Portraits (77 page)

Then, six months into her pregnancy, she had a miscarriage.

This time nothing could console her. Her visits to Dr. Goldstein did no good. The depressions became so acute that Josh began hating to come home at night. The drinking and the sleeping pills began again, and now Doris was not only concerned for Michele’s sake but for her marriage, which was gradually beginning to disintegrate. And then another change took place. Michele became enormously restless, wanted to go day and night. She gave one cocktail party after another, never refused an invitation, turned away Josh’s lovemaking and, in fact, took to sleeping on the couch in the den…

One night after coming home from a cocktail party she was so drunk that Josh had to carry her to bed. After softly closing the door to their room, he went down to the den and stayed up for the rest of the night, wondering how he was going to go on this way. He thought briefly of adopting a baby, but he wasn’t sure if that was the answer. At this point, he didn’t know what the answer was.

In the morning Michele was humiliated by what she had done. Sitting down across from him, she said, “Joshua, I’m so sorry about last night.”

“So am I, darling, but we have some serious things to talk about. We can’t go on like this much longer. I know you’ve been through a great deal, but, frankly, so have I. I’ve talked about the drinking and the sleeping pills, but it hasn’t done any good. We can’t ignore what this is doing to our marriage. I sat up all night wondering what to do, but I found only one answer. Since you can’t have children and we both want one, why don’t we adopt a child—”

“
No
, Josh, it would only make me feel more…I don’t know…inadequate than I already do, raising another woman’s child…a child that some woman gave birth to, then gave away…No, Josh—”

“All right, what do you suggest? We have to do something, there has to be some change that will put an end to your depression.”

“I don’t
know
. I’m just too confused about so many things—”

“Michele, I’m trying to tell you something…I can’t go on living this way.”

She fought back tears. “I’m not doing this on
purpose,
Joshua, I just feel as though I’ve been such a total miserable failure in my life. I don’t want to hurt you, but I don’t know what to do…”

“It hurts me to say this to you, honey, but really…there’s a time for sorrow but there’s also a time for acceptance and getting on with life and you don’t seem to be able to face the reality of that.”

She went over to him and put her arms around him. “Josh, please, let’s try. God, I can’t even begin to imagine what life would be without you—”

“Same for me, but unless things change, Michele, I’m really afraid for our marriage.”

“I’ll
try,
Josh, I promise I’ll try.” And she meant it, and she honestly tried very hard to reconcile herself to the fact that they would be childless, but somehow she never could, never could overcome her sense of failure. Finally she could only pretend that she had changed, and when the pretense became too much of a strain she started the drinking again. When Josh returned at night, she was radiant and lovely, if slightly incoherent. She burned the vegetables and dropped the dishes, she walked unsteadily as she brought things to the table…

Finally one night Joshua said, “I know you’ve tried, Michele…but it’s just not going to work—”

“But I love you, Josh—”

“I know, and I love you. But that doesn’t seem enough. Maybe I’ve failed you too. I don’t know, but I do know this…it’s over…”

When Josh moved out she wanted to die. Through her own weakness she had driven away the most important person in her life, and she despised herself for it. God, why hadn’t she inherited her mother’s ability to face reality? But she hadn’t, she was Michele—whoever
that
was…

She packed a bag and went to her mother’s house. It was in the den that she told her mother and father everything. Doris had no answers. All she could do was to try to help her child through this ordeal.

Since the apartment was Joshua’s he moved back in, and Michele went to live with her parents.

There was no community property to settle, so Michele was awarded five hundred dollars a month in alimony, which she didn’t for a minute feel she deserved.

After living with her parents for three months she told her mother that she simply had to get away from San Francisco, that it was no good for her…“Everywhere I go, I seem to see Joshua. I can’t stand being in the same city with him. It’s destroying me. I don’t want to see anybody, meet anyone, I don’t want to go anywhere…I’ve simply got to go away.”

