by P. C. Zick
I also figured that Gary had curtailed his other life during this time. He was a favorite of the media, too. In all the articles about Elizabeth, his name always slipped in as, "fiancé, Gary Townsend, an advertising executive from Dearborn, Michigan."
At one party in Kalamazoo, Elizabeth almost fainted during a receiving line. Elizabeth invited Kelsey and me to this event. I watched as Gary ran to her side when she began to swoon. The people on either side of her, including her mother, didn't even notice as they continued to shake hands and receive congratulatory words. Gary led her outside into the fresh air.
The next day when I asked Elizabeth about it, she said, "You know, Gary was the only one there who even noticed that I went down. He's so sensitive and attentive. I feel terrible that we have to put everything on hold for this year because, Ed, I really love him."
Gary never told me the same about her, and I wondered how long Gary's lack of affection for her in public and private would go undetected. I noticed that Elizabeth reached for his hand and touched him quite often, but Gary would soon disengage or pull away. She would tenderly reach over and stop his nervous habit with his fingers. Sometimes he would place his hand lightly on the small of her back to lead her through a crowd, but that was the extent of his physicality toward her.
Gary loved to dress nicely in silk imported suits and Italian shoes. He began to talk about clothes and cars and stereos and boats incessantly, unless I could steer him to a less superficial subject. This obsession became pronounced during this time in Gary's life. I often wondered if he felt safer on these topics especially with me who knew the truth of his pain.
However, the material aspects of my life rarely concerned me. Not that my life was perfect as a result. I probably lost Allison, my first wife, because of my lack of concern about my clothes and cars and houses. Gary would try to encourage me to care more about my clothes, especially whenever I appeared in public with Elizabeth and him. He remained constantly aware that a photographer might be near to shoot a picture or two. It mattered a great deal to Gary that everyone looked perfect in every photo. He would stand, hands behind his back with his head tilted to one side, with his slightly crooked smile lighting up every photograph. I never saw a bad photo in the newspapers, and I never saw one that wasn't posed very carefully.
I knew Gary loved the limelight radiating from Elizabeth. Therefore, even though I was concerned, I wasn't really surprised when he called to tell me that he and Elizabeth would be married on Valentine's Day of 1975. Elizabeth would have four months from the end of her reign until the wedding in order to make plans for what would most likely be a certain media event.
Like Gary, Philip and Claire both thrived on the outward trappings of a successful life. When Gary disappointed his parents in the past, he always found some way to make up for it. This time, he did it in a big way. His marriage to the former Miss America, Elizabeth Jackson, became the ultimate redemption to make up for the loss of Kristina.
I left St. George Island reluctantly the next day. The rolling hills of horse country greeted me as I approached Ocala. I breathed a sigh of contentment to see the bright winter sun shine through the Spanish moss hanging from the nearly bare trees. Already I could see thunderheads forming ahead of me as I drove to my destination. I decided to go directly to Claire and Philip's house upon my return. As I pulled into their driveway, the thunder clapped overhead and a limb from a live oak tree in the driveway broke away from its host and deposited itself in front of my car, missing my front bumper by a couple of feet.
He wandered the streets endlessly searching for anything that might help him understand the numbness that enveloped him. The rain beat down creating puddles at his feet. He stepped carefully around them hoping to keep his feet dry and warm on a night that provided neither dryness nor warmth.
CHAPTER TEN
"Ed, what are you doing out in this weather?" Claire said when she opened the door in the garage to let me in. "I thought you were at the beach," she said as I came into the kitchen.
"Ed, I was just going to have a beer. Want one?" Philip asked, as he stood with the refrigerator door open.
"Sure, Philip, that'd be great," I said as I hugged Claire.
"Can't sit on the porch, now can we," Claire said as she motioned me toward the living room.
"How come you came back early? I thought Marge said you'd be gone all this week. Was it the Gulf or Atlantic this time?" Claire asked.
"Neither, although I did stop at St. George on the way home," I said.
