Authors: Michael Lee West
Mad Girls In Love (46 page)
I checked into the Rubens Hotel and walked around London in a daze. I kept thinking that Louie would try to find me. The city wasn't at its best in late October, and for ten straight days, I never once saw the sun. It was dark when I woke up, which was unsettling, and then the sky would lighten a bit, gray at the edges, plunging into darkness by midafternoon. I began to wonder if I was suffering from that new condition, Seasonal Affective Disorder.
A week later, I moved to a bed and breakfast in Mayfair, a white row house with black wrought-iron railing. My room overlooked the garden, and I spent hours curled up in the window seat, contemplating my dilemma. Maybe Louie could get help. Or perhaps I was the one who needed to change. I could try and fix whatever was wrong. But no, I was through with Louie. I couldn't go back.
I made a pact with myself to stick it out for at least six weeks, and if I was still miserable, I'd reevaluate my situation. But until then, I simply could not feel sorry for myself. Next, I phoned my mother and made her promise not to tell Louie where I'd gone. “He's called here every day,” she told me. Then she wanted to know about the other woman, and how I'd sprayed her and Louie with champagne. “Oh, I wish I could have done that to your father,” she said.
After I'd settled into the Mayfair house, the landlady, Mrs. Sturgis, invited me for tea. She perked up when she found out that I was a designer. “My dearest friend is looking for someone freelance. She has a rather dreary flat not too far away, in Green Park. Might you be interested? Actually, I know several people who are looking for designersâif you're talented, of course, and if the price is right. In fact, this place could use a little remodeling. Perhaps we could work something outâno rental fee in exchange for your services. Would that interest you, my dear?”
It certainly would. I rang up Mrs. Sturgis's friend, and made an appointment to stop by her flat. We walked through the dark rooms, and I felt discouraged. This flat reflected my mood, and I was afraid I might only add to the gloom. All the walls were gray, and the windows were hidden by heavy draperies. We stopped in a glass conservatory, which the owner, a middle-aged attorney, or whatever the English called them, had filled with attic rejects. “What would you do with this flat?” she asked. I thought a moment, then I said, “Your colors need updating. Jewel tones are all the rage, but they'd be too dark. I see yellow walls in your bedroom, and maybe the living room, too. I'd pull down the draperies in every room, especially in the conservatory. The views are too lovely to hide.”
She hired me on the spot. I threw myself into floor plans, colors, and fabrics. For a while, I stopped thinking about my problems, but as the news of my separation spread through the family, I was bombarded with letters. My mother's notes were fragrant with her drugstore perfume. Aunt Clancy's notes were speckled with cat hairs. I couldn't bear to throw them away, so I stored them in the old rosewood box. Once a week, I sat on the floor and spread the letters around me. I'd put them in order and reread every single one, finding comfort in the voices from home.
Â
October 22, 1983
Dear Beauty,
I didn't know where to mail this letter, so I forwarded it to your mother. I am assuming you're in Crystal Falls, even though she denies it. Please, BeautyâI beg you to give me one more chance. I'll do anything you want. I'll hire all male nurses. I'll have my pecker removed. I will be waiting for your phone call. I have so much to tell you.
Your loving husband,
Louie
October 28, 1983
Dear Bitsy,
As much as I hate what Louie has done, I wish you hadn't run off like
you did. I read in the paper that one of the cabinet ministers over there resigned in DISGRACE after his pregnant mistress revealed all. They usually do. I will try and call you again tonight, but I hope I don't get the time zones wrong.
Love,
Dorothy
October 30, 1983
Dear Bitsy,
The reaction to acute stress is called “fight or flight.” It's a survival mechanism. You put up a good fight for your marriage. It didn't work. So this time, you flew away. I'm proud of you. I always knew you were a strong woman.
Love,
Violet
November 1, 1983
Dear Beauty,
I am worried about you. Please write just to let me know you're OK. I am seeing a psychiatrist. He says I am depressed and gave me a prescription for Elavil. I know you must be thinking that I was unfaithful because I didn't love you, but that's not true. You are my life, my one true love.
All my love,
Louie
November 17, 1983
Dear Beauty,
You've been gone for four weeks, two days, twelve hours, and thirty-three minutes. I haven't heard anything from you, not even a postcard, and I'm starting to worry. Are you all right? Please call or something.
