Blissful Interlude: J. G. ROTHBERG

by J. G. Rothberg

  “I knew mom would soon be off to the country club and would want me to join her. Sure enough, “You know the tennis pro is at the club today,” she said as I walked in the kitchen. “He says you have possibilities. Will you be going with me today?”

  “Can’t mom.” Got things to do.”

  “Such as?”

  “Mom, don’t you trust me? I got my own things, my own life.” I gobbled my peanut butter and jelly sandwich, took quick sips form a hot cup of cocoa with tiny marshmallows floating on top, and grabbed my plaid jacket sweater.

  “Ooops, got to go upstairs, and then I’m leaving,” I called out.

  “Be back early. You have school tomorrow, you know.”

  “I took two steps at a time running up to my room, slamming the door behind, and got a condom, hidden in a sneaker, which I then stuffed in my wallet. I ran down the stairs, as fast as I ran up, slammed the front door and sped off on my old red Schwinn bike, pedaling as hard as I could, past fields, houses, lawns, and yards, greening now, after the gray color of winter.

  Gwen, my fourteen year old girl friend, stood at the front door of the barn as I had hoped and expected. I grabbed her hand, and we walked into the unused wood structure and climbed up to the loft. I quickly unbuttoned her Sunday blouse, and we kissed, poking at each other’s lips.

  “I”m afraid, we have no more time this session,” Dr. Kantor interrupted. “We covered a lot ground, wouldn't you say. Next session we'll go into a more in depth search of these events you just related.”

  “Got you,” I said, rising quickly. “See you next time,” I went on and closed the door behind me. I was hapy to end today's appointment with Dr. Kantor.

  In the waiting room, a skinny kid wearing red rubber boots, probably Dr. Kantor's next patient, smiled and nodded at me. I had seen him in the lounge and canteen areas before. He told me he's a musician and a songwriter. He sat in one of the chairs in the room with his black guitar case, near his feet. What struck me about him, is he reminded me of an earlier me. I don't know why. Maybe it was the long blond hair. He had green eyes, though, was thin, and wore grey woolen slacks. Strange sight. Doesn't he realize it's hot in Arizona?

  “How are you doing?” he said. When he got up I realized he was almost as tall as me; and in a deep voice he said, “I don't think I've told you my name. It's Billy.” He extended his hand to me. “Nick,” I said. Dr. as Kantor, opened her office door to call him in.

  “See you around, Billy,” I said as he walked into Dr. Kantor with his Guitar.

  Chapter Nineteen

  One day, about six weeks into the sessions, Dr. Kantor told me to sit in the chair apposite her. I immediately plunked down in the comfortably tufted dark green chair, rested my fingers on my lips, and acknowledged the nodded. “Okay yeah … let's see. Glad to be off the coach.” My fingers went over my lips.

  “First, let's make sure you had zero access to drugs,” Dr. Kantor said.

  “I'm at a dry out clinic,” I replied, surprised at her tone, which seemed to indicate she got some report.

  “Stuff happens, Nick. Take this cup and leave a urine sample in the bathroom. When you are finished push the buzzer and the nurse will take your sample for analysis. Then come back here.”

  “Okay, you are the doc,” I said.

  “Be sure to wash your hands.”

  I glared at Dr. Kantor as I stood. In the bathroom, my urine overflowed the cup, running like a race horse on a perfect track on a perfect sun infused day, I pushed the buzzer and returned to my chair opposite the counselor.

  “Hey I've been clean for almost sixty days. I did good. Don't you think?” I said.

  “You have more sessions, Nick. Don't give up your fight.

  “What fight?”

  “To rid yourself of health damaging habits.

  “I'm here only because of my mom and dad. I know dad probably got a loan from his bank. He's an executive v.p. there. Maybe it was easy for him. He's been at the bank for years. But he's still got to pay the money back. I sure want them to believe they got their money's worth.”

