by Vanda
“Are you inviting me?”
“I was wondering if you’d be my escort?”
He threw his arms around me and squeezed as the orchestra began Pomp and Circumstance, “I could kiss you. Wait! I will.” He lifted me up in his arms and kissed me on the lips.
“Remember, don’t tell anyone. A lot of careers are at stake.”
“Including mine. I’m not even going to tell my mother.”
“Marty, hurry,” I said, “You have to march with the B’s.”
He started walking with the H’s. “First you’ll come to my place for the barbecue. Then we’ll change at one our places—tuxedo, right?—and go to the Mt. Olympus. We’ll make a grand entrance.”
“Marty, the B’s are way up there. They’re going to sit soon.”
Marty dashed up the center aisle where we, the Class of ’53, were entering, and squeezed himself in front of a C. We passed our professors, who lined the aisle, wearing fancy robes of bright colors with gold tassels decorating their caps.
As I marched through the aisle, the audience standing for us, I was so moved I almost cried. It took six years, but now I was glad Max had pushed me. To be a part of this ceremony made it all worth it. I thought briefly of my parents, but then whisked that thought away. I thought of Juliana, but didn’t let that spoil this moment, either. I was about to be a college graduate!
We sat through two hours of boring speakers before we had to go up to collect our diplomas. When the dean shook my hand and congratulated me I wrapped my fist around the diploma and remembered Max saying, “No one can ever take this away from you.” This was my insurance against a life on the street in a cardboard box begging for a sandwich. I would hang it on the wall of my office. I hadn’t expected to feel so proud.
When it was over, cap and gown still on, I pushed my way through the crowds, looking for Max and Scott. I saw girls and young men running into the arms of their mothers and fathers, and I thought, I’m no longer young. It was a new thought, a new realization. I’d turned thirty a week ago, and I was no longer young.
The crowds spilled out onto the grass where proud parents took pictures of their scholar-children.
Scott, Virginia, Shirl, Mercy, and Tommie came hurrying toward me. My gown open, I ran into my friends’ arms. Shirl wore her one skirt for me like she had for Juliana’s opening. That made me feel special. Mercy was crying. We hugged again.
“Max.” He had tears in his eyes as he walked toward me. I reached up to kiss his cheek. “Thank you for pushing me. Dad.”
He folded his arms around me, holding me close. When he released me his face was a waterfall and so was mine. That’s when I realized how much I loved him and … how much he loved me. I showed him my diploma. “We’re going to hang that right over the mantel,” he said, wiping his face with his handkerchief.
“I was going to put it in my office, but hanging it over the mantle is even better. I want to get a picture of all of us,” I told them.
Max nodded his head to the right and said, “Look.”
I followed his nod. There stood Juliana, all dressed up in her navy-blue suit and matching wide-brimmed hat. Was that a vision or really her?
“Go ahead,” Max said.
I walked toward her, fearful she’d disappear into the ether. “Hello,” she said as I drew close.
“Juliana. Have you been here the whole time?”
“Yes.” I walked closer, wanting to throw my arms around her, but of course, I couldn’t. There’d be nothing shocking about two women hugging at a graduation ceremony except for the fear in our heads. Oh, hell. I threw my arms around her anyway. Her muscles stiffened, but still she accepted my public hug—for a few moments. Then she stepped away from it.
We stared at each other, not really knowing what to say. She slid off her gloves, “Well,” she sighed, averting her eyes from mine. “Nice ceremony.”
“Some of those speakers were boring. They must have put you to sleep.”
“It was fine.” She still wasn’t looking at me directly.
“Al,” Max said. “Why don’t you let me take a picture of the both of you?”
“Do you mind, Jule?” I asked.
“Uh, no.”
We stood against a tree, and I put my arm around her waist. She peeled me off her, “Uh, Al, maybe not so …”
“Juliana, really,” Max scowled.
“Do you have something you want to say me, Max?”
