Rich White Americans

by Virginia Dale

  A pleasant breeze riffled my long, dark blonde hair as I walked towards my studio on Parker Avenue. Dwinelle Plaza’s fountain burbled and sparkled. Despite my close call with mortality last night, I enjoyed the brisk fall weather that was fast setting in. It reminded me of the first day of fall in Arlington, Virginia, where I’d grown up. I could smell the autumn air when it turned from warm to cool; it invigorated me. I was a happy soul.

  As I turned into the brick pathway that led to the studio apartments, I noticed Maria Dolores, the cleaning woman, smiling stout and resolute – waving at me. I waved back.

  “Albert’s there!”

  “Good!”

  I knew Maria Dolores had a hopeless crush on Albert, because she proclaimed it every time she had a chance. Pathetic described her best, I’m afraid. He couldn’t stand her.

  I saw the windowpanes that made up almost an entire wall of my lower level studio. As I walked in, I noticed that Albert’s door was open upstairs. I decided to say hello.

  He was jovial and hospitable, his usual self. He offered me a seat, and I took it.

  “I hope we didn’t disturb you last night,” I said.

  “You had quite a few visitors.” His grin revealed teeth that were straight and even; he had a large, genial smile. He was handsome. That, coupled with his generosity of spirit, attracted me. Here was a man who wouldn’t diminish me in any way. He was kind.

  “Not all of whom were invited.”

  Albert flounced his shoulders and grinned. “You just never know who might drop by.” He giggled.

  “Crutches and his friend Ira dropped by.”

  A frown corrugated Albert’s smooth forehead. “Crutches has a nasty reputation.”

  “I can vouch for that.” I rubbed the spot where he’d clutched my thigh.

  “Did he… do anything?”

  I put my thumb and index finger about an inch apart. “He came that close.”

  Albert inhaled sharply. “How did you get mixed up with someone like him?”

  “I don’t even know how he got my address. He said some of our friends gave it to him, but I think he followed Sally and me home from the Monkey Inn. I told her not to let him in.”

  “Did she?”

  “She thought it was Ed coming to get his bicycle.” My voice had a sarcastic ring to it.

  “Of course she helped you get rid of him.”

  “She suddenly found reason to lock herself in the bathroom. If Fast Freddie and Chuck Buchman hadn’t called, I might not be here talking to you.”

  Albert leaned forward. “You need protection. The next time that happens, scream as loud as you can.”

  “What if you’re not home?”

  “A scream usually scares thugs like that off. You could also keep a handy pair of scissors or a small knife near your bed.”

  “Why do men hurt women?”

  Albert paused. He cleared his throat and said, “I think it’s about asserting manhood by force. Showing women who’s the boss by punishing them. It happens to men, too.” He lowered his head.

  “Oh, Albert!” I unburdened my fears. “I think they wanted to kill me.” My pent-up emotions flowed over and around his kind, sympathetic, understanding heart.

  “You poor thing!” He put his arms around me. I had a good cry.

  “Those boys can be such brutes.” I looked at him through teary eyes. I figured he knew what he was talking about. The Berkeley football team called him the African Queen. It wasn’t easy to be gay in 1963. I hugged him back. Slowly, my pain ebbed away, absorbed by his kind soul. We rocked back and forth for a few minutes. Then, we let go of one another.

  “Would you like some din dins?”

  “I’d love some din dins!”

  “Come on up at about six o’clock and Mama Albert will have some chitlins ready for you, poor child.”

  I stood up awkwardly, wiping away a stray tear.

  “Thank you so much, Albert. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate your kindness.”

  “It’s my pleasure…”

  “A bientôt…” I sang out in the only French I could speak, my minor subject. I walked towards the doorway and down the stairs to my apartment, waving goodbye. No wonder Maria Dolores loved him. Why were some people so wonderful and others so horrible? I’d soon realize that it had to do with cowardice. It takes courage to be kind.

  When I opened the door to my studio, I saw Sally packing a suitcase. “I’m so glad you’re leaving Jerry!”

