Tales of a Hollywood Housewife

by Betty Marvin

  “Betty, may I come in?”

  I sat up in bed and turned on the side table lamp. “I’m embarrassed for you to see me like this.”

  She came over, gave me a tender embrace, and sat down next to me. She spotted the open book on my bed. “I’m sorry my gift has upset you. As a friend, I wanted to send you a message, but I’m afraid I’ve just made things worse. Please forgive me. You have enough pain.”

  “No, I have to face the truth. I just wish my problems were fiction, like in the novel.”

  “To watch you suffering breaks my heart. You put up such a brave front.” She paused as I dried my tears. “You know, dear Betty, Lee isn’t going to change. How long do you think you can go on like this?”

  “I have to hang on. Maybe he’ll go back to AA. We have four children. I can’t raise them alone.

  “What do you think you are doing now?”

  “I know. But at least we’re a family. I came from a divorce. I promised myself I would never let that happen to my children.”

  “Do you think it’s good for them to see him like this?”

  I fell silent. Then I shook my head and sighed. “Even if I had the courage to raise the kids alone, I can’t leave Lee. He needs me. What would he do?”

  “Lee will always have someone to take care of him. Fame’s like that. Some people will do anything to be near it. Like moths to the flame.”

  “I feel sorry for them.”

  “Don’t. It’s time you think of yourself. You have four kids to raise.” Her words brought more tears and she held me tight. “I’ve said too much.”

  “No. You’re telling me what I already know. It’s just that hearing the words makes it seem so damn real.” I tried a smile. “Believe it or not, I’ll get through this.”

  “Of course you will.” Simone stood up and kissed me on both cheeks. “Try to get some sleep. I’ll see you at breakfast.” She gently closed the door behind her, and I crawled back under the covers.

  20

  Lee's Other Affair: Losing Heart

  THE NIGHT OF the Ship of Fools wrap party at Chasen’s, David, an old friend from Sedro-Woolley High, was in town for a dental convention. I invited him to come along. That day I gave myself the expensive gift of a makeover at Aida Grey in Beverly Hills. After the body and facial massage with exotic oils and creams and then a completely new makeup, including V-shaped, heavy black lines to extend the eyelids for an oriental effect, I returned home with my new face and a bag full of the makeover magic. I marched into Lee’s study.

  “What do you think?” I asked, giving him a good look.

  “About what, sweetheart?” he answered, barely looking up from his script.

  “About me,” I said, putting my face close enough to force his attention. “Don’t you see anything different?” He took a good look.

  “Oh, you’ve changed your hair.”

  “I haven’t changed my hair, and I’m not going to change my hair until Sassoon tells me to change my hair. You’re hopeless,” I said, exasperated.

  “I don’t know what to say, honey. You always look great. You know I don’t care how you look.”

  “Well, you’ll be glad to know I just wasted a day and a fortune at Aida Grey.”

  “Spend as much as you want,” he said, going back to his reading.

  I turned on my heel and muttered, “Thanks.”

  A few hours later David came by the house. Many years had passed, but his appearance was pretty much the same. Of course he was older, had put on a few pounds, and had lost some of his hair. He seemed impressed when I led him through the formal living room into the paneled playroom. I went to the bar and fixed us each a drink. Lifting my martini glass to his tumbler of scotch and water, I made a toast.

  “Here’s to us.”

  The four children ran in and I introduced them. They noticed my new look immediately. Christopher stared at my face.

  “What happened to your eyes?”

  “Mommy’s playing dress up,” Courtenay said.

  “You look funny, Mommy,” Cynthia chirped.

  Claudia giggled. “Funny Mommy.”

  They all laughed. Anna came in and took the hecklers away.

  David took it all in. “Four kids. I can’t believe it.”

  “Neither can I. What a relief not to be pregnant,” I sighed. “How long has it been since we’ve seen each other?”

  “Fifteen years.”

  “No, it can’t be,” I said. “I’m so glad you called. Bring me up to date. Tell me everything.”

