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Portraits Page 62

by Cynthia Freeman


  She packed a bag and went to her mother’s house. It was in the den that she told her mother and father everything. Doris had no answers. All she could do was to try to help her child through this ordeal.

  Since the apartment was Joshua’s he moved back in, and Michele went to live with her parents.

  There was no community property to settle, so Michele was awarded five hundred dollars a month in alimony, which she didn’t for a minute feel she deserved.

  After living with her parents for three months she told her mother that she simply had to get away from San Francisco, that it was no good for her…“Everywhere I go, I seem to see Joshua. I can’t stand being in the same city with him. It’s destroying me. I don’t want to see anybody, meet anyone, I don’t want to go anywhere…I’ve simply got to go away.”

  Doris swallowed back her fear for her child. “Michele, if ever you need your family it’s now, people who love and care for you. I know how terribly painful things are for you, but running away isn’t the answer. Believe me, Michele, you can’t run away from your problems. They follow you wherever you go. Your only chance is to stay and try to face them…”

  “You know how much I love you, mama and papa, but I’ve thought this over and I’ve decided that I can’t be this close to Josh.”

  Doris saw that she meant it. “Have you thought about where you’ll go?”

  “Yes, I think Los Angeles might be a good change.”

  “But you don’t have anybody there—”

  “I know, and maybe that’s one of the reasons I think it might be good for me. I won’t keep running into people who feel sorry for me—or the ones who gloat that our marriage broke up. In case you hadn’t noticed, nobody’s all that sympathetic. Those dear friends I used to have haven’t even called…oh, the hell with them…”

  “Well, that may be, but please, think it over carefully, darling. And whatever you decide, remember I’m always here. I’m your mother and I love you, and so does your father.”

  Michele sat down alongside her mother, put her head in her lap, and cried like a child…

  CHAPTER SIXTY-FIVE

  MICHELE WAS ABLE TO find a lovely little apartment in Beverly Hills on Crestview Drive off Wilshire Boulevard. She furnished the apartment on time payments, then took a job at I. Magnin. This was a kind of loneliness she’d never known, cut adrift from her family and living among unfamiliar faces. In the evenings she couldn’t even concentrate well enough to read. Weekends were the most difficult time. On Sundays she felt she had to get out of the apartment, and she spent hours just riding around in the bus. By Sunday evening, she couldn’t wait for Monday morning to come so that she could go back to work. She and her mother called each other frequently, but it was hardly the same as seeing her…

  It was three months before she made a friend.

  One of the ladies who worked at I. Magnin was an enormously wealthy widow who found that her life had fallen apart after her husband’s death. She traveled for a while, but then ran out of places to visit. She had no children and found that playing canasta with the girls bored her to tears. In desperation, she walked into I. Magnin one day, went to the manager, who knew her well, and announced, “Herb, I want a job.”

  “Sandra Heller, what do you need a job for?”

  “Did you ever hear of sanity? Is that a good enough reason?”

  “It is…okay, where do you want to work?”

  “Well, the only thing I’m qualified for, I guess, is fine jewelry.”

  “You’re telling me. Between what you’re wearing and what you’ve got in the vault, you have more stock than we do.”

  “In that case, if you’re running low I can sell my own stuff.”

  “Okay, okay…when do you want to start?”

  “Is tomorrow pushing things?”

  “No, that could be arranged. Now, let’s talk about salary.”

  “Screw it.” …

  One day Michele was browsing in the jewelry department during her lunch hour and Sandra Heller asked if there was anything she could help her with.

  Laughing, Michele said, “You could help me with a lot of things. I wouldn’t mind the emerald, the aquamarine, and that beautiful little bauble over there with the star ruby in the center.”

  Sandra laughed. “Do you want me to put them in a paper bag for you?”

  “I wouldn’t mind a bit. Incidentally, I work here too. My name is Michele Wolf.”

  “How is it I haven’t noticed a beauty like you before?”

  “Well, they keep this beauty sort of stashed away.”

