Dear Velvet,
Do you have any psychic ability? If you do, I hope that you will keep on liking me. If you do not, then I suppose the mirror will eventually convict me anyway. The beautiful, as I stated, can be dangerous. I followed Clara’s advice and chose not to be a wimp. Justice is noble. You are right, Velvet: perhaps we should not discuss what we see in the mirror. Bad things happen, and when the movie is over sometimes it is best to forget. On second thought, I second your second thought: avoidance seems silly. What we witness in the mirror must form the crux of our correspondence. When one is in Hell, what is the point of avoiding bad things? Badness is the inevitability of our circumstance.
I have a terrible feeling that the Final Judgment is yet to come. I keep searching about for signs of heat.
I am happy that you admire Clara’s toughness, as I do. She really keeps me in line. I always kept my relationship with her private, as I did not want the interference of outsiders. Also because Clara is famous, and she asked for my discretion. We both are attracted to gutsy people, perhaps finding courage lacking in ourselves. There is something thrilling about people who are willing to speak their mind, to grab hold of their meanness with both hands. Something brave about ugliness.
If you live in a black-and-white film world, what can be done? Nothing. I always knew that there were only two things in life that brought me happiness: classic cinema and Clara Bow. So I played my scenes with her and kept moving. Now that we have heard “Cut” and found a thespian’s retirement lacking, we are forced to enter into endless and despairing debates about souls. We have souls, Velvet. No use though, no use. I never liked horror films.
Yours very truly,
Brinkley
P.S. Since you were not a silent film buff I cannot ask you questions about those, so tell me this: which is the best movie song, “As Time Goes By” or “Moon River”?
INT. BRINKLEY’S HELL—MIRROR—
VELVET’S CHILDHOOD HOME—BACKYARD—NIGHT
Velvet and Mae/Mother sit on a blanket on the grass, staring at the winking beyonds. A small table nearby is covered with candles; they heft their shivering petals of flame to the sky. Mae/Mother’s hair is platinum blonde.
MAE/MOTHER
Big Dipper, Little Dipper. Where’s Cassiopeia’s Chair? Oh, that’s what I want when I die, my own chair made of stars. Wouldn’t that be divine, Vee?
(silence)
Vee?
VELVET
I’m connecting the stars, making Roman numerals. I’m up to eleven.
MAE/MOTHER
Well, maybe one of your Roman numerals has a special star in it, a star just for you.
She looks at Velvet, her face starlit with eagerness, a child with a cupcake and a secret.
VELVET
What are you talking about?
MAE/MOTHER
I bought you a star for your birthday!
VELVET
What?
MAE/MOTHER
(points)
That one. I’m pretty sure it’s that one.
VELVET
You can’t buy a star. Heaven is free.
MAE/MOTHER
Yes you can! Isn’t it the greatest birthday present ever?
VELVET
You’re joking.
MAE/MOTHER
I never joke about astronomy.
VELVET
You really bought me a star?
MAE/MOTHER
Cross my heart and kiss my kneecap.
VELVET
Show me again.
MAE/MOTHER
I think it’s that bright one, above the Big Dipper.
VELVET
It’s part of my number nine!
MAE/MOTHER
See! It’s meant to be yours!
VELVET
Cross your heart and kiss your kneecap.
Mae/Mother does. Velvet looks up in wonderment.
VELVET
That’s really my star. It’s so beautiful.
MAE/MOTHER
Velvet is the perfect name for a star. Much better than the Big Dipper. Well, I guess that’s a bunch of stars, but still.
VELVET
None of the other kids at school have their own star.
MAE/MOTHER
Of course not. Only very special birthday girls get a piece of Heaven. Are you gonna show it to your friend?
VELVET
What friend?
MAE/MOTHER
You know, what’s her face . . .
VELVET
Delilah?
MAE/MOTHER
Yeah, her.
VELVET
Remember, she’s gone.
MAE/MOTHER
Gone where?
VELVET
I don’t know. She moved. She didn’t leave a forwarding address.
