Honeymooners A Cautionary Tale (55 page)

So here it is Saturday morning/afternoon.
I’m knocking around the house and trying to pretend you are here.
Just had my bath and first cup of coffee. Labor Day weekend, and I
plan to stay here and read and take a few more strides into my
thesis on Lessing. Angry with myself for letting it go these past
two and a half years. Yet, it’s really rather incidental, except
perhaps as a booster when I apply for law school. No excuse not to
finish it. Have time on my hands and no money in my pocket. Guess
the fates are conspiring to get me to start looking after my
life.

Have a couple of things on my mind I want to
write you about. Have taken time out to bring my coffee pot up
here, plump a couple of pillows under my wooden chair. Never have
been able to sit in a chair like a lady. Always like to have my
knees somewhere near my chin. This chair is big enough that I can
bring both feet up, and still have room to move my arms around and
type. Coffee, phone, cigarettes, work strewn about on the desk. And
a whole day to think of you, write to you, enjoy these feelings, a
luxury of love.

Read your yesterday letter several times.
Once for the surface message. Reread it for between the lines. As I
get to know you better, I find more in your omissions than you
might suppose. Love you, you rascal. But, oh how difficult to find
out what’s really happening to you. See that my letters even at
their greatest provocative level, fail to prod you into
elucidation. Christ, love. I believe you are getting things
together, but I can’t help worrying – at what cost. Will I like
what’s happening? Will you?

So I laugh, hug your letter, call you a
scamp of the first order, and tuck the letter in my purse to carry
around with me everywhere to pull out again and again to reread.
But this time I’m going to write out a list of questions to fire at
you on the phone – I’ll have to write them out, for when you call I
get so excited I forget all the things I want to know and
babble-babble-babble. And there are things I really want to know.
In your last letter you said you and Alice Ann had the talkies, and
that she understood more about us … whatever that means. What does
that mean? Do I run for cover, keep smiling, think about tomorrow,
consider myself a villainess and vamp about my bedroom, or
what?

Suspect rather that I’m a tolerated evil of
sorts, but that’s only egotistical guesswork. More important,
what’s happening with the two of you? Can you communicate more
freely, more naturally? If so, that is definitely all to the good.
Well, anyway, I’m honestly not the least bit jealous – that would
be absurd. But I am envious. Really want to be with you, talk to
you … everything in its time … am bouncing up and down, getting
cramps in my toe. How’s your wonderful curly head?

Anyway, about last night. Kathy and I went
out for drinks around 8 p.m., while Buffalo Bill was roaming around
God knows where. We talked at length about their marital problems.
Ugh. Oxydol or Tide brings you the next installment. Anyway, I feel
there is no real hope for a full marriage there. Kathy is
absolutely turned off about sex – period, and has been ever since
their baby was stillborn which is the first time she has said this
to me. So Bill will have to settle for an affair here and there, if
he wants to maintain the existing relationship. Too bad really.
Think Kathy understands how important that is to him, esp. as he
enters the fucked-up forties. But she is psychologically unable to
comply. So, the story will probably continue to have its bizarre
aspects, the essential aspect will remain constant. Both are
unwilling to consider or initiate substantial alternatives.

I also found out why Bill is so down on me
again. When he returned from fishing at Duck Lake last week he
stopped in the Flame Lounge where he heard that Kathy and I had
been in for drinks on a couple of occasions, and that we were
jokingly called the Tavern Touring Twins. A harmless enough thing,
I suppose, but it really bummed Bill out, not to speak of me. Guess
if one has to be slammed that’s one of the most innocuous ways to
have it done. But Bill’s reaction indicated how tenuous my
friendship with him is, how easily he will dismiss me because of
his anger with Kathy. In the fit he threw, he told Kathy he would
do anything he could to see that you and I do not get together, and
that I would only fuck you up. I know he was speaking in anger and
that the anger was directed at Kathy and at me only incidentally as
an associate of hers, but it still seemed outrageous. She told him
that she knew nothing about my association with you, that I did not
confide in her on that matter (this after some probing on Bill’s
part), so perhaps things still rest there. I still feel pretty
badly about all of that. I haven’t done anything to hurt Bill,
certainly nothing that I am aware of, except maintain my friendship
with Kathy. Must anger always be so unreasonable?

