Kramer vs. Kramer (25 page)

“Billy, you know your mommy now lives in New York City?”

“I know.”

“Well, sometimes when a mother and a father are divorced, there is a discussion about who the child should live with, the mother or the father. Now, there is a man who is very wise. He’s called a judge. And the judge has a lot of experience with divorces and mothers and fathers and children. He decides who it would be best for a child to live with.”

“Why does he decide?”

“Well, that’s what he does. He’s a very powerful man.”

“Like a principal?”

“Bigger than a principal. The judge sits in robes in a big chair. This judge has thought a lot about us, about you and me and Mommy, and he has decided that it would be best for you if you live with Mommy in her apartment. And I’m very lucky. Because even though you live with Mommy, I’ll get to see you every Sunday.”

And I will, Billy, I promise you. I won’t be one of those people Shaunessy talked about.

“I don’t understand, Daddy.”

Neither do I.

“What part of it don’t you understand, honey?”

“Where will my bed be, where will I sleep?”

“At Mommy’s. She’ll have a bed for you in your own room.”

“Where will my toys be?”

“We’ll send your toys there, and I’m sure you’ll get some new ones.”

“Who will read me my stories?”

“Mommy.”

“Will Mrs. Willewska be there, too?”

“Now, that I don’t know about. That’s still being discussed.”

“Will you come and say good night to me every night?”

“No, Billy, I’ll still live here. I’ll see you on Sundays.”

“I’ll live in Mommy’s house?”

“And it will all start this Monday. Your mommy will come for you in the morning and pick you up here.”

“But we were supposed to go for the weekend! You promised!”

“We’ll still go. We’ll come home a day earlier, that’s all.”

“Oh, that’s good.”

“Yes, that’s good.”

The child took a few moments to evaluate the information, then he said:

“Daddy, does this mean we’ll never play monkeys again?”

Oh, Jesus, I don’t think I can get through this. “Yes, my honey, we’ll play monkeys again. We’ll just be Sunday monkeys.”

O
N THE CAR RIDE
to Long Island, the grownups worked desperately for a jolly beginning to the weekend, singing “I’ve Been Working on the Railroad” and other favorites. In the interludes between the forced merriment, Ellen would glance back at Ted and Billy and then turn away, unable to look. Given the slightest break from the songs, everyone above the age of five and a half was solemn. Billy was talking away, fascinated by the off-season life on the island: “Where do the birds go?” “Do children live there?” “Does the ferry crash into the ice like an icebreaker boat?” and then he, too, would fall silent, thinking.

“Daddy, I have a secret.” And he whispered so the others would not hear. “What if The Face comes when I live at Mommy’s?”

“Mommy knows about The Face. You and Mommy will tell The Face to beat it.”

On the ferry ride across, Billy looked out the window, not wanting to miss even a wave in his adventure, and then his interest would drop, apprehensions would take him over again.

“Does Mommy know I can’t drink grape juice?”

“Yes, she knows. She won’t give you anything that’s not good for you.”

When they reached the island, Billy converted the empty summer houses into “Ghostland,” creating a game which he and Ted played through the morning, searching for ghosts, climbing on and off decks of houses, scaring each other, laughing. Don’t make this too wonderful, Ted was thinking. Maybe it’s better if we go out on a shitty time.

The child’s enthusiasm was infectious. After lunch, Larry and Ellen, lightened by the rum the adults had been drinking on this cloudy, cold day, played Ghostland also. Then they all jogged along the beach. After dinner, Billy took his flashlight out to look for small animals, but Ghostland was suddenly legitimate. He lasted outside in the dark for only ten minutes, driven indoors by shadows and night sounds.

“Did you see any deer?” Larry asked. “There are deer on the island, you know.”

“Not in Ocean Bay Park,” Ted said. “They won’t rent to them.”

They began to laugh, Billy also, who thought it was very funny.

“Can you imagine if the deer shopped in the grocery?” Billy said, a joke by a five-year-old, and on laughter and rum and the long day outside, they all fell asleep in their sleeping bags, chuckling to the end.

