seem to have an opinion about music or what anyone listens to, as long as everyone is safe and sound at home when he returns from work. Where their mother rules with an iron fist, their father tends to take the least traveled route - the one of conversation.
But he pipes up at Glen's comment and Glen mumbles a 'sorry'.
"No 'surf' music. It's for your own good." Their mother says, directing it to the both of them and then she goes back to wiping down the stove. Their father goes back to drinking his coffee and Glen goes back to his pancakes.
And that is the end of that in the Carlin household.
Except for Spencer, who - for the first time - feels like she is trapped in her own home.
And all she can think is to write Ashley about it.
*
Dear Ashley,
I wish my mother wasn't so strict. I asked about Dick Dale and Glen knows him.
She won't let either of us listen to 'surfin' music.
Why is she like this? I just don't get it.
But Glen says his friend Ricky has a record of Dick Dale and he'll let me tag along so I can hear it.
I love my brother so much.
It's like I missed my family when I was at camp, missed being home, you know?
But now I am here and… I don't know. I wish I could go somewhere else, somewhere neat.
I hope you don't think I am silly or anything, but I wish I could talk to you, you know, really talk.
I love writing to you, gosh, you know I do.
It would be nice, though, right? To talk?
I think so.
Write back soon.
Sincerely
Spencer
*
Just like the last time, though more strongly now, a nervous feeling swirls up in Spencer's stomach and - just like last time - she isn't sure why it is there in the first place.
It feels kind of like being sick and kind of like riding on a Ferris-wheel (the autumn of last year, a fair out by some of the old farms in the county and I could see everything from the top).
It's not a bad feeling, yet it is new and previously unknown.
It happened when she asked about the color of Ashley's eyes and it even happened when she read that they were 'brown, dull and regular brown' - her gut lurched and constricted, reminding her a little bit of when she had the flu some ten years ago and everyone worried that she might die.
And the moment she writes the words, the moment she mentions the idea of the two of them speaking to one another - there goes her stomach, knots upon knots, all at once pleasant and terrifying.
But she seals the letter and she slips it under her pillow, waiting for the next day to roll around and so she can send it on its way to California and Ashley's hands.
Because Spencer doesn't know what is going on with her these days, something is changing inside of her and she isn't sure whether it is for good or for bad.
It's been more Bob Dylan and jazz and less God and His only begotten son in Spencer's thoughts lately.
And she likes it, she likes it a lot and Spencer won't let weird pains in her body keep her from Ashley, from the one who has introduced her to a whole new world.
*
Out of all the things that Kyla listens to (The Animals, The Supremes, Herman's Hermits and that sort), Duffy Power and the Fentones are the best. A cover band, to be sure, but with just a hint of blues in them to make it interesting.
Interesting to Ashley that is.
Even their dad likes it, because she catches him smiling from the hallway when he sees Kyla hopping around (because it can't be considered dancing, not by any standard) and Ashley playing an imaginary guitar.
"Who did this first, Ash?"
Ashley beats out the bass riff with her hands against Kyla's mattress and then grins over at her sister.
"Dad said Lloyd Price."
"I thought it was Elvis…"
"C'mon Ky, get with it."
Kyla sticks out her tongue and continues to spin around, moving her hips in time to the harmonica.
They both sing out the last line, a funny little bit of harmony to their voices, and then the needle hits the smooth part of the record - static silence.
"You should listen to more stuff like this, you know, broaden your horizons."
"My horizons are just fine. What about your 'horizons'?"
"Out to the ocean, Ky."
"Fine, fine… you coming tonight?"
"To what?"
"Steven's first party of the school year, Ash. You used to go and have fun. Remember fun?"
"If that's your idea of fun…"
"It is. And I know what your idea of fun is these days."
"Excuse me?"
"What do you two talk about anyway?"
Ashley doesn't have to be as sharp as a tack to understand what Kyla is speaking of.
Or rather, who Kyla is asking about.
Normally, Kyla will ask questions and Ashley will answer - the answer might be rude or witty or filled with boredom - but Ashley always answers.
It is the kind of relationship they have.
They don't always get along, but they always keep the other in the loop.
How else could they have survived the years when their father was on the road and out of sight?
How else could they have survived Christine?
But reluctance is swimming in Ashley's veins, a hesitancy to bring up Spencer Carlin - Kyla's supposed to be pen-pal - because, well… because…
Spencer matters to me and I don't want to let anyone in on it. It's special to me. Spencer's special to me.
"Music, mostly."
"What else?"
"Not much else, Ky."
"I know you are lying, Ash."
"I am not."
"Yes you are."
"Am not."
"Are too."
"God, you are annoying!"
Ashley gets up quickly, bare feet pounding the floor in her haste to get away from Kyla and to her room.
