No Ordinary Woman

by Valerie Byron

  I brought food with me every night, and provided snacks for the entire cast in the parking lot during intermission. It was great fun and I enjoyed being part of a live production.

  Shortly after the play closed and Nick was back in school, I received a frantic phone call from Delbert Spain one April afternoon.

  “Valerie, do you think Nick could play Young Malcolm in “Macbeth” for us tonight?” he asked earnestly.

  “What? What do you mean?” I queried, not understanding his request.

  Apparently, the young actor who was to play Young Malcolm had fallen ill, and they had no replacement for that night's performance.

  While Nick was still in school, I rushed to our bookcase and found the play among the Shakespearean books we had there. By phone, Delbert and I went through the play, line by line, crossing out extraneous lines to make it as easy as possible for Nick to learn in one afternoon.

  I picked him up from school and we went over the lines from 4 pm to 7 pm until he had them down pat. We drove to the theater, Nick still memorizing in the back seat, and arrived in time for Nick to go through his blocking. Bill and I were frantic. Would he remember his lines? Would he panic? We sat in the audience with our fingers clenched and our hearts pounding. Of course Nick came through with flying colours, and saved the day.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Looking back on the home made video tapes we took on every occasion – trips, parties or just around the house, I see a different woman from who I am today. With short black hair, sorrowful dark eyes and an aura of unhappiness about her – I was definitely not a fulfilled woman. Nothing can take the place of sex, and I had not had an orgasm since 1968. I suffered from PMS and was a bitch once a month, even though I hated myself for it. Hormones ruled and I found it impossible not to be snippy and irritated with everyone. I pitied my family when I behaved this way, but it seemed beyond my control.

  If you've read this far, you are probably wondering what happened to that spunky young girl who only wanted a husband and family to love. She was there, I promise you, hidden under the trappings of family life, waiting to emerge.

  I won't bore you with any further details of my life in the 1990's. It was filled with travel, friends, entertaining, auditions, plays, pets and just plain life. Bill was so into performing musicals with his church that I became his manager and got him an agent. I was Nick's official manager, choreographing his huge audition schedule, piano, dance and singing lessons and generally filling my time with his needs. Unfortunately, Bill was always a ham, and never managed to book a serious role, although he did book two parts in television productions playing... you got it... a court reporter.

  Vanessa graduated from high school in 1990 and was working for various local companies, as well as attending community college. Nick graduated in 1994 with honours, and was accepted as a film student at UCLA.

  In the winter of 1995, my mother's health was failing. She had been in and out of hospitals and was becoming quite frail. By this time, she was 84 years old and still living alone, although she had acquired a very close lady friend who was devoted to helping her.

  My brother's daughter, Josée, was about to marry her fiancé, Phil, and invited all of us to attend the wedding in Sheffield, Yorkshire. Phil and Josée had just had a baby girl, Gabriella, who would also attend the wedding.

  We made arrangements for the whole family, including my mother, to travel to the North of England for the ceremony. Vanessa was to be a bridesmaid and we were looking forward to seeing many of my English friends at the same time. In fact, we invited several of them to travel to Yorkshire to join us for a pre-wedding dinner, a few days before the event. My former best friend, Moira, showed up with her husband; Sue Pethybridge and Richard came with their two girls; Jean and Arthur Taylor from Granada Television; and Aunty Mary, who was now 87 years old, but as spry as ever.

  My brother, Alan, was now divorced from Kath and married to a new woman named Adele. He had three children from his first wife, Jackie: Richard, Jeremy and Josée, the bride. Jeremy, the middle child, had always been a little “off” and had to have special care. We were not sure if it was from having sniffed glue as a teenager, or just a mental imbalance. Although he was a sweet and loving young man, he could not live alone or take care of himself. At 28 he was still a child and often behaved in a destructive manner.

  The night before the wedding, Bill, Vanessa, my mother and I went to visit Alan and his new wife, Adele. We had been told that Jeremy was scared to attend the wedding because so many people would be there. Alan had intended to pick him up and bring him to see us, but Jeremy phoned and said he would rather not come that night. Jeremy explained to his father that he was waiting for his mother, Jackie, to come over and cut his hair, and assured Alan that he would reunite with everyone the next day.

  On the morning of the wedding, the four of us were getting dressed in our room. My mother had the room next door. The telephone rang, and I picked it up.

  “Hi, Val,” said a very sombre voice. It was my brother.

  “I have some bad news,” he went on. “Please sit down.”

  “Jeremy killed himself last night.”

  I sat there, stunned with disbelief. My brother went on to explain that Jeremy had often pretended to commit suicide, to gain attention, but this time he had succeeded.

  He had put his head in a plastic bag, and then turned on the gas in the oven. Jackie had found him last night, dead.

  This was the morning of my niece's wedding. There was no way to cancel it and so they decided to go through with the ceremony and reception.