Sunday, the last day, Ted and Billy bundled up and went down to the beach to build a sandcastle. The beach was empty. They were on an island of their own this one last time. They tossed a ball on the beach, took a walk to the bay and sat on the dock, finally going inside to get away from the raw weather. Ted and Billy played pickup sticks, the boy intent on the game, and then as before, his mind began to drift again. He suddenly turned and looked at his father with lost eyes. Ted Kramer knew that he had to be the daddy now, no matter how deep his own pain, he had to help the boy get through this.

“You’re going to be fine, Billy. Mommy loves you. And I love you. And you can tell anybody just what it is you want, whatever it is.”

“Sure, Dad.”

“You’ll be just fine. You’re surrounded by people who love you.”

On the ferry back, no one was laughing any more. For Ted, the pain of their separation was so intense he could hardly breathe.

In the city, Larry and Ellen dropped them off at the house. “Hang in, buddy,” Larry said to Ted. Then Ellen kissed Billy and told him, “You’re welcome to visit us on the island any time. You remember that. We’ll look for deer in the grocery.”

“It will have to be on a Sunday,” the boy said, grasping the reality completely.

T
ED SAW THAT BILLY
brushed his teeth, got into his pajamas, then he read him a story. He said good night, keeping it cheery. “See you in the morning, Billy.” He tried to watch a movie on television, but he was, thankfully, exhausted. And then he took one final look at the boy sleeping. Had he invested too much in the child, he wondered. Perhaps somewhat, he thought. But as he had come to believe, a certain amount of this was inevitable when you were alone with a child. Joanna would find it the same. He decided it was just as it should have been during these many months. He was grateful for this time. It had existed. No one could ever take it away. And he felt he was not the same for it. He believed he had grown because of the child. He had become more loving because of the child, more open because of the child, stronger because of the child, kinder because of the child, and had experienced more of what life had to offer—because of the child. He leaned over and kissed him in his sleep and said, “Goodbye, little boy. Thank you.”

T
HEY HAD SEVERAL HOURS
before Joanna would arrive.

“What do you say we go out for breakfast this morning, kiddo?”

“Do I get a donut?”

“After.” Ted Kramer had picked up all the parental shorthand.

They went to a neighborhood luncheonette and sat in a booth—breakfast out. Soon he would be like the other Sunday fathers, looking for things to do—out. They returned to the apartment and packed Billy’s most important belongings into two suitcases. There was nothing to do now but wait for Joanna. Ted allowed Billy to watch morning television in Ted’s bedroom, while he read the newspaper in the living room.

Joanna was late. It was ten-fifteen. The least she could have done this one day was make it as painless as possible, he thought. By ten-thirty, he was pacing. A really shitty thing to do, Joanna! By eleven, he realized he did not even have her phone number. The number was unlisted. He tried to locate Ron Willis and could not. At eleven-twenty, the phone finally rang.

“Ted?”

“Goddamn it, Joanna! Where the hell are you?”

“Ted, I’m not coming.”

“What?”

She spoke haltingly

“Seeing the two of you together … when you … take him to school. In the courtroom … hearing you … talk about Billy.” She was struggling to get the words out. “I know now … I can’t bring myself … to break that up. There … is where he should be. With his things … and his daddy.” She paused, and then she said, “He’s yours, Ted.”

“He’s mine?”

“I did want him. I really did.”

She began to sob deeply.

“Do you mean this?”

“Yes.”

“He’s really mine?”

“Only … could I ask you something?”

“What?”

“Could I see him sometimes?”

“Jesus—the things we’ve done to each other. Of course, you can see him. We’ll work it out”

“I … just can’t talk any more.” And she hung up.

He leaned back against the wall, so overcome that his legs could not even support his weight. He sat down at the dining room table, numb, shaking his head, trying to believe it. Billy was his. After all this, he was his. He sat there, tears streaming down his face.

Once Etta had told him he was a very lucky man. He was feeling this now, joy and thankfulness and that he was truly a very lucky man. He got up and walked over to the packed suitcases which were standing in the foyer, and still crying, he carried them back into the boy’s room.