  “They ought to keep you right out front. What department are you in?”

  “Junior sportswear, you should forgive the expression.”

  “Oh, that’s the reason I haven’t seen you. I’m a little beyond that age.”

  “But not the size.”

  “With that compliment, you’ve just earned my undying loyalty. My name is Sandra Heller and as you can see I hold forth here.”

  “Well, I wouldn’t mind switching if you’re interested.”

  “Truthfully, Michele, they could have put me in the wrapping department.”

  “Oh, you’d have been wasted there, you’re far too glamorous for wrapping.”

  “I’m getting to like you better by the moment, you certainly know how to jazz up an old gal’s morale…”

  In the next few weeks, Michele often stopped in at the jewelry department and said hello to Sandra, and the more Sandra saw Michele the more she grew to like her.

  One day, when Michele happened to be passing by, Sandra called her over. “What are you doing Saturday night?”

  “The same thing I’ve done for the past six months—nothing.”

  “You are now, if you want to. I’m having a party and I’d love you to come.”

  “I wouldn’t miss it for the world. What time and what do I wear?”

  “Oh, something long and sexy, and say about seven-thirtyish?”

  “How long does it take to get to your place? I don’t have a car so I’ll be taking a taxi.”

  “Don’t be silly, I’ll have you picked up. Where do you live?”

  “On Crestview, off Wilshire.”

  “Okay, write down your address and phone number and I’ll have a very nice guy pick you up. His name is Richard Stein. He’s an architect. Don’t worry about him, I’ve had him screened since he was about four years old.”

  “In that case, I won’t have to call the FBI. Thanks a million, Sandra. Two million. I really am looking forward to Saturday.” …

  Michele found her hands trembling as she began to get dressed. She’d had no idea when she accepted Sandra’s invitation how traumatic this would be. She had been so lonely that she had accepted eagerly, quickly, but now the idea of meeting new people once again frightened her. Richard Stein was surely not a particular concern of hers, nor did she think of him as a date—but he’d be the first man she’d met since her divorce, and the idea suddenly terrified her. She felt so damn unsure of herself that she changed into four different dresses. Nothing seemed right. In frustration, she picked the first thing off the bed. She started to slip into the black long-sleeved gown but then suddenly remembered that it was one of Josh’s favorites and quickly yanked it off.

  She went into the small livingroom and reached for the only consolation she seemed to have. As she sat there, sipping vodka, she thought of calling Sandra and saying she simply wasn’t up to it, but she realized that that was no answer to what she was feeling tonight. You can’t go on living like this, she told herself, spending all your time alone. You’ve got to break with the past and tonight’s the night. Now get yourself up and get dressed…

  Drinking down the last of the vodka in her glass, she walked back to the bedroom and dressed in the red chiffon, the dress Joshua had liked the least…She combed her hair carelessly, applied a little more lipstick and without a second glance at her reflection went to sit in the livingroom, where she waited nervously for the bel
l to ring. When it did, she took a deep breath and called through the intercom, “Who is it?” She was only prolonging the agony. She knew damned well who it was.

  “Richard Stein.”

  “I’ll be right down.”

  If Richard Stein was a little surprised that she hadn’t asked him to come upstairs for her, he was even more surprised when he saw her. There was no shortage of beauty in Hollywood, Burbank or Beverly Hills, but the girl who was standing in front of him now had no competition. Damn that Sandra Heller. When he’d asked her what this new girl looked like her only reply had been, “She’s very pretty, you won’t be embarrassed.”

  Well, that was the understatement of the century. He was a divorced man who’d had his share of romances, but Michele’s beauty left him tongue-tied. He opened the door and awkwardly helped her into his Thunderbird.

  As they drove to Sandra’s he could elicit very little conversation from Michele. She answered his questions in as few words as possible and sat looking out the window as they drove along the fine boulevards and streets.