You could tell by his squished-up face that he had a really good comeback to throw at her, but instead he put on a broad smile. “Nothing, darling. Smile for the camera.” He snapped the picture and handed the camera back to me. “Scott and I are going back to set up at the club. Shirl, you and Mercy want a ride?”
“I have my car,” Shirl answered.
“What about you, Tommie?”
“I’m gonna catch up with Marty.” He gave me a quick hug. “Congratulations, Al. I’ll see you, tonight.” He sprinted away.
“Al,” Shirl said, “why don’t you show Juliana around?”
“Do you want me to?” I asked her.
I saw Max nod at her. Then she said, “Certainly. I’d love to see where you’ve been spending your time.”
“First, I want to get a picture of everybody. Come on Max, you stand over there, and Scott and Virginia, next to Juliana—oh I mean—Jule you stand next to Max, uh, no, uh …”
“How about I take a picture of all of you?” Juliana suggested, sliding away from the group. “Al, stand over there and put your cap on.”
I did as she directed, and Juliana took the picture.
“You two have fun,” Max said. “See you later.”
Max put an arm around Virginia, “Are you all right?”
“Huh?” She’d been staring into space. She smiled at Max. “Oh, yes, yes, fine.”
Scott walked beside Virginia and Max as they headed toward the quad. Shirl and Mercy followed them, making their way toward the parking lot. I had a brief fantasy of Jule and me going to the party together that night. She’d be dressed in a formal gown, I’d be wearing a tuxedo, and we would dance on the roof—no one would stare or say anything mean. It’d be so normal.
“So?” I said. “What do you want to see?”
“What is there to see?”
“This is the Quad. It’s a nice place to come study and think.”
A boy and girl in graduation gowns passed by holding hands. We started walking. “I have something for you,” Juliana said.
“Really?” I jumped up and down, something a thirty-year-old person probably wasn’t supposed to do, but I couldn’t help it. I was so excited that Juliana would get me a present that was a real present, not something she said wasn’t a present even though I knew it was.
She opened her purse and took out a small box wrapped in birthday paper and a ribbon. “I guess I should’ve given you this a while ago, but here.”
“You wrapped it?”
“I do know how to do that, you know.”
“I never figured you’d … You had to think about me while you were—”
“Let’s sit down, shall we? You can open it.”
As we headed toward the bench, a small group of students came giggling up beside us. “Shh,” one of the girls said. “Stop acting like children. Excuse me, are you Juliana?”
We stopped. “Yes,” Juliana said.
“We saw your show at the Copa after prom. It was hot!”
Another girl squealed, “Please, would you sign our autograph books?”
“Certainly,” Juliana said, but I could tell she was feeling uncomfortable with me standing there.
Once she had signed her name four times and sent them off giggling, she said, “I’m sorry about that, Al.”
“What do you think I worked so hard for?”
“I love it after the show in my dressing room. I feel like a queen, then. But in the street … Well, luckily it doesn’t happen often in public.”
“You’re so funny. Not
hing much embarrasses you, but something lots of people would be puffed-up with pride about, that’s what embarrasses you.”
“I’m not embarrassed. That’s an utterly ridiculous emotion. Excuse me. I know you’re prone to it. I simply find it disconcerting when some stranger comes up to me in public.”
“Disconcerting? Sounds a lot like embarrassment to me, but if you say it’s not, okay. Why don’t we sit here?”
We sat on a bench under a leafy tree. I undid the ribbon, wondering what she would pick out for me. She stared straight ahead, not watching me. I opened the box and pushed away the tissue paper. Inside lay a small gold heart pin. “Jule.”
“Don’t make anything out of it. It’s a birthday gift and, I guess, graduation, too. I should get you something else for graduation.”
“No, no. This is perfect. It’s everything I …” I wanted to cry right there, but I knew I didn’t dare. “It’s beautiful. I couldn’t ask for—for …” The tears were starting to well up.
“Please don’t do that,” she said.
“I won’t. It’s really special to me. A heart. Like your heart, maybe?”