  Jackie's eyes were red and swollen from crying and it was a sombre wedding party who posed for photographs on the snowy landscape. My mother took the news badly, and retired to her room for the rest of the visit. Everyone tried to act happy for Josee’s sake, but it was a sad group who returned to Los Angeles. We brought Josée, Phil and baby Gabriella back with us for a honeymoon, hoping the change of scenery would help soften the loss of her older brother.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Three months later, in March 1996, Vanessa came to us with some startling news. She had applied to join the United States Air Force and wanted to know how we felt about it. Of course we were shocked, but since we realised she was cutting classes at Santa Monica College, hoped it would be the making of her.

  In June 1996 Vanessa left to start basic training in San Antonio, Texas and we flew out for her graduation six weeks later. When we arrived, with Nicholas, to celebrate her induction into the Air Force, it was to see a newly transformed young woman.

  Vanessa had been a beautiful, athletic young girl, who always had a succession of boyfriends, but she had never felt sure of herself. As Bill and I scanned the lines of marching young men and women parading before us, we searched for our daughter. When we finally spotted her, we could not believe that this confident young airman was our daughter. She had lost a great deal of weight from basic training but had gained an inner composure that she had lacked before.

  After graduation, she was sent to technical training in Witchita Falls, Texas, to learn a trade – finance. We were very proud of her and hoped she would be based somewhere in the United States, not too far away from us.

  Vanessa (with Nick) graduating from Air Force boot camp 1995

  By this time, Nick was almost twenty years of age and in his third year at UCLA. He had done very well there and his grades were good. However, we had recently purchased a computer and I discovered he was using it for very disturbing purposes.

  As Nick had approached adulthood, he had become quite secretive. No longer was he the loving little boy who would tell me everything. Now he would go out at night and come home at all hours, explaining that he had been with his best friend, Veronica. He always had a viable excuse as to where he had been, but I was becoming suspicious. I found magazines hidden under his bed that had a homosexual theme. I started to wonder if, in fact, he was gay.

  One day he brought a young man home
, and I found them in his bedroom chatting. Instinctively I knew something was wrong, and I sat down with Nick to ask him.

  “Please, Nick, just tell me. If you are gay, that is fine. I just need to know.”

  Despite my protestations that Bill and I would accept his homosexuality, Nick continued to deny it. He eventually admitted that he was bi-sexual, liking men and women equally. I wanted to believe him, as the thought of a gay son was very painful to accept.

  He continued to go to all-night raves, and started using drugs. On one occasion, I found that he had met someone on the Internet, and gone to meet him for sex. Bill was not involved in any of this because I was the one Nick confided in. I tried my best to guide my son, but he was bound and determined to do what he wanted. To my dismay, he even started smoking.

  I had quit the habit in 1989 because of Nick's aversion to cigarettes. Now he was smoking himself, taking drugs, having casual sex with men and making me crazy. I was constantly keeping tabs on him, but he was so charming and manipulative, that it was difficult to really know what was going on.

  On the work front, Bill and I had previously introduced my boss, Patrick Crawford, to a beautiful attorney named Lupe Oronoz. They had fallen in love immediately and had been living together for several years. Pat eventually agreed to give up his bachelorhood and get married. The only problem was, he wanted me to arrange the wedding! I had a fast lesson in becoming a wedding planner, and his ceremony and reception were beautiful. That exercise came in useful just six months later!

  In September 1996, we received a phone call from Vanessa. She was still in Texas and had just finished technical training.

  “Mom, I have something to tell you,” she whispered.

  “I just got married.”

  “What?” I shrieked, signalling frantically to Bill to pick up the extension.

  It turned out that Vanessa had met a young man in technical training and they had been seeing each other for about eight weeks, without confiding in us.

  When their training ended, Vanessa was told she would be posted in Colorado and Bryan, her boyfriend, was to be sent to Yokota, Japan.

  They did not want to be parted, so Vanessa proposed. They had married that day in front of a judge in Texas. We knew nothing about our new son-in-law, Bryan Buckmaster, except that he was 21 years old, three years younger than Vanessa, and from Northern California.

  Before we had a chance to meet him, Vanessa was sent ahead to Japan to prepare their home and start her job. Bryan was to join her three months later. Bill and I asked her if she would like us to give her a formal wedding in Manhattan Beach, and she said yes.

  Thanks to my experience planning Patrick’s nuptials, I was able to throw everything together in three months. A friend donated a brand new wedding dress, which was a perfect fit. I obtained a live group of singers, arranged a venue at the Manhattan Beach Country Club, and organized invitations, photographers, flowers, food and cake in no time flat. Vanessa arrived home from Japan in late December 1996, ready to be a bride, although she had not seen Bryan since their quick courthouse wedding the previous September.

  Bryan was a very bright and personable young man. When he knocked on our door in Manhattan Beach, a few days prior to their wedding, I was pleasantly surprised. He was very tall and handsome, and appeared to be crazy about our little girl. I started to relax. We met his mother and step-father and all seemed to be in agreement that perhaps this would be a good match.

  The wedding was a wonderful occasion, and my brother, Alan, flew in from England. Many of our friends and family attended, including Bill’s son, Larry. Unfortunately his wife, Beth, and two children could not attend, but we were happy to have Larry as part of the wedding party. All agreed that Vanessa and her new husband made a lovely young couple and the wedding was a huge success. A few days after the ceremony, Vanessa and Bryan returned to Yokota, Japan for their three-year tour of duty.

