Portraits

by Cynthia Freeman

  When Henry helped Doris into her coat she saw that it had a big grease spot right in front. Some bride.

  The final good-bys were said and Doris and Henry set off for Sacramento, the halfway point between Reno and San Francisco…

  Henry registered at the Capitol Hotel, took Doris to her room, kissed her goodnight, then walked down to his own room. He wanted to get a good night’s sleep. They had to be on the road by seven in the morning and Henry wanted to be bright-eyed and bushy-tailed. Tomorrow was his wedding.

  Doris spent the night wondering what in the world she was doing here.

  It was eleven o’clock when Doris read the highway sign. Welcome to Reno, the Biggest Little City in the West…

  Henry parked on the other side of the bridge—where divorcees usually threw their wedding rings into the creek. As they walked to the courthouse Doris realized there was still one missing ingredient. “Henry, we don’t have a ring.”

  “Oh my God, I’ve been so excited, it never entered my mind.”

  “Well, what do we do?”

  He didn’t have enough money with him for a ring. Besides, when they got home he could get it wholesale from Jerry.

  Just then Doris spotted the five-and-dime. Realizing Henry’s temporary financial dilemma, she suggested, “We could buy a ring in Woolworth’s. What difference does it make?”

  He hugged her. “God, you’re so understanding, Doris.”

  “That’s one of my great virtues…”

  Doris selected a thin gold band that looked like it might turn green before the wedding was over. They stood in line waiting for a license, which was issued with all the pomp and circumstance of getting a subscription to the Oakland Tribune. Doris eyed it as she signed her name, then the date—May 10, 1933. This was certainly the no-nonsense way, as Henry said, to get married—

  “Next,” a voice interrupted.

  They found themselves standing in front of a one-armed justice of the peace, who quickly said, “Do you, Henry…”

  Doris was looking up at the pictures of George Washington and Abraham Lincoln hanging on the wall. Not bad. It wasn’t every girl who could boast that two Presidents had attended her wedding.

  “And do you, Doris, take this man to be your wedded husband, in sickness and in…”

  Her stomach began to churn but her knees were trembling too badly for her to run out now. Almost inaudibly she answered, “Yes…”

  “I now pronounce you man and wife. Congratulations. Pay two dollars to the clerk on the way out. Next…”

  Henry held her in his arms in the hall. “Well, you’re now Mrs. Henry Levin.”

  She didn’t know what to say, because there was no more Doris. She’d finally become extinct. What would mama have said? “It’s wonderful, Henry, and thanks.” Yes, that’s what mama would have said. He kissed her…

  As they sat having their wedding luncheon at the Riverside Hotel Doris looked from the beige coat with the grease stain to Henry. She didn’t feel married, she didn’t feel too much of anything. The lunch was plain everyday food. There was no cake with a bride and groom, no rice, no shoes—just Henry who sat across from her, now her husband because a one-armed justice of the peace had said he was.

  After lunch Henry suggested they leave if they were going to make the drive back in one day.

  “Wouldn’t it be kind of fun to walk around and see the gambling casinos?”

  “Darling, I don’t believe in gambling, and I’m sure you don’t. And besides, I really think we should get started. We have a long drive ahead of us.”

  Henry signed the register at the William Taylor, one of San Francisco’s better second-class hotels, and led her to their room on the eighth floor. After he unlocked the door, Doris found herself standing awkwardly in the middle of the room, waiting for Henry to tip the bellboy.

  When the door shut Henry came to her, held out his arms and said, “Well, darling, can you believe it? We’re married…”

  “It’s…thrilling, Henry.”

  “You are…”

  She shuddered. That was the wrong choice of words; she’d have to remember never to say “thrilling” again.

  “Doris, darling…would you like…to go to the bathroom?” …

  She lay in the tub soaking for what seemed like an hour, and finally Henry knocked on the door. “Are you all right, darling?”

  “Fine.”

  “Well…I’d like to use the bathroom.”