Anyway, at about that point in our
conversation we were joined by a couple of guys, uninvited, one we
knew, the other his friend. I wasn’t interested so I insisted on
buying this guy a drink. Some weird policy, I suppose. I refuse to
let a guy buy me a drink because then he thinks he has more rights
than he has. Most men don’t understand this, however, and tend to
be belligerent. Guess he didn’t either, because he got pretty
irate, was drunk to begin with, and announced that he was going to
fuck me that night. At that point I should have left the table, but
I decided that maybe I could explain things to him and turn him
into a rational adult man. I’m always doing stupid shit like this.
Thinking I’m God or something. So anyway, we continued talking, and
things calmed down. He accepted the drink. Said he was just a dumb
cowboy looking for love, and I said I was just a poor working girl,
so I wouldn’t buy him anymore drinks and I didn’t want any more
myself. Kathy left at that point, went across the street to get
something to eat. I could have choked her. The guy then put the
hustle on me. I explained that I didn’t want to be hustled. I
wanted to be able to stop in at a bar for a drink without a hassle.
I added that I was really interested in someone else who lied in
California and simply couldn’t get it on with him. At that point he
pulled out his wallet and said he would buy me a plane ticket down
there, gave me his credit card ... no strings attached, he said. I
handed it back to him and got up and split. Even while I thought it
was rather funny, it frightened me, and I don’t quite know why. And
I don’t quite know why I’m telling you about this incident. Except
that these things happen. I’m pretty dedicated to keeping my life
here totally straight. Find that I’m lonely occasionally even
though the day is peopled pretty fully. Guess I miss you and
substitute encounters just don’t fill that space. You may know the
feeling. Even while seriously considering another person, what he’s
saying, what he’s feeling, I suddenly wonder where you are – a
whole world away. It just sneaks up like that, until you realize
that’s where you were all the time, thinking about the one you
love.

Look at this. All these pages talking about
myself. Terrible. Want to talk about you, where you are, your
letter, our energy. Just reread your letter yet again and am all
smiles. Feel very bad about Alice Ann. Know what both of you are
going through, all the real pain. Feel guilty that I can be so
happy in spite of that. But I am. Deliriously happy. Wildly happy.
Everything but completely happy. But with faith. But more questions
keep creeping out of the forefront of my head – like dear old
Minerva, armed in full dyke array, but a lady nonetheless. So, you
are getting your life in order. How, before I knew you, was it in
disorder?? What really do you wish to change? I mean fundamentally.
Really want to talk to you about all of this – so much I feel I
should understand. Maybe these are only words, but I see you in a
way of life, or, rather, I see in you a way of life, not a change
of life. I’m confused, as usual, and worrying about big things in
little ways, and still feeling incredibly merry and loving you so
much. Should be all right if I can get this foolish grin off my
face. I’ve been grinning like mad for weeks. Even people in the
office have noticed. And I have not said anything. That’s why I
spend so much time writing to you. I want to stand on top of my
roof and just shout to the whole town, “Hey, I’m in love. What do
you think of that?”

On the medium serious side, won’t make any
plans about your coming up here until you think you really can do
it. But I’ve gone off the pill this month because of typical side
effects like weight gain, water retention and all of that. Seems
weird writing about things like that. Will resume, anyway, before
you get here so that we don’t have to consider any hassles of that
nature. Went back to see my doctor last Thursday. He’s keeping me
on some stomach relaxer for another three weeks and advised me to
remain off the booze. (Naturally I didn’t tell him that I had
already violated that promise. With a good bit more enthusiasm
after reading that drinking and smoking do not age your skin!!! )
At that time I asked him about my new approaches to birth contol
and explained that I had problems with the I.U.D. and with pills.
He smiled, shrugged his shoulders, and said he was just glad he was
not a gynecologist. I agreed with him. He patted my head, and
therefore I’ve come up with the above approach, subject to your
approval, of course. Don’t know why, exactly, but writing all of
this embarrasses me. Hope I haven’t done the same with you. Shades
of 19th century modesty, I guess, in spite of my ‘liberated’
assertions.