MAE/MOTHER
Oh.
Velvet starts to cry. Her face is tilted up, toward her star.
MAE/MOTHER
Baby.
VELVET
I miss her. I want her to come back.
MAE/MOTHER
Oh dollface, no birthday tears. I’m sure she’ll come back. Then again, maybe it’s a sign that you’re too old for pretend-friends. Maybe she went to find somebody younger.
Velvet cries harder.
MAE/MOTHER
(throwing her arms around Velvet)
Babydoll, my sweet as sugar, don’t cry, don’t cry, I bought you a star, nobody with their own star can be sad, it’s against the rules, the Milky Way rules. Ssshhh . . . I love you, love you, love you, my precious—Oh my God! Doorbell, I heard a doorbell! He’s here! How do I look? Okay? Wipe your face!
She goes flying into the house. Velvet stares at the sky.
INT. BRINKLEY’S HELL—MIRROR—
VELVET’S CHILDHOOD HOME—FRONT HALL—CONTINUOUS
Mae/Mother rips open the front door and leaps into the arms of Toothpick Man, wrapping her legs around him with cobra force. He staggers under her weight. She devours his mouth, a ravenous carnivore.
TOOTHPICK MAN
(trying to wrench free)
Easy, darlin’, easy. Someone missed me.
He drops the stuffed animal he was carrying. Mae/Mother dives for it, squealing like a child at a petting zoo.
MAE/MOTHER
Ooh, for me! So cute! What a sweetie!
She moves to fling herself at Toothpick Man once again.
TOOTHPICK MAN
Whoa, easy honey, it’s not for you, it’s for the birthday girl.
MAE/MOTHER
(pouting)
Oh. Fine then.
She drops the animal.
MAE/MOTHER
Nothing for me?
TOOTHPICK MAN
Well.
(winks at her)
Maybe something for you. I’ll show you later.
He grabs her ass and she squeals. Her squeal becomes a giggle, which descends into a rough contralto come-hither rumble. She puts his fingers in her mouth and sucks, her wet gaze unflickering.
TOOTHPICK MAN
(touching her platinum hair)
You really do look exactly like Mae West.
She moves his hand out of her mouth and onto her breast.
TOOTHPICK MAN
Later, baby. After cake.
INT. BRINKLEY’S HELL—MIRROR—VELVET’S CHILDHOOD HOME—KITCHEN DOORWAY TO BACKYARD—CONTINUOUS
Toothpick Man stands in the doorway to the backyard and calls to Velvet, who still sits on the grass.
TOOTHPICK MAN
Happy Birthday, little lady! Brought a present for you! Come and get it!
Velvet stands and walks slowly toward him. As she passes, the candle flames flick like tongues.
TOOTHPICK MAN
Happy Birthday, sweetheart!<
br />
He scoops her up. Velvet is rigid, her face the inscrutable mask of a wooden doll. Toothpick Man kisses her cheek, sets her down and hands her the stuffed animal.
TOOTHPICK MAN
(calling into the kitchen)
Your daughter gets prettier every time I see her.
(touches her face)
Don’t you, little lady? Let’s have some cake.
INT. BRINKLEY’S HELL—MIRROR—
VELVET’S CHILDHOOD HOME—KITCHEN—CONTINUOUS
Velvet and Toothpick Man sit at the table while Mae/Mother swoops in carrying a chocolate cake and singing at eardrum-rattling volume.
MAE/MOTHER
Happy Birthday to you,
You live in a zoo!
Happy Birthday, dear Vee Vee,
Happy Birthday to you!
She sets it down with a twirl and a curtsy.
MAE/MOTHER
Blow, blow, blow!
TOOTHPICK MAN
Steady as she blows!
The two adults look at each other and dissolve into hysterical laughter. Velvet stares at her candles.
MAE/MOTHER
Make a wish, a juicy wish!
Velvet blows out the flames. Mae/Mother claps wildly and jumps up and down, her vampish figure brimming with bounce and shake. Toothpick Man hoists a drink.