  “I’m getting out.” She lifted the plug and wished she could flow down the drain along with the water. Unfortunately science hadn’t made that giant stride yet.

  When she came out in her negligee, Henry said, “I’ve never seen anything so lovely.”

  She was anything now, not someone or even anyone.

  He kissed her, then walked to the bathroom and closed the door. She sat listening to the water running in the tub. She was not only nervous but on the verge of tears. She picked up the phone and asked the operator to call Ashbury 3—4842. Her pulse was racing.

  Sara answered.

  “Mama,” Doris said, holding back the tears.

  “Doris? Where are you?”

  “In San Francisco, at the William Taylor Hotel.”

  “I’m so happy to hear from you. How was the wedding?”

  “Beautiful…”

  “Oh, I wish I’d had the naches of seeing it.”

  “I would have liked that too, mama…”

  “How’s Henry?”

  “Wonderful.”

  “I suppose he’s walking on clouds.”

  “Actually, he taking a bath.”

  Sara laughed. “Oh, Doris, you’re happy, I can tell from the sound of your voice. The way a bride should sound on her wedding night.”

  “How’s papa?”

  “How’s papa? Like papa, he’s still upset.”

  Doris bit her lip. The guilt and the fear were almost too much for her at this moment. “Can I speak to him?”

  “Wait, darling, I’ll see if he’ll speak to you. Be happy, Doris. And let me know where you’re going on your honeymoon.”

  “I will, except to tell the truth, I don’t know where we’re going. Henry and I never got around to discussing it.”

  “Well, dear, have a wonderful honeymoon.”

  “I will, mama. Let me talk to papa.”

  Henry was out of the bathroom and getting under the covers. “Who are you talking to, darling?”

  “My folks…papa?”

  Her father’s voice did not conceal what he was feeling. “Yes, Doris?”

  “Papa, I want you to know how much I love you.”

  “That’s very nice to hear, Doris.”

  “Don’t be angry, papa, please—”

  “So if you ask me I shouldn’t feel—”

  “I’m sorry if I hurt you, papa, from the bottom of my heart.”

  “All right, fine. So now you’re married, have a good life.”

  “Thank you, papa, I hope so. May I speak to Lillian?”

  Doris heard papa calling.

  Henry shut his eyes and Doris prayed he’d fallen asleep.

  “Doris,” Lillian cried. “Congratulations, it’s so wonderful. I miss you, though.”

  “I miss you, Lillian…”

  “Are you going away for as long a time as Rachel did?”

  “I don’t think so. Keep well and I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

  “Aren’t you going on your honeymoon?”

  “Well, not at eight in the morning, I don’t suppose.”

  “Have a good time, Doris.”

  There was a long pause, then, “I’m sure I will, Lillian. Goodnight.”

  Henry opened his eyes. “Honey, I think you should get some rest. It’s been a…tiring day.”

  The Levins must take resting seriously. That’s how she happened to be here tonight, because Rosalie had said Henry looked so tired. “I will in a minute, Henry. I just want to say hello to Rachel. I didn’t call and tell her we were eloping
.”

  “I’m sure your mother must have told her by now.”

  “I know, but I’d like to call…”

  “Darling, you can call tomorrow. Remember, Doris, this is your wedding night,” her husband said, holding out his arms to her.

  She switched off the desk lamp, then the bedside lamp, took off her robe and cautiously slipped into bed. Henry was soon beside her. He held her close to him, kissed her, then whispered, “Darling, get in the center of the bed.”

  Obediently she moved over and lay very still. Henry’s breathing was speeding up and something strange was touching her…Henry gently pulled up her gown. “Darling, spread your legs apart.”

  As gently as he could, he tried putting himself inside her, but she let out a whimper. The pain…Oh, my God, why had she ever thought of getting married? Now he was working himself in little by little. “I know this is slightly painful, but only the first time. There, there, darling. Now lie still.”

  One or two more slides, in and out, and it was all over. Just as quickly as their wedding…

  So this was what everyone whispered about? This was how Ruby Fox had a baby?