  “Well, there’s not much to tell. I get up, go to the office, fill teeth, and come home. My life’s pretty boring compared to yours.”

  “Weren’t you engaged to… what’s her name?”

  David laughed. “Maureen.”

  “What happened to her?”

  “I married her. We had three kids and got divorced.”

  We sat silent, secretly studying each other. He was the same sweet David. “I used to have the biggest crush on you,” I confessed. He lit my cigarette.

  “I never knew it. Probably just as well. This is a far cry from Sedro-Woolley. You know, Betty, you’ve really got it all.”

  I heard Lee’s car. Crossing through the courtyard, he saw me through the window and called out as he came in the door. “Honey, did you pick up my clothes at the cleaners? My flight leaves first thing in the morning.” He spotted David.

  “Darling, this is my friend David,” I said.

  “David the dentist,” he said warmly, extending his hand. “Am I ever glad to see you.” He opened his mouth and pointed. “I had a root canal over four weeks ago. It still hurts. Why is that? Do you think he did the wrong tooth?” Before David could answer Lee looked at his watch. “Jesus, we’ve got to get going. The wrap party is starting. David, you’ll join us.”

  When we arrived at Chasen’s, the fashionable restaurant was packed with the rich and famous. David and I sat in a red leather booth while Lee mingled. David was awestruck and almost fainted when Simone Signoret came over and gave me two kisses. He could barely speak when I introduced them to each other. A waiter brought the soup course. “Oh, my God! There’s Vivien Leigh.” He grabbed a napkin and took out his pen. “I’m too excited to eat. I’m going to mingle.” David wandered off, leaving me alone at the table.

  I was having trouble with my fake eyelashes. One of them fell into the soup. I took out my hand mirror to stick it back on, but after a few failed attempts I gave up, took off the other one, and threw them both into the ashtray. “A person could go blind wearing these things,” I muttered.

  I looked up and watched Lee hopping from table to table, my eyes following his every move. Then I noticed a sexy brunette was also tracking his course. At one point, he came over to her and whispered in her ear. She smiled up at him.

  David returned to the table with a puzzled look and showed me a strange signature. “I thought the guy was John Wayne,” he said. “Boy, this is some shindig.”

  I sighed. “To tell you the truth, I’ve never felt comfortable at these things.”

  After we got home and David left, I ripped off my wardrobe, went into the master bathroom, and took a long look in the mirror. “What a waste,” I told myself and scrubbed off my new face. In bed Lee took me in his arms and studied me carefully. “Now, in this light I see the difference. You look beautiful.” He pulled me into him and we made love. “God, I love you,” he called out at the height of our passion. We lay embraced, energy spent. “Come to London,” he whispered in my ear. “It’s time we put some romance back into this marriage.”

  “What about the kids? I promised I’d take them and their friends to the lodge over spring break.”

  “Take them after you get back.” He took my face in his hands. “Don’t forget, the kids are here because of us. We come first.”

  While Lee began to snore, I lay awake staring at the ceiling.

  Lee had been gone a month, and I was due to fly to London and spend ten days with h
im. We spoke frequently on the phone, but imagining our time together made me anxious.

  Sorting through the day’s mail the day before packing to leave, I picked up The Hollywood Reporter and scanned the news until a bit of gossip caught my attention.

  “Who is the beautiful Brit keeping Lee Marvin company while he’s in London shooting The Dirty Dozen?”

  Damn it, Lee, I thought. You just can’t keep your fly closed, can you? “Put some romance back in this marriage,” he says. What marriage?

  Lee called that evening. “Hi, sweetheart.”

  “Hello, Lee.”

  “Can’t wait for you to get here.”

  “I’m not so sure I’m coming.”

  “What do you mean? I need you here.”

  “Don’t you think it’ll be a little crowded?”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “I just read in the trades you’re not lacking for female company. And I don’t feel like sharing.”

  “Oh, honey, how can you believe that rag? You know they’ll print anything to sell papers. Please come. I want you here. I miss you.”

