by Louise Welsh
Gilda watched him sip from his glass. “Are you so alone in the world that you need to settle?”
“I’m not settling. My mother used to say that one good friend is worth a thousand… well you know. I don’t want to lose our friendship when the show’s over or the company’s gone or I find another job.”
“You don’t understand what it means to be my friend.”
“Maybe not, but give me a chance to deal with it. Nothing I do in this business or my career means anything if I spend my life alone. You don’t understand that, do you?”
For a moment Gilda heard Skip’s voice that evening in the Cape Cod cottage when he assured them he wasn’t using drugs, that he had nothing to apologize for. His voice and Julius’ became one in their urgency.
“I understand being alone better than you can ever imagine. I’ve learned to appreciate being alone and how to choose one’s companions carefully.” Her words made Julius’ brown skin flush pink, showing up the dark freckles.
The life I offer is not for you. I feel for you as I would if I had a brother I loved. Trust that no matter where you are in this world if you ever need my help, it is only for you to ask and I will be at your side. In that we will never be separate.
With these words, Gilda remembered the last time she made this promise. The forlorn acceptance that had shone in Aurelia’s eyes was all Gilda had asked for. Julius couldn’t offer such acquiescence, but surprised at the outpouring, tears welled in his eyes. He blinked to hold them back, then looked quickly about the room.
No one hears. The words are for you alone, Gilda said.
It was then Julius realized that her lips had not moved. He had heard her clearly nonetheless. She slid from the bar stool and walked toward Charles, standing alone near the table laden with bread and cheese. She made her goodbyes quickly, then left, eager to be rid of the brightly lit room and Julius’ need.
As Gilda walked toward Broadway she knew that if it were possible for her to cry, she would be doing so now. She turned downtown looking forward to the distracting sights between the Upper West Side and Chelsea. At 96th Street she was fascinated by the glare of the Red Apple supermarket and the newsstand bursting with publications. Couples speaking in the frenzied Spanish of the City congregated in front of the dance hall located above the heavily shuttered jewelry store. The Riviera and Riverside movie theaters were the only things that stood silent at this intersection.
She didn’t stop at 95th Street, only glanced up at the dark marquee of the Thalia. The ubiquitous Jules et Jim was playing. Gilda wondered idly how many times she’d seen it. It was on the bill with Ship of Fools. It must be Oskar Werner week, she thought, just as Julius stopped beside her, short of breath. He stood in her path, blocking light from the corner liquor store.
“You understand me so well… feel so much for me, but you walk away. I can’t accept it,” Julius said, not entirely certain now that he’d heard her earlier words.
“You have no choice,” Gilda said, her anxiety making her impatient. He grabbed her arm. “Please.” The word was simple and plaintive. His hand on her arm was strong and urgent, but she broke his grip with little effort.
“Why can’t it be different? How do you know?” His voice was childlike as he faced this complete unknown. The strength in it demanded that she answer honestly.
“Don’t interfere with me. It’s my decision. That’s all I have to say to you!” Her eyes and her voice were mesmerizing. She left him standing puzzled and hurt on the corner as she made her way to Riverside Drive. She walked hurriedly downtown, her pace so quick that those nearby never saw her.
She rushed into her apartment, locked the door, and went out to the backyard, turning for solace to the endless, familiar stars. They were friends that had lasted through time with her. The window opened behind her, and Marcie called down from his apartment.
“Hey girl, what the hell you doin’ out there? Come on up and get a drink.”
“No, thanks. I’ve had enough for tonight. You having a party?”
“Naw, those punks left already. I’m just watching the late movie. You wanna watch some TV?”
Gilda walked over to the second floor window so she wouldn’t have to shout. “No, I’m going to relax for a while. Opening nights are always like the end of a race.”
“Was it good?”
“Yes,” Gilda responded, letting her pleasure surface. “When you want to see it I’ll reserve a couple of comps for you.”
Marcie’s brown eyes sparkled.
