Domestic Arrangements

by Norma Klein

  “I didn’t know Daddy did,” I said.

  “Lionel?” Mom looked pensive. “No, no that’s true. His basic type is more—”

  “Like you?”

  “Isn’t that funny, I’m not sure I am Lionel’s basic type. I think his basic type is a bit more the lady intellectual thing. Someone he can snuggle up with and burble on about the downfall of Western civilization and weighty topics like that.”

  “Is Daddy your type?” This was a really interesting conversation to have.

  Mom looked at the clock. “Hon, you know, you better get cracking. It’s almost eight.”

  “Oh, wow, I didn’t even wake Deel up yet.”

  I never found out if Daddy was Mom’s type or not.

  That evening Deel and I ate early because Daddy had to go out to dinner with someone he might do a film with who was just in from California for the day. He got back around 9:30. I was in my room, studying for the French test.

  “Hi, Daddy.”

  “Hi, Tat.” He didn’t look so mad anymore.

  “Did you have a nice time at dinner?”

  “Yeah, I did actually.” He started telling me a little about the movie he and this man might make. It didn’t sound that interesting to me. It’s about teenagers and drugs. I guess it’s kind of ironical that Daddy would make a film like that since Deel is such a pothead. Well, not pothead, really. Actually, she only smokes Tuesdays and Thursdays, which are the days she has Math, and weekends. Real potheads are stoned all the time, like Richy Mulz.

  “Did you have a good time with Joshua’s parents?” I asked.

  He sighed. “Yes, well . . . his mother seems like a very reasonable, concerned person. I felt we really saw eye to eye on everything.”

  “How about his father?”

  “I didn’t care for him. There’s something fundamentally shifty and irresponsible-seeming about the man.”

  “Joshua says he has girl friends.”

  “I wouldn’t be surprised.” Daddy came over and sat on the edge of my bed. “See, Tat, I just don’t want . . . I don’t want you to get into anything you can’t handle, that will end up causing you a lot of pain and anguish.”

  “I’m not.”

  “There’s nothing wrong with easing into life and . . . One needn’t jump in with both feet. I know that peer pressure affects everyone and—”

  I bit my lip. “Can I still see him?”

  “Well, yes, but . . . no more middle-of-the-night escapades. And if you ever want to talk to me about it, please feel free to. There’s no need to hide anything from me, Tat. I’m not some ogre.”

  “I know.” I looked up at him with what Mom calls my “big blue eyes” look (actually my eyes are gray). “Daddy, you know, I was thinking . . . Remember you said there was that show of photos by that woman photographer you knew? Well, I thought, like, maybe on Saturday, we could go to it?”

  Daddy looked so pleased, I felt awful. “Well, that would be awfully nice, Tat. I’d love that . . . but aren’t you and Joshua—”

  “Well, I might see him in the evening, but during the day I’m free.”

  “I’m really glad you mentioned that,” Daddy said, still with that happy expression. “I’ve been wanting to see that show and I just . . Maybe Abigail will join us.” Abigail is a film editor who helps Daddy on some of his films.

  “Lionel!” Mom was calling.

  “I’m in here,” Daddy called back, “in Tat’s room.”

  Mom came bursting in one second later. “Listen, it’s Charlie on the phone,” she said excitedly. “Guess what? They’ve done the final cutting and we can see the movie three weeks from now.”

  “Oh damn,” Daddy said.

  Mom and I stared at him.

  “Oh damn what?” Mom said.

  “That damn movie!” Daddy said.

  “Lionel, what are you talking about?”

  “Why did I let it happen? I let my own daughter be exploited, used.”

  “Sweetie, my goodness, you ought to be proud! Your own daughter has a lead in a major motion picture, quote unquote, and is probably fantastic. Where does exploitation enter in? How absurd!”

  Mom and I both looked at Daddy. He tried to smile. “I am proud,” he said, not that convincingly.

  “Look, he’s on the phone. Do you want to speak to him or not?”

  “Charlie? Okay, sure.” Daddy rambled off.

  “Isn’t that exciting, Tat?” Mom said. “God, I can’t wait to see it.”