TOOTHPICK MAN
To the prettiest birthday girl in the world!
Mae/Mother stops jumping, and her wobbly flesh comes to an abrupt halt. Her smile is gone. She snatches her drink from the table and downs it.
MAE/MOTHER
(loudly)
Aren’t these flowers gorgeous?
(indicating irises on the table)
I was in a Van Gogh mood.
TOOTHPICK MAN
Hope you wished for something really good, Velvet.
MAE/MOTHER
Yeah, hope you didn’t waste it on world peace.
TOOTHPICK MAN
So what did you get for your birthday?
VELVET
A star.
TOOTHPICK MAN
A star?
He looks to Mae/Mother. She shrugs.
MAE/MOTHER
(airily)
I bought her a star. Show ’im, Vee.
Velvet gets up and goes into the backyard. Toothpick Man follows her.
VELVET
(points)
I think it’s that one.
TOOTHPICK MAN
Prettiest star for the prettiest girl. You get anything else for your birthday?
VELVET
Press-on nails.
Mae/Mother stands in the doorway, illuminated by the light from the kitchen like some burlesque avenging angel. Her hair looks white.
MAE/MOTHER
Can’t get through life without press-on nails.
(drinks)
Can you, Vee Vee?
INT. BRINKLEY’S HELL—MIRROR—
VELVET’S CHILDHOOD HOME—BEDROOM—LATER
The lamp on the night table warms the room. Velvet stands on a chair and blows on her window, writes Roman numerals in the steam. Carnal shrieking reverberates: the sounds of mortal combat. Both fighters are conquered: a final gasp, silence. Velvet’s finger squeaks as she writes. Beneath her row of numbers, she traces the name “Delilah.”
INT. BRINKLEY’S HELL—MIRROR—
VELVET’S CHILDHOOD HOME—BEDROOM—LATER
Velvet is asleep. As though yanked from a dream by her ponytail she sits up, turns on the lamp. Toothpick Man is in the doorway, clad only in his underwear. He teeters slightly, as though standing on a balance beam for the first time.
TOOTHPICK MAN
Hi there, little l-lady. I was just on my way to the bathroom and I wanted to say . . . Happy Birthday.
He staggers into the room, closing the door behind him. His shadow is huge on the wall. Velvet is motionless in bed, her eyes fixed orbs.
TOOTHPICK MAN
You’re the prettiest little girl in the world. Do you know that? I think you do. I think you know that. Don’t you? Don’t you?
Velvet shakes her head. His shadow is huge on the wall. He moves to the bed.
TOOTHPICK MAN
Say it. Say “I am the prettiest little girl in the world.” Say it.
Velvet stares at the window, at her Roman numerals and the name “Delilah.”
VELVET
(whispers)
Delilah, Delilah, Delilah, Delilah, Delilah, Delilah.
His shadow is huge on the wall.
INT. VELVET’S HELL—MIRROR—
BRINKLEY’S BEDROOM—NIGHT
Brinkley stands before his mirror dressed in women’s clothing and shuffling recipe cards. He is anxious, consumed by his thoughts. Clara Bow appears in the mirror, steps out of it.
CLARA BOW
Brinkley!
He jerks into cognizance.
BRINKLEY
What, what, what is it? Oh, Clara! Thank God you’re here. I’m nervous. Scared, I’m scared.
CLARA BOW
Whatcha gotta be scared of, huh? We been ovah everythin’ awready.
BRINKLEY
I forget.
CLARA BOW
Whaddya mean ya forget? Ya got amnesia or somethin’?
BRINKLEY
No. I have recipe cards.
CLARA BOW
And why do you got recipe cards?
BRINKLEY
So I won’t forget.
CLARA BOW
Well they sure as hell aren’t fer writin’ recipes on! I can’t cook nothin’, ’cept stewed prunes. I can stew a prune like nobody’s business. So hurry up, get a pen!
Brinkley rushes to his desk. He plucks a Kleenex from his Cotswold cottage Kleenex dispenser and blows his nose. Then he takes a pen from a brass penholder and returns to the mirror. He shuffles his recipe cards, drops half.