“Hey, hey yeah, how about Saturday? Can we come on Saturday?”
“Sure, I’ll leave two tickets for you at the box.”
“Yeah, girl, I’ll dress up real sharp, you know! Let it all hang out!”
“You’ll like the show, too. Just don’t bring any stuffy types, you know… politics…”
“Honey, I got principles. I got to know how you vote before you take off your coat!”
As Marcie closed his window and went back to the television Gilda marveled at the clarity of his world. She had never met anyone quite as satisfied as Marcie was with the decisions he made in life. Gilda went back inside and settled down with a book, certain that rest would completely elude her.
*
On the night of Sorel’s welcome-home party, Gilda took a change of clothes to the theater. She was getting rid of her sweaty jeans and T-shirt in the women’s room after the show when she heard Julius call her name outside the door.
“Well, I’ve got you cornered in there. Everyone’s just about gone so no one can rescue you. I’m here to invite you out to a night of frantic disco and assorted other depravities, sisterlove.”
His youthful fear was barely concealed behind his bravado. Gilda said nothing and continued to change her clothes, packing her work outfit in a plastic bag to be stowed in the lighting booth.
She opened the bathroom door wearing a mauve jersey blouse and matching pants, soft leather boots, and a hint of lipstick.
“Aw, shit!” was all Julius could manage to say.
“Is that a critical opinion or are you waiting to get in here?” Gilda said with a smile.
“I guess you’ve already got a date,” Julius said, realizing that he’d never seen Gilda wearing anything other than her work clothes.
“In fact I’m going to a party for a dear and old friend of mine,” Gilda responded. Having made and remade her mind over the past week a number of times, she finally decided to simply wait and see what the evening brought. There had been no time to speak with Julius during the show, and so she left herself open to whatever happened. She was happy he had sought her out.
“I was going to ask if you’d like to come along. Hang out for a while. It’s a rather old crowd, a kind of a white crowd, so there won’t be much discoing. But I would love you to meet Sorel and Anthony.”
The confusion was swept from Julius’ face by a smile. “Right on! I’m down. But do I need to change? I probably should.”
“You look fine. You always dress like you’re ready to meet somebody’s parents anyway.”
She let Julius climb up the ladder and toss her bag of clothes into the lighting booth before they pulled down the heavy gate and put on the padlocks. They flagged a taxi and were climbing out in front of Sorel’s pub before Gilda really had a chance to think about her decision – or if she had made one. It had been over a year since she last saw Sorel. He’d spent most of the time in New Zealand and she’d been working with the theater. She had avoided talking to him, afraid to hear anything more about Eleanor’s death, afraid she would feel, in some part, to blame. Julius grasped her arm gently.
“Are you O.K.?”
“I’m fine. I just realized what a long day this has been. But everything is everything,” she said laughing, using a phrase tossed around at the theater. A few minutes later Gilda pushed the heavy oak door open. People looked up as they entered. She heard Sorel’s exclamation above everyone’s and saw him pull away from his circle of friends.
He looked the same, his large body dressed in impeccably tailored clothes, soft, colorful shoes, his eyes sparkling like the champagne he liked so much.
“Ah, my child, we’ve been waiting.”
“Some of us work, you know, at jobs, not globe-hopping.” She fell into his arms laughing as he encircled her.
“You call that a job, scampering around on ladders all day and singing all night? You just neglect me because I’m old!”
“Careful how you abuse me; I’ve brought my boss along to set you straight.” Julius grinned and tried not to look embarrassed.
He experienced the slight discomfort he felt when in a room filled almost entirely with white people. Without looking around he could feel their appraisal. He held onto Gilda’s hand even as Sorel began pulling her into the room. Julius felt a moment of sharp panic as her hand left his and he stood alone. The others continued to look him over, and some were smiling. He still couldn’t quell the cold chill that flooded him. He felt a little dizzy, overwhelmed, but by what he could not tell. Julius jumped at the hand on his arm.