  “Me too,” I said.

  Chapter Four

  I should have mentioned the movie before this; it is kind of a big thing in my life. But then, in a way it isn’t. Of course, it hasn’t opened yet—not till December 19. My life hasn’t changed because of it. I guess life is like that. Things you’d expect to make a big difference don’t always and sometimes little things change everything. It was a real fluke I was in the movie at all. I’ve never acted, though I guess I’ve heard Mom and Daddy talk about it a lot since so many of their friends are in films or TV or stuff like that. Charlie is this friend of Daddy’s from a long time ago. I think they were in the army together. Daddy says he’s not a friend. He says, “He’s more than an acquaintance and less than a friend.” Anyway, he makes movies like Daddy does and one day he came over all excited because Columbia Pictures had just said they’d give him three million dollars to make his first feature film. It was from a script he’d written called Domestic Arrangements.

  This is what the movie is about. It’s about a 14-year-old girl named Samantha (that’s me). Samantha has a crush on a boy named Warren who’s sixteen. Their parents are friendly and they’ve spent every summer, since they were babies, on Fire Island. One summer they fuck, just by chance, sort of (they’re really more friends). The thing is, at the same time, Warren’s father is having an affair with Samantha’s mother, but Warren’s mother and Samantha’s father don’t know about it. Then Warren’s father and Samantha’s mother get married. That’s the beginning of the movie. The first scene is their wedding.

  They move into this big, fancy, new apartment. Samantha’s an only child, but Warren has an older sister who’s away at college. Anyhow, Samantha’s mother and Warren’s father don’t know Samantha and Warren are boyfriend and girl friend and they don’t want them to know because now they’re step-sister and brother. So they pretend to not even like each other. Samantha’s mother keeps asking her to be nicer to Warren who’s kind of shy. But when the parents are out, like in the evening, Samantha and Warren fuck and stuff like that.

  That goes on for a year or so. But what happens is Samantha’s mother and Warren’s father start to fight and not get along. And at the end they get divorced. The last scene is Samantha and Warren driving out to California to visit his sister. No one ever finds out about what they were doing. In fact, Samantha’s mother says something to her like, “Well, at least you and Warren finally got to be friends.”

  When Charlie was talking about the film, way before it was made, he began saying how the role of Samantha was crucial, how he wanted someone fresh and sensual in a totally unspoiled way. “I don’t want some cutesy little actressy type,” he said. “I want someone totally natural.” And all of a sudden he looked at me and said, “Like Tatiana. I want someone exactly like Tatiana.” Then he and Daddy looked at each other and Charlie said, “Tatiana, have you ever gone to an audition?” I shook my head. “Listen,” he said to Daddy. “Bring her around next week, okay? I mean, what can we lose, right?” “She’s never acted,” Daddy said. “Perfect,” Charlie said. “Look at that hair. God, I’d hire her for that hair right this second.”

  People always make a big thing about my hair. It’s bright red. Mom says I get it from her mother, who used to be a redhead. Now that Mom dyes her hair red-blond, people think I get it from her, and when they say that, she just smiles. I have unusual coloring for a redhead, too. That is, I don’t have freckles the way a lot of people with red hair do. I have very light skin. The other unusual thi
ng about me is my eyes, which are big and a funny light gray color. Joshua says I look like a werewolf because my eyes are so light. He says they shine in the dark, like a cat’s. Charlie even wrote a scene in the movie about my hair. It’s the scene Daddy hates most of all and is hoping they’ve cut. I don’t think they will, though, because Charlie likes it so much.

  It takes place this night that everyone is out except Samantha and Warren’s father. Warren’s father sort of likes Samantha. You know that because he gazes at her moodily from time to time. Anyway, in this scene Charlie had me sit naked (except for a pair of bikini underpants that say “Bloomie’s” on them) in front of a full-length mirror blow-drying my hair. Daddy says he doesn’t mind nudity in films if it’s really an intrinsic part of what the movie is about. But he didn’t think this was. Actually, you don’t see all that much of me since my hair is so long. It kind of hangs over my breasts to some extent.