  At this moment, a knock on the door and young guy came in and handed Dr. Kantor a report. She nodded as the guy left the room. “You should have thought through your actions before you took them. If you truly wanted your parents to get their money's worth, you didn't go about that the right way. We have a zero tolerance on drug use here. I'm afraid you'll have to leave the program“

  “Yeah,” I simply said, but inwardly was actually overjoyed that I would be getting back to my old routine, friends job and real life, and away from this artificial setting.

  “How did you get the drugs. Telling me will help us with other clients.”

  I smiled, nodded. “Hey, my thing is my thing. This is who I am.”

  “Well, I wish you luck. I hope someday you come back to this or a similar program. You have issues, Nick that need to be attended to. I regret we didn't get to them, but it's a start in away. Now it's up to you.”

  I smiled at Dr. Kantor. “I admire your desire to help people. But I have my own ways for me. Good luck to you, Doc. I wish you the best. I really do. But frankly, I don't realyy give a shit about this therapy stuff.”

  “Thank you, for your good wishes. I appreciate that. But your attitude towards our therapy sessions is a destructive one. I would re-think that, Nick. ”

  When I left Dr. Kantor's office, Billy the kid with the red rubber boots was waiting.“See you around, Billy,” I said “If you're in New York, call me at the Andy Warhol studios. Okay? I'm leaving, got to get on a fast plance out of here.”

  “Okay,” the kid said with a broad smile. “I'll do that.”

  Dr. Kantor stuck her head out the door to her office and signaled Billy to go in. “Good luck, Nick,” the doc called out and waved a goodbye as she closed the door.

  First thing I did was get to a phone and call Andy. I told him, I am heading back to New York, and will resume all duties. A voice called out, Nick's heading back here, really. I heard a cheer, which made me feel good. Andy told me he's getting into making movies, and he thought I would be good with that.

  “Making movies?”

  “Hey, Nick it's me,” a female voice said. “Yeah, Andy bought a camera. We're going to be film stars.”

  “Okay, the way to go. Tell everyone and my Chelsea girls, I'll be back in a few days.”

  “Wait a minute Nick.”

  “Got to go.”

  “This is important. Andy has a new studio. He's renting space in an abandoned fire house from the city.”

  “What the address?”

  “Andy, Nick's on the line and wants to know the address of this firehouse.”

  “Hook and Ladder company number 13 on Est 87th Street, near the house,” a voice shouted in the phone.”

  “See you all there soon,” I said. “I'm on my way.”

  Chapter Twenty

  The phone ringing and stopping, then ringing again on a Sunday about four in the afternoon, interrupted brunch with my roommate, Caroline. She hadn't changed yet out of her pink fluffy terry cloth robe and big pink bunny slippers. I still wore my over-sized Nick sweatshirt and pale blue panties.

  Caroline excelled in making waffles, which is what we ate from our tray tables in front of our sofa. A third table was set aside for a bottle of maple syrup, a plate with a stick of butter, and a stack of extra waffles, which was usually gone before the final cup of coffee.

  By the time I sauntered over to the phone and picked up, no one was on the line. I was feeling lazy today. I don't know why. I yawned and as I was about to return to my tray table with my plate full of waffles, the phone rang once again, and I quickly ran over and grabbed receiver.

  I almost tripped over my feet in a dizzying spell when I heard,“Hey babe, what's happening?”I held the phone away from me for the moment, and just starred at the mouth piece.

  “What is it?” Caroline called out “You're white as a ghost.”

  “I'm all right,” I
said and repeated slowly and softly. “I'm all right.”

  “No you are not. It's him. I'll bet it's him.”

  I shook my head yes. Caroline cautioned me, “Be careful what you say, and do.” She went back to eating her waffles.

  “I'll take the call in the bedroom. Please hang up when I shout.”

  “Yes, you can have your privacy. But think through your decisions.

  “Thanks, Caroline.” Within a moment I called out, ”Okay hang up, now.” I waited a beat or two and then said, “Are you all right, Nick? We are worried sick about you.”

  “Ahhhh. No need to worry. I'm okay.”

