One More Stop

by Lois Walden

  ‘Been busy. Got the painters painting the study. I’m not sleeping in the bedroom anymore; too much noise.’

  ‘Great idea, you can watch television.’ She’s with him. I hear the piano in the background. ‘I’ll call you when I get back.’

  ‘Say hi to Warren.’

  ‘I will.’

  ‘Night, kid.’ We hang up. I sit silently with him in my heart.

  Stop Signs

  ’84

  During one of my daily sessions, I ask Dr Guttman to open a window. ‘After the fourth or fifth patient, couldn’t you use a little fresh air?’ He gets up from his armchair, walks toward two casement windows and asks, ‘Which window?’ I reply, ‘I don’t really care.’ I point to the window on my right. ‘That window.’ With all his might, he tries opening the window. He hits it with his hand, nudges it with his forearm, taps it with his elbow, finally he bangs it with his shoulder. ‘Ouch. It won’t open.’ I suggest that he try opening the other window. He walks over to the window on the other beige wall in his beige office, flips the latch, opens the window, pulls a pink and white starched handkerchief from his trouser pocket, like a good little boy scout, wipes his hands clean with his little hanky, returns to his armchair.

  Reminds me of a story my mother told me many years ago, when I was getting serious about boys … many years ago. ‘He starched my skirt. It was the first time a young man had … one day you’ll understand, when it happens to you.’

  That was my underwhelming birds and bees intro; her strength was not in the details. But, there was Dr Guttman, wiping his hands clean on his sanitary hanky. His every move conjured up the image of her, at the moment, when she was probably wiping her skirt clean. ‘Thank you. I feel better when the windows are open.’

  ‘Good.’

  ‘In the last nine months, since your return from Cape Cod, my father has married and divorced my mother’s best friend, has been trying to fuck or has fucked my lover, and now he has disowned me. Considering what’s gone down, I should have disowned him … considering … You haven’t polished your shoes for days. I discuss it with Dina every time we speak. You once had such shiny shoes. In the old days, when I walked into your office, the appearance of your shoes gave me the feeling that there was order somewhere in the world. From the looks of your shoes, neither one of us is having a particularly orderly life. You don’t have to say anything; I know you won’t. Dina’s convinced you’re overwhelmed with work. I think you’re overwhelmed with life, just like the rest of us. I hope you have someone really good to talk to. Dina says all psychiatrists are crazy; that’s what makes them good.’ He says nothing.

  That evening Dina asks me, ‘Why in the name of God did you have to write him that letter? What was the point?’

  ‘The man was or is trying to fuck my girlfriend.’

  Dina won’t hear it. ‘They’re friends.’

  ‘He doesn’t know how to be friends with a woman.’

  ‘Why would you tell your father, at his age, that you’re gay? It makes no sense to him.’

  ‘I told him because I wanted him to know me. Besides, he’s making a fool of himself. Every time he hits on one of my girlfriends, he looks like an idiot. I had hoped when she died, he would stop making an ass of himself. I was wrong.’

  ‘His sex life is none of your business.’

  ‘When it intersects with my sex life, it certainly is!’

  ‘Your sex life doesn’t interest him.’

  ‘Not one solitary part of my life interests him, except of course Simone. Isn’t that peculiar?’

  ‘You are so much alike. It’s frightening.’

  ‘How is that precious marble monkey collection of his? Has he been moving the pieces from one bureau to another like the lunatic he is?’

  ‘On Mom’s bureau. In front of the mirror.’

  ‘I haven’t told you, have I? Saul Rudman’s taking me to a spa called “Eros Rising”, a retreat center. There’s a communal nude swimming pool.’

  ‘Do you think it’s safe?’

  ‘Is New York City safe?’

  Dina asks, ‘Did I tell you about Burt.’

  ‘Mrs B.’s son?’

  ‘He’s had a nervous breakdown. His ex-wife took him for every red cent.’

  ‘Marriage.’

  ‘Mrs B. is taking care of him. Poor Mrs B.’

  ‘Poor Mrs B. is right. She’s a saint.’

  ‘You should write to her.’

  ‘You keep up with the past. I’m trying to get away from it.’

  ‘Stop trying so hard.’

  ‘I don’t know any other way. I had no guidance from my elders.’

  ‘You had me.’

  ‘That’s not what I call guidance … or elders. How are the kids?’

  ‘They’re odd.’

  ‘They’re yours. What do you expect?’