Billy was watching television. He needed to be told. Ted tried to compose himself, then he went inside, turned the television set off and kneeled in front of the boy.

“Billy, Mommy just called. And … well, Billy … you’re going to live here with me, after all.”

“Mommy’s not coming?”

“Not today. She loves you. She loves you a lot. But it’s going to be the way it’s been.”

“It is?”

“Because I love you, too, Billy.” His eyes filled with tears again. “And … I would have been … very lonely without you.”

“You mean I’ll still sleep in my bed?”

“Yes. In your room.”

“And all my toys will stay?”

“Yes.”

“And my Batman?”

“Yes.”

“And my books?”

“Everything.”

The child tried to register it.

“So I’m not going there today?”

“That’s right, Billy.”

“Are you working today?”

“No.”

“Then can we go to the playground, Daddy?”

“Yes, Billy. We can go to the playground.”

T
HEY DID ORDINARY THINGS
that day, went to the playground, brought back a pizza, watched
The Muppets
, Billy went to bed, and Ted Kramer got to keep his son.

Avery Corman (b. 1935) is an American author best known for novels that inspired hit movies such as
Kramer vs. Kramer
and
Oh, God!
Corman has written powerfully of divorce and family, as well as midlife crisis and the experience of living in New York City.

Corman was born on November 28, 1935, in New York City. His parents were working-class residents of the Bronx, and they divorced when Corman was a young child. Corman moved with his mother and sister into the apartment of an aunt and uncle, who were both deaf mutes. Complicated family dynamics and the challenges of communication would come to be prominent themes in Corman’s later work as a writer.

Corman attended DeWitt Clinton High School and then New York University, from which he graduated in 1956. After a short career in magazine publishing, Corman began writing humorous pieces for small magazines. He spent more than ten years cobbling together an income as a freelancer before completing his first novel,
Oh, God!
, in 1971. The story of a writer who becomes a messenger for God after an interview on Madison Avenue,
Oh, God!
was made into a hit film starring George Burns in 1977. Next came
The Bust-Out King
(1977), a caper novel, quickly followed by one of Corman’s best-known works,
Kramer vs. Kramer
(1977). The novel depicts the toll divorce can take on parents and their children, and helped change the landscape of divorce and custody in America. The courts, and divorcing spouses, began to view divorced men’s participation in their children’s lives more positively. The novel’s film adaptation, starring Dustin Hoffman and Meryl Streep, was released to overwhelming acclaim, and went on to win five Academy Awards, including Best Picture.  A French language stage adaptation of the novel,
Kramer vs. Kramer
, by Didier Caron and Stéphane Boutet, was produced in Paris in 2010 and subsequently played in other French cities and in Geneva, Switzerland. Corman then wrote his own stage adaptation of the novel, which has been optioned for a Broadway production, and for productions in several foreign countries.

Following
Kramer vs. Kramer
, Corman continued to explore themes of families in turmoil.
The Old Neighborhood
(1980) follows the life of a man whose ambivalence about success brings him back to the city streets where he was raised. His fifth novel,
50
(1987), examines a middle-aged man whose life falls apart, leading him to unexpected contentment.
The Big Hype
(1992) skewers the publishing industry and celebrity culture, while
Prized Possessions
(1991) deals with the consequences of being a victim of date rape for a young college student and her family.
A Perfect Divorce
(2004) tells the story of a divorced couple struggling to co-parent their troubled teenage son. Corman’s most recent novel,
The Boyfriend from Hell
(2006), follows a young, single journalist as she embarks on a new relationship that turns out to be more sinister than she could have imagined.

After achieving success as a novelist, Corman noticed that a cherished basketball court in his old neighborhood had been torn down. He donated funds to build a replacement and this served as a catalyst for the creation of the City Parks Foundation, now a multimillion dollar nonprofit organization that creates and funds parks programs throughout New York City. He has served on its board of directors since the foundation’s inception in 1989.

Corman continues to write novels, plays, and non-fiction.