“Come, sit at Sorel’s table. Gilda will want to make a proper introduction.” He looked down to see a large, pale hand guiding him effortlessly into the room. Anthony tried to soothe Julius’ thoughts with his own when he sensed the boy’s discomfort.
Once seated beside Gilda he felt less unnerved, especially when she turned her smile on him and introduced him to Sorel and Anthony.
“I’m pleased to meet you. Until today I haven’t met any of Gilda’s friends, so this is a real treat.”
“We’re more like family after all this time,” Sorel said before turning to Anthony. “Will you bring up that bottle I put to chill earlier?”
Anthony turned away from the table, and Sorel laughed raucously. “He thought my trip might quench my thirst for champagne – he knows nothing of obsession!”
Those around him laughed and turned to their own conversations. When Anthony reappeared Sorel continued. “We, too, have met few of Gilda’s recent friends. Let’s have a toast. To the family of friends we gather about us. May we live and love eternally!”
He raised his fresh glass toward Julius who took a tall, fluted glass offered by Anthony. The entire room joined in the toast, and the din of conversation rose and fell casually.
“Sorel and Anthony have been my teachers in many things,” Gilda said, looking at Julius with an impish glance. Here among these people he thought she seemed younger, almost like a student. The space between them appeared to lessen.
“And you’ve been ours. Have you ever been to San Francisco, Julius?” Sorel asked.
“No, I just about made it up here to New York. I’m still a country boy.”
“Let me tell you of a country!” Sorel responded.
With that began a round of stories about his trip to New Zealand that lasted into the early morning hours. Julius was amazed at the capacity Sorel and Gilda showed for champagne. He stopped drinking sometime after 2:00 A.M. They had both continued and were somehow still coherent. Just before dawn Julius noticed that most of the patrons had departed and the bartender and Anthony had cleaned away the glasses.
“We better be off, my sweet,” Gilda said to Julius. He warmed at her affectionate touch and rose from the booth.
“Maybe we could get you to come uptown and see our show,” Julius proffered shyly. “It’s just an off-Broadway showcase, but we worked pretty hard.”
“Do you hear that, Anthony? Shall we get out our theater capes and venture north?” Anthony gave only a brief smile.
“Of course we shall! The cauldron of experimentation, doing away with musty conventions – you name the night and we’ll be front row center to shout bravo.”
“Please come next weekend, then,” Julius responded.
Gilda felt awkward at never having invited Sorel and Anthony herself. It seemed so natural when Julius did it, yet she had never considered letting these worlds intersect, until tonight.
They said their goodbyes and stepped out into the deserted street. Julius was about to suggest that they walk west to a street where a cab was more likely to be cruising when one pulled up in front of them, as if summoned. Gilda slipped inside and was quiet on their short ride uptown. She kissed Julius lightly on the cheek when they arrived at his building. He got out and leaned down into the window before the cab could move.
“Thanks for letting me meet your friends. It means a lot to me that you did that. They’ve got a real family feel, you know?”
“Yes, I guess Anthony and Sorel have been family for me here.”
“And this Bird he was talking about. She sounds like a real deal. Like landowners down under may never recover!” Julius laughed with a purity of spirit that thrilled Gilda. “When she lands on these shores again the U.S. government is in deep stew.”
Gilda laughed loudly. Through his eyes Gilda saw Bird as the hero her own curiosity made her.
“Catch you later, sisterlove.” He tapped the cab, signaling it to pull off, and turned back toward his door.
The next day at the theater a box was delivered for Gilda. When she opened it she found a note from Sorel apologizing for not giving it to her at the party. Nestled in soft tissue paper was a large, flat rock. And in a separately wrapped package there was a note from Bird and an ancient, carved arrowhead. Gilda ran her hands over the cool stone in the privacy of the bathroom and put the letter from Bird in her pocket to be read later at home.
Gilda opened Bird’s letter while sitting in the armchair that night. It was a single page crammed with tight script that described where Bird had been living.