This morning I poured a cup of coffee and walked out into your garden. I sat down on the bench and tried to pull myself together. It is nearly Thanksgiving and your roses are still blooming. I am taking this as a sign that your love for me is just as enduring. I remember when you planted those bushes. You were kneeling, and a streak of black dirt was smeared across your cheek. As I watched, my heart began to pound. And I took you inside and laid you on the bed and told you how much I loved you. I still do. I always will.
Love,
Louie
December 7, 1983
Dear Beauty,
I thought I was having a heart attack today. I started having chest pains and tachycardia. When I got to the emergency room, my pulse rate was over 150. On my way home, I was listening to the radio and heard about an airplane crash in Madrid. Thank God you didn't go there. Or did you? Please give me a sign. I'm falling apart without you.
Love,
Louie
January 1, 1984
Dear Mother,
Thank you for the totally awesome cashmere sweater. Even Grandmother liked it. But my favorite was the camouflage outfit. Where did you find it? Grandmother called all over the place, but every store was sold out. I gave my dad a new putter, and he thought it was way cool. I gave Regina a vomiticious red velour robe but she hasn't taken it from the box. She stays in her room all the time, crying and watching soaps. Are you, like, going to divorce Louie or just stay separated? If you stay in London, can I come and visit?
Here are my New Year's resolutions:
1. I will sponsor a child in Somalia or Ethiopia for less than 60 cents a day
2. I will quit spying on people
3. I will stop slicing up Regina's Estée Lauder lipsticks with razor blades.
4. I will open doors for the crippled and smile at retards.
Love,
Jen
Â
TO MY VALENTINE
February 14, 1984
Dearest Beauty,
My heart will always belong to you.
Love,
Louie
April 1, 1984
Dear Bitsy,
Your mother and your aunt have closed ranks and will not disclose your address to me or Louie. I don't blame them. Louie told me his side of the story, and it was too sordid to be a lie. The girl on his desk was a pharmaceutical rep for Eli Lily; her name is Danita Hollaway.
I don't mean to defend him, darling, but he swears that this woman had been throwing herself at him for a long time. She just wore him down. I don't know why he put everything on the line for a woman that meant nothing. But I do know that he loves you. I have never seen him in such torment. He is a shattered man. Please find a way to reach him. At least let him know you are still alive.
Love,
Honora
May 4, 1984
Dear Beauty,
We met six years ago today. I know you're living over in England because I got a letter from your solicitor. I do not want a divorce. I've done horrible things, and if I could undo them I would. But I can't. All I have is the future. Please call, so we can figure this out. I promise I won't start bugging you with calls, or hop on a plane and show up on your doorstep. But I want you to hear me out.
By the way, I'm still having tachycardia and chest pains.
Love always,
May 20, 1984
Dear Beauty,
Happy anniversary. I will always love you, kid.
Your husband,
Louie
September 11, 1984
Dear Mother,
I am, like, so totally excited. A local writer came to our school and talked. I might like to be a writer. That would be way cool, and I wouldn't have to leave home. On the other hand, I love dressing up, and I might want to work at a majorly cute boutique. Somebody asked how much money a writer made. The woman fell out laughing. I raised my hand and asked how she got her ideas, and she said I wet my finger and stuck it in a light socket. Well, her hair did look fried. But I just thought she'd given herself a home permanent. My teacher gasped and told the writer to leave. Then she told the class to never try that! For the rest of the period, she made us write a paper. Here is mine.
What I Did on My Summer Vacation by Jennifer Wentworth
I spent the summer strolling on the salty, smutty sand. It was like so awful and so awesome all at once. The stinky smelling sea swept squalor over my shoes. “Ewww!” I cried. I hate to go barefoot due to the filthy shells, seaweed, and pond scum. But I love the ocean. Talk about awesomosity. The stupid sunbathers brought their chairs and coolers and striped towels to our private beach, ignoring the totally awesome signs we'd posted. They stuck umbrellas into the solid sand and smeared themselves in suntan oil. They were so bogus. They didn't supervise their kids. My grandmother started to call the police, saying she'd paid hundreds of thousands of dollars for this beachfront property, but before she could dial, the sturdy seagulls swooped down and shit on the strangers. That was, like, total Ewwness, which is not to be confused with sheep. Ewwness is a state of Ew and pertains to all things Ewwie. I laughed when the trespassers screamed and scattered. I was, like, slap me or something.