CLARA BOW
Are we gonna be here all night? I could make a movie in less time. Come to think of it, I did make a movie in less time.
BRINKLEY
P-please, Clara. I-I’m nervous.
CLARA BOW
Nothin’ ta be nervous about. You’re doin’ right, sweetheart. You get to be there. You get to be there when she goes. When all her pain goes. And yers. ’Course, ya know what I think uh her. Yer doin’ both uh you a favour. Just be happy ya get to see ’er off. I never got ta do that. I was dancin’ on a table when my ma went. I think I killed her.
BRINKLEY
You didn’t kill her!
CLARA BOW
Yes I did. She disapproved of me. Thought I was a whore. An actress whore. And there I was, dancin’ on a table.
BRINKLEY
Clara?
CLARA BOW
Yeah?
BRINKLEY
Am I a killer?
CLARA BOW
No, Brinkley. Yer a man with recipe cards. And yer gonna set her free.
BRINKLEY
Free.
CLARA BOW
Free. Besides, remember what happened with the cigarette? Remember when she dressed you up like a girl? Now ya like dressin’ like a girl sometimes, but ya didn’t when she was pickin’ the clothes. And remember when she was drunk and crazy? Remember how heavy she was? Ya couldn’t breathe! Now pick up yer cards.
Brinkley bends to gather the spilt cards and, in doing so, drops all of them. His hands are shaky, and he dabs with the cuffs of his fluffy sweater at the sweat dewing his hairline. It takes him quite some time to organize himself.
CLARA BOW
Ya ready?
He stands, neatening the edges of his stack of cards, and poises his pen.
BRINKLEY
Yes.
CLARA BOW
Find a blue pillow.
He writes, “Step #1:
Find a blue pillow” on the top recipe card.
BRINKLEY
What is Step #2?
Clara is suddenly agitated and distracted, paces the floor.
CLARA BOW
I shoulda found a blue pillow, stuck it ovah my father’s face. Instead I brought him to set with me, treated him like a goddamn king. I must be stupid!
(increasingly upset)
I must be as crazy as he was! Nobody loves me, nobody loves me, nobody loves me, nobody loves me, nobody loves me!
BRINKLEY
I love you, Clara! Please don’t forget about me!
CLARA BOW
(ranting)
Everythin’ hurts and I can’t sleep and the pills don’t work and the doctors say I’m a hypochondriac but I’m not! Nobody believes me, nobody listens tuh me!
BRINKLEY
I listen! I listen to everything you say. I hurt too. But my mother hurts more. She hurts so much. Which makes me feel happy. But that’s our secret, right? I play Gilda for her every day but she just cries and talks to herself. It’s hard to sleep with all the noise she makes. But I don’t really sleep anyway.
Clara is calm. She sports a steely look.
CLARA BOW
Make a triple scotch.
BRINKLEY
What?
CLARA BOW
Step #2: Make a triple scotch.
BRINKLEY
I don’t drink.
CLARA BOW
Not fer you, stupid. For her.
BRINKLEY
Oh, yes of course, she likes scotch very much. Very much indeed.
(as he writes)
“Make a triple scotch.” Then what?
CLARA BOW
Get a small bowl of salt.
BRINKLEY
A bowl of salt? What for?
CLARA BOW
Do ya want me tuh tell ya what to do or not?
BRINKLEY
I’m sorry, Clara, so sorry. Please go ahead.
CLARA BOW
All right, then. Get a wet cloth, some Aspirin and a jar of dill pickles.
He scribbles notes on his recipe cards.
CLARA BOW
When in a pickle, eat a pickle! That’s good advice. My favourite food is Chinese, though. That’s the next step. Order Chinese food.
BRINKLEY
What should I order?
CLARA BOW
Chop suey, chow mein, egg rolls and wonton soup. Oh, and make sure they give ya extra fortune cookies. We gotta read our fortunes. But I think I awready know what happens tuh me.
The Delphi Room Page 14