Stars Over Sunset Boulevard (21 page)

November 1942

T
he closing credits for
For
Me and My Gal
were rolling down the screen but the theater was still dark as the audience started to rise from their seats. Audrey had enjoyed the movie but she'd been distracted by an odd, menacing pressure inside her body that had begun as soon as the houselights went down. She remembered the ache from years before; her body was reminding her that the child wouldn't always be hidden inside her, that a time of emptying was coming.

She had three more weeks before her due date, nearly another month of letting Violet pamper her, of putting puzzles together with Delores, of waking up in Bert's old room, of holding the child as close to her body as a mother could.

Audrey placed her hands over her swollen middle. The sensation was intensifying. Maybe if she could lie down, it would lessen. Or maybe if she just sat there for a few minutes, the tightening would subside.

Violet, sitting in the seat next to her, leaned toward her. “Don't you just love Judy Garland?”

“She's incredible,” Audrey replied, with little lilt to her voice.

“Everything all right?”

“Probably. But let's just sit for a minute.” Audrey smiled in spite of her discomfort. Violet was going to be a wonderful mother. Her kind attention these past two months had assured her of that. But Audrey knew Violet looked to the end of Audrey's pregnancy with a different kind of expectation. The home she had graciously offered so that Audrey could give birth, concealed from Hollywood's prying eyes, did not bear the look of a house being made ready for a new life. Violet hadn't been able to do anything to prepare a nursery. Audrey slept in the room that would be the baby's, and though she had offered to let Violet do whatever she wished with that room, Violet had declined, saying it could wait. The few baby things Violet had bought she had stuffed on Bert's side of the closet so that, as Violet had said, Audrey wouldn't have to look at them.

A newborn didn't need a crib or even its own room, Violet had told her. In the beginning, a bassinet at the mother's bedside was all that was required, as the baby was so tiny and the mother was up and down at all hours, seeing to its many needs.

The theater was almost empty now and the house-lights came on. “Want to go get ice cream before we head home?” Violet asked.

Another strong contraction rolled across her midsection, and Audrey closed her eyes against its force.

“Or something else, if you're not in the mood for ice cream,” Violet added.

“I think . . . I think something is happening, Violet.” Audrey opened her eyes as the pain subsided.

Violet instinctively looked down at Audrey's bulging abdomen. “What do you mean? Now? Right now?”

Audrey leaned forward a bit in her seat as a ripple of nausea moved within her, coupled with a feeling of urgency.

“But it's too early!” Violet exclaimed. “You still have three more weeks!”

“I think I might need to go to the hospital.” Audrey reached for her purse.

“But it's too early!” Violet said again, as she watched Audrey rise awkwardly to her feet. “You've got three more weeks!”

“Babies come when they want to come.”

Violet grabbed her pocketbook as well, sprang to her feet, and followed Audrey into the aisle. “Are you sure you need to go to the hospital?”

“I've done this before, Vi.”

“But we didn't bring your car! We walked here!”

They entered the foyer of the theater, now swarming with ticket holders for the next showing of the movie.

Audrey headed for the concession stand, where slick-haired young men in bow ties were selling popcorn and licorice.

“Could you please have someone call us a cab?” Audrey said politely, and then reached out for Violet as a new pain—a more aggressive one—seized her.

One of the young men's eyes grew wide and he dashed for the office in back.

The theater manager was suddenly at their side, ushering them to the big revolving doors. He spoke in gentle tones to Audrey, assuring her that the taxi was on its way. Audrey appreciated his effort to keep her calm, but she felt strangely
tranquil. As they started to head outside, the manager called over his shoulder to tell the young man to alert the hospital that a woman in labor was headed their way.

The manager stayed with them until the taxi arrived and he helped Audrey inside.

“Do you have money for the fare?” he asked Violet. She replied in a nervous voice that she didn't know and she began to poke about in her purse for her wallet.

“I have it,” Audrey replied between gritted teeth.

Violet got into the cab. Audrey could sense Violet's anxiety. The manager shut the door and the taxi sped away.