But her sister is nosy. And (I repeat…) annoying.
"What's the big deal, Ash?"
"No big deal. You are just bothering me. A lot."
"God, fine!"
Now it is Kyla's turn to galumph away in a huff, but Christine's appearance puts the halt on that and both girls look over at the woman… who just happens to be holding a rather familiar blue envelope in her hand.
"I think you are keeping post offices in the black, dear… do you have a boyfriend hidden in Ohio?"
Kyla giggles almost uncontrollably and Ashley rolls her eyes as she reaches out, snatching the letter away from Christine.
"Yea, Ash, how is your 'boyfriend'?" Kyla laughs out, drawing out that last term with mirth.
"How's Jimmy Smith, Ky?"
Both girls glare daggers at one another and Christine sighs, making her retreat to the lounge and - more than likely - a martini.
Ashley then turns around, all swift and deadly silent. And Kyla makes her retreat, but not without a parting volley.
"I'll find out sooner or later."
But what could Kyla possibly find out, Ashley ponders as she leans against her door and stares at the unopened letter.
It's nothing bad. Just talking about music and where we live and stuff like that… and, yet, Ashley can't imagine anyone else reading these letters or knowing their content.
Being a pen-pal is kind of like a pact you make, no spit in the palm of your hand, but with words and sharing. It's a bond and Ashley doesn't want to disrespect it, doesn't want to lose it.
Because underneath all her bravado and her sassiness… she is just Ashley Davies, just a girl with secret longings and desperate dreams.
And no one, not even Kyla, knows these things.
But Spencer Carlin is getting closer and closer and Ashley can barely handle this herself, can barely believe that those things once kept in shadow are now begging to be let out into the light.
And until Ashley can manage to tell the whole truth to someone, then no one else needs to know about it… not yet, not now…
*
Spencer,
It's funny, you know. Your mother is on your back all the time and mine can't be bothered.
I don't know which is better. Or worse.
I think I love your brother, too! Go with him and listen to the record. You'll love it, it sounds like where I live and the beach and the sun.
You want to talk?
We can do that. I'd like that a lot. I'll give you the number for here and you give me yours, okay?
And then we can talk, you know, for real.
Ashley
*
She found her hand to be shaking, ever so slightly, as she jotted down each number at the very end of the return letter. And even though she could easily say this is from fear - of allowing someone in, of being friendly with a girl again - Ashley wonders if it is something more than fear.
She wonders if it is, quite unexpectedly, the opposite of fear all-together.
That sensation of heat upon her face, as if someone were watching her every move, is sudden and strong. Ashley pushes the finished letter away and flops down onto her bed, looking to the ceiling as if there are solutions there.
Because Carol made her feel funny.
But Spencer Carlin, a girl in Ohio who she has never seen and is only just now getting a chance to speak to, is making her feel funny and light-headed and wonderfully scared.
*
TBC
-Ashley/Spencer
-Most definitely AU. Various POV's. Some angst, some humor, some fluff. Set during the years 1964 - 1965. Yes, the title is a Beatles song... and all the chapter titles are Beatles songs, too. Why? 'Coz I rock. Expect lots of music references as well.
-'And then you feel guilty for wanting something more than this ‘Kyla Davies, 2464 Pinewood Drive, Hollywood, CA 90078’
-PG
The first of September finds Spencer back home, a summer that started off like every other one since she was eleven - the Father, the Son and the Holy Ghost all tucked away at camp; taunts mixed with popsicle-stick houses, confessions before and after every breath - and, yet, a summer that ended with what Spencer can only call promise and hope.
Ashley Davies.
The name alone causes Spencer to smile softly to herself, while Glen eats his pancakes and talks with his mouth full… while her father drinks his coffee and while her mother hums her way along every surface of the kitchen - cleaning up breakfast before it is even over.
And Spencer, for all her dreaming of leaving Ohio's forests and towns, has missed this.
She has missed the way Glen yells around every corner of the house, never taking into consideration that the person he is shouting for (or shouting at, we've had a few spats over the years) could be in front of him. She has missed the way that her father greets her every morning, the same way since she was four, a ruffle of her hair and a kiss to her cheek - he always carries the scent of aftershave and soap and it will cling to her long after she has gone to school.
And her mother, while so hard understand sometimes, is a welcome sight, too.
Spencer loves the way that her mother's eyes light up when she walks into the room, like everything is perfect once mother sees daughter.
And maybe, sometimes, it is just like that. Or, at least, Spencer likes to think so - on this day, the only week left before school starts up again, her mother is so happy to have her children home.
It isn't about regulations and restrictions.
It's about love.
"Have you ever heard of Dick Dale, Glen?" Spencer asks suddenly.
