She didn’t know whether I was serious or not. She decided I was kidding. It was a dangerous assumption to make.
“Very seriously,” she said. “Honestly I just want to know. Why do you still stay married to your wife? Give me just one good reason.”
I rolled up into a protective ball before I answered. “Because she’s not a cunt,” I said.
One morning I drove Janelle to the Paramount lot, where she had a day’s work shooting a tiny part in one of its big pictures.
We were early, so we took a walk around what was to me an amazingly lifelike replica of a small town. It even had a false horizon, a sheet of metal rising to the sky that fooled me momentarily. The fake fronts were so real that as we walked past them, I couldn’t resist opening the door of a bookstore, almost expecting to see the familiar tables and shelves covered with bright-jacketed books for sale. When I opened the door, there was nothing but grass and sand beyond the doorsill.
Janelle laughed as we kept walking. There was a window filled with medicine bottles and drugs of the nineteenth century. We opened that door and again saw the grass and sand beyond. As we kept walking, I kept opening doors and Janelle didn’t laugh anymore. She only smiled. And finally we came to a restaurant with a canopy leading to the street and beneath the canopy a man in work clothes sweeping. And for some reason the man sweeping really faked me out. I thought that we had left the sets and come into the Paramount commissary area. I saw a menu pasted in the window and I asked the workman if the restaurant was open yet. He had an old actor’s rubbery face. He squinted at me. Gave a huge grin then almost closed his eyes and winked.
“Are you serious?” he said.
I went to the restaurant door and opened it, and I was really astonished. Really surprised to see again the sand and grass beyond. I closed the door and looked at the workman’s face. It was almost maniacal with glee as if he had arranged this trip for me. As if he were some sort of God and I had asked him “Is life serious?” and that’s why he had answered me, “Are you serious?”
I walked Janelle to the sound stage where she was shooting and she said to me, “They’re so obviously fake. How could they fool you?”
“They didn’t fool me,” I said.
“But you so obviously expected them to be real,” Janelle said. “I watched your face as you opened the doors. And I know that the restaurant fooled you.”
She gave my arm a playful tug.
“You really shouldn’t be let out alone,” she said. “You’re so dumb.”
And I had to agree. But it wasn’t so much that I believed. It wasn’t that really.‘ What bothered me was that I had wanted to believe that there was something beyond those doors. That I could not accept the obvious fact that behind those painted sets was nothing. That I really thought I was a magician. When I opened those doors, real rooms would appear and real people. Even the restaurant. Just before I opened the door, I saw in my mind red tablecloths and dark wine bottles and people standing silently waiting to be seated. I was really surprised when there was nothing there.
I realized it had been some kind of aberration that had made me open those doors, and yet I was glad I had done so.
I didn’t mind Janelle laughing at me and I didn’t mind working with that crazy actor. God, I had just wanted to be sure; and if I had not opened those doors, I would have always wondered.
Chapter 42
Osano came to LA for a movie deal and called me to have dinner. I brought Janelle along because she was dying to meet him. When dinner was over and we were having our coffee, Janelle tried to thaw me out about my wife. I shrugged her off.
“You never talk about that, do you?” she said.
I didn’t answer. She kept on. She was a little flushed with wine and a little uncomfortable that I had brought Osano with me. She became angry. “You never talk about your wife because you think that’s dishonorable.”
I still didn’t say anything.
“You still have a good opinion of yourself, don’t you?” Janelle said. She was now very coldly furious.
Osano was smiling a little, and just to smooth things over he played the famous brilliant writer role, caricaturing it ever so slightly. He said, “He never talks about being an orphan too. All adults are orphans really. We all lose our parents when we grow into adulthood.”
Janelle was instantly interested. She had told me she admired Osano’s mind and his books. She said, “I think that’s brilliant. And it’s true.”
“It’s full of shit,” I said. “If you’re both going to use language to communicate, use words for their meaning. An orphan is a child who grows up without parents and many times without any blood relationships in the world. An adult is not an orphan. He’s a fucking prick who’s got no use for his mother and father because they are a pain in the ass and he doesn’t need them anymore.”
There was an awkward silence, and then Osano said, “You’re right, but also you don’t want to share your special status with everybody.”
“Yeah, maybe,” I said. Then I turned to Janelle. “You and your girlfriends call each other ‘sister.’ Sisters mean female children born of the same parents who have usually shared the same traumatic experiences of childhood, who have imprints of their same experiences in their memory banks. That’s what a sister is, good, bad or indifferent. When you call a girlfriend ‘sister,’ you’re both full of shit.”
Osano said, “I’m getting divorced again. More alimony. One thing, I’ll never marry again. I’ve run out of alimony money.”
I laughed with him. “Don’t say that. You’re the institution of marriage’s last hope.”
Janelle lifted her head and said, “No, Merlyn. You are.”
We all laughed at that, and then I said I didn’t want to go to a movie. I was too tired.
“Oh, hell,” Janelle said. “Let’s go for a drink at Pips and play some backgammon. We can teach Osano.”
“Why don’t you two go?” I said coolly. “I’ll go back to the hotel and get some sleep.”
Osano was watching me with a sad smile on his face. He didn’t say anything. Janelle was staring at me as if daring me to say it again. I made my voice as cold and loveless as possible. And yet understanding. Very deliberately I said, “Look, really I don’t mind. No kidding. You two are my best friends, but I really feel like just going to sleep. Osano, be a gentleman and take my place.” I said this very straight-faced.
Osano guessed right away I was jealous of him. “Whatever you say, Merlyn,” he said. And he didn’t give a shit about what I felt. He thought I was acting like a jerk. And I knew he would take Janelle to Pips and take her home and screw her and not give me another thought. As far as he was concerned, it was none of my business.
But Janelle shook her head. “Don’t be silly. I’ll go home in my car and you two can do what you want.”
I could see what she was thinking. Two male chauvinistic pigs trying to divvy her up. But she also knew that if she went with Osano, it would give me the excuse never to see her again. And I guess I knew what I was doing. I was looking for a reason really to hate her, and if she went with Osano, I could do it and be rid of her.
Finally Janelle went back to the hotel with me. But I could feel her coldness, though our bodies were warm against each other. A little later she moved away, and as I fell asleep, I could hear the rustle of the springs as she left our bed. I murmured drowsily, “Janelle, Janelle.”
Chapter 43
