The Evening Star (51 page)

“What’s wrong with my girl?” she asked, as soon as Melanie said hi.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Melanie said. “It’s my problem, you can’t help me, Rosie can’t help me, it’s just hopeless.”

“That must mean that he left you for another woman,” Aurora said.

“Yep, Patsy’s daughter,” Melanie admitted. Though she had meant to try to conceal Bruce’s departure for a while, she was actually just as glad she didn’t have to. Concealing things from a snoop like her granny took a lot of energy, and she didn’t really have that much energy, not just then.

“Do you mind very much?” Aurora asked.

“Yeah, I mind very much,” Melanie said. “Why would you ask me that? I love Bruce. What even makes you think I might not mind?”

Sometimes her grandmother could just say two words and piss everybody around her off. It was as if she always had the two perfect worst words right on the tip of her tongue. She didn’t mind saying them, either.

“Just fishing,” Aurora said. “What would you rather do, get the boy back or get revenge on the other woman?”

“Neither’s going to happen, what does it matter?” Melanie said. “I’ll probably never see either one of them again.”

In fact, she
had
found herself wanting to beat Katie up. She had a dream in which she pushed her off the Santa Monica pier.

“Whose fault do you think it was?” Aurora asked.

“Come on, it’s both their faults,” Melanie said.

“I imagine it was largely Katie’s,” Aurora said. “She comes by man-stealing naturally. Would you like to know what her mother’s doing at the moment?”

“Who, Patsy?” Melanie said, puzzled. What difference did it make what Patsy was doing?

“That’s the one—Patsy,” Aurora said. “Your mother’s best friend.”

“Well, what?” Melanie asked. She felt a little impatient.
Now that her grandmother had found out, Melanie was eager to hash over the Bruce-Katie business a little bit more, not hear gossip about Katie’s mother.

“She’s trying to steal my lover,” Aurora said. “I don’t think she’s managed it yet, but she’s trying.”

“Who, you mean the shrink?” Melanie asked, confused. Although months ago, long before the General died, Rosie had confided in her that she suspected Aurora might be “seeing” her shrink, Melanie hadn’t taken it too seriously, at least not at first.

“What do you mean ‘seeing?’” she had asked Rosie. “Of course she’s seeing him. How can he be her shrink if she never sees him?”

“Not
that
way, that ain’t what I meant,” Rosie said. “I think it’s more like a romance.”

“Come on, he’s younger,” Melanie said. “He must be a lot younger. Why would he want to go with Granny?”

“I don’t know if they go out or what they do,” Rosie admitted. “I think it’s a romance, though. Pascal thinks so too.”

“Pascal’s no one to talk. Granny said she caught him with a twenty-year-old,” Melanie pointed out.

“Okay, okay,” Rosie said—it was obvious that Melanie wasn’t thrilled with the confidences she was offering, and why should she be? “I just wanted you to know, in case they run off or something,” she added.

Later, though, when she thought about it, Melanie decided she wanted to hear more. The thought that her grandmother was actually having sex with a man so much younger was slightly disturbing. Of course, why shouldn’t she? She and the General weren’t married, and her granny herself had told her that she would have liked to have sex with Pascal on the couch; there was no reason she shouldn’t stay active, and certainly she was the type to stay active, if there was any way to manage it. But still, the thought of Aurora and a guy that much younger took some getting used to.

“The shrink,” Aurora confirmed.
“My
shrink. I should never have invited them both to my dinner party. Now she’s trying to get her greasy little hands on him.”

“Granny!” Melanie said. She was startled—she felt really confused. What Rosie had been hinting at was
true.

“Melly, I hope I’m not shocking you,” Aurora said. “I thought it might help to realize that what just happened to you could also happen to me. But I suppose you would prefer to think that your grandmother is past all that—that I’m safe—that age brings serenity or something.”

“You mean it doesn’t?” Melanie said. That
had
been what she was thinking, when she thought of her grandmother—even despite Pascal and the couch.

“I suppose it might, for some,” Aurora said. She was sitting in her window nook, looking out her window, wondering what serenity actually felt like. She remembered asking her own mother that very question, after having just been jilted by a cool New Yorker; she felt that she could never be happy, much less serene. Her mother had just looked back at her, her large eyes gray and sad. If she had said anything, Aurora couldn’t remember it. Now Melanie had been jilted by a not-so-cool Houstonian and felt sure she would never be happy—and the possibility
did
exist that she would never be very happy, not unless she got tougher with boys.

