To All My Fans, With Love, From Sylvie

by Ellen Conford

  “You’re just like all the rest,” I said. I felt like I was going to start crying again. I gulped hard, trying to keep the tears from coming. “I thought you were different, but you’re not.”

  “What a coincidence,” he said, sarcastic again. “I thought the same thing about you.”

  “I don’t care what you thought about me and I don’t care what you think about me now. You can just let me out of here and I’ll take care of myself without any help from you. I’ve been doing it all my life anyway.”

  “Where are you going to go?” he asked. “It’s miles back to Hoxey and you won’t have any money when you get there. It’s miles to anyplace from here.”

  And then I couldn’t hold it in anymore. I started crying again, not knowing what I could do, except that I couldn’t take care of myself, I was helpless. I cried louder and louder, feeling such anger at everybody and everything that I couldn’t do anything but scream it out.

  I flew at Walter, and began hitting his shoulders with my fists. There were so many other people I wanted to hit, a whole string of them, starting with my mother, who loved drinking more than she loved me, right up through Uncle Ted. Walter was just the last person in the string, the newest disappointment, and he was here.

  “Hey, hey, take it easy. Stop yelling, will you?” He grabbed my wrists to keep me from hitting him. “What are you doing that for? Hey, stop it, pipe down. Please, Venida, stop yelling, I’m sorry, I—”

  “My name isn’t Venida! It’s Sylvie, Sylvie, Sylvie!”

  And then, all of a sudden, he was holding me in his arms and I was crying against his shirt, but not loudly now, just like a little child who couldn’t stop.

  He patted me on the back gently. “Sylvie,” he said. He said it again, like he was tasting it, rolling it around on his tongue. “Sylvie. Like the song. Why would you want to change that? Such a pretty name. And unusual. Not like Sylvia.” His voice was soft and soothing.

  The sound of his voice and the feel of his arms around me, gentle now, like a father’s, made me calmer and in a few minutes I wasn’t crying anymore, just leaning against him, trying to catch my breath.

  “I’m sorry if I misjudged you, Sylvie. I just never met anyone like you before. And I couldn’t help it. I wasn’t kidding when I said you get to me. You do. I felt it the first minute I laid eyes on you in that restaurant. Why do you think I offered to drive you clear to California?”

  I pulled away from him and frowned. “What are you talking about?”

  “Love, Sylvie. I’m talking about love!”

  “You’re crazy,” I whispered. I shook my head. I felt dizzy. “You just met me yesterday. How could you love me?”

  “I’m not crazy. I’d be crazy to drive you across the country if I didn’t love you. That would be crazy. Why do you think I was so angry about seeing you with that kid?”

  “But you said you were just driving me because—”

  “I know what I said. I had to say something, didn’t I? You don’t believe me now, so what would you have thought if I told you I loved you ten seconds after we met?”

  Love.

  Love. The word kept repeating in my head like an echo, except, instead of getting softer and fading away, it seemed to get louder and louder, like someone was shouting it inside my brain.

  I sort of flopped down into the chair near the door, trying to understand what was happening.

  Walter loved me. He said so. Nobody ever loved me in my whole life, let alone told me they did. I don’t even think my grandmother loved me. I think she just took me in because she had to, because she was the only relative I had.

  But this was crazy. Love at first sight only happens in the movies. You can learn a lot from the movies, but I know perfectly well that real life doesn’t usually work out like it does in pictures, even though lots of times I wish it would.

  Yet, even in the car when he was angry after seeing me with Jim, Walter had said he cared about me. He cared what I did. Why would he care if he didn’t love me? That was just as crazy as loving me. If he didn’t love me, why should he be angry about Jim?

  “You’re awful quiet, Sylvie. See, I’m not having any trouble remembering to call you that. I guess Lauri just didn’t feel like it was right for you. So, what do you think, Sylvie?”

  “About what?” I could hardly think at all.