She had intended to ask her brother in private, knowing that to mention this in front of her parents would bring up curiosity - from her father, gentle and from her mother, probing.
She supposes it is just the way mothers and fathers behave, but Spencer had this almost overwhelming urge to keep everything associated with Ashley to herself.
Not like a secret, not really - but… special. This is special to me and I want it to stay that way.
But the question popped out all on its own, whether Spencer wanted it to or not. That seemed to be the case in anything that involved Ashley Davies - words just tumble out onto a piece of paper or out of her mouth and Spencer can't stop it from happening.
Glen wipes his lips on his shirt sleeve, much to their mother's irritation, and takes a big gulp of milk before answering.
"Yea, of course. How do you know of him?"
"Uh… Patricia, uh, mentioned him."
"He is the tops, Spence. That's surfin' music. Big on the west coast."
"Like California?"
"Where else, squirt?"
"Glen! Don't call me that!"
"Call you what? A squirt? But that's what you are…"
They continue this for a minute or two, Spencer with her fake pouting and Glen with his fake teasing (well, it is real teasing but not mean spirited at all) until their mother gets in their line of vision and turns her gaze onto Spencer, reminding the girl all to late on why she didn't want to ask her brother about Dick Dale in front of anyone else - especially her mother.
"Who is Patricia? A girl from camp?"
"Yes."
"And she was listening to this 'surf' music at camp?"
"No. Just talking about it, that's all."
"You know I don't like you two listening to that kind of… music. What about The Kingston Trio? They're fun and wholesome."
This is their mother at her most familiar - the woman who still looks young and vibrant, keeping up with what is vaguely popular on the radio… and then deciding if her children should be allowed to listen to it or not.
The Kingston Trio and Connie Francis are in.
Almost everything else is out.
"Aw Mom, that's squaresville. Besides, 'Tom Dooley' is about murder. That's not wholesome."
"Glen…"
Their father doesn't seem to have an opinion about music or what anyone listens to, as long as everyone is safe and sound at home when he returns from work. Where their mother rules with an iron fist, their father tends to take the least traveled route - the one of conversation.
But he pipes up at Glen's comment and Glen mumbles a 'sorry'.
"No 'surf' music. It's for your own good." Their mother says, directing it to the both of them and then she goes back to wiping down the stove. Their father goes back to drinking his coffee and Glen goes back to his pancakes.
And that is the end of that in the Carlin household.
Except for Spencer, who - for the first time - feels like she is trapped in her own home.
And all she can think is to write Ashley about it.
*
Dear Ashley,
I wish my mother wasn't so strict. I asked about Dick Dale and Glen knows him.
She won't let either of us listen to 'surfin' music.
Why is she like this? I just don't get it.
But Glen says his friend Ricky has a record of Dick Dale and he'll let me tag along so I can hear it.
I love my brother so much.
It's like I missed my family when I was at camp, missed being home, you know?
But now I am here and… I don't know. I wish I could go somewhere else, somewhere neat.
I hope you don't think I am silly or anything, but I wish I could talk to you, you know, really talk.
I love writing to you, gosh, you know I do.
It would be nice, though, right? To talk?
I think so.
Write back soon.
Sincerely
Spencer
*
Just like the last time, though more strongly now, a nervous feeling swirls up in Spencer's stomach and - just like last time - she isn't sure why it is there in the first place.
It feels kind of like being sick and kind of like riding on a Ferris-wheel (the autumn of last year, a fair out by some of the old farms in the county and I could see everything from the top).
It's not a bad feeling, yet it is new and previously unknown.
It happened when she asked about the color of Ashley's eyes and it even happened when she read that they were 'brown, dull and regular brown' - her gut lurched and constricted, reminding her a little bit of when she had the flu some ten years ago and everyone worried that she might die.
And the moment she writes the words, the moment she mentions the idea of the two of them speaking to one another - there goes her stomach, knots upon knots, all at once pleasant and terrifying.
But she seals the letter and she slips it under her pillow, waiting for the next day to roll around and so she can send it on its way to California and Ashley's hands.
Because Spencer doesn't know what is going on with her these days, something is changing inside of her and she isn't sure whether it is for good or for bad.
It's been more Bob Dylan and jazz and less God and His only begotten son in Spencer's thoughts lately.
And she likes it, she likes it a lot and Spencer won't let weird pains in her body keep her from Ashley, from the one who has introduced her to a whole new world.
*
Out of all the things that Kyla listens to (The Animals, The Supremes, Herman's Hermits and that sort), Duffy Power and the Fentones are the best. A cover band, to be sure, but with just a hint of blues in them to make it interesting.
Interesting to Ashley that is.
Even their dad likes it, because she catches him smiling from the hallway when he sees Kyla hopping around (because it can't be considered dancing, not by any standard) and Ashley playing an imaginary guitar.