"Your mother is getting more and more forgetful, Ed." This remark came from Philip.
"On the way home from where?" Claire asked.
"Mom got it right this time, Philip. I mean, that's what I told her. I was in New Orleans. Gary called last week and asked me to visit him. And he asked me to come home and tell you something."
"You went to New Orleans? To see Gary?" Claire seemed surprised but not upset. "Did you see Kristina, too?"
"Yes, I saw them both. Claire, Philip." They both looked at me expectantly. "Gary's sick, very sick."
Silence met my words, except for the storm raging outside the sliding glass doors. The rain began slashing against the windows.
"Sick?" Claire echoed my words after a moment.
"He wants me to bring the both of you back to New Orleans. We need to leave first thing in the morning."
"What is it? Cancer?" Philip asked.
"AIDs," I said without emotion.
"AIDs? That's that gay disease. It's killing all those homosexuals. Is that it, Ed? Is that the one?" Claire's voice rose several octaves as she sat forward on her chair.
"There's no cure, if that's what you mean. Claire, I'm so sorry to have to tell you this, but Gary doesn't have very much longer." I said this as gently as I could.
"God damn it!" The outburst came from Philip. The storm moved inside. "He's a queer, isn't he? I always knew it. A pansy, Claire, that's what you raised. Couldn't even satisfy his wives, queer all along." Philip finished his beer in one gulp.
"Shut up, Philip, just shut up." I stood up and went over to his chair with tears streaming down my face. "Don't you do this to Claire or to Gary. I swear I'll kill you if you don't shut up."
Years of frustration with this man, who had nearly destroyed Gary's life and now in his death wanted to strip him of his last shred of dignity, came bubbling forth from deep inside me. Philip rose from his chair, and we faced each other nearly nose to nose.
"Stop, both of you," Claire said. "Ed, sit down, you too, Philip, and shut up. Now our son is dying, nothing else matters. Ed, when do we leave tomorrow?"
"I'd like to leave as early in the morning as possible, Claire," I managed once I sat back down. "I need to go over to the apartment and check on Mom and Aunt Susan. I have to tell them, too. Then I need a good night's rest, and so do the both of you." I looked over at Philip who sat with his head in his hands. "I'll come by around five to pick you up. That should get us to Gary's by five or six in the evening. OK?"
"Should I call him?" Claire asked in a wounded little voice.
"It might be better to let him get his strength back. His roommate told me that the doctor started some new meds yesterday, and he seemed to even want something to eat last night."
"His roommate." Philip made a snorting sound.
"I mean it, Philip, if you say one more word," I turned toward my uncle.
"Philip, that's it, I'm warning you, too. One more word, and I walk out that door forever," Claire said.
When I left, I was still angry with Philip. I realized I blamed Philip for Gary's situation, for the fact that Gary had AIDs and lay dying while Philip sat in his easy chair drinking beer with his white shoes and striped blue seersucker pants. He disgusted me.
I didn't blame Philip for Gary's homosexuality. I believed that kind of thing is already predestined at birth or earlier. No, I blamed Philip for giving Gary the sense that he was inadequate, the sense that Gary was always lacking in some way. I
t was that sense of failure, of never measuring up, that left Gary searching and wanting and seeking out lovers at any opportunity. Gary never shared the details, but he told me enough for me to know that most of his adult life he led a promiscuous gay life. Only in the last year or so with Rick had he settled down to one partner. It was those multiple partners that caused his mortality to be reached long before its time. And for all of those reasons I raged at Philip in my mind as I drove to my mother's apartment.
Gary went so far as to marry Miss America in an attempt to win his father's approval. Probably for the few moments of his lifetime while he was in the limelight with Elizabeth, he earned his father's superficial acceptance, but at what cost and for what reasons? I thought back to that time when Gary made the ultimate sacrifice for his parents as he entered into his second marriage.
"The Wedding of the Year" many of the papers announced. Elizabeth's parents certainly spared no expense. The wedding itself was held in the First United Methodist Church in downtown Kalamazoo with the reception at the country club east of town.