  By the end of the ride he had decided that she might be beautiful but that she was also dull and going on dumb. Still, with a face and figure like that…

  Sandra Heller lived in a beautiful apartment house in Bel Air. The door was opened by a positively glowing fifty-five-year-old Sandra, dressed in Pucci lounging pajamas and decked out in a profusion of jewels. She embraced Michele as an old and dear friend.

  “You look absolutely divine, Michele. Let me take your wrap and show you off a little.”

  She followed Sandra like an obedient child. It seemed that half of Los Angeles was on hand. She was introduced to John, Nancy, Paul, Judy, Alan, Nicky, Tony, Erica…the list went on and on, and after the introductions were made Michele wouldn’t have been able to call anybody anything except “darling” or “dear” if her life had depended on it. Soon she was being asked what she’d like to drink…Vodka on the rocks, thank you. She turned down the hors d’oeuvre, then stood uncomfortably in the corner, smiling as though she had already heard the punchline to the funny story being told by Michael Somebody-or-other. She wandered off to another corner and caught fragments of conversation about who said what in Variety, and she wandered a little further on and heard bits of gossip about somebody who’d just run off with somebody else’s wife. Then she found herself being escorted to the buffet table by Richard. She had hardly given him a second thought all evening, and by now she was so ill at ease that she merely said, “Thank you very much.”

  At about eleven o’clock she walked out to the terrace and stood at the rail, looking out to the magnificent vista beyond—but all she saw was Joshua’s face. She kept asking herself what she was doing there without him, wondering what he was doing tonight and who he was with. Was he reaching out to her as she was to him? I’m really lost…No matter how much she wanted it to be otherwise, she simply hadn’t been ready for tonight. It was too soon…

  Suddenly she felt the presence of someone beside her. She turned and saw Richard.

  “Penny for your thoughts…”

  “You’d get short-changed, I’m afraid.”

  The answer changed his mind about her. Not dull or dumb, as he’d thought. Sad, lonely maybe…and he knew what the feeling could be like in a crowded room.

  “Would you like to go home, Michele?”

  “Not unless you’re ready—”

  “I’m ready.”

  “You’re sure? I wouldn’t want to take you away—”

  “Look, when you go to four thousand parties a year, one more or less isn’t going to make a big dent in your social life.”

  She smiled for the first time, and although the smile was a little wan, it made her even more beautiful. Taking her by the arm, he said, “Let’s say au revoir to the Perle Mesta of Bel Air.”

  Catching up with their hostess as she circulated among her guests, Richard said, “Sandra, the party was terrific as usual. Hate to cut out early, but I’m going to drive Michele home.”

  She looked at Michele. “If you have a headache, I’ve got aspirin. Why don’t you stay?”

  “Thanks, Sandra. I don’t have a headache, but I’ve had an awfully good time and thanks very much for inviting me. I mean that…it’s been a beautiful party.”

  Kissing her on the cheek, Sandra told her, “Well, it won’t be the last one. I warn you…”

  As they walked to the car Richard said, “How about a nightcap?”

  “I don’t want to seem like a wet blanket, but if you’ll forgive me I’m really a little tired. Saturday’s always a big day in Junior sportswear.”

  Driving off, he said, “I. Magnin ought to have their heads examined. They should have you modeling.”

  “How did you know I worked at I. Magnin?”

  “Sandra told me.”

  “Oh, of course, I’m not thinking…”

  When they got to Michele’s place Richard parked the car, opened the door and helped her out. Without asking, he took her by the arm and led her into the lobby, then into the elevator and up to the fifth floor. At her door he hesitated a moment then asked, “What night are you free next week?”

  She was tempted to say she had all kinds of social engagements and wasn’t free, but she knew she had to stop that…“Wednesday, I think.”

  “Damn, that’s the one night I’m busy. Tuesday? Thursday?”

  “Thursday…”

  “Great. Any special place you’d like to go to?”

  “No, you decide.”

  “Is eight all right?”

  “Fine.”

  He wanted to kiss her, but sensed tonight was probably not the night.