  She looked up and smiled blandly. “He just got another job in India. He’s taking me with him.”

  “Sally, that man hurts you!” I felt like shaking her to try to shape her up, but I knew better.

  “He’s apologized. He says it won’t happen again.”

  “You told me he terrorized you in India. Why are you going back?”

  She continued to stare at me through opaque, bland, if not blind, eyes. “I won’t have to do any housework. He says we can hire maids for next to nothing.” Her straight bangs hung over an eye that looked bruised.

  “And you’ll take advantage of the poor women in India.” I put my hands on my hips. She wasn’t fooling me. Sally would always try to take the easy way out, which would backfire.

  “I’ll be nice to them,” she said, continuing to fold and pack her shirt-maker dresses, so popular and practical.

  “That’s not the point! Unpack your bags! I’m going to talk to your parents.”

  “You can’t do that!”

  “If you don’t start sticking up for yourself, I’ll never speak to you… Come on, Sally. You’re afraid of Jerry.”

  “He takes care of me.”

  “I’ll say. He makes you pay a steep price for the so-called care. And you’re doing stuff for him, too.”

  Sally wiped her eyes. “We have good sex together.”

  Just then, Jerry walked into the studio.

  “Come on, Sally! It’s time to go!” He gave her a steely-eyed look like a red-eyed rat.

  “She’s not going!”

  Jerry took one look at me and started to laugh. “What? You skinny excuse for a chick thinks she can tell Sally what to do?”

  “Yeah!” I stood between them with my arms crossed over my skinny self. Others called me slender; I wasn’t skinny, and I knew it. “Look, Jerry, you’ve been hurting her and I know it.”

  Sally slammed her suitcase shut. She gave me a puppy-dog pleading look. “Don’t worry, Inny! It’s going to be different this time, isn’t it, Jerry?”

  “You betcha!”

  Jerry grabbed her suitcase and out the door they went. Sally gave me a backwards glance; I could see fear in her eyes. “I’m going to call the police the next time!” I yelled.

  Albert peeked out of his door upstairs. “What’s all the noise?”

  “Jerry’s making Sally go to India again!”

  Albert shook his head. “I know. I can hear them talking and packing. I can hear him smack her, too.”

  “She always makes decisions that… hurt her… and others.” Sally’s decisions hurt me, because I cared about her and kept hoping she’d gain enough confidence to free herself of such a contemptible man.

  Jerry hoisted her suitcase onto his shoulder, grabbing Sally with his free hand. They ran down the brick pathway, headed for another disaster, I was sure.

  Albert motioned for me to come up to his studio. I walked up the wooden stairs and sat down on his sofa.

  “It’s nice of you to try to help your friend, and I know he’s cruel to her, but she’s got to learn on her own.”

  “I don’t think she ever will.” I looked down at his Persian carpet, with its lovely, intricate design. Just like abstract art, only lovelier, I thought. “I’ve been trying to help her for years now.”

  Albert got up to stir something in a frying pan on the stove. “It’s the male dominance thingy.”

  “What?” I sat bolt upright. “Outright male dominance? I thought those days were over!”

  Albert stirred
the omelet and chitlins some more, giving me a wry smile. “Some things are never over. Women can be cruel, too.” He winked at me. “And men can be cruel to each other.”

  “Oh.” I felt deflated. “Well, dominating Sally would be like dominating a kitten… or a flea… or…”

  “I’ve heard him slapping her around more than once.”

  “No!”

  “I live directly above them. I thought you knew.”

  “I’ve seen him kick her out into the hallway, but I didn’t think… I’ve never heard of men slapping women around.” I hesitated and thought about Jim almost slapping me. “I mean, I saw it in a movie once…”

  “Not at home.” Albert gave me a penetrating look. I started to laugh. “My father’s terrified of my mother! She’s the queen. He’s her humble servant; he adores her. If anyone is bossy, it’s my mother.”

  “Is your dad hen-pecked?”