  “But why wouldn't you call, leave a message, something and say you're okay. I don't understand that.” By now I was fighting back tears of joy or sorrow or a mixture of both. I'll never be sure.

  “Hey, let it be. Okay. I'm here now.”

  “Where is here? Where are you?”

  “At the Chelsea, babe.”

  What shot through my mind was the sheer magnitude of bliss, I was feeling, overwhelming any traces of butterflies in my stomach, and once again I was ever the romantic. His hot body pressing against mine; Nick holding me erect, and up against a wall, penetrating. Sweet, luscious Nick, walking towards me with a glass of wine. Nick delighting in me, yes swooning over me. Nick laying me gently down on his bed, after a hard night of drinking and partying, undressing me, and caressing me to sleep.

  “Andy has a new studio. Do you know that?” I finally said.

  “Yeah. It's no secret. An old Fire Station. Around the corner from his house. Haven't been there yet.”

  I was silent for the moment, and and let a queasiness intrude. I didn't know if I should immediately tell Nick about Andy's new assistant, whom I believed threatened Nick's job. But Nick quickly allayed my fears.

  “Yeah, Andy's got a new assistant, a poet. Gerard Malanga. I hear he's a good kid. Does silk-screening too.”

  “But aren't you worried?”

  “Why would I be? I don't do the silk-screens.”

  “Oh, that's right. You just fuck the Warhol ladies.”

  “Anna, that was a bitter response. I'm surprised.”

  “You're right. I'm sorry. I'm so angry you didn't call. How could you have been so … uncaring?”

  “Hey, Anna, how are your courses in Art History going? And your Marilyn stuff. Still pretty cool?”

  “Don't change the subject.”

  “Okay, I won't. But be less serious. Do you remember you told me you're your own woman? You can take care of yourself? Don't ride my case, babe. I can handle my self too.”

  “Oh, Nick. Please understand.” Why wouldn't Nick trust me with his true feelings? I began thinking. What did he really feel about me, his job with Andy? Practice patience, Anna, I told myself. Hold back. Things have a way of sorting themselves out.

  “Babe, let's get together, Come down to the Chelsea. Brad told me you were here overnight, lot's of times. I like that,” Nick went on.

  “Tonight. We'll get together tonight,” I countered. Caroline's advice seemed to penetrate.

  “Why not now?”

  “Tonight.” I was adamant. “We'll celebrate tonight. We'll toast your coming home. I'll get in touch with Ethan. Let's make it eight o'clock.”

  “Yeah, babe, you got it. But at Cafe Nicholson. Dinner at eight for the three of us. Okay?”

  “No surprises,” I said, with trepidation, thinking back to his marriage proposal and us getting kicked out of the Tavern on the Green. I should be able to be at ease with that now, I thought. I reminded myself the proposal was Nick's primitive way of saying, I am special to him.

  “None. I promise,” Nick said. Maybe a red rose, though.”

  I laughed and began feeling airy, like I was walking on a cloud.

  I barely had time to hangup the phone when it rang again.

  “That's him. He doesn't give up,” Caroline shouted.

  “It might be for you,” I called out, lifting the phone.

  “I doubt that.”

  “Anna, hello,” the voice exclaimed. “This is Aleks, the artist from Ukraine.”

  “Yes, Aleks, I remember.”

  “The ladies here, tell me Nick is back and he'll be with Warhol and his people at dinner, tonight. So, I was thinking, I will see you too. Does he keep you separate?”

  “I don't know about Andy's dinner party, “I said in a guarded way.

  When I walked back into the living room, Caroline threw me a look of scorn that stopped me in my tracks. I've never noticed her ability to freeze you for the moment and push you to her way of thinking. “You're not going to rush over to be with him.”

  “No. I want to eat my waffles,” I said and poured more maple syrup on my plate. We're getting together later, tonight.”

  Caroline, skewed her lips. “I don't understand, he calls and you run. You have your other boyfriend, Ethan, what's so special about this guy.” Caroline walked over toward the window, and pinched of a bit of green from one of her plants. “Look this will give you energy,” she said as she tossed and stirred the greens in my juice. “And keep your thinking clear. I take a dab of this plant every morning, and it works.”