  Anyway, in that scene I’m sitting there drying my hair when Warren’s father, who’s been out at a faculty meeting, comes home. He opens the door and there I am. He’s a little embarrassed, but he stands there, talking to me. At that point, he and Samantha’s mother aren’t getting along that well. He says: Where’s Warren?

  I say: He’s at the library studying.

  He says: You’ve been a good influence on him, Sam . . . His grades have really improved this year.

  I put the blow dryer down and say: Thank you, Mr. Erikson.

  He says: Bill.

  I just smile at him.

  He says: You have extraordinary hair.

  I say: It’s sort of a funny color.

  He says: I’ve never seen hair like that. (He’s supposed to be a little high.) It’s right out of a story by Katherine Mansfield.

  I say: Who’s she?

  He says: An English writer . . . I’ll read it to you, okay?

  I say: Okay.

  He comes back with this book. He reads me this part that goes: “How tragic for a little governess to possess hair that made one think of tangerines and marigolds, of apricots and tortoiseshell cats and champagne.”

  I say: Gee, that’s pretty, Mr. Erikson, I mean, Bill. Then I put on a T-shirt. Just then my mother comes home. She walks into the room.

  She says: What’s going on?

  Warren’s father says: We’re reading Katherine Mansfield. (He’s an English teacher.)

  I don’t think I got the part because of Charlie being Daddy’s friend. I think one reason I might have gotten it was I wasn’t at all nervous for the audition. Maybe that’s because I don’t think of myself as an actress. There were lots of girls auditioning who’d done a lot of stuff on TV, or had been models or went to Performing Arts, or took acting lessons. So to them it was really a big deal. Whereas I know I’m not going to be an actress when I grow up. I liked being in the movie, it was fun and maybe I’ll be in some other ones, but that’s not what I want to be. Everyone thinks being in a movie must be so exciting, but it isn’t, really. Mostly you stand around, waiting, and they make you do the same scene over and over.

  When I went for the audition, all the other girls were biting their nails and looking sick with nervousness. I guess I’m not so much the nervous type about things in general. Delia is the exact opposite of me in that respect. She hates it when she has to get up and read something in front of the class, or give a speech or anything. She ran for editor of the school newspaper and she had to get up in assembly and make a speech in front of the whole school. Even though she got totally stoned, and had the whole speech typed up, she said it was one of the worst experiences of her whole life. The other way in which Deel is totally different from me, is she hates being photographed. Whenever we have family photos, Deel is always sort of slouching to one side, squinting at the camera, looking like someone just kicked her in the shins.

  I didn’t even mind being photographed in the nude, actually. Well, maybe I would have if I was totally naked, but I didn’t mind about my breasts so much. My breasts are sort of nice. Daddy said the thought of thousands of seedy middle-aged men drooling over his daughter’s breasts made him violently ill. He had a really big fight with Charlie about it. Charlie said the scene was in perfect taste, that there was nothing salacious about it, that I looked like a Renoir, not like a Playboy centerfold, and that if he had a daughter of such exquisite beauty and radiant charm he would be the happiest man on earth. That’s the way Charlie talks. He’s a very exclamatory person. On the set he was always either terribly up and pleased with everything or really scowling and angry. In the beginning I used to feel awful when he was scowling and angry. A couple of times he made me cry. But then I realized it was just his personality.

  I know Daddy thinks I wouldn’t be fucking Joshua if I hadn’t been in the movie. He thinks I never would have thought of doing it if I hadn’t acted the part of a girl that does. Daddy has such weird, naive ideas about things. Doesn’t he think I know about sex anyway? Maybe he means that being in the movie made me conceited, but I don’t see what that has to do with Joshua either, and anyway, I didn’t get conceited. People’ve always told me I’m pretty, that’s nothing new, and I don’t care about it. Anyway, Joshua doesn’t think I am that pretty. He says he likes me because I have such a nice personality. He doesn’t even like red hair!

  Daddy has so many prejudices. I hope it doesn’t get worse once the movie opens. I don’t see how it could get worse, but you never know.