  Henry kissed her, mumbled, “I love you, Doris,” and before she could figure out what to say back, he had rolled over and was fast asleep.

  She got out of bed and went to the bathroom. The sight of her nightgown reminded her of that day long ago when she’d run home to Rachel. I got blood on my bloomers…She soaked the gown in the wash basin and let the water run in the tub. As she lay back in the soothing warm water she wondered if any of the people who wrote those romantic love songs had ever…

  CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR

  IN THE MORNING DORIS was awakened from her restless sleep by a brush of tender lips touching hers. Slowly she opened her eyes and saw Henry’s mustached face. For a brief moment she wondered what he was doing in her bed and why she was in this strange room oh, yes, she’d been married yesterday and Henry was asserting his right—for which he had paid two dollars.

  In between kisses he said, “Good morning, darling…did you sleep well?” Sleeping was going to become a very big subject in their repertoire.

  “Like a rock, Henry, and you?”

  “Never better…”

  And soon Henry’s breathing was beginning to crescendo and what had happened the night before was starting all over again. As Henry pumped away Doris glanced at his wrist-watch on the nightstand. It was seven in the morning. Exercise in the evening and the morning? Well, at least it didn’t hurt so much this morning and, fortunately, Henry didn’t take long to be satisfied.

  “Doris, you don’t know how wonderful it is to make love to you.”

  “Oh, you’re wrong, Henry…”

  “What a difference to make love to your wife.”

  “What’s different about it, dear?”

  “There’s a big difference between just going to bed with someone and making love to a person you’re in love with.”

  “Did you go to bed with a lot of women?”

  “I’m thirty-three, Doris, and man does not live by bread alone.” He laughed.

  “Well, I’m beginning to find out a lot about you, Henry. You must have been quite a lover.”

  “I wouldn’t say that. I had my share of girls, but I never really loved anyone before you.”

  “When was the first time?”

  “She was a lady I used to deliver fish to, a buxom blonde who liked to play with little boys, I think.”

  “Did you enjoy it?”

  “No, not really…She invited me into her bedroom and pulled down my pants, and I didn’t know what to do. In fact, I was scared to death. She took my penis in her hand and began playing with it and naturally I had an erection. Before I knew it, she had me in bed and was telling me about the facts of life—or should I say showing me…”

  “Weren’t you embarrassed?”

  “Sure. Also scared that her husband might come home unexpectedly, but she said he worked until six.”

  “How long did your basic training take?”

  “About three days. Then I told my father I didn’t want to deliver fish to her house.”

  “Then?”

  “Then what?”

  “I mean, how did your love life progress?”

  “Well, at college there were always enough coeds…”

  “You mean college girls did that kind of thing?”

  “Oh, my darling innocent Doris…sex has been around for a long time—”

  “I heard…but how come you weren’t afraid of getting a girl pregnant?”

  “Honey, your sex education has really been badly neglected. You don’t know anything about the facts of life, do you?”

  “Well, it wasn’t one of the topics at the dinner table, but I’m honestly not that dumb. I knew a girl who had a baby out of wedlock, as the neighbors so subtly put it. I wasn’t sure how it all happened until last night. As the novels say, do you think I could be with child?”

  “No.”

  “Why?”

  “Because…look at this.”

  She observed Henry’s shriveled organ. Only a few minutes ago it had been extended like a small sausage but now it looked like something in the casing of a hot dog, and at the tip there was a fluid…This was the first time she’d seen a penis, shriveled or otherwise, and she found it embarrassing. She had to remind herself that Henry was her husband and she had a right to look and ask questions.

  “What’s that?”

  “It’s called a condom.”

  “Oh? And that’s how you know I’m not with child?”

  He laughed again. “That’s how I know. When we come home from our honeymoon, you’ll go to a friend of mine and be fitted for a diaphragm.”

  “What’s that?”