“It’s your third item of female clothing.”
“What?”
“To keep you safe if you ever have occasion to go out in men’s clothes.”
To keep me safe. She wanted to keep me safe. Aggies’ father had said that to Aggie once and I always envied her, but now, Jule—to keep me safe.
“Remember back during the war how we couldn’t figure out what the third item was? Bra and underpants were two items of women’s clothes if a cop tried to arrest you, but we couldn’t come up with that third item. That heart pin could be number three. We thought the world was dangerous back then, but it’s ever so much worse now.”
We sat in silence, feeling the spring breeze. Across from us, a boy and a girl in open graduation gowns sat on a bench kissing.
“Don’t stare,” Juliana said, looking down at her hands in her lap. “It’s not polite.”
“I was thinking—”
“I know what you’re thinking. Should we walk?”
“Yeah, sure,” I pointed. “Over there was where I had most of my education courses. I hated them, and I don’t ever want to be a teacher. There sure are a lot of disadvantages to being female.”
“Advantages too.”
“Like what?”
“Like feeling lusciously feminine from head to toe.”
I laughed, “I do believe you feel like that a lot. But me? I don’t think I ever have. Does it bother you to hear me say that?”
“Not if it doesn’t bother you. But I don’t think it’s entirely true. You have delightful feminine swashes to your personality.”
“I do?” I paused, trying to take that in. “That building. Up ahead. That’s where I took music history and theory. I took as much of that as they’d let me. Oh, and business management. I audited a couple of courses in that, too. And a few drama courses.”
“Well-rounded.”
We walked quickly across the grounds and came to a large building fashioned after something from Roman days with giant gargoyles. It was empty inside with everyone gone for summer vacation.
“Where are we going?” Juliana asked, suddenly nervous.
“It’s over there.” I opened the heavy door that led into a huge lecture hall. “Down there,” I pointed. “A piano.” We walked down the steps that took us past the rows of seats into the well where the professor lectured. “On the final exam, I had to identify different types of music from a few notes the professor played.”
“Really? And you could do that?”
“I got an A.”
“I’m impressed.”
“I’m sure you’re not, but I wanted to let you know that I do know something about what I’m doing.”
“I’m well aware of that, but I never knew how little I knew about you.”
“The acoustics in here are good. Come, see.”
“I don’t know. We’re not supposed to be here, are we?”
“Nobody’s around to care.”
I led the way down the last of the steps. She seemed to relax when we stood near the piano. “Try it out. See what you think.”
“Should I?”
“Yes.”
She sat on the bench and let her fingers run up the scale and down again. “Nice.” She played one of Johnny’s songs. I sat down next to her. “I miss playing. I haven’t played in quite a while. You know who is an excellent pianist? Scott. I’ve listened to him when he’s coaching Peter. He’s better than Peter.”
“You know, Jule, I really appreciate your coming today. It means a lot to me. How did you know where to go? This campus is huge.”
She began another piece. “Max called me.”
“He did?”
“He told me I’d better get my ass over here. His word, not mine.”
“That must’ve made you mad.”
“Yes, but he was right. It wasn’t because of Max that I didn’t want to come. Max knows this about me, and he said I should I tell you. So here goes. I—always feel this lack in myself. That I didn’t continue my education. I went to the finest European schools where I studied music, and I was accepted into the Conservatoire de Paris when I was only sixteen. For opera. My mother was terribly proud. But I was restless for my life to begin so—I quit and came to the states. Threw my opportunity away. It broke her heart. I never got the chance to make it up to her because—well, because …”
“She—died?” I said.
“Yes. She was—murdered.” The color seemed to drain from her face as she said the word, and I was afraid to move. I knew what had happened to her mother because Shirl had told me years ago, but Juliana had never spoken of it before.
She played some chords from Requiem Pie Jesu. I loved watching her delicate fingers press against the keys. She stopped. “I don’t like thinking about that.”