“It's going to be okay, Violet.” Audrey leaned her head back on the seat.

“I don't know what to do.”

“Just hold on to my purse for me and don't let them give me anything to make me sleepy. Promise me you won't let them put me to sleep. I want to be awake.”

There was no answer. Violet appeared to have no idea what Audrey was talking about.

Audrey raised her head to look at Violet. “Promise?”

“I promise.”

They arrived at the hospital's front entrance in less than ten minutes. A nurse in a starched hat and a white-uniformed orderly stood at the curb next to a wheelchair. Audrey handed Violet her purse.

“Pay the driver before we get out so that you can stay with me.”

Violet handed the money across the seat as the passenger's door on Audrey's side opened and the orderly reached for her.

Violet scrambled out the other side as Audrey was getting settled into the wheelchair.

“Is this your first baby, dear?” the nurse said, smiling wide.

“No,” Audrey answered before she doubled over in pain.

“What's her name?” the nurse said to Violet as they turned toward the hospital's front doors.

Violet opened her mouth, but Audrey answered before Violet could get any words past her lips.

“I'm Audrey Kluge.”

The nurse bent down toward Audrey as she wheeled her over the hospital's threshold and inside the building. “And can we call Mr. Kluge for you? I take it he wasn't at the movies with you ladies?”

“There is no Mr. Kluge,” Audrey said through clenched teeth.

The nurse gave Violet a questioning look. “Oh! Um. He died,” Violet said. “In a boating accident. In . . . in May. Very tragic. He was my cousin.”

A tiny smile tugged at Audrey's mouth.

“Don't give her anything to make her sleepy,” Violet continued, as they rushed Audrey toward double doors that Violet wasn't allowed through. “She doesn't want anything that will make her sleepy. She wants to be awake.”

The nurse raised an eyebrow. “That's up to the doctor to decide.”

Violet put out her arm to stop the nurse. “She doesn't want anything to make her sleepy. Tell the doctor that.”

The nurse frowned at Violet as the orderly parted the double doors. Audrey looked quickly over her shoulder to catch Violet's gaze.
Thank you,
she mouthed.

“I'll be right here,” Violet called out after her.

And then the doors closed.

•   •   •

Audrey remembered being terribly afraid when her first child was born. Of her second delivery, she had no
memory at all. She wanted to hold on to every bit of the last hours this baby would be hers, even the worst moments. The memory of pain stayed with a person; she already knew this. She didn't want to forget even a snippet of the brief amount of time she would be this child's mother. She was grateful that the doctor had agreed to let her deliver without the mask and its mystifying gas that made a person forget what mattered to her.

The moment her body granted the baby its freedom was as sharp and distinct as a knife blade. She could feel the separation as the baby wriggled away from her into the doctor's waiting hands, eager to take a breath and cry out to the world,
I am here!

“You have a little girl, Mrs. Kluge,” the doctor announced.

For a second the world seemed to cease its spinning. All Audrey was aware of was those five words echoing in her head.

You have a little girl. You have a little girl.

She strained to get a glimpse of the wailing child as the doctor and nurses hovered over her at the foot of the delivery table.

“Is she all right?” Audrey said.

“She's perfect,” one of the nurses said. “Small, but perfect. We just want to get her cleaned up a little for you.”

She hadn't told the nurses while she labored that she wasn't going to keep the baby. That information could wait until tomorrow. For now, Audrey wanted to hold this baby, shower kisses on her, whisper endearments over her.

“Do you have a name picked out?” a second nurse said.

Audrey could see the baby now in the nurse's arms, as the doctor readied himself for other matters related to Audrey's body that were of no concern to her. She wanted only to hold her little girl.

“Elaine.” Audrey whispered the name Violet and Bert had chosen, and tears were suddenly coursing down her cheeks.

“That's a beautiful name,” said the nurse closest to Audrey as she patted her arm. “I am sure Mr. Kluge would have loved it. Would you like to hold her before we take her to be weighed?”