Most of the week prior to February 14 consisted of party after party. The wedding attendants, all fourteen of us, were invited to almost all of them. Of course, in my role of best man once again, my presence was particularly necessary. I had to take the week off work, not an easy task for a teacher, but the principal at PHS didn't seem to mind since it was for such a famous Michigan girl's wedding. He seemed honored in some way that I worked for him. Fame brings out strange and surprising reactions in some people. I would have been happier to be left out of the whole thing. I couldn't help thinking that Gary once again managed to put himself right in the middle of a vast ocean of trouble. And because of the notoriety of this marriage, he was treading in shark-infested waters.
I continued to write. I began looking for a publisher for Looking over His Shoulder, my first novel. I thought several times about approaching Elizabeth since it was possible that she might know someone who could help me. But I hesitated. Would she see through the disguised main character? I hadn't even discussed the subject of the book with Gary. What would he think? Would he be proud or ashamed or just angry?
So I began a new book. This time I focused on the price we pay for maintaining youth and beauty using Elizabeth and Gary as my models. I also watched Claire and Philip carefully. They were attracted to the lights of the media like moths. They seemed to float into nearly every picture taken that week. Aunt Claire had bought a whole new wardrobe, and Uncle Philip kept telling everyone about his wonderful son. At least I didn't need to worry about Elizabeth with Philip. He wouldn't dare make a pass at someone like her, and after catching him with Pam, he knew I was now watching.
Elizabeth and I established a friendly relationship, but because of the attention always focused on her, we rarely had moments to talk. She and Gary came to Ann Arbor over Christmas, and the four of us spent some time together at our place. One night they stayed over, but with Gary sleeping on the couch and Elizabeth in our small study/spare bedroom. They made it clear they wanted separate sleeping quarters.
"We're waiting until the wedding night," Elizabeth said as the color rose in her cheeks. Kelsey seemed touched by the sentiment; I wasn't.
At one of the cocktail parties before the wedding, Elizabeth and I did have an opportunity to talk. We sat in a darkened corner with fresh drinks and took a moment away from the frenzy surrounding us.
"Do you ever get tired of it all, Elizabeth?" I asked.
"Sometimes, but I figure it comes with the territory, and it won't always be like this, you know. I've got maybe another fifteen years of looking this good so I might as well make the most of it," she said. The remark coming from her seemed honest rather than conceited.
"That's a fairly realistic way to assess it, I suppose. You know, I've never told you how glad I am that you and Gary are together. You'll be good for him."
"He's a good man. I've never understood what happened with his first marriage, though. He won't talk about it." She looked at me with a question in her eyes.
"No, Gary probably won't talk about it. When he's hurt the most, he clams up. It just didn't work out. He and Pam were very different people."
"Yes, I suppose they were. Claire and Philip have told me more about her and the child than Gary. I hope we can have Kristina come and stay with us once we're settled."
"Stay with you?" She nodded. "Elizabeth, no one knows where to find Pam and Kristina," I said.
"No one has ever tried to find them either, have they? I want to surprise Gary, so that's one of the first things I'm going to do after we're married."
"Find Kristina?" I asked.
"Yes, I really want to do something. I know it would mean so much to Gary."
"Elizabeth, I don't think that's such a great idea. It was a very bitter divorce. I think you should leave it alone." Pam would enjoy telling Elizabeth some stories, I thought.
"But that's his daughter. She needs her father," she said.
"My advice, given as someone who cares deeply for everyone involved, is to leave it alone. Please," I said.
"Honestly, sometimes I just do not understand you Townsends." She paused before continuing. "But I do trust you, Ed. Are you really sure?"
"I'm sure. You wouldn't be doing anyone any good. Someday, I hope, Kristina will want to find her family, or maybe Pam will be less bitter, but for right now, they need to be left alone. As much as he loves that little girl, he doesn't want Pam back in his life."