  Dina sips her wine. ‘I loved my childhood. We were a fine family. When you were born … did I ever tell you the story…’

  ‘Oh no not that again.’ We giggle like little girls in oversized pinafores. The buzzer rings in the background.

  ‘Ralph’s home. I’ve got to finish cooking the brisket. The kids are starving to death. Call Mrs B. Please. Straighten things out with Pop.’

  ‘Not ready for either assignment.’

  ‘Loli, Pop’s too old to change.’

  The phone call ends.

  Next day.

  Once again with Dr Guttman. Both windows are wide open. Through one of the windows, a sliver of light shines on Guttman’s shoes. They are polished. ‘She hasn’t been around lately. I miss her voice. You can close the windows. I feel much better today … I’m going to change my life.’

  ‘Friday night’s dream, on Saturday told,

  Is sure to come true, be it never so old.’

  ‘I mean it.’

  ‘I’m sure you do.’

  Pot Holes

  ’84

  From the moment we met, Saul Rudman and I knew that we were kindred spirits. When the spring of ’84 rolled around, we had only known each other for two years. In the beginning of our friendship, we had one minor hurdle to jump. We were sleeping with the same man.

  Back in those days, Ben Hershey, like myself, was ambivalent about his sexuality. Saul was the only one of the three of us who knew exactly what he wanted between his legs. Ben Hershey’s sweet tooth for both sexes drove Saul crazy. Saul reiterated time and time again: ‘Either you are or you are not. There is no such thing as a true bisexual.’ Having had not nearly enough of what he wanted and deserved, one day Saul walked away from Ben. Fortunately for both of us, he took my phone number with him.

  Ben continued having his cake and eating me too. I tired of being ‘the woman’ in his Whitman sampler life. Eventually, I walked away from Ben Hershey, even though he was a magician between the sheets.

  Saul and I forged a friendship. He had inherited a boatload of money from his father’s insurance business in Wyoming. He loved to party; so did I. Most important of all, we were both in search of the great Lotus Pond in the sky, which we would later find out was right inside ourselves. Saul was my best male friend. He was at my side when my mother died. He held my hand when Simone left town. It was Saul who signed me up for the mind-altering ‘Mastermind’ training soon after the Lothar Bovar debacle. Saul did not like Simone; thought she was an opportunist, thought I was sexually addicted to her. Relieved when Simone left town, he knew that our tempestuous relationship was far from finished. Love is a powerful force, especially when you are the one of the two who wants it more. It damn near makes you crazy. I was crazy … crazy for Simone.

  Late spring 1984, on a sunny day in May in LA Saul pulls up in his Mercedes 260 SL convertible. He honks his horn twice. I grab my bathing suit, close the front door behind me, hop into his car, light up a joint, refuse to fasten my seat belt. For a woman heading toward her first orgy, a seat belt seems a triviality.

  We driv
e down Laurel Canyon, turn right on Sunset, continue through Beverly Hills, Westwood, Brentwood, Pacific Palisades, hit the Pacific Coast Highway, turn right, cruise at a fast clip until we see the feed store on the right-hand corner of Topanga, hang a right, curve around winding canyon roads, turn left at an arrow marked EROS RISING > THIS WAY, right at a second arrow marked ALMOST AT EROS RISING, left and another sign with an arrow >100 yards until EROS RISING. Saul parks his car in front of an old dilapidated 1920s mansion. ‘YOU HAVE ARRIVED … WELCOME TO EROS RISING,’ says a sign in the overgrown front yard. We bound up the old railroad tie steps, Saul pushes open the smoked-glass front door.

  ‘Oh my God.’ I gasp. Nudes, nudes and more nudes. Men and women of all shapes, sizes, colors. Through the bevy of nudists, is an Olympic size swimming pool. In it are hundreds and hundreds of nudists. They are fucking, sucking, splashing, screaming, kissing, groping, smoking, smacking, whacking, and Lord knows what else is going on in that sea of sexuality. ‘It’s like Persephone abducted by Pluto. We’re in the underworld.’

  Saul’s eyes pop out of his head. I grab his hand, search for the undressing room, find it, lead him and me into it, and disrobe. We throw our clothes into a rusted metal locker without a lock, then proceed to the water’s edge.

  A beautiful, long-haired, Asian man with an enormous penis approaches us. The three of us clasp hands, hold our noses, and plunge into the pool. When we come up for air, the stranger kisses Saul. Though he never lets go of my hand, he is clearly more interested in Saul. He fondles Saul’s genitals with his free hand. He kisses me. He shoves one of his lanky fingers deep inside me. Saul stands behind the young man. He fucks him in the ass. I turn around. The foreign stranger fucks me in the ass, plays with my sweet place at the same time.