  “Thank you very much for everything, Richard. I’ll see you Thursday.”

  When she’d shut the door behind her, she stood for a long time in the darkened hall. Suddenly she wanted to talk to her mother, but it was twelve-thirty. “God, she’d have given anything to have heard mama’s reassuring voice…She walked to her bedroom without turning out the light and went to the bathroom to undress, letting the red gown fall to the tile and kicking it away.

  She took a long hot shower but it didn’t stop the shivering, and when she stepped out she knew that tonight she was going to have to take two Nembutals…

  The next morning she sat with a coffee cup in one hand and the phone in the other. As so often in the last three months, when she heard her mother her first impulse was to say, Mama, I want to come home. But what she said was, “God, you sound so good.”

  Better than I feel, Doris thought. “So do you, darling. How are you?”

  “You want to know the truth? Kind of lousy this morning.”

  “Why, darling?”

  “Well, Sunday’s the most lonely day in the week, never mind what they say about Saturday…I miss you terribly, really…And I went to a party last night that wasn’t exactly my cup of tea. It was a beautiful party but it was just kind of rough…going out for the first time…”

  “Did anything interesting happen?” She hoped, she hoped…

  “Not especially…but I have a date with a man I met there, Richard Stein, for Thursday night.”

  “I’m happy to hear you’re finally beginning to get out. That’s very important.” And a relief to hear.

  “Hmm, I suppose you’re right, mama. How’re dad and Gary?”

  “Dad’s fine. And Gary made halfback on the football team.”

  “That’s terrific. Is he still seeing Barbara Levy?”

  Doris hesitated. Trying to be off-handed, she answered, “No, as a matter of fact, Gary and I have been having quite a dialog. Suddenly he has a thing about taking Jewish girls out. Or rather not taking them out. I can’t say it doesn’t bother me because it does. But unlike dad, who’s been putting pressure on him, I feel the best way is to just let it run its course.”

  “It seems there’s never a dull moment lately.”

  “Well, it’s not all that critical. He and dad had a little argument because he’s been t
aking out a gentile girl, but he’s only eighteen so I wouldn’t take it too seriously.”

  “That makes sense…Mom, do you think you could come down for a few days? Maybe next week?”

  “Of course, darling. I’ll call and we’ll make arrangements.”

  “Look, I could spend the day on the phone with you, but the phone bills are staggering as it is. I’ll speak to you soon, though.”

  Thursday came and this time Richard came into the apartment. As he entered her livingroom he looked around appreciatively. “God, you have great taste.”

  “Thank you…what would you like to drink?”

  “Scotch, please.”

  “How do you like it?”

  “Rocks, with a twist.”

  “The rocks I have, but the lemon I don’t.” She smiled.

  “Well, if you keep smiling like that I won’t miss the lemon. Incidentally, I have a reservation for Chasen’s at eight-thirty.”

  “In that case, we’d better drink up.”

  Michele studied him closely as she raised her glass to her lips. On Saturday night she’d been so disconnected that she hadn’t noticed how good-looking he was. He was about medium height, with thick brown hair that was just slightly graying at the temples and deep blue eyes. He dressed impeccably, expensively, but it was his beautifully modulated voice that caught one’s attention, without a touch of stuffiness.

  When they got to the restaurant, Michele was surprised to find herself feeling very much at ease as she sipped another vodka.

  “Michele, I’ve ordered something sort of special. Chasen’s is famous for its hobo steak. I hope you like it.”

  Before she could answer, the waiter was standing by their table, carving the steak, and it was every bit as good as Richard said it would be…

  By the time they finished dinner it was a quarter to eleven…and this time when they stood in front of her door he took her in his arms to kiss her goodnight. She backed away from him. “I’m sorry, Richard, but…thank you, it’s been a lovely evening…”

  For a moment her pulling away bothered him but he was certain she wasn’t just being coy. There was more to her than that. He said goodnight as she opened the door, then closed it and proceeded into the safety of her apartment…

 

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