  “He adores my mother. If there’s a draft in the room, she yells, ‘Craig, there’s a draft!’ He jumps up and starts shutting all the windows. If he’d hit her, she’d have divorced him the next day.”

  “Your mom sounds like quite a woman.”

  “She is… Let’s say nothing gets by her.”

  “So, how about some scrambled eggs and chitlins?” He smiled at me.

  “How can I resist?” I smiled back. “Besides, enough about men and women.”

  “It’s all about love.”

  I nodded my agreement. We sat down, ate breakfast, and gave up on humanity for the time being. I knew I was lucky to have a friend like Albert.

  “I’m working on a screenplay about a relationship,” he said while chewing on chitlins.

  “Oh? You mean for a movie?”

  “A movie starring Alexia Roma.” Albert looked up from his plate and gave me a big, toothy grin.

  “She’s a lollapalooza! I’ll bet she’d know what to do with a guy like Jerry.”

  “What would she do if he hit her?”

  I slurped down some of the omelet and put my fork in the chitlins. Albert poured some orange juice; I had some, too.

  “She’d be all over him screaming, kicking, biting; she’d be so indignant, he’d be sorry he ever touched her. Alexia Roma can be ferocious! She’s a great actress! You’re writing a screenplay for her?”

  “I’m supposed to meet her and Alessandro Rossi in Los Angeles to discuss the script.” Albert finished his breakfast. He looked at me.

  I was almost through. “This is delicious, Albert!”

  “I love to cook,” he said with a sly smile.

  It crossed my mind that gay men liked to cook; maybe that’s why he was smiling. I didn’t care; I liked to eat.

  “Isn’t it hard to write something like that?” I was mildly curious, having next to no interest in the film industry.

  “You have to develop an ear for dialogue and an eye for scenes; it’s not easy, but I love writing – good writing,” said Albert.

  “Well, if you want a tough woman’s advice on how another tough woman would react to a slap in the face, I can help you.” I smiled and tossed my head with confidence. “I’ve been in some challenging situations and come out on top, so far.”

  “I don’t think of you as tough.”

  “Just try me,” I laughed. “No, really. A guy tried to rape me this summer, I mean a caveman-style rape, and I got away. He had quite a few scratches on his back, I’m sure.”

  Albert pushed his chair away from the kitchen table. “Inny! How terrible!”

  “No! How wonderful that I escaped! That’s what just went on with Crutches and his buddy Ira. That guy had his hand on my thigh. I was watching my life pass before my eyes when Freddie and Charles called. Brave Sally had locked herself in the bathroom. I was cornered and nearly died of fright.”

  Sheer disgust crossed Albert’s normally benign countenance. “Men can be such brutes.”

  Albert and I exchanged looks that took the sting out of my recent encounter. He sympathized. He cared. He KNEW.

  “I guess some men think I’m easy.” I pushed my chair away, breathing harder at the thought of what I’d been through. “I get pretty crazy when I drink. They call me a cheap heat.” I laughed. “I get high on a can of beer.”

  “I’m glad you didn’t get hurt.” Albert sympathized with such sincerity that I felt like hugging him. “And your drinking shouldn’t affect the way they treat you.” His voice became resonant with indignation when he said that. He understood so well.

  “I probably did what she would’ve done, only she’s bigger than me,” I smiled. “What a body!”

  “She is well-endowed.” A gleam came into Albert’s eye. "I love her almond-shaped eyes… and her playful, yet gutsy, way of…

  She’s got Neapolitan blood."

  “I’m sure she does. If you need any help with a scene, you’ll discover I’m part Italian. I’ll be your gal Friday.”

  “Are you really part Italian?”

  “My grandfather told me there was a Reynaldo in the family tree, so who knows? Who cares? We all came from Luci, you know, the carbon-dated skeleton Leakey found in Africa where Homo sapiens evolved.”

  “That’s right,” Albert chuckled. “You’re a highly intelligent woman… Next thing I know, you’ll tell me all about chitlins.”