October 26, 1984
Dear Beauty,
The Brits transplanted a baboon's heart into 15-day-old human infant. I wish I could transplant forgiveness into yours. You've been gone one year and nine days.
Love always,
Louie
November 6, 1984
Dear Bitsy,
Well, it's election day here in the States. I have enclosed a taped message that I'm sending to Nancy Reagan, not that she deserves one. Hope you are staying warm.
Love,
Dorothy
Nancy,
I wasn't going to contact you ever again. BUT I changed my mind. I was eating chocolate and watching the election results. Well, well, well. Your man won by a landslide today. Now you will have oodles of $$ to buy another suit for yet another swearing in. Well, I have to run. It's time for another Godiva truffle. Yes, I admit it, I'm a chocoholic, but don't YOU expect me to Just Say No.
Very Insincerely,
Dorothy
January 2, 1985
Dear Bitsy,
We had a real nice Christmas. I just loved the tartan scarf and the shortbread. Clancy Jane gave me
The Official Preppy Handbook
, and I'm enjoying it. I gave her cat slippers and a T-shirt that says “To Err Is Human, To Purr, Feline.” I hope you liked the blouse. I got it at a ritzy-fitzy garage sale, but it still had the price tag attached. Your mother-in-law sent eight huge boxes filled with your clothes, shoes, and pocketbooks. Let me know what you want me to do with them. It's time for me to go and watch
Moonlighting
. I am dying for Bruce and Cybill to boink.
Love,
Dorothy
January 12, 1985
Dear Mother,
Thank you for the awesome dictionary. I haven't had time to look up any big words because of what's going on at home. Grandmother and Chick think I'm a total mall chick. They wanted me go to Hilton Head for the holidays, but I'm in love with Patrick Little and needed to stay here. Regina like totally locked me in my room and called me a juvenile delinquent. She can eat shit and die. Please come and get me. I have NOTHING to do but read back issues of
Seventeen
.
Love,
Jennifer
May 10, 1985
Dear Mother,
My dad and Regina are getting a divorce. I told you. Grandmother is thrilled. She's taking us to the Caribbean for Memorial Day. Now maybe you and him can get together. I like a boy in my class, Sammy Wauford, but he likes Debbie Tickner, who wears clothes from Kmart.
Love,
Jennifer
May 12, 1985
Dear Bitsy,
Your mother broke down and gave me your address. I just returned from New Orleans. Louie collapsed at his office with an apparent heart attack. It turned out to be indigestion. He is such a sniveler. I completely understand why you are going ahead with the divorce. You can't sit still while the rest of time is passing by on the winds.
Don't fretâI won't give Louie your address. But do you mind if I pass it along to Sister? She asks about you all the time, and she knows quite a few designers on your side of the Atlantic. So if you're planning to stay in London, she can point you in the right direction.
Love,
Honora
June 4, 1985
Dear Mother,
School is out for the summer, and I am so totally bored. I went over to see Dorothy, and she got mad when I told her that
The Official Preppy Handbook
was a gag. I was like oh my God. Then she nearly fainted when I told her that George Michael is gay. She is always listening to that song, “Careless Whisper.” She asked how I know so much, but I really don't. I sure was wrong about my dad. He wasn't too sad over Regina because he sat me down in his study and told me that he wanted me to meet a woman named Nicole. They met at the golf course. So I guess you and him won't be getting remarried after all. Next week, Grandmother and Chick are taking me to Hilton Head. I'd rather go to California and see real Valley Girls.
Love,
Jennifer
June 15, 1985
Dear Bitsy,
I haven't heard from you in a while, so I thought I'd send you a little taped message. It's so much nicer than a letter, don't you think? I invited my
widowed neighbor, Mr. Stump, to supper. I served him fried chicken, green beans, Jell-O salad, mashed potatoes, biscuits, and apple upside-down cake. The next morning, the phone rang, and it was him. He complimented my cooking and wanted to know if I had any leftovers. Well, I'd never heard of anything so bold, but Mr. Stump is from Indiana, and they are crude up there. So, I told him that I was sorry, all I had was a tiny bowl of mashed potatoes. He said he'd be right over.
The nerve of that man! I may spit in those potatoes, even if they were exceptionally good. The secret is to add lots of REAL butter and sour cream. It will be a cold day before I serve another meal to Mr. Stump.
I hope you are enjoying your decorating jobs.