The final paragraph turned abruptly:
I suppose you’ve considered bringing someone into our life. I, too, have thought of this but don’t think I’ll ever learn to settle down long enough to teach someone in the same way as you’ve been taught. Sorel and Anthony have been good and constant, but I do worry about you. You must make roots for yourself, for you are my roots. I will be listening for your thoughts and planning to see you before too much time has passed.
Gilda wondered how much of her thinking had aleady found its way to Bird over the past months. She walked outside to the backyard and paced for a minute or two. Marcie’s windows were completely dark, and the alley surrounding the yard seemed quiet for a change. She looked up again at the stars, remembering Bird telling her that the stars would be their link. Wherever they were in the world they would look up at the same stars.
Gilda went back inside the apartment, then left through the front door, moving quickly to the Lower East Side. When she let herself into Julius’ apartment she discovered he was not there. She sat quietly on the bed and waited. It was almost 1:00 A.M. when he came home. His eyes were gleaming as if he’d had a bit to drink, but he did not move like he was drunk. Gilda remained silent as he took off his leather jacket and laid his briefcase on the desk. Gilda was sitting on the mattress, her eyes closed as if in meditation when he entered the bedroom. Julius wasn’t sure he really saw her.
He noted that the curtains were all drawn in the room and that a curious quiet hovered over everything. His confusion kept him from speaking. He stood numbly at the foot of the bed, looking down as she opened her eyes and spoke.
“I don’t want to trick you, Julius. Or seduce you. I want you to see the family I bring you into. It’s a family that I’ve belonged to for more than one hundred years, yet I’ve been alone, too.” He felt the gentle pressure of her mind. His guard relaxed, and what she said felt both alien and natural.
“I need an ally, a brother. If you want it, life can be yours, and we will be sister and brother throughout time. Our love will outlast the tears, the plays, the lights, these old buildings. What you must sacrifice may be too much, but once done it is final.”
“You’re talking some other language.”
“Yes, I am,” she peered into his eyes, making his mind let go of the world around them. He became open to the words and could understand without her speaki
ng aloud.
He said, “I want to be with you. That’s all that’s important to me.”
“That will not be enough. I’m not offering some melodramatic romance where the audience sighs sweetly at the final curtain.”
“I know that.”
“But you can’t really know, no one can, until it’s done. Until it’s too late. It is commitment as you’ve always fantasized it – in college dormitories when you talked of revolution, in the theater when they speak of changing the world. The reality of it can never be as one imagines.”
Julius looked both excited and afraid, but the solemnity of Gilda’s words were ameliorated by the kind love he saw in her eyes. She both warned and entreated him at the same time. “I offer you the capacity to live on until you decide it is over. There are many who would love you in those years. I am only one,” she said in the kindest of voices as she closed her eyes.
Julius knelt on the bed and looked around at the faces on the walls. He took in the books and other little things that identified this as his room. The picture of his mother and father as they had been when first married stood beside his bed as it had all of his life. He had tried to project himself into that photograph so many times since their deaths to recapture the comfort of their love.
Gilda listened patiently to his thoughts and let them evoke the sadness that still rushed in when she thought of those she had once loved who were now dead. She opened her eyes and her arms; Julius lay in them like a child. She ran her fingers gently over his face and neck, enjoying the softness of his skin, smiling at the freckles that marked his nose and cheeks. He raised his hand to her head and thrust his fingers into the short, nappy hair that framed her face, pulling her face down to his. She encircled him with her arms, kissing his eyes and nose. She felt his pulse begin to race as she passed her hand over his chest.
She pressed her lips to his in a gesture that was full of the excitement she’d held inside herself for so long. It was a kiss both passionate and chaste, leaving Julius feeling like a child in her arms, yet still a man. When she sliced the flesh on his neck, he opened his eyes in shock but did not try to pull away. His body trembled, then lay still, as the life drained from him into her. Gilda stopped, bit her own tongue, and kissed him hard, breaking the skin inside his lip. She thrust her tongue into his mouth.