  Saturday Deel had to meet with this group she belongs to at school. They’re going to go on a march against nuclear power next week and they’re planning it now. Deel is very active politically, which pleases Daddy because he used to be too, especially when he was younger, in college. He used to belong to the Young Socialists Club and things like that. Mom had to go down to meet one of the writers for the show about the possibility of them putting her back in as her twin sister. Daddy and I had lunch by ourselves. Then we set out to meet Abigail.

  Abigail is a little bit strange looking. She’s really short, only 4 feet 10, and she only weighs around 90 pounds. She has very short black hair with bangs, and big black eyes. She looks like a little kid in a way, especially since she always wears jeans and sneakers and big floppy sweaters that are much too big on her. I used to wonder if she was gay, but she was married once. Now she’s divorced and has this little kid named Kerim.

  “She has a hard time,” Daddy said on the way to the show. “It’s really tough.”

  “In what way?”

  “Well, she has to work very hard, yet she has Kerim who still needs a lot of attention and care.”

  “Can’t her husband help her look after him?”

  “He lives in Boston . . . he’s not that involved with him. And he doesn’t give her much money.”

  “Does she wish she didn’t have him?”

  “Oh, no, she’s crazy about him . . . but it’s tough.”

  When we got to the show, Abigail was there already. She was wearing this loden coat she has with a hood. When she has the hood on, she looks sort of like a monk. You just see her face with those big eyes peeking out at you. “Hi,” she said.

  Kerim was with her. He had the same coat, only in red. They look kind of alike. Kerim is little and thin with shiny black hair too, only he wears glasses. You always feel sorry when you see a really little kid, just five or six, who has to wear glasses.

  “It’s nice you could come,” Abigail said. “Look, there’s even a line. I’m so glad for Jenny.”

  “Do you know her?” I asked.

  “I used to . . . before she got really well known.”

  “She’s not that well known,” Daddy said.

  “She is, Li . . . you just don’t move in those circles. She’s having a book out in June, and Hallmark wants to use a whole bunch of her photo designs for wallpaper, all that.”

  Daddy raised his eyebrows, as though to say, “So what?”

  “She’s making money hand over fist,” Abigail said, a little mournfully.

  “
I make money,” Kerim said. He took a dollar out of his coat pocket to show me. “See.”

  “That’s pretty good,” Daddy said. “Did you earn that?”

  “I trimmed her prints,” he said, pointing to Abigail.

  “He’s a good worker,” Abigail said. “I pay him two dollars an hour.”

  “What’re you going to do with the money?” I asked Kerim. He was looking at his dollar.

  “I’m going to save it,” he said. “I have a bank account.”

  “Me too,” I said. “I have one.” I had a big fight with Daddy about my bank account. He wants to keep it in both our names, mine and his. I don’t think that’s fair. After all, it’s my money, money I earned, so why should his name be on it? I know why he wants it that way. He’s afraid now that I have a lot of money, I’ll run out and spend it on dumb things. But the thing is, if I want to, that’s my business, and who says I will? He says if the movie is a hit, and I make another one, I’ll earn a lot. I only earned $1000 a week on Domestic Arrangements.

  “So you’re going to be a star, huh?” Abigail said, smiling at me.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well, Lionel said the movie’s opening in December.”

  “Yeah, we’re going to see it next month. Charlie’s giving a party. He’s the director.”

  “Yes, I know Charlie. He’s a friend of mine.”

  “Oh? I didn’t know that.”

  “He’s a friend of mine,” Kerim said. “He paid me five dollars.”

  “For what?” I asked.

  “For being quiet while he took a nap.”

  “That’s pretty good rates,” Daddy said. “I’ll be quiet for five dollars an hour. How come he had to take a nap?”

  “He was tired,” Kerim said.

  “He seems very up about the movie,” Abigail said.

  “I didn’t know you still saw him that much,” Daddy said.

  “Just from time to time . . . God, did he tell you the latest with Beth?”

  Daddy shook his head.

  “Who’s Beth?” I said.

  “His third wife,” Abigail said. “She wants to go to cooking school, and it costs—well, she wants him to pay forty thousand dollars alimony over a three-year period.”