“So you mean you just think she’s trying?” Melanie asked. “You don’t think she’s actually seduced him yet?”

“I think she probably hasn’t, yet,” Aurora said. “Unfortunately, since I’m in mourning, I’m not in a good position to fight fire with fire just now. He’s not a man with much backbone, I’m afraid. He’s the sort who tends to flow with whatever flow is flowing. I’m afraid I’m not optimistic.”

“I guess you are in mourning, aren’t you?” Melanie said.

“Yes, I have to try to behave for a while,” Aurora said.

The way she said it—her voice got sad—made Melanie feel better somehow. Her granny must really miss the General, although she hadn’t talked about him much while Melanie was home. It was good that her granny thought of herself as in mourning, even if it meant that Patsy got to make off with the stupid shrink. The General had been with Aurora for a long time, all Melanie’s life—in fact, even longer than her life—and he deserved to be mourned. Certainly Rosie
mourned him—she sort of turned into a wet mop every time he was mentioned. With her granny it was harder to tell. She kept her cool better. But if she was willing to risk a boyfriend in order to mourn the General for a while, it must mean that she really had loved him despite all their bickering, some of which had gotten pretty intense.

“I hope she doesn’t get him,” Melanie said.

“You see what I mean, though, don’t you?” Aurora said. “If the mother feels free to take another woman’s man, then the daughter’s very likely to do the same.”

“I guess, but it still makes me mad,” Melanie said.

“I wasn’t suggesting you shouldn’t be angry,” Aurora said. “Of course you should be angry. I find I have a touch of sympathy for Katie, though, despite her treachery.”

“Why?” Melanie asked.

“Because she lacked a proper upbringing,” Aurora said.

“Baloney, she did not,” Melanie declared. “She went to the best schools in L.A. What’s so bad about her upbringing? At least she had a mother.”

“Well, she had a weak mother,” Aurora said. “I don’t suppose I actually despise Patsy, but her character has certainly never impressed me.”

“She was nice to me when I had my miscarriage,” Melanie pointed out. It was a little annoying the way her granny took every opportunity to attack Patsy.

“I don’t see what’s so bad about her,” she added. “She bought me some new clothes. I sort of feel like she’s my aunt.”

“Okay,” Aurora said. “Those things I grant you. I won’t run her down anymore. I would merely point out that it’s rather unusual for a daughter to exhibit more character than her mother has, particularly where men are concerned.”

“Katie may be bad, but so is Bruce,” Melanie said. “He did the same thing with Beverly. We were getting along fine, and the minute Beverly got a Ferrari, he split.

“I guess he just likes yuppies,” she added, remembering the whole Beverly episode more clearly. Dresswise, Beverly and Katie were sort of two peas in a pod. Probably Bruce did
just like yuppies—he was always criticizing her for not being neat enough, or not picking up the house often enough—stuff like that.

“I think I’d better send you a little money, Melly,” Aurora said. “I doubt you have any.”

“Not much,” Melanie admitted.

“Are you in the mood to come home?” Aurora asked.

“No!” Melanie said fiercely.

“Calm down, I just asked,” Aurora said. “I do think Rosie’s going to drive me crazy if Willie doesn’t get back here soon.”

“Is he nicer than C.C.?” Melanie asked—she had not had the pleasure of meeting Willie.

“Well, he’s more modest,” Aurora said. “C.C. had a tendency to get bigheaded every time he made a few hundred thousand dollars. Willie’s never had a dollar to his name and has few reasons for getting bigheaded. He knows it, too.”

They chattered on for a while. Melanie kept the conversation going—she didn’t want to go home, but on the other hand she missed her granny, and Rosie. When her granny finally got off the phone, Rosie came on for a bit.

“Don’t criticize Bruce!” Melanie insisted. Although Bruce had behaved horribly, she wasn’t in the mood to hear him criticized.

“Okay, I won’t until the next time I see him,” Rosie promised.

“Why would you ever see him?” Melanie asked. “He’ll probably marry Katie. Then he can wear polo shirts for the rest of his stupid life.”

