The train ride was quite an adventure for me as I explored every inch of it. For the week we were on the train, I probably never sat still for more than a minute unless I was sleeping, and it is certain everyone on the train knew my name by trip’s end. Mother made sure of that by scolding me on numerous occasions for things throughout each day and evening I’m quite confident I did, and for things I know for sure I did not. But I just couldn’t sit still—if I did, I would think about home and where I might be sent to school upon our return. So naturally I kept myself busy.
I prayed, and often, that I would not be sent back to Loyola to face humiliation, and that I might even be allowed to go to public school. I was relatively well-behaved all summer and hoped, in God’s eyes, my good behavior would cancel out some of my evil deeds and keep me out of Loyola for good. Please God, I prayed whenever I could.
In the fall, I was never sure whether my prayers worked, or failed miserably. Thankfully, I was not sent back to Loyola, but I was sent to St. Luke’s Academy for Girls in Beverly Hills. My years at St. Luke’s were relatively quiet and without incident, though I would probably attribute that to my own withdrawn attitude rather than the school atmosphere itself. I no longer participated in high visibility activities, preferring to write short stories or read; and aside from the required participation in intramural sports, I kept an extremely low profile.
I shrank from publicity and any situation where I would be subject to any peer ridicule whatsoever. Still, I could not isolate myself from daily contact with other children. As a consequence, I often found myself struggling with deep crushes on my girl friends or other classmates and the odd assortment of nuns. In contrast with my experience and naiveté at Loyola, I kept every painful, amorous feeling toward other girls completely to myself, and silently cursed my parents’ decision to again send me to an all girls’ school for perpetual torture. As an adult, I realized that they had put more importance on me being bullied and distracted from my studies by a boy than the danger of scandal for them by me being around only girls. As a child, it just felt like a cruel joke played on me by my parents.
Once I reached high school, to the great dismay of my parents, I began to question Catholicism specifically and religion in general. Ultimately, I was tossed out of Belmont Catholic High School in the middle of my sophomore year after writing a term paper on Atheism. Although I didn’t cover the particular subject matter in the paper, per se, I had begun to question a religion and a god that would treat men differently than women, and maybe even for its exclusionary rules against people who were homosexual. I cannot be sure now whether that was a significant part of my reasoning then or not, but now I can say with absolute conviction it is a significant reason I am no longer a believer.
Most likely I didn’t get expelled solely for my paper. I’m sure my reaction at the failing grade I received had something to do with it as well. I was incensed at the idea I would get a failing mark based on a well researched paper that simply looked at the pros and cons of religious belief in contrast to Atheism. Although I hadn’t quite made up my mind which side of the fence I would graze prior to the submission of my paper, the enormous red F scratched across my title page shoved me into the arms of the non-believers. I was outraged and felt it vitally important I proclaim my new faith, or lack thereof. As a result, I marched into our Mother Superior’s office and insisted I be excused from Catechism. I would no longer need instruction, I proclaimed, because I now considered myself a full-fledged Atheist.
In retrospect, other methods would have been slightly more appropriate in which to achieve the results I desired. More advantages. Smarter. Ah, but other methods would not have produced the rapid results I sought. Approximately one week later I found myself, for the first time since my horrible experience in first grade, wearing my best weekend clothes in lieu of a uniform, happily deposited amongst the mixed company of boys and girls at University High School in Beverly Hills. For the first time in my whole life I felt normal—just like a regular kid.
Somehow I felt I had won a great victory, but it was not one without a hefty price. Whenever I was at home with my parents, I felt the old burden of shame and guilt descend rapidly upon me. The problem was, having proclaimed myself an Atheist, I was suddenly without the luxury of confession to ease my soul in the slightest, and the weight upon me only grew heavier and heavier—much as it grows today.
TWELVE
Company
The sky was turning yellow-orange, topped by a layer of pale blue, and the imminent dusk light filtered through an obvious haze of rush hour smog. Mackenna walked through the French doors and out onto the verandah to join Eve, who was perched on the edge of a chaise lounge overlooking the Los Angeles basin.