Doris swallowed back her fear for her child. “Michele, if ever you need your family it’s now, people who love and care for you. I know how terribly painful things are for you, but running away isn’t the answer. Believe me, Michele, you can’t run away from your problems. They follow you wherever you go. Your only chance is to stay and try to face them…”

“You know how much I love you, mama and papa, but I’ve thought this over and I’ve decided that I
can’t
be this close to Josh.”

Doris saw that she meant it. “Have you thought about where you’ll go?”

“Yes, I think Los Angeles might be a good change.”

“But you don’t have anybody there—”

“I
know,
and maybe that’s one of the reasons I think it might be good for me. I won’t keep running into people who feel sorry for me—or the ones who gloat that our marriage broke up. In case you hadn’t noticed, nobody’s all that sympathetic. Those dear friends I used to have haven’t even called…oh, the hell with them…”

“Well, that may be, but please, think it over carefully, darling. And whatever you decide, remember I’m always here. I’m your mother and I love you, and so does your father.”

Michele sat down alongside her mother, put her head in her lap, and cried like a child…

M
ICHELE WAS ABLE TO
find a lovely little apartment in Beverly Hills on Crestview Drive off Wilshire Boulevard. She furnished the apartment on time payments, then took a job at I. Magnin. This was a kind of loneliness she’d never known, cut adrift from her family and living among unfamiliar faces. In the evenings she couldn’t even concentrate well enough to read. Weekends were the most difficult time. On Sundays she felt she had to get out of the apartment, and she spent hours just riding around in the bus. By Sunday evening, she couldn’t wait for Monday morning to come so that she could go back to work. She and her mother called each other frequently, but it was hardly the same as seeing her…

It was three months before she made a friend.

One of the ladies who worked at I. Magnin was an enormously wealthy widow who found that her life had fallen apart after her husband’s death. She traveled for a while, but then ran out of places to visit. She had no children and found that playing canasta with the girls bored her to tears. In desperation, she walked into I. Magnin one day, went to the manager, who knew her well, and announced, “Herb, I want a job.”

“Sandra Heller, what do
you
need a job for?”

“Did you ever hear of sanity? Is that a good enough reason?”

“It is…okay, where do you want to work?”

“Well, the only thing I’m qualified for, I guess, is fine jewelry.”

“You’re telling me. Between what you’re wearing and what you’ve got in the vault, you have more stock than we do.”

“In that case, if you’re running low I can sell my own stuff.”

“Okay, okay…when do you want to start?”

“Is tomorrow pushing things?”

“No, that could be arranged. Now, let’s talk about salary.”

“Screw it.” …

One day Michele was browsing in the jewelry department during her lunch hour and Sandra Heller asked if there was anything she could help her with.

Laughing, Michele said, “You could help me with a lot of things. I wouldn’t mind the emerald, the aquamarine, and that beautiful little bauble over there with the star ruby in the center.”

Sandra laughed. “Do you want me to put them in a paper bag for you?”

“I wouldn’t mind a bit. Incidentally, I work here too. My name is Michele Wolf.”

“How is it I haven’t noticed a beauty like you before?”

“Well, they keep this beauty sort of stashed away.”

“They ought to keep you right out front. What department are you in?”

“Junior sportswear, you should forgive the expression.”

“Oh, that’s the reason I haven’t seen you. I’m a little beyond that age.”

“But not the size.”

“With that compliment, you’ve just earned my undying loyalty. My name is Sandra Heller and as you can see I hold forth here.”

“Well,
I
wouldn’t mind switching if you’re interested.”

“Truthfully, Michele, they could have put me in the wrapping department.”

“Oh, you’d have been wasted there, you’re far too glamorous for wrapping.”

“I’m getting to like you better by the moment, you certainly know how to jazz up an old gal’s morale…”

In the next few weeks, Michele often stopped in at the jewelry department and said hello to Sandra, and the more Sandra saw Michele the more she grew to like her.

One day, when Michele happened to be passing by, Sandra called her over. “What are you doing Saturday night?”

“The same thing I’ve done for the past six months—nothing.”

“You are now, if you want to. I’m having a party and I’d love you to come.”

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world. What time and what do I wear?”