  I hung up, full of doubts. Finally I called him back.

  “I’ll come, but I want my own place.”

  “What?”

  “I would be more comfortable if you stay at your mews house in Knightsbridge and rent me a hotel room.”

  “Whatever you say. Just get over here.”

  I hung up and waited for my breath to come back.

  Early in the morning, as the plane landed at Heathrow Airport, I took out my compact. Fresh lipstick, a moment of contemplation, and I was off the plane. What in the hell am I doing here? Keep an open mind, I told myself. Give him another chance.

  I didn’t see Lee in the waiting crowd outside the gates. Probably he didn’t want to be spotted, I thought. I started walking toward baggage claim.

  “Hey there, beautiful,” someone whispered from behind me, putting a hand on my waist. I wheeled around and it was Lee, obviously drunk. When he put his arms around me for a kiss, I was turned off and pulled back. His breath, even his clothes, reeked of gin.

  “Don’t be like that, honey,” he implored.

  “You’re drunk.”

  “No, I… Okay, I had one. That’s it. I was so excited about your coming… And now that you’re here, all I want to do is celebrate!”

  “Well, let’s celebrate over breakfast. I’m starved.”

  Lee had made reservations for me at the Dorchester, and after checking in we ordered a full breakfast, starting off with a couple of gin fizzes.

  “Don’t you have to be on the set?” I asked him ruefully. God, I thought, this is familiar. I had him out the door, avoiding his kiss, and was finally happy to be left alone in the beautiful suite he had reserved.

  I didn’t see Lee again until three days later, when he took me to dinner followed by an evening of casual sex. After that we saw each other only spasmodically. He was working long hours and spending a great deal of his free time at the local pub. I was pretty much on my own; but a few friends who lived in London kept me from being lonely, and I was entertained by other members of the cast. Gena and John Cassavetes had a built-in family—members of John’s production company who heard I was on my own and came to my rescue. They might have felt sorry for me, but we had fun nevertheless.

  One evening, Lee and I went to a dinner party at the home of The Dirty Dozen director, Robert Aldrich, where I ran into Robert Ryan, an old buddy from Hollywood for SANE days. He, as the others, knew Lee and I were having problems.

  “At the sake of sounding crass, Betty dear, I wouldn’t dump this marriage too quickly. I see what the deal is, but if you leave Lee, you’ll just end up marrying another version of the same man. They’re all alike.”

  “All of you?” I joked, trying to lighten the moment. But back at the hotel I wondered if Robert had a point. I was looking forward to getting home and back to my analysis. I needed to get my head straight.

  Just back from London, I was unpacking when the phone rang. It was my friend Bev calling from New York.

  “So how was your trip?”

  “Don’t ask. I didn’t see that much of Lee. He was drinking as usual. Frankly, I had more fun without him than with him.”

  “Did you two talk about your problems?”

  “He doesn’t think we have any.”

  “He must be sleepwalking.”

  “I don’t know what’s going on,” I said, “but it smells like an affair. Of course he denies it. I tried to get him to talk to me, but I couldn’t get through to him.”

  “I’m sorry, Betty, but I’m not really surprised. Hang in there, sweetie. I’m coming out.” Bev’s marriage had ended the year before due to her husband’s drinking and infidelity. Perhaps she could teach me a thing or two.

  A week later Bev arrived from New York. That evening we were having a drink by the fire. The kids had been fed and were asleep.

  “I’m starved,” she said. “What time do you usually have dinner?”

  “It depends. If Lee and I are together and he’s coming home, I wait and eat with him.”

  “And how often is that, pray tell? More importantly, why do you do it?”

  “I don’t know. It’s hard to break bad habits.”

  “No comment. Tell me about your trip.”

  “I loved London. I must have stopped into every gallery and bookshop in town. And the theater—”

  “And…?” Bev interjected.

  “Well, I had my chances, Bev, just not with my husband. He was mostly unavailable. Big surprise! But the funny thing is… there were men. Nothing serious. I just mean, everywhere I went, men asked me out or seemed to want to be with me.”