“Feeling a little better?” Mackenna asked.
As Eve looked up from the chaise looking so much like her sister Alice, Mackenna nearly swooned as she tried to compose her stirred emotions. Eve and Alice weren’t identical by any means—where Alice’s hair was long, wavy and strawberry blonde, Eve’s was short, curly and nearly platinum blonde. Alice’s eyes were grey blue, Eve’s were sable brown. Eve had a slighter bone structure and was about an inch shorter than Alice’s five-foot-ten inch frame. But in the face and mannerisms, they were so amazingly similar.
“Oh, words cannot describe, Em,” Eve exclaimed as she jumped up and hugged Mackenna who was more than taken aback by Eve’s exuberant affection.
“I’m clean, I’m rested—I feel human again. What a nightmare…” She plopped back on the chaise and exclaimed, “And this view… wow! Thank you so much—if there’s anything I can do in return for your most gracious hospitality, just name it.”
“Forget it,” Mackenna insisted, still marveling at Eve’s presence in her home.
“No, I mean it, Em.”
Mackenna inwardly cringed.
“Anything,” Eve added emphatically.
“Well, actually, Eve, there is just one thing that would make me really happy.” Mackenna sat down next to her.
“Anything—I swear. What is it?”
“Okay. Well, I actually prefer Mackenna, you know…” She came off as apologetic, uncomfortable about being so weird about her name since she was the one trying to break from the past, not Eve. It did seem slightly unfair to ask Eve to change after all these years, but it was Alice who had first begun calling her Em on a regular basis. It was too close hearing her former nickname coming from Eve’s lips—lips and a voice that were so much like Alice’s.
“Oh god, that’s right. Geez, I’m sorry, Em…” Eve threw her arm around Mackenna’s shoulder and continued with a repentant tone, “I mean, Mackenna. It’s a tough one, you know—I might slip here and there—I hope you’ll forgive me if I do.” Mackenna nodded her affirmation. “But sure,” Eve continued, “of course.”
“Great, thank you. And stay as long as you’d like, all right?” Mackenna said with great seriousness. “You’re always welcome in my home.”
“Get out of here!” Eve protested. “I only need a place to stay for a couple days—a week at the most.”
“Don’t be ridiculous, Eve. It could take months before you find another place. I have loads of room here… Anyway, beyond that flimsy reason,” she added shyly, “I’d appreciate the company.” Mackenna faltered for a moment before continuing. “I’m going through some… stuff right now.” More than she could ever say out loud. “And, well, you’re a familiar face… So please—stay as long as you’d like, all right? I mean it.”
“Geez, I don’t —”
“I’ve already asked Izzy to have the north suite prepared for an extended stay for you—it’s the nicest guest suite in the house—so you’ll have ample room, privacy, and a splendid view.”
Eve began to object but was promptly overruled by Mackenna’s quiet, heartfelt plea. “Please stay, Eve—until you find another place. It would really mean a lot to me.”
Eve playfully groaned. “How can I resist? Of course,” Eve beamed as she gave
Mackenna an affectionate squeeze. “It would be my pleasure, Mackenna,” she added with emphasis.
Mackenna’s response was silent except for the sound of her insides shattering at the mention of her name by Eve. Did she do the right thing, Mackenna wondered, asking Eve to stay with her? She worried that the onslaught of memories would drive her right to the brink of destruction—but then again, she just couldn’t let her go. Not yet. In the past, she had run away from Eve, but Mackenna couldn’t help herself this time. It was almost as if she was compelled beyond her own power to run headlong into her. Perhaps, Mackenna realized, however subconsciously, they had unfinished business, untended too long to let even another day go by without some attempt to put their respective houses in order. But then again, maybe it was simply because Eve reminded her too much of Alice that she had to keep her close.
They ate dinner on the verandah and stayed outside until the night air took on the characteristic damp Pacific chill. Reluctantly, they moved into the sitting room where they sipped herbal tea and continued to talk until early the next morning. Their conversation covered mostly mutual acquaintances, when they had last seen each other, industry gossip and, of course, the earthquake—the mere mention of which seemed to prompt an immediate aftershock.