  I watched Caroline for te moment and shrugged.

  “You know I have been sneaking it in your juice, many times. It's absolutely tasteless. Tell me honey, have you eer felt a difference in your body after one of or brunches.?”

  “Well, it builds up in your system. It took a while for me too, and I take a pinch every day.”

  I nodded, but noticed Caroline shaking her head.

  “To tell the truth, I don't have a good feeling about this Nick fellow.” She raised her hand and wiped her brow, and then suddenly reached over to me and slid a cold hand up and down my cheek, her palm, so bitterly cold as if she previously held a packed ball of snow, stung. “What are you doing?” I asked.

  Suddenly Caroline burst into tears. “I know you will get into trouble again with Nick.”

  “Don't trouble yourself, Caroline. I'm so overwhelmed with your concern for me. Really I am.”

  Caroline wiped her tears away with a paper napkin, she reached for from the tray table with the maple syrup. “Take good care of yourself. Please.” Caroline's face instantly froze with the most diabolic look I'd ever seen. Her pupils narrowed, and the whites of her eyes dominated her eye sockets. It was scary,

  “I will,” I told her and patted her cheek couple of times. as she moved away to freshen up in our bathroom. I was relieved when she left.

  After finishing brunch I called Ethan “Sweets, eight at the Cafe Nicholson with Nick and me. Okay with you? He called, just a few moments ago,” I said.

  “Cafe Nicholson on East 58th? Oh, I'll bet Andy will be there with loads of people. I'll be there. Got work to do now. See you at eight.” He didn't sound particularly overjoyed.

  After a moment, Ethan's enthusiasm rose, when he rang back. “Hey, I'm sending some pages of my interview with Andy. Hope you can read the copy before this evening.”

  “I'll try my best, my Sweets.”

  He laughed. “See you.”

  Fix For the remainder of day, I bathed in bubbles, spent lots of time adjusting my hair, and tried to figure out which outfit would look most like I threw it together in a last minute rush. Yes, I was eager to see Nick, but also terrified. No, it wasn't Caroline's remarks. I pondered, does absence really make the heart grow fonder, or does it change the dynamics. Oh, I wish I knew the answer, I kept thinking. I felt jittery most of the day. Fear swept through my veins, and much of the time, the taste of the waffles kept coming up, and I felt my stomach knotted as if in tight balls of rubber bands.

  By seven forty-five, I was on Second Avenue, strolling up to East 58 Street and then over towards Nicholson, near the mid block entrance to the Queensboro bridge. I didn't read Ethan's manuscript, and will tell him, “a girl has to prepare when she's to meet up with her two lovers.”

  It was a Sunday, and traffic down Second Av
seemed light, though not without speeding green and white checkered taxicabs seemingly let lose in a race to a finish line of some sort, and a red screeching fire truck, easily challenging, several cars on the Avenue.

  I wore my beige Burberry coat over my black slacks, and black sweater, with a white silk kerchief, keeping my hair in place. looking my finest I hoped in my Marilyn Monroe pose. In spite of the pleasant outside air, and a leisurely stroll, I found difficulty in keeping myself at ease. How eager I had felt always to fall into Nick's arms, hug him, kiss him, make love to him. Now fear and desire, all mixed.

  The moment I set foot in the Cafe I noticed Andy at the far end of the room at a table with an entourage. Several heads, turned for moment, as I took off my white scarf and loosened my hair, thick with blonde curls. Andy did not turn. In a way I was beginning to feel slightly more at ease now that I made an impact just walking into the Cafe. The place was packed and several patrons also turned to look, and whisper. I smiled, but still felt pangs in my belly as I waited for Nick.

  Within seconds Nick sauntered toward me from the Warhol table. As he came closer, his luscious lips parted and his smile broadened. Nick's stride was so sexy; the way his hips moved, and his slacks, oh those blue slacks that he wore at the Ferus Gallery the first time we met, hung deliciously down his long legs.