Audrey nodded, unable to speak.

The crying child, wrapped in a yellow hospital blanket, was placed in her arms. She seemed as light as a handful of cotton. Her perfect little cherub face was contorted into an unhappy wail.

“There, now, princess,” Audrey cooed. “There, now. You are safe. You are safe, my darling.”

The baby stopped crying and gazed at Audrey.

“Yes, yes,” Audrey whispered. “You know who I am, don't you?” She tasted salt on her tongue from her tears sliding down into her mouth.

“All babies know their mommy's voice,” the nurse said cheerfully.

Audrey knew that the nurse would be taking her child to the nursery, and that soon Violet would be told the baby had been born, and the terrible release would slowly begin. She would hold on to this moment for as long as she could. The next time she saw this child, everything would be different.

The nurse turned away to fetch something and Audrey pulled her daughter closer, their eyes still tight on each other. “Don't forget me, my little girl. Don't forget how much I love you.”

Time seemed to lose its meaning in those seconds she held her daughter and their gazes were only on each other. And then the baby was lifted out of her arms.

Audrey fell back on the pillows, exhausted by physical exertion and grief.

“Mr. Kluge would have been very proud of you today,” the nurse said softly.

Audrey drifted into sleep.

•   •   •

When she awoke, morning light was creeping in through the slats in the blinds covering a window. A wall clock revealed that it was a few minutes after seven in the morning. There were two other beds in the room, but both were empty. The door to the room was half-open and she heard hospital sounds on the other side of it: nurses' shoes on linoleum, a faraway elevator bell, gurney wheels, and a distant moan of pain.

Audrey gingerly rose to a sitting position. She swung her feet over the side of the bed and noticed that her robe from home was lying across the footboard and her slippers were arranged right below it on the floor. A vase of pink tulips was at her bedside. Violet had been there.

She tested her footing and then reached for the robe and put it on. She took a few careful steps and then walked to the door and pushed it open. In one direction was a long hallway lined with doors like hers on either side. In the other were a few more doors, a nurses' station, and a windowed viewing area that Violet was standing in front of.

Audrey made her way slowly to her friend, passing the nurses silently so that she would not be shooed back into bed.

She had nearly reached the nursery window when Violet looked up.

Audrey smiled and laid a finger across her lips.

And then she was at Violet's side. Beyond the glass,
her daughter lay sleeping in a bassinet, wrapped in a cloud of blankets. Two other infants were in the room. One slept, and the other was being bottle-fed by a nurse while she sat in a rocker. The nurse looked up at Audrey, smiled, and then returned her attention to the baby in her arms.

“I can't stop looking at her,” Violet said, tearful.

Audrey laid her head on her friend's shoulder.

“They made me go home last night after you had her and told me I could come back during visiting hours this afternoon. I couldn't wait.” Violet put her arm around Audrey's back. “I told them I was your only family, which I know is a lie. But I just couldn't stay away. They let me put the robe and the flowers in your room when I got here at daybreak. They think I'm nuts.”

“You're not nuts. She's enchanting.”

“She's so beautiful.”

The two friends stood in silence for a few seconds as they stared at the fairylike child.

“I told the nurses her name is Elaine,” Audrey said. “You and Bert haven't changed your minds about that, have you?”

“No.” Violet whispered the word as if oxygen were in scarce supply.

Audrey looked at Violet with glistening eyes. “That's how I feel when I look at her, too. She nearly takes my breath away. I'm so glad you and Bert get to have her and love her and raise her. So glad.”

Violet opened her mouth but no words came out. Her eyes were shimmering now, too.

“Do you want to hold her, Vi?” Audrey said.

Violet hesitated for a moment. “If I hold her now I won't want to let go.”

The instant Audrey heard these words she knew she
must leave Santa Barbara the second she could. Her breasts would soon be aching to nourish the child that would not be hers. She couldn't be near the baby when the tender agony of that denial began. She needed to get back to Hollywood and her life as Audrey Duvall. Now. Today.