Yet, there was no discussion of Alice or of Mackenna’s parents, except to mention briefly that her mother and father both died leaving her their estate. Nor was there mention about how large the estate was, when her parents departed this world, or even how they died. It was an exotic dance of avoidance—no direct, personal questions were asked of either party, nor was any direct, personal information offered. And although Mackenna and Eve were both willing participants in the mutual evasion, neither was particularly comfortable.
“Say,” Eve began, “whatever happened to the geeky kid who would come to see you every day in the hospital?”
“Oh. You mean my friend, from, um… Goodfellow? Billy Boikowski?” Mackenna asked, her voice a little softer. “Billy Boy,” she added with a regretful smile.
Eve gently laughed. “Yep, that’s him. Oh, he was so precious, and so devoted to you—like a sweet little puppy.”
“He was…”
“Boikowsky? Ah… so that’s why you call him Billy Boy.”
“Exactly.”
Whatever happened to him?”
“Well,” Mackenna paused for a moment, remembering her friend. “We lost touch after I left Texas, but about seven years later I actually ran into him in New York City.”
“New York? Him? I would never have imagined… Not in a million years.” Eve laughed as she remembered how goofy he was.
“Well, neither would I. Nor would I have ever thought Billy Boy might be gay,” Mackenna added, feigning shock.
“No way!”
“Oh yeah. He went home after the Air Force and married his high school sweetheart as planned. They were engaged the whole time he was in the service, which easily explained why he never dated the whole time I knew him. But shortly after they got married, I guess he realized he’d actually been in love with her brother all those years.”
“Wow… Well,” Eve conceded, “it’s not like that hasn’t happened before. Probably more times than anyone knows, right?”
“Exactly.” Mackenna knew all too well. “So, anyway, eventually Billy Boy went to New York City and got into the theatre scene. He was a musician, you know.”
“Hmm… You know, I do seem to remember hearing something about a saxophone? But —”
“Yes, that blasted saxophone.” Mackenna smiled and shook her head at the memory. “He used to keep me awake all hours honking on that stupid thing. I guess I just didn’t appreciate his ‘art.’ I mean, what the heck did I know? I was trying to sleep!” They laughed.
“He was a lot of fun,” Mackenna continued. “It almost felt like he was the brother I never had. He used to say being friends with me was just what he imagined having a sister would be like. So… it was mutual admiration.” She paused for a moment as a vivid memory of her friend came into focus, then smiled. “I was thoroughly shocked when I ran into him at a little club in the East Village—he had purple hair!”
Eve laughed and said, “I’m not surprised in the least! I’ll never forget those pants he used to wear all the time—ugliest plaid bellbottoms I’ve ever seen.”
“He was a goofball, wasn’t he?” Mackenna wistfully admitted.
They both laughed heartily.
“So what’s he doing now?” Eve asked. “Are you still in touch?”
“Oh. No…” Mackenna’s expression changed abruptly as she struggled for a moment. “He… um…” She sighed. “Billy Boy died,” she said so softly Eve could barely hear her, but she did.
Eve’s hand clutched her chest as she gasped. “Oh no! How? When?”
“Summer of ’89.” Mackenna swallowed hard, then almost whispered, “AIDS.”
“Oh no…” Eve’s face was immediately grief-stricken.
“I know. I know. We kept in touch right until the very end, but…” she closed her eyes remembering. “It was… just… awful. He suffered so much.” Mackenna’s eyes welled up. “You know, he was such a sweet kid—never really grew up. In a good way, that is. It was just… so… unfair. Well, it’s all unfair—AIDS and all—but… I just… Sometimes I miss him so much. He was so real… and funny… sweet.” Mackenna fought back the tears that always came when she thought too long of Billy Boy.