  “A rubber disc that’s inserted in the vagina to cover the cervix—”

  The cervix? Well, she wasn’t going to go into anatomy this morning. Presumably they had a whole lifetime to make this a topic of conversation…“Henry, we’ve never talked about our honeymoon…”

  “I thought it would be nice to drive down the coast to Los Angeles. I have a lot of school friends there who moved from Denver to go into practice. I know they’d love to meet you and you’ll be crazy about them.”

  Henry knew so many things.

  The drive along the coast was long and bumpy, and to make it worse the car was acting up. By nightfall the car chugged into San Luis Obispo, where Henry immediately found a garage. He was shocked when the mechanic told him he had forgotten to put oil into the crankcase and that the transmission was shot. Henry was fuming, the car was fuming and Doris knew papa would be fuming if the new Reo couldn’t be repaired. Well, a man in love forgot a lot of things, like buying his bride-to-be a bunch of daisies or a wedding ring, or taking her to a lovely restaurant for a wedding-night dinner.

  “What the hell is this going to cost?” She hadn’t heard that tone in his voice before.

  “It could cost eighty or ninety dollars,” the mechanic said, wiping his hands on his overalls.

  Well, Henry thought, if he ran out of money he could always get a loan from one of the Phi Sigma Delta brothers in Los Angeles. “Okay,” Henry said, none too happily, “get started on it first thing in the morning. We’re on our way to Los Angeles.”

  “Do my best…Now give me your name.”

  “Mr. Levin.”

  Mr. Levin! Of course, Doris would later find out that Henry never used his title when dealing with tradesmen. It always drove up the price. Doctors were millionaires…

  When John Steinbeck…or was it Bobby Burns?…had so profoundly written, “The best laid schemes of mice and men…” Doris was sure he must have had the Levin newlyweds in mind.

  The three days in San Luis Obispo were hardly Doris’ idea of a honeymoon. They stayed at the Mission Hotel, an adobe building that looked like it dated back to the Spanish Empire, and its monastery atmosphere made Doris feel that perhaps some of the monks were still stomping on the gra
pes in the cellar.

  The weather was a scorching hundred and ten in the shade, and the only shade was at the Mission Hotel. The two dresses she had were not only inappropriate but impossible to wear in the heat because of their long sleeves and weight, so she stayed in her room and read movie magazines or wrote notes home.

  After Henry’s anger over the car had simmered down, he was very attentive and catered to her every whim. Well, almost. They ordered room service for breakfast, but lunch and dinner were a bit steep so Henry returned with sandwiches at noon and delicatessen at dinner. The sardine cans were carefully put into a paper sack along with the empty carton of potato salad and carted down the back stairs, where Henry had found a garbage can…

  When they finally rolled into Los Angeles, Doris took one look at the Biltmore Hotel and knew that at last she was to have the kind of honeymoon she’d always dreamed about. The room was truly beautiful, and every night the maid turned down the bed and left one light softly burning on the nightstand. It looked romantic, just the way it should…

  Henry spent most of the first day calling his “frat” brothers…“Benjie, guess who’s in town?”

  “Cookie! What the hell are you doing here?”

  “You better sit down…I got married.” Henry beamed.

  “You son of a gun, and you didn’t let me know? We went through school and college together…”

  “I can’t wait for my wife to meet you. Let’s get together tonight, Benjie.”

  “Sure. I’ve got news for you too. I’m engaged. Where do you want to meet?”

  “Here at the hotel. I’m at the Biltmore. I’ll get some booze—bellhops know everything if you slip them a few dollars.”

  “By God, Henry, I can’t wait to see you. By the way, have you called Jerry?”

  “No, you were the first. Do you have his number?”

  “Yeah, wait. I’ll look it up…Here it is.” Benjie gave Henry the number. “Wait till you see Jerry. Remember how shy he used to be? Well, he lost his shyness when he married Pamela Rose—of the movie houses by the same name, no less. Thanks to her dad’s connections, Jerry’s got some practice on Wilshire Boulevard. And a house in the Valley to boot.”

  “But he was already a rich kid.”