Hey, love, this letter is too long. You are
going to fall asleep in the middle. Wish you could fall asleep my
arms. Would like to hold your head again. Love you.

Lindsey

Dearest L –

Just finished your long warm wonderful
letter. Jesus. So good to hear from you. And your photo! My, my.
All the other good things, and she’s lovely too. You are, you know.
And sexy, and bright, and simpatico, and everything else. Love you,
miss you. Thinking of you so strongly right now you must be getting
vibes.

Damn it, but I miss you! Has been off and on
again madness now for weeks. Barely able to get anything done. Had
an unfortunate, bad evening on Friday. Saturday I asked Alice Ann
to come to my apartment and try to get caught up on her schoolwork,
paper correcting, her own Stanford class, etc. Good enough day Sat.
& even Sunday there. I did a lot of reading, & we also did
a lot of talking. Sunday night we had some drinks and got into a
horrible verbal scene. Monday things were pretty serene, lots more
talking, no real hostility. Shit hit the fan again Monday night.
She missed school again on Tuesday. I told her on Tuesday that I
would not have any contact with you for three months, until after
the first of the year. At that time, if I want it, we’ll have a
peaceful-amicable separation or divorce. Thing is, though, it is a
promise I cannot and do not intend to keep, may the gods forgive
me. I simply cannot. I’m too far gone in love with you, too far
embarked on a different course. I hope I’m not sounding or acting
in too dishonorable a fashion. But I know what I want and what will
eventually be best for everyone involved down here. Does this sound
too selfish or deceptive or whatever? God, I hope not. But things
have to settle down here, and right now, for health’s sake,
careers’ sake, everything. I would have about been ready to say
anything, except that I would breakup with you entirely – which was
not asked! I’ll keep my apartment; of course, but will begin to
pull together on some of the problems and such in Menlo Park. Maybe
this will get us through the holiday and such and into a new year,
and that’s it. All of this in strictest confidence of course,
little fish – please don’t mention a word to Buffalo Bill or Kathy
or anyone! I don’t want any of us to look villainous or victimized.
Don’t know why I’m telling you all this & sure as hell don’t
want you to feel uptight, bummed out, or disappointed in any way in
me. But I guess I do know why and that is because I love you so
much and want to keep things straight between us, and always let
you know what’s happening and what’s on my mind riht now. God, it
would all be so simple if we were all bastards, ego-maniacs, and
able to walk into and out of people’s lives with impunity or
scarcely a backward glance, ala Norman Mailer, since you mentioned
going to see him talk when he was in Missoula. He is a good
example, kids and wives scattered all over the landscape. Speaking
of Mailer, saw in the paper this morning that he spoke to a crowd
of 2000 at Berkeley yesterday (I got there late and just slipped in
and stood in the back.) It turned into a free-for-all. He was
heckled by women libs, Gay libs and about a dozen other groups he
has somehow offended over the years. He was in a “fuck you”
shouting match on the stage with many of the audience. Someone
threw a burning brassier on the podium, a number of people were
arrested. Wonderful time was had by all parties. By the way, paper
said he was paid $2500 for the lecture! Did they actually come up
with that kind of money n Montana? Or close to it? And, by the bye,
has Buffalo Bill done anything about getting me a reading up there?
Wonder what kind of money he could get me? See if you can worm some
info along these lines out of him. Be sure to catch him when he’s
reasonably sober.

Lindsey, little fish, let me say you’re
never really out of my mind. I love you, miss you desperately,
can’t wait to see you. But of course I’m horribly broke down here,
old car’s transmission is failing fast, the boy’s dog is pregnant
again, etc. etc. Anyway, put pressure on Bill. I’ll ty to wait
until this weekend to call you. Feel a little guilty about that,
continuing to lay those collect calls on you. Must have been about
a $70 call by itself last Weds. night. You’re right, we’ve got to
get together soon just to save money. One of these days we’ll pool
our meager resources, huh?