  “About what I said. I know you think I’m crazy and maybe I am, but what do you think?”

  “I don’t know what to think. I’m so confused about everything.”

  “I meant what I said about the ship and the rudder, too. Remember?”

  I just nodded.

  “Sylvie, if I don’t do any more selling, we can make it to Las Vegas in three days, and still get you to Los Angeles in plenty of time for your screen test.”

  I didn’t know what was going on. Ten minutes ago he was screaming at me, practically calling me a tramp, trying to attack me, and now he was talking about love and ships and rudders and driving to Las Vegas. I was getting more mixed up by the minute.

  My head was spinning. The part about not doing any more selling sounded fine to me, and the sooner I got to Los Angeles the better, but should I get there with Walter? After what happened tonight, how could I be sure he wouldn’t try it again? Maybe he really was crazy. But maybe he really did love me, and that explained everything. Maybe I ’m crazy, I thought.

  And why Las Vegas? What did Walter want to stop there for, unless he was a gambler?

  “Why not just go straight to Los Angeles, Walter?” I asked. “Why do we have to stop at Las Vegas?”

  “Because there’s no waiting period there.”

  “What? What does that mean, no waiting period?”

  Walter laughed. “It means we don’t have to wait.”

  “Wait for what?”

  “To get married.”

  Chapter 13

  Dear Mom,

  The craziest thing has happened. On my way to California my wallet got stolen on the bus and I met a man who’s driving me there and asked me to marry him.

  I don’t know what to do. This is one of those times I wish you were here so I could talk to you and you could give me advice. I never told you this, but one of the reasons I want to make it in the movies is I have this dream. I guess it sounds kind of babyish, but ever since I decided to be a movie star, I’ve been dreaming it. One day you’ll see me in a movie and recognize me even though you haven’t seen me in so long, and you’ll say, “That’s my daughter!” and come to Hollywood to find me. And I’ll be making plenty of money and be able to take care of you and we can live together for the rest of our lives.

  I guess it does sound silly. I don’t even know if they have movies where you are....

  I never actually told Walter I would marry him. But I never actually told Walter I wouldn’t marry him, either. I guess I sort of let him think I wanted to go to Las Vegas and “tie the knot” as fast as possible, because we were out of the Blue Grass Motel and back on the road before I knew what was happening.

  Walter seemed really eager to get married.

  And I was really eager to get out of that motel.

  I was so exhausted I slept in the back seat of the car the rest of the night.

  The next three days are practically as blurry in my mind as the view from Walter’s car window was. He drove like he was trying to set speed records. The only time he slowed down was to read the Burma Shave signs.

  They were really cute. I never saw them before, but Walter said they were all over the places where he drove. The first batch we came to made me laugh, so after that Walter slowed down every time he saw them coming up, so I could read them out loud.

  What they were, were little signs by the side of the road. You’d see one first and it would have one line of a poem on it, then a little way down the road there was another sign with the second line of the poem, and you’d read the poem like that, sign by sign, until you got to the last sign, which always said: BURMA SHAVE.
<
br />   Some of them were really clever. My favorite was:Dinah doesn’t. ..

  Treat him right...

  But if he’d shave ...

  Dyna-mite!

  BURMA SHAVE.

  Walter did a lot of the driving at night because he said we’d make better time that way. He’d drive till about three in the afternoon, then we’d eat a big meal and he’d fall asleep in a motel room till eight or nine at night, and we’d start out again. He bought me movie magazines to read, because I couldn’t go to sleep in the middle of the day like that—and I didn’t want to, anyway, in the same room with Walter. I suppose I would have been safe enough, though, because he was so tired from all those hours of driving that he’d fall asleep the minute his head hit the pillow. And he made sure to stop only at motels that had TV, which I thought was very considerate of him.

  I slept during the night, curled up on the back seat of the Pontiac, listening to the soft music on the radio, and to Walter humming along with the songs he knew.