  On some unspoken cue, we switch positions. It is now Saul’s turn to be the filling in between the cookie. He is not interested in getting it from or in the behind. His primary interest is giving it to the stranger in his behind. As I play with the stranger’s nipples, I hold onto Saul’s balls. Next, it is my turn. I am in the middle. The stranger fucks me from the front. Saul is about to thrust himself into my ass … I can’t do this. I do not belong here. I am disgusting, cheap, repulsive. I cry out loud. ‘I do not want to be in the middle!’ I want to get in a car, roll down the window, listen to the wind, go home, get into my bed, go to sleep. More than anything, I want to be with Simone, want to make love to her and no one else. I don’t want to fuck guys! I especially do not want to fuck my best male friend. That’s not what friends do. I gently place Sauls’s cock in the stranger’s hand. They hardly notice that I am leaving. I run into the undressing room, grab my clothes, and get dressed. On the wall is a sign: TEN DOLLAR DONATION REQUESTED FOR UPKEEP OF SACRED SPACE. Sacred space my ass. I hotfoot it out of the undressing area. I look around. Someone grabs my hand. I am about to kick whoever it is in the groin, when to my amazement, I see it’s Tanya.

  I sob until my bones fall like pickup sticks all over the floor. Tanya takes me in her arms. She strokes my hair.

  ‘It’s gonna be just fine, hon. Shh. Shh.’ She walks me into the overgrown yard, sits me down on the wooden steps. ‘Take a breath, hon. Now another. What the hell are you doing here?’

  I can’t believe it’s her. She fumbles in her pocket for a joint. She lights it up. Obviously, Tanya is no longer involved with Lothar and his egg whites. ‘Hon …you are too damned sensitive for all this free fornicating. You were too fragile for Lothar and no fornicating. This place is just the polar opposite of the same syndrome.’

  I wipe my eyes. ‘When did you leave the group?’

  ‘When the bastard had us disinter a freshly buried corpse from Forest Lawn. He made us drag it back to Fred and Brian’s house on Sunset Plaza Drive, then we sat around it and chanted the Gayatri Mantra for three days, in hopes that the soul would rise. I knew it was high time to get the hell away. You should have smelled their house. They couldn’t even call in an exterminator, too embarrassed. They bought a truckload of mothballs, sprinkled them everywhere. It took months to get rid of both smells. The entire group disbanded after that fiasco.’

  ‘What happened to Lothar?’

  ‘He went into a deep depression when the soul didn’t rise. He jumped off Fred and Brian’s roof, broke his neck, died on the spot.’

  ‘Glad it wasn’t my roof. I would have gone over the edge with him.’ We split our sides laughing. Like making a new acquaintance with an old best friend.

  ‘Where’s your car, hon?’

  ‘I came in my friend Saul’s car.’

  ‘Where’s Saul?’

  ‘In the pool, fucking some oriental guy with a really big penis.’

  ‘God knows how long he’ll be. Come on. I’ll take you home. You still in Laurel Canyon?’

  ‘Do you mind telling me what you’re doing here?’

  ‘I’m the day manager,’ she gloats. ‘It’s a fabulous job. You can’t imagine the perks.’

  ‘Oh yes, I can.’ What a ride home! What a funny, forgiving ride back into each other’s lives. Tanya was and still is one of the wildest madcap characters ever to have crossed my path … The path she herself got me on in the first place. I had convinced myself that Tanya pulled the rug out from under me. She didn’t. That was my doing. A breakdown is a self-imposed visit to one’s own asylum.

  We stop at my house. We exchange numbers. ‘I had a tough time letting go of my expectations,’ she says. ‘I wanted to reach the highest, most enlightened plane before anyone else got there. But now that I’ve given up those four hours of meditating a day, started eating beef, drinking booze, doing drugs, I’m having a damn good time.’

  ‘A radical shift in, well it’s still consciousness, no matter what you call it,’ I said.

  She lights up a cigarette, blows the smoke my way. ‘What’s up with you? You in love with anybody?’

  ‘A French woman in New York. She left me … kind of.’