“Oh, something long and sexy, and say about seven-thirtyish?”

“How long does it take to get to your place? I don’t have a car so I’ll be taking a taxi.”

“Don’t be silly, I’ll have you picked up. Where do you live?”

“On Crestview, off Wilshire.”

“Okay, write down your address and phone number and I’ll have a very nice guy pick you up. His name is Richard Stein. He’s an architect. Don’t worry about him, I’ve had him screened since he was about four years old.”

“In that case, I won’t have to call the FBI. Thanks a million, Sandra. Two million. I really am looking forward to Saturday.” …

Michele found her hands trembling as she began to get dressed. She’d had no idea when she accepted Sandra’s invitation how traumatic this would be. She had been so lonely that she had accepted eagerly, quickly, but now the idea of meeting new people once again frightened her. Richard Stein was surely not a particular concern of hers, nor did she think of him as a date—but he’d be the first man she’d met since her divorce, and the idea suddenly terrified her. She felt so damn unsure of herself that she changed into four different dresses. Nothing seemed right. In frustration, she picked the first thing off the bed. She started to slip into the black long-sleeved gown but then suddenly remembered that it was one of Josh’s favorites and quickly yanked it off.

She went into the small livingroom and reached for the only consolation she seemed to have. As she sat there, sipping vodka, she thought of calling Sandra and saying she simply wasn’t up to it, but she realized that that was no answer to what she was feeling tonight.
You can’t go on living like this,
she told herself,
spending all your time alone. You’ve got to break with the past and tonight’s the night. Now get yourself up and get dressed…

Drinking down the last of the vodka in her glass, she walked back to the bedroom and dressed in the red chiffon, the dress Joshua had liked the least…She combed her hair carelessly, applied a little more lipstick and without a second glance at her reflection went to sit in the livingroom, where she waited nervously for the bell to ring. When it did, she took a deep breath and called through the intercom, “Who is it?” She was only prolonging the agony. She knew damned well who it was.

“Richard Stein.”

“I’ll be right down.”

If Richard Stein was a little surprised that she hadn’t asked him to come upstairs for her, he was even more surprised when he saw her. There was no shortage of beauty in Hollywood, Burbank or Beverly Hills, but the girl who was standing in front of him now had no competition. Damn that Sandra Heller. When he’d asked her what this new girl looked like her only reply had been, “She’s very pretty, you won’t be embarrassed.”

Well, that was the understatement of the century. He was a divorced man who’d had his share of romances, but Michele’s beauty left him tongue-tied. He opened the door and awkwardly helped her into his Thunderbird.

As they drove to Sandra’s he could elicit very little conversation from Michele. She answered his questions in as few words as possible and sat looking out the window as they drove along the fine boulevards and streets.

By the end of the ride he had decided that she might be beautiful but that she was also dull and going on dumb. Still, with a face and figure like that…

Sandra Heller lived in a beautiful apartment house in Bel Air. The door was opened by a positively glowing fifty-five-year-old Sandra, dressed in Pucci lounging pajamas and decked out in a profusion of jewels. She embraced Michele as an old and dear friend.

“You look absolutely divine, Michele. Let me take your wrap and show you off a little.”

She followed Sandra like an obedient child. It seemed that half of Los Angeles was on hand. She was introduced to John, Nancy, Paul, Judy, Alan, Nicky, Tony, Erica…the list went on and on, and after the introductions were made Michele wouldn’t have been able to call anybody anything except “darling” or “dear” if her life had depended on it. Soon she was being asked what she’d like to drink…Vodka on the rocks, thank you. She turned down the hors d’oeuvre, then stood uncomfortably in the corner, smiling as though she had already heard the punchline to the funny story being told by Michael Somebody-or-other. She wandered off to another corner and caught fragments of conversation about who said what in
Variety
, and she wandered a little further on and heard bits of gossip about somebody who’d just run off with somebody else’s wife. Then she found herself being escorted to the buffet table by Richard. She had hardly given him a second thought all evening, and by now she was so ill at ease that she merely said, “Thank you very much.”