  We wiped our mouths with checkered napkins and stood up. A deal had been struck. It was love. Hetero-homosexual love or something on that order. I didn’t care; I lived for the precious moment. I was in love with life.

  Chapter 5

  Fast Freddie called me while I was fixing my usual calves’ liver dinner.

  “Hey, Inny! We’re going to San Francisco tonight! Me and Charles, the one and only, and a few friends. Wanna tag along?”

  I thought of his long, lean, muscular body and sexy, almost slanting, big blue eyes, usually laughing at some hijinks he and Chuck had pulled off. My kinda guy. Fun and good-looking! Plus, he was on the basketball team. In the back of my mind, I was thinking of asking him if he knew anything about Crutches’ whereabouts, since his brother Ned played on the same team. I’d like that guy out of Berkeley; I’d at least like to know if he was still after me.

  “Sure! Where are we going?”

  “Oh, no place in particular. We just thought we’d have some fun.”

  More beer drinking games, I imagined.

  “Okay. When will you pick me up?”

  “In about a half an hour.”

  “That’s pretty short notice. Do you mind if I wear a leotard?”

  He laughed. “You can wear your birthday suit if you want. We’re not fussy.”

  “Okay.” I laughed and put the receiver down. It sounded like my kind of fun, spontaneous, with no strings attached.

  When Freddie knocked on my door, I had my favorite party dress on. I opened the door and Freddie nodded his approval. Chuck was with him.

  “Are you ready to board the Good Ship Lollipop, Miss Inny?” asked Chuck with a chortle.

  “The Good Ship Lollipop? Where’s the candy canes shop? Let’s go!” These guys were characters, and we’d have a good time. What more could I ask for?

  I’d put on my favorite magenta, above-the-knee-length Lanz dress, which meant I’d act as hot as my dress. That dress always enhanced my mood, which was ecstatic.

  Fred jammed in to hustle me out to his funky car, which practically ran on three wheels, especially the way Freddie drove. Chunky Charles got in the backseat with another friend of mine, Lynne, whom he called Miss Lynny. Charles had a name for everyone.

  Before I could say chugalug a beer, Freddie spotted an ambulance, siren blaring. He took off after it. “Here we go!” he yelled.

  Chunky Charles, Lynn, and I shrieked and squealed in delight as he followed the ambulance through every red light on Shattuck Avenue, clear into Oakland. I had to gasp for air to recover from that antic.

  “I thought you said we were going to San Francisco,” I said, breathing hard.

  Freddie turned the car ar
ound, heading back for the hills of Berkeley, namely, for the Sigma Epsilon Alpha fraternity house, where a tub of rum and who-knows-what mixed with soda candy sweet sugar drinks awaited. Several of my former sorority sisters were drinking with some of their fraternity brothers. We joined them. There was a party at their fraternity house that night, even though they no longer lived there, but who cared? Booze is booze. This was what they called a pre-party. It was at a small, unpretentious house next door to the SAE fraternity house, which was pretentious, with Greek columns and a large, lush lawn in front.

  The four of us started downing the sugary brew with the best of them, laughing and joking. As I downed a glass of the brew, one of the fellas told an off-color joke. That was my cue.

  “Do you know the difference between a staple and a screw?” I widened my eyes to look as virginal as possible.

  “No,” said the boy who’d told the joke.

  “Neither do I. I’ve never been stapled.”

  Everyone laughed on cue. I started reeling out my repertoire of dirty jokes just in case they thought I might have been intimidated by theirs.

  Chunky Charles clicked glasses with me. “Miss Inny, you’ve got quite a mouth on you!”

  “No one can shut me up!” I laughed.

  Fast Freddie looked down my dress to see if I was worth the trouble. We kept on drinking until the punch bowl was empty.

  “Let’s dance!” I yelled.

  “Let’s go to the party!” said Freddie.

  We walked next door to the SAE house, noting that a girl had already passed out on the lawn.

  “Guess she had a bit too much to drink,” said Charles.