  ‘What the hell are you doing here? Pack your bags, hon. Go get her. You got to chase after what you want or else you won’t ever know if you just maybe might have gotten it right. Don’t quit now. It’s too soon. So what if she left you. Everybody leaves their lover at least once, usually twice. Hell, I left my first husband three times. We only just got divorced. It’s that Margaret Mead thing. We’re not meant to be with one person. We’re not swans, you know.’

  Monday a.m. – Guttman’s office. Windows are closed.

  ‘I went to a New Age orgy yesterday, Eros Rising, hundreds of people getting it on in a huge swimming pool. You ever heard of it? I guess not. My friend Saul got it on with an oriental guy with a huge wanger. I never want to do that again. I don’t like men. I miss Simone. I want to move back to New York. I ran away from New York. What I ran away from is dead. I have friends there: my sister, the kids, Simone. I want to spend time with the kids before they’re all grown up … I’m tired of therapy. You’ve gotten me through the worst of it. Right now I need something different.’

  ‘It sounds like you have made some decisions.’

  ‘Tanya was there. Remember me telling you about her? No, that was Dr Dot. Lothar is dead. He killed himself, jumped off a roof. My gut tells me that New York is a better place for me. LA doesn’t give me the emotional support that I need. The whole world runs away trying to find itself in this town. So, will you miss me?’ Why the fuck doesn’t he ever say anything? ‘It’s going to take a while to get organized, sell the car, the house, but it’s a good thing, isn’t it?’ Hello … He’ll say something soon enough. ‘You excited for me? I wonder if Simone can handle it? I’m not expecting it to be easy.’ A hundred dollars an hour for this. ‘You know, since my father disowned me, my mother doesn’t have much to say. I miss her. I can still see her long lovely fingers dancing on the piano keys. When she played the piano, she was so beautiful, so talented.’

  ‘You had mentioned that.’ He speaks.

  ‘I like women. They’re softer
than men. Simone’s soft. Her skin. She’s hard in other ways. I hope it works.’

  ‘Yes.’

  He needs to work on his people skills. ‘I’ll see you tomorrow.’

  ‘Same time.’

  ‘Of course.’ Wish he would remember to open the window. Yawn. Leave. Beautiful day. Can’t wait to call Dina. Daylight fades. I would like to paint a picture of the night sky; so many dancing shadows. Phone rings. Damn! Talk to the machine. ‘Dina. Guess what? I’m coming home. Don’t tell anybody.’ Hang up. Dial Simone’s number. ‘Hello.’

  ‘I’m moving back to New York.’

  Silence

  ‘Such wonderful news darlin’. When?’

  ‘As soon as I get myself organized. Aren’t you glad?’

  ‘Oh yes. Very. Je suis très heureuse.’

  ‘I love you.’

  More silence.

  ‘Your father will be so happy.’

  ‘I’m moving back because I want to be with you.’

  DEAFENING SILENCE

  ‘I have to run darlin’. I love you … à plus tard.’ For a long time, neither one of us hangs up the telephone.

  In between the silence … Love is so demeaning.

  Interstates /Road Construction

  (Falling Rock Zone)

  ’03

  After my conversation with Pop, sit down on bed, cry, look at mess in room, kick off shoes, take nap. I am awakened by the phone. It is Molly. She wants to thank me for the afternoon walk. As I am about to hang up, there’s a knock on my door. ‘Wait one second,’ I say. Throw the phone on the bed, trip over some socks, open the door. It’s Maggie. It’s Maggie!? ‘Wait one second,’ I say again, close the door, try to clean up the mess, run back to the phone. ‘I have to get that.’ Molly wants to know who’s at the door. ‘The janitor,’ I say. ‘One second,’ I scream to Maggie. ‘Thanks for the call. See you tomorrow.’ Hang up. Oh my God, now what do I do? Don’t leave her standing in the hall. Look around room. ‘Oh shit.’ Beyond sprucing up. I open the door.

  Maggie is carrying a cardboard box. She enters the minefield, sits down on the sofa, opens the box, places a series of reception cards on the table. ‘What do you think,’ she asks. ‘About what?’ I say. ‘Reception cards for the opening-night party of O Pioneers,’ she says. ‘What about them?’ I ask. ‘Do you like them?’ she asks. ‘It’s four o’clock in the afternoon. What are you doing here?’ I ask. ‘I don’t know,’ she answers. ‘I was driving through town, I passed the hotel, thought you might be in, so I decided to say hi.’ ‘Oh,’ I say. ‘I’m glad you did. Sorry about the mess.’ I don’t know what else to say. ‘It’s not messy.’