Love,
Dorothy
June 21, 1985
Dear Bitsy,
It's Solstice Day. How cool it must be to live near Stonehenge. I wanted to send you Violet's new address. At the end of the month, she and George will be moving to Boulder, Colorado. She has joined the Mountain Arts Medical Group. George will be doing research at the University of Colorado. My coffee shop is doing great. For July 4, Tucker and I are going to a party on Joe's houseboat. I wish I could have this man's baby, even though I have reached an age where I don't like children. Next month I'll turn 47, and the only eggs I have left are probably deviled.
Love,
XX OO
July 5, 1985
Dear Bitsy,
I tried to call, but I keep getting your machine. The most horrible thing has happened, so before you read any further, you might want to sit down. Yesterday, Clancy Jane and Tucker went to a houseboat party at the lake. The generator went out, and Tucker tried to fix it. Bitsy, he got electrocuted. I brought Clancy Jane to my house and gave her a pill. I called Byron, but got his answering service. They said he was on a vacation. I just bet he's not alone. So I called Zach and he came right over. He talked to her about the cycle of rebirth. But I just can't imagine Tucker coming back as a cat.
Honey, I've got to stop writing now. Clancy Jane is getting hysterical, and I need to give her a pill. I hope you like your new decorating job.
Love,
Dorothy
September 19, 1985
Dear Bitsy,
Thank you so much for wiring the flowers. They were real pretty. I'm sorry you couldn't make it back for the funeral, but Dorothy explained that you were moving to a new apartment and couldn't leave. I am sorry that it took so long for me to write, but I haven't been myself. Here is what happened that night. Three couples were on the houseboat, and we'd just taken a midnight swim. Tucker swam up behind me and said, Boo! Then he laughed and told me we had some important things to talk about. I asked him what, but he just smiled and said, You'll see, you'll see.
When we climbed up the ladder, everything was pitch-black. The electrical current was on the blink, so Tucker began fiddling with the generator. Somebody went to get a flashlight. Be careful, baby, I told Tucker, and I felt a chill. The lights blinked twice, followed by a crackling sound. Tucker looked like he was dancing, then he fell overboard. I screamed for help, then dove into the water. It was warm and dark, and somehow I caught his wrist. But he was so heavy, the weight of him just pulled me down. From the surface, I heard a splash and saw arcs of light, but I didn't let go.
I thought I might touch bottom but someone uncoiled my fingersâI couldn't see whoâand I fought them off. Another person grabbed me from behind and shoved me toward the surface. When I came up, people were shining flashlights in the water, and one of the guys was swimming underwater, searching for Tucker.
At dawn, the police divers brought Tucker to the surface. It took three more to lift his body onto the boat. I asked everybody who'd pulled my hands off Tucker, but no one would admit it. I wish they'd just let me go.
Since Zach is the only other Buddhist in town, he helped me plan the service. We handed out candles to the mourners and told everybody to light them. Then we formed a line and walked out of the funeral home. We stood out in the darkened yard. Then Zach told everybody to blow out their candles one at a time. When we got to the last candle, which was Zach's, he said, “When one flame is extinguished, another is ignited.” And he touched his candle to mine and lit the wick.
It would be nice to think that, at the precise moment Tucker died, another life began. But did it get his soul? I don't think so. I think he achieved Nirvana whether he meant to or not. He knew how to give love and to receive love, and if that's the only lesson any of us ever learn, then it's more than enough.
Love,
XX OO
October 15, 1985
Dear Mother,
I hate school. The eighth grade sucks. I've got a mean teacher and she is loading me down with homework. My dad is drinking all the time, even at breakfast. He fell down and hurt his back, and now he is taking pills that make him see double. Grandmother is so upset she had to check into the hospital. I will end up in an orphanage. Please come and get me.
Love,
Jennifer
October 20, 1985
Dear Mother,
Dorothy came over and took me to her house. She said you'd called her and explained what was going on. She has got another freaking dog, and it's peeing all over the house. I'm, like, gag me with a spoon. I shut myself up in your old bedroom to get away from it. I hate to tell her, but her house STINKS. Plus between the dog yapping and the walnuts falling from the tree and hitting the roof, I can't sleep. Do you have an English boyfriend? Or are you still pining for Louie? I myself have given up on boys. Here in Crystal Falls, I have few to pick from. I don't want to end up married to an electrician. I would prefer a doctor or a politician.