"Who did this first, Ash?"
Ashley beats out the bass riff with her hands against Kyla's mattress and then grins over at her sister.
"Dad said Lloyd Price."
"I thought it was Elvis…"
"C'mon Ky, get with it."
Kyla sticks out her tongue and continues to spin around, moving her hips in time to the harmonica.
They both sing out the last line, a funny little bit of harmony to their voices, and then the needle hits the smooth part of the record - static silence.
"You should listen to more stuff like this, you know, broaden your horizons."
"My horizons are just fine. What about your 'horizons'?"
"Out to the ocean, Ky."
"Fine, fine… you coming tonight?"
"To what?"
"Steven's first party of the school year, Ash. You used to go and have fun. Remember fun?"
"If that's your idea of fun…"
"It is. And I know what your idea of fun is these days."
"Excuse me?"
"What do you two talk about anyway?"
Ashley doesn't have to be as sharp as a tack to understand what Kyla is speaking of.
Or rather, who Kyla is asking about.
Normally, Kyla will ask questions and Ashley will answer - the answer might be rude or witty or filled with boredom - but Ashley always answers.
It is the kind of relationship they have.
They don't always get along, but they always keep the other in the loop.
How else could they have survived the years when their father was on the road and out of sight?
How else could they have survived Christine?
But reluctance is swimming in Ashley's veins, a hesitancy to bring up Spencer Carlin - Kyla's supposed to be pen-pal - because, well… because…
Spencer matters to me and I don't want to let anyone in on it. It's special to me. Spencer's special to me.
"Music, mostly."
"What else?"
"Not much else, Ky."
"I know you are lying, Ash."
"I am not."
"Yes you are."
"Am not."
"Are too."
"God, you are annoying!"
Ashley gets up quickly, bare feet pounding the floor in her haste to get away from Kyla and to her room.
But her sister is nosy. And (I repeat…) annoying.
"What's the big deal, Ash?"
"No big deal. You are just bothering me. A lot."
"God, fine!"
Now it is Kyla's turn to galumph away in a huff, but Christine's appearance puts the halt on that and both girls look over at the woman… who just happens to be holding a rather familiar blue envelope in her hand.
"I think you are keeping post offices in the black, dear… do you have a boyfriend hidden in Ohio?"
Kyla giggles almost uncontrollably and Ashley rolls her eyes as she reaches out, snatching the letter away from Christine.
"Yea, Ash, how is your 'boyfriend'?" Kyla laughs out, drawing out that last term with mirth.
"How's Jimmy Smith, Ky?"
Both girls glare daggers at one another and Christine sighs, making her retreat to the lounge and - more than likely - a martini.
Ashley then turns around, all swift and deadly silent. And Kyla makes her retreat, but not without a parting volley.
"I'll find out sooner or later."
But what could Kyla possibly find out, Ashley ponders as she leans against her door and stares at the unopened letter.
It's nothing bad. Just talking about music and where we live and stuff like that… and, yet, Ashley can't imagine anyone else reading these letters or knowing their content.
Being a pen-pal is kind of like a pact you make, no spit in the palm of your hand, but with words and sharing. It's a bond and Ashley doesn't want to disrespect it, doesn't want to lose it.
Because underneath all her bravado and her sassiness… she is just Ashley Davies, just a girl with secret longings and desperate dreams.
And no one, not even Kyla, knows these things.
But Spencer Carlin is getting closer and closer and Ashley can barely handle this herself, can barely believe that those things once kept in shadow are now begging to be let out into the light.
And until Ashley can manage to tell the whole truth to someone, then no one else needs to know about it… not yet, not now…
*
Spencer,
It's funny, you know. Your mother is on your back all the time and mine can't be bothered.
I don't know which is better. Or worse.
I think I love your brother, too! Go with him and listen to the record. You'll love it, it sounds like where I live and the beach and the sun.
You want to talk?
We can do that. I'd like that a lot. I'll give you the number for here and you give me yours, okay?
And then we can talk, you know, for real.
Ashley
*
She found her hand to be shaking, ever so slightly, as she jotted down each number at the very end of the return letter. And even though she could easily say this is from fear - of allowing someone in, of being friendly with a girl again - Ashley wonders if it is something more than fear.
She wonders if it is, quite unexpectedly, the opposite of fear all-together.
That sensation of heat upon her face, as if someone were watching her every move, is sudden and strong. Ashley pushes the finished letter away and flops down onto her bed, looking to the ceiling as if there are solutions there.
Because Carol made her feel funny.
But Spencer Carlin, a girl in Ohio who she has never seen and is only just now getting a chance to speak to, is making her feel funny and light-headed and wonderfully scared.
*
TBC