  I didn’t know what I was going to do when we got to Las Vegas.

  At first, the only thought in my mind was, At least we’re not in the Blue Grass Motel and Walter isn’t pawing me anymore.

  But somewhere along the way I started thinking about having Walter to take care of me, like he said he wanted. I pictured myself in a little bungalow in California, wearing a frilly apron and preparing Walter’s breakfast. I could picture the sun streaming in from the window over the sink, making the kitchen all bright and cheery. I could even see the lemon tree that would grow right next to the house, and almost smell the coffee Walter was drinking.

  I read this article about Ginger Rogers and they had pictures of her in her kitchen, wearing a pinafore apron and whipping up dinner and she said that was the most fulfilling part of her life. She said it was even better than being a movie star.

  And there was the story about Janet Leigh and Tony Curtis. Janet Leigh said the most important thing in the world to her was to be a good wife and mother, and compared to that being a famous actress was very unimportant.

  But Janet Leigh loves Tony Curtis. I didn’t love Walter. How could I even think about marrying a man I didn’t love?

  But Walter loved me. Maybe that was more important. And maybe it was just too soon to know whether I loved Walter or not. I didn’t know anything about love. Maybe it takes a while before you realize you love someone.

  But it only took Walter ten seconds. Well, maybe it’s different for men. Like I said, I didn’t know anything about love.

  Except that nobody ever said they loved me before.

  But, my career. I didn’t set off on a Greyhound bus to find a husband. I was going to be a movie star.

  Well, there was no reason I couldn’t be a wife and a movie star, which is what I really want anyhow. And I do want children. Two girls. Twins, I hoped, like Honey and Bunny.

  Maybe I was too young to get married, but maybe I was also too young to tackle Hollywood all by myself. I had no money, no job, no appointment for a screen test like Walter thought. And my first day on my own I got myself robbed.

  Maybe it wasn’t such a bad idea to have someone to take care of me while I tried to get into the movies. And if I found out by the time I was a star I didn’t love him—well, a divorce isn’t the most terrible thing in the world, I guess.

  But . . . “When I get married it’ll be for keeps.”

  The closer we got to Las Vegas, the harder it got for me to think straight.

  I’d find myself looking over at Walter and wondering how I could love James Dean and Harry Belafonte and even think about marrying someone like Walter. And I couldn’t very well hang out with the “young crowd” and go on double dates with Natalie if I was married.

  And then I’d think, if I don’t marry him, what am I going to do? He’s going to be pretty upset after I let him drive me all the way to Nevada thinking we were going to be married, and then I back out. He certainly wouldn’t smile and say, That’s okay, I understand, here’s some money, go to California and good luck in the movies. No, I’d be stranded in Nevada.

  But maybe I could get a job in Las Vegas and earn the money to get the rest of the way to California on my own. After all, even if I don’t know anything about geography, I know Nevada is pretty near California. And a lot of people from California go to Las Vegas for a vacation. I could even hitchhike to California with some of the people on their way back home.

  And then, suddenly, there was no more time to think.

  Walter was in the back seat with me, shaking me gently.

  “Wake up, honey, we’re here.”

  I sat up and looked out the window. It felt like it was practically the middle of the night, but the street was filled with people, signs flashed on and off, and at the end of the street there was a huge neon cowboy on top of a building. He was blazing with colored lights and stood looking out over the street as if he was the king of Las Vegas or something.

  “Why are there so many people out?” I asked sleepily. “Is there a fire or something?”

  Walter laughed. “That’s Vegas for you, honey. Nobody sleeps here. They gamble all night long.”

  “Oh.”

  Walter put his arm around me and I shivered.

  “Gets chilly here at night,” he said. He held me tighter. “It’ll be plenty hot in the daytime, don’t you worry.”

  “Why are we stopped here?”

  Walter pointed out the window. In between two neon signs was a small building with a white door and a regular painted sign hanging on a post. JUSTICE OF THE PEACE, the sign read.