  Three months after the wedding, we received a phone call from Bill's daughter-in-law, Beth. (Larry had divorced his first wife and re-married a few years previously and now had a second set of children, Jessica and James.) He had been doing well as an opera singer with the Portland Opera Company, as well as participating vigorously in his church. They were a very religious young family, and Beth and Larry were deeply in love.

  Vanessa, Larry and Nick – 1988

  Beth called to say that Larry was ill. In fact, he was in a coma. We were shocked and had no idea what was going on. Beth didn't seem overly concerned, saying that the doctor felt confident he would come out of it soon. Apparently he had been to the dentist for some work on his teeth, but had failed to take an antibiotic beforehand, as directed by his physician.

  We looked at each other in dismay, wondering what on earth we could do to help. Beth assured us that Larry should be fine, and she would call us later.

  A week later, Nick and Bill were out for the afternoon, playing tennis. I was in the house alone, when the phone rang. It was Beth.

  “Larry has died,” she cried. I could not understand the rest of what she said, due to the tears in her voice.

  Apparently he had suffered from a prolapsed mitral valve in his heart and the bacteria from the dental work had killed him. A later post mortem discovered brain cancer.

  When Bill and Nick returned home, laughing and joking, I had to give them the news. It was one of those days one never forgets . . . telling a father his son is gone. Poor Bill was destroyed, and so was I. We now had two young grand-children to worry about, and were determined to see them as soon as possible.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Nick turned twenty-one in November 1997 and decided to forgo obtaining his degree at UCLA by a few months. He was still auditioning for movie roles, but although many promises had been made, nothing really came through except a few independent films. Frustrated, he decided to give up acting and get a “real” job.

  He had “come out to me” shortly after his birthday, and although this was something I had expected, it still hurt. However, this was my son, whom I adored, and I had to accept him unconditionally.

  Bill was another matter. He found it very difficult to believe that his son was gay and only when introduced to other fathers in his church who had gay sons, did he start to relax about the situation. For this particular situation, I was glad that Bill was easily influenced.

  As the nineties drew to a close we spent more time with Bill's young grandchildren, who flew out from Oregon to spend their summers with us.

  Nicholas got a job with Delta Airlines and Vanessa was thriving in Japan with her husband and rescue parrot.

  In the summer of 1999 Bill, who was by now very much involved in his church, decided to take a trip to Europe with the choir. I was working and could not join him, so remained behind, alone.

  It was on this excursion that Bill became close to a fellow choir member, an English woman. She was unhappily married and found Bill to be attractive and emotionally available. I had no idea what was going on, and received his loving phone calls, totally oblivious to his deceit. He did not confide in me about this woman, except to say they were friends.

  By the fall, I had become involved with an on-line theatrical website called “Wolfesden.” It was composed of actors, would-be-actors and other hangers-on in the entertainment industry. I found the people fascinating and would spend hours logging on to the site, and putting in my two cents worth. Having a computer with Internet was empowering, and I spent hours on-line, exploring various sites. After several months of getting to know the various members of Wolfesden, and meeting the founder, Sterling Wolfe, at a play in Hollywood, I decided to throw a party. I thought it would be fun for all the on-line members of the forum to meet each other in person.

  About fifty people showed up at our house and we had a terrific time. I provided food and drink, and people mingled throughout the house, and by the pool, enjoying getting to know each other. We promised to support each other by showing up at plays and other events, and I f
elt as if I had found a brand new set of wonderful friends.

  I also became involved with several theatrical mothers on-line as well, through another website. They were talking about buying the breakdowns and how difficult it was to get their children seen for certain parts. I was new to all this, and had to be educated as to what it was all about. Apparently a company called Breakdown Services supplied daily casting information to actors’ agents and managers. This information listed the television shows and theatrical films that were being cast, and described the parts that were available. Only agents and managers were eligible to have access to this information. To make a long story short, I agreed to purchase the breakdowns from an on-line hacker who was selling them. The mothers sent me money each month and I, in turn, mailed a personal check to the hacker, and distributed the breakdowns to each of the mothers. Since I had the breakdowns anyway, I offered them at no charge to many of my Wolfesden friends, who accepted them gratefully.

  Needless to say, after six months or so, I was caught. On a Sunday morning, while Nick was sleeping, and Bill was off in San Diego for a commercial audition, there was a banging at my front door. I opened it to discover two Sheriffs standing there. They marched into my house and started checking each room. For a moment, I wondered what Nick had done this time, but was rudely awakened when I was told that it was me who was in trouble. They confiscated my computer, which contained financial transactions and correspondence, and told me that I might be under arrest for copyright infringement. I was in a state of shock and on Bill’s return we contacted an attorney friend who agreed to represent me in court the following year. It was difficult living without computers, as they had become an addiction. I had to rely on my computer at work to notify all my actor friends as to what had happened and why they were no longer receiving the breakdowns.