“You may think you’re rid of him, but you ain’t,” Rosie assured her. “He’ll come back one of these days, acting like a wet dog.”

“How does a wet dog act?” Melanie wondered.

“Guilty,” Rosie said. “He’ll be trying to find a nice place to get warm.”

When Rosie hung up, Melanie found that she felt a little better. Both her grandmother and Rosie seemed to be convinced that Bruce would be showing up again someday. They weren’t wrong too often, so maybe he would. After all,
he had showed up when he got tired of Beverly, Ferrari or no Ferrari. Katie didn’t have anything resembling a Ferrari to offer, either—she just drove a Honda. Also, Bruce hated the ocean—he sort of hated water in general—and Katie couldn’t live without surfing. That was a potential incompatibility, right there.

Since she was feeling a little bit forgiving, she decided she would just bundle up his mail and send it to him. It consisted almost entirely of copies of the daily
Variety
—since a copy came every day they were piling up. In a few more weeks, if she didn’t do something, the apartment would be full of daily
Varietys.

Bruce’s plan in subscribing had been to find out what plays and TV series and stuff were being cast, but so far as she knew he had never actually shown up for a casting call. He kept putting it off until he got a little farther along in his acting class.

Having nothing better to do, Melanie decided to read a few of the casting notices herself. She had done some acting in high school—probably 90 percent of the people who showed up for casting calls were just kids who had done some acting in high school. Maybe she’d go to a few. Even if she didn’t get a part and become famous, she might make a few friends.

Leafing through a few recent issues she saw that two TV pilots were being cast in the Valley, the first one at Warner Brothers the very next day. That was neat—she wouldn’t even have to get herself over to Hollywood, she could just take a bus, or even walk. One of the pilots had a part for a maid—it caught her eye because the last thing she would ever be likely to be good at in real life was being a maid. What she might do, though, was a Rosie-imitation. She and her granny, when they were feeling lively and were just freewheeling around, often competed with one another to see who could produce the most far-out Rosie imitation. Maybe she could reel off one for the casting director and become a famous TV star.

The thought definitely made her feel better—at least she had something to do for the next few days. The day was
overcast and chilly; the thought of how miserable Bruce would be if Katie forced him to go surfing on such a day didn’t hurt her spirits, either. Bruce really hated water, and yet had picked a little yuppie surf bunny to be his new girlfriend. The thought of Bruce shivering on the beach made her feel not quite so mad, actually. It was hard to feel totally mad at a guy who could make such a major mistake. Maybe it would teach him a lesson, if he didn’t drown or something.

She was so excited by her idea of going to the casting call and doing a Rosie-imitation that she called her granny back, collect, and told her about it. It occurred to her that Rosie might have developed a few new mannerisms that she hadn’t noticed when she was home.

“Why, yes, in fact she has,” Aurora said. “Now she spends much of the day standing on her head. This is not a mannerism I feel I can imitate successfully but you’re younger, you could probably make it work if you practiced a little.”

“You mean she does housework standing on her head?” Melanie asked. Rosie had not stood on her head that she had noticed while she was at home, but then the General had just been buried and they were all being pretty decorous.

“No, she just stands there on her head,” Aurora said. “I find it disconcerting. One minute I’m looking my maid in the eye and the next minute it’s her toes I’m looking in the eye.”

“What else?” Melanie asked.

“She polishes Hector’s medals,” Aurora said. “Now that he’s not here to gripe at her, she’s decided he was a saint in disguise. If that man was a saint, it certainly was in disguise, and a good disguise too, but I can’t say that to Rosie. She jumps on me often enough as it is for my alleged mistreatment of him.”

“She polishes his medals?” Melanie asked. “I never saw any medals.”

“Well, he had a batch, but I don’t want to talk about it—I’ll decide he was more gallant than he was, and the next thing you know your grandmother will be crying into your ear.”

“Granny, do you miss him?” Melanie asked.

Aurora sighed. She didn’t answer for a moment.

Melanie became fearful—perhaps it was the wrong thing to ask when a person has just died.

“I’m sorry, maybe you don’t want to talk about it so soon,” she said.

“Oh, no, that’s fine,” Aurora said. “I do miss Hector. He was my old soldier, after all. We had rather a lively dialogue for a good many years. I suppose we were fairly well balanced, as couples go.”