  “We’re going to get married,” Walter said.

  “Now?”

  “Sure. Why not? That’s what we came here for, isn’t it?”

  “Well, yes, but—” Frantically I tried to think. I’d had three days to think and hadn’t been able to come up with any real ideas about what I was going to do. I don’t know how I expected to come up with one now.

  “But it’s the middle of the night!”

  “That’s the great thing about this town,” Walter said happily. “You can get married any time of the day or night. You just walk in and ask to get married, and five minutes later you’re man and wife. When they say ‘no waiting period’ they really mean it!”

  “But, Walter!” I cried. “That’s not the way I want to get married!”

  He let go of me. “What do you mean? How did you think you were going to get married? In a church with a white gown and twelve bridesmaids?”

  “No, but—”

  “But what, Sylvie? I don’t get it.”

  “Walter, look at me!”

  He looked. And his eyes got all soft and dreamy. He had exactly the same expression on his face that Danny Kaye gets when he meets Virginia Mayo for the first time.

  “I’m looking,” he said.

  “No, I mean it. Look at my clothes, my hair. I’m a mess. I don’t want to get married like this. What kind of a wedding would that be? I want to look pretty for my wedding, Walter. I want to look pretty for you.” I don’t know how I thought of that. It just popped out, but it must have been the right thing to say.

  “I guess a girl dreams about her wedding day all her life,” Walter said thoughtfully.

  “That’s right. And it’s something to remember all your life, too. I don’t want to remember getting married in dirty, crummy old clothes in the middle of the night like some—some—”

  “Okay, okay, Sylvie, I understand. I guess it wouldn’t be such a bad idea to wait a few hours. You can get a new dress and I can get some sleep. I’m pretty beat anyhow.”

  I nearly cried with relief. We got into the front seat of the Pontiac and Walter drove around until he found a motel with a VACANCY sign lit up.

  It was called the Lucky Silver Horseshoe Motel, and as Walter opened the door to our room, he said, “Look, Sylvie, it even has TV. Not that we’ll be watching much TV. . . His eyes sort of glittered when he said that, and I felt a little shudder go th
rough me.

  All I could see of the room was one big bed.

  I looked at that bed and I looked at Walter’s glittery eyes and all of a sudden a lot of things got really clear in my head.

  Marriage was not just wearing a frilly apron and pouring coffee. If I married Walter I’d have to sleep in that bed with him. How can you do that with somebody you don’t love? I’d been trying not to think about that for the past three days, but now I realized that the only reason Walter wanted to marry me was because that was all he’d been thinking about for the past three days.

  Walter didn’t really love me. Maybe he thought he did, and I’m not too sure about that even, but he didn’t really love me. He just wanted sex and he knew by this time I’m not the kind of girl who’d go all the way without being married. Here in Las Vegas there was no waiting period so he could marry me real fast. He’d been divorced a long time, so he was probably pretty eager to have a wife again.

  And maybe he even thought if he got tired of me he could divorce me in Reno. I know a lot of movie stars and famous people get divorced in Reno, which is also in Nevada. Hadn’t Walter said his first wife divorced him in Reno? I guess there’s no waiting period there either. So it wouldn’t be very hard to get rid of me if he found out he didn’t really love me after all.

  “Come on, honey,” Walter said, taking me by the arm. “Let’s get some sleep and then we’ll buy you the prettiest dress you ever saw.”

  He tried to lead me over to the bed, but I pulled away. “We’re not married yet, Walter,” I said. We won’t ever be married, I thought.

  “I know, I know, honey. We’ll just sleep. I won’t lay a finger on you, I promise. Be reasonable. There’s only one bed, and we both need to sleep.”

  “Not in the same bed,” I said firmly. “Not until we’re married.”

  Never. Never.

  I looked around the room. “I’ll sleep on that chair.”

  “How can you sleep in a chair?” he said impatiently. “You won’t be very comfortable.”