“Gosh, I’m so sorry…”
“Well…”
They sat in silence as Eve processed the sad news and Mackenna remembered, trying desperately to keep her composure. It had been a while since she’d allowed herself to think about Billy Boy, let alone talk about him.
“Hey,” Eve said finally, breaking the silence. “What about that other guy?”
“What other guy?” Mackenna asked, puzzled, though relieved for the change in topic.
“Alice’s friend, um…” Eve searched her memory trying to recall his name.
“Oh… You mean Mitch.”
“Yeah! I wonder whatever happened to him.”
“I don’t know. He was nice, too. He used to be so in love with her. Well, at least that’s what she always told me.”
“I never met him,” Eve admitted. “Funny thing, he never came to the hospital once to see her. Not that I ever knew of, anyway. I always thought that was odd because Alice used to tell me about him all the time; and yes, how he was in love with her and all kinds of crazy stuff. Of course, with Alice’s ego and that damned mischievous streak she had, who knows, right? Still, I’ve always wondered why he didn’t ever visit.”
Mackenna didn’t answer though she knew the reason. He blamed himself. She understood too well.
“He was a real guy, wasn’t he?” Eve asked mischievously.
Mackenna laughed nervously. “Yes, he was. Just… different. He did love her and they were great friends. He just…” There was an awkward pause as Mackenna feared continuing further into uncomfortable territory. “Anyway…”
Eve suddenly sensed Mackenna was uneasy with where the conversation was going so she quickly changed the subject back to the safety of their respective careers.
During their lengthy conversation, Eve had several opportunities to observe Mackenna closely and was fairly surprised at her overwhelming impression. While her gracious hostess smiled on the outside, Eve was left with a distinct sense that something was seriously troubling Mackenna. Eve wondered if it was her parents, but out of respect, she refrained from asking. As she continued to cast furtive glances in Mackenna’s direction throughout the evening, it became more and more clear to her that Mackenna was indeed different than she remembered from their previous, though brief, encounters over the years. Her eyes and her voice seemed flat, dull. Even the way she carried herself was different. But to pinpoint exactly what was wrong, well, Eve just couldn’t.
Her recollection of Mackenna was that of a soft-spoken, graceful woman who also had a distinct vitality t
hat completely embodied her personality—a vitality that was now obviously missing. Beyond the subtle differences of Eve’s immediate concern, however, Mackenna still looked the same. She was as tall as Eve, sleek, her fair skin was like cream, her hair was long, thick and curly with just a slight hint of grey and the greenest eyes Eve had ever seen. As far as Eve was concerned, Mackenna was as lovely as ever. Except, however, for the first time Eve ever saw her, which was as a critically-injured patient in the San Angelo hospital in Texas. But Alice’s glowing descriptions of Mackenna were so deeply embedded in Eve’s mind, that even the initial impact of seeing Mackenna in the hospital and so battered was effectively quashed by the strength of her own mental imagery. Even the scars on Mackenna’s face—nearly gone after seventeen years, and to the uninitiated eye, invisible—seemed to contribute to the wholeness of her splendor. To Eve, they were simply obscure but poignant reminders of the past and the horrible circumstances of their first meeting.
“So,” Eve ventured, “how’s your leg doing these days?”
“Um… uh…?” The look of shock on Mackenna’s face told Eve she had just ventured into uncomfortable, if not forbidden, territory.
“I… um…” Eve began carefully. “I, uh, was just wondering if you were having any troubles with it because it… I mean, you… well, it seems fine, but I… just…” Eve sighed. “Never mind.” She blushed and nervously played with her tea cup. “Dumb question.”
Eve’s embarrassment struck Mackenna as rather endearing, though Eve’s question had taken her completely by surprise. Mostly because people never inquired about her leg—in particular, because they just didn’t know about it.
She laughed softly and answered shyly, “I’m sorry, Eve… it’s fine. I have to admit, though, I have been a little stiff lately. I haven’t been keeping up on my stretching and work-outs like I should. I know I shouldn’t let it go, but… you know, I have to really work out everyday or I get kind of gimpy.”
Mackenna on the Edge Page 12