"I'll let it go for now, but none of it makes any sense. Just look at Gary over there. Doesn't he look gorgeous in that color of blue? Sometimes I can't believe how handsome he is. Thanks, Ed, for everything." She leaned over and gave me an air kiss, a very practiced kiss, done carefully so she wouldn't smear her lipstick. And then she was off into the crowd shaking hands making everyone feel as if she thought they were the most important person in the room. I really believed she thought they were, for those few moments.
I found my new novel easier to write, partly because of Elizabeth. She looked and acted the part of a sweet angel with one tragic flaw. She loved my cousin with all of her heart. And he loved no one, not even himself.
Finally, the big day arrived. The church, decorated in red roses and baby's breath, glowed beneath the flickering multitudes of candles as Gary and I walked out of the minister's chamber to the altar to await the show about to begin. First, the bridesmaids, escorted by the groomsmen, made their way down the long aisle. The red velvet dresses next to the black tuxedos created a startling contrast. As I stood next to Gary, waiting for the maid of honor and then the bride, the deep pink roses in the attendants' bouquets floated down the aisle toward us.
Then the moment the crowd had been anxiously anticipating arrived. The chords struck on the organ, and the former Miss America appeared on the arm of her father. Dressed in an all white, simple gown with long sleeves, Elizabeth floated toward her groom. A small crown of pearls held the veil that cascaded down her back. Her red rose bouquet looked like blood against the pure white of the dress. I watched her triumphantly march down the long aisle to the side of my cousin. I turned to see Gary's reaction to the vision of loveliness approaching him, and he looked a little green around the edges as he reached a finger inside the collar of his shirt. Then in a very practiced pose, he put his hands behind his back and waited expectantly. But he smiled when she drew near to him, and went through all of the appropriate rituals associated with a wedding of this magnitude.
The reception seemed more like a grand ball than a celebration for a wedding. I had heard that six hundred people were invited and because of who had just been married, I think all of those invited showed up. Except for the picture-taking moments, I never got close enough to Gary or Elizabeth to offer my congratulations privately. This time my congratulations to Gary and his bride were spoken into a microphone and blasted out through the loud speakers. I don't even remember what I said. When all of the proper things were done, Kelsey and I snuck o
ut to drive the hundred miles back to Ann Arbor that night. We were beat and wanted to sleep in our own beds for the first time that week.
The next morning while we sat at the kitchen table reading the papers that contained stories and pictures about the wedding, the phone rang.
"It's probably Mom wondering where we went last night," I said as I went into the living room to answer it.
"Ed? It's Pam."
"Pam? Where are you? How's Kristina?"
"First, don't ask where I am. Kristina's fine. She just started school last fall."
"I bet she's a real charmer. I'm glad you called. How are you?"
"Oh, the usual, you know. I've been thinking about all of you lately. It's pretty hard not to when every paper I pick up has something about the wedding of the year," she said.
"It was last night," I said.
"Yeah, I know. I'm surprised you're at home, but I thought I'd give it a try. Has Gary turned over a new leaf?"
"I'm not going to discuss Gary with you, but I'm glad you called. We worry about you."
"We?"
"Kelsey and I. Can I talk to Kristina? She's probably quite a little talker by now."
"Ed, I just wanted to touch base with a friend." Pam continued as if she hadn't heard my request. "We're doing fine, really. And I'll call again, OK?" She sounded like she wanted off the phone.
"Good, please, call again. You don't need to tell me. I won't tell anyone you called."
"Thanks, Eddie, you're the best."
I kept my promise to Pam. I didn't really have anything to tell anyway. I didn't know where she was. Next time I would again ask her to put Kristina on the phone. She would be old enough to talk now, and I could tell her things about her family.
We didn't see anyone in the family, except for my parents, for nearly two months. My father would probably retire within the next year, and they were deciding what they wanted to do. They wouldn't get much out of the house, but at least it was paid for. I knew my mother wanted to move to Florida and buy a little place, even a trailer. But my father didn't like the idea.