  “Maybe you’re just finally noticing!”

  “Oh, please.” But it was true. I rarely thought of myself with another man all the years of my marriage.

  It had been a month since Lee and I had been together in London. By now, I was dreading his return. I decided perhaps a new outfit would lift my spirits. Might as well let him see me at my best, even though I was feeling my worst. If we were going to go our separate ways, I would give him something attractive to remember me by. He wasn’t the only actor in the family.

  I didn’t feel like driving into Beverly Hills to Jax, the only chic boutique in Los Angeles with all of Rudi’s collection. In my state of mind I’d better stick to Westwood, and that meant Bullock’s. I never cared too much about shopping when times were good, so now I wanted to put as little time and energy into it as possible. I picked out several outfits and found a dressing room. With little enthusiasm, I took off my cotton knit pants and shirt and put on a black linen sheath. After struggling to zip up the back, I looked in the mirror and realized the dress was practically a copy of one already in my closet. Perhaps I should try this red jersey, I thought. The color might pick me up, give me some strength to do what I have to do.

  The sound of two voices sharing excited conversation and laughter in the next dressing room interrupted my thoughts. These women were obviously having fun. Perhaps their exuberance would take away some of my sadness. I listened more carefully.

  “Ya think this is sexy enough?” one asked.

  “What difference does it make? You’re not gonna have it on that long anyway,” the other voice answered. They both laughed. It sounded like a good time ahead.

  “God, I can’t wait to get my hands on that man. It’s been too long. I don’t know how I’ve stood it. Maybe I should get both of these. He can afford it. Do you like this color on me?”

  “I like you better in black, but it’s great for your figure. Your tits look huge.”

  “They are. That’s what he likes, tits and ass.” Again, much laughter.

  Somewhat shocked by their vulgarity, I looked at the reflection of my small breasts and hips and felt another pang of despair. As I listened intently to what sounded like a couple of hookers getting ready to score, I realized what a sheltered life I had led as a wom
an. It had been a long time since I had felt attractive, let alone sexy.

  Then I overheard the first voice say, “When he called last night he told me I was his one and only. He doesn’t want me to come to the airport. He said the limo will bring him right to the beach.”

  “Does that mean his marriage is over?” the other voice asked.

  “I’m afraid to ask. I hope so. I’ve waited this long. I’ll wait as long as I have to. He doesn’t want to be married, but he loves his kids. His wife’s a real ball breaker.”

  This woman isn’t your run-of-the-mill call girl, I thought. She’s some husband’s mistress, waiting for his marriage to end. A familiar chord struck. This could be the mistress in my marriage—in the very next room! I fell into a chair on top of my clothes.

  Was my imagination playing tricks on me? The fantasy took over and panic set in. She mustn’t find me here. I checked to be sure the dressing room door was locked. I’m now the mistress, hiding in the background. We have traded places. Why am I buying a new dress? Am I still competing for my husband’s love when I don’t want him anymore? But I do want him. I want him to be the man I married, the man who loves me and only me.

  When Lee returned we never talked about what happened in London. He went on acting as if I were the only woman in his life, but I knew we were in trouble.

  After he’d been back home for a week, Lee was called back to the set of Ship of Fools for additional dubbing.

  Our friend Larry Hagman phoned out of the blue to see how things were going. He knew Lee was playing around and, being a happily married man, took a dim view of his antics. He invited the kids and me to go out to lunch. While waiting for our orders, the children got into their usual sibling rivalry while Larry continued his best friend therapy. “I don’t know what it is about this business, but marriages just don’t survive.”

  “What about Jimmy and Gloria Stewart?” I said.

  “What about Betty and Keenan Wynn?” he countered.

  “What about them?

  “That was some marriage,” he said. “Betty ran off with Donald O’Connor. Then Gwen divorced Donald and married Dan Dailey. In the meantime, Keenan married Evie, who then ran off with his best friend, Van Johnson.”