I put my hand on her thigh. “I know.”
“Please don’t do that.”
I removed my hand. “Shirl told me you were very young when you found out that your mother was, uh … your father came to the city to tell you. It must’ve been very hard for you.”
“It wouldn’t have happened if I’d been there.”
“But, Jule, you were a kid. There was nothing you—”
“My mother and I were close. If I’d been there …” She turned her head away from me, I think because she was afraid she’d cry. “I was only thinking of myself, and she needed me.”
“The reason Max and I fought—well, one of the reasons—the last fight—he was really hurt when I told him I was going to marry Richard. He said I wasn’t marrying Richard for the sake of my career. He said he could’ve almost understood that. He said I was marrying Richard because I wanted to hide behind him. I wanted to hide from myself. That seemed ridiculous. Max had run his business into the ground. He had nothing left when I married Richard. I thought Richard could salvage my career, but …” Her fingers ran quickly over the keys. “There may have been a grain of truth to what Max said. Maybe I did want to hide behind Richard, so no one would know—”
“That you’re a homosexual?” I whispered.
“Shh, please.” She looked around the empty lecture hall. “When I first came to the city, to Harlem, to sing in the clubs, I slept with practically any girl who was willing, and a whole lot were. It was like I’d landed in Paradise. Jeez, it was fun. But I never called it anything. It never needed a name. It was just fun. But now … they label and label.”
“So what, you married Richard because you didn’t want anyone to know. We’re all hiding, if you want to call it that. Even Max doesn’t advertise about himself. He won’t let me wear a tuxedo to manage The Haven. Bad for business.”
“He said I thought marrying Richard would make me straight. There are theories like that, you know. They say marriage can … Well, why wouldn’t I want to be straight? Who would choose to live the way we do? In secret, being hated. Oh, how
my mother loved her men. You’d think a little of that would’ve rubbed off on me, but I never understood her feelings or how she let men do the things to her they did. I hoped with Max, but … You know, for a while I made an effort to be straight in every way. When I first married Richard. I went to their cocktail parties, joined their organizations, went to their lady luncheons. But, Al, those people don’t have any fun.”
I laughed.
“In the beginning, Richard and I had the most horrible fights. I’d flirt with men, but only at the clubs where I was playing. It was part of the job. Sometimes, it got me another job. Well, I enjoyed it too—the power of it—but it never meant anything. Except, Richard thought it did. Usually, I had my eye on the cute little lady behind the guy I was flirting with. Anyway, Max thought I was trying to be straight by marrying Richard, and that’s why Max and I fought.”
“And now?”
“Now, every day there’s another news report or magazine exposé about perverts.” I watched her fingers pressing the piano keys. I wished I could touch them and kiss each delicate finger.
“And now, I have more to lose than ever. And you know, Miss College Graduate”—she turned to me, a big grin on her face— “that is your fault.”
“And we’re not even at the top yet,” I told her.
1 In the forties and fifties gays sometimes called straight people “jams.” See Juliana (Book 1: 1941-1944) p.363
Chapter 56
“SO TOM,” MARTY said, as he forked scrambled egg into his mouth. “Tell us about your adventures in Hollywood.”
“That’s Tommie,” Tommie corrected, “Or Jack Dash, he-man, if you prefer.” He swished his filtered Kent through the air.
We sat around the table in the breakfast nook—Marty, Tommie, Max and me—in our bathrobes, except Max who wore his satin smoking jacket—maroon with black trim. It was already after two in the afternoon, but for us, that was the perfect time for breakfast.
I had a ball at my party. Max had invited so many fascinating people, some I already knew and some I should know to advance my career. Tallulah Bankhead came with Patsy Kelly. You never saw them together, but everyone knew they were together. Mr. Miniaci and his wife, Rose, were there. But to be truthful, Mr. Miniaci was always a charming guest in spite of his line of work and his previous friendship with Moose. Frank Costello couldn’t come because he was still locked up for walking out on the Kefauver Hearings.