by Carol Selick
I thought about my strong women friends like Dani, who’d helped me write “Chained and Tamed Women’s Blues.” Dani was married, but she didn’t let her marital status define her. She’d kept her own last name and called herself Ms., not Mrs. She was ambitious, working on her doctorate in education and teaching a women’s studies class at Douglass College.
Dani had called a few weeks ago to see if we could get together for dinner when she was in town, attending a Women’s Conference at NYU. I had to work at the store and told her I’d never make it downtown in time. I still wasn’t able to take the subway by myself although I did manage to ride it with Eric once or twice. Dani, still her old perceptive self, picked up on my feelings of insecurity, surprising me when she said, “You’re a strong woman, Carol. You can belt out a song! Someday your life will match the strength of your voice. Live your songs, Carol, live your songs!”
Dani wasn’t the first person to tell me that my breathy speaking voice didn’t match my blues mama belting voice. I knew my strength was expressed in my singing, but I hadn’t yet figured out how to integrate it into my everyday life. I lay there thinking about all this for a long time and finally forced myself to shut my brain off. I needed to wake up refreshed. What if Eric were to see me with bags under my eyes!
The next morning I was coming out of the shower when I heard Eric’s key turn in the door. I quickly put on my nightgown and glanced at the clock. Only 10:30—had he slept at all? I was so excited to see him I practically threw myself into his arms.
“Ooh, Baby,” he whispered in my ear as he held me close.
I bent backward, his arms still tightly holding my waist, and looked up at his sweet face. “You grew a beard and mustache! I like it! It brings out your eyes.”
“Yeah, it’s easier when you’re on the road. I’m not gonna let it get too long. What’s under that bathrobe?”
“Has it been that long?” I teased, as Eric led me into the bedroom. “If you try some new moves on me, I’m gonna wonder who taught you them!” I said, only half-joking.
“Not even tempted, ma chérie!”
The last thing on my mind as we made love was how many calories I was burning off. I was under and over him, head to head, head to toe. No move was off-limits until we were satisfied and we’d exhausted all possible paths to pleasure. Eric fell asleep immediately, and I tiptoed into the kitchen to get a glass of water. That’s when I noticed the paper bag he’d put on the coffee table. I was dying to peek inside but didn’t dare ruin the surprise. Somewhere in there must be the gift I was hoping for.
There was no telling when Eric would wake up. I tried distracting myself by opening the piano bench and going through an old notebook with lyrics I was inspired to write the morning after I lost my virginity in a seedy motel on the outskirts of Berkeley to a guy called Richard, whose last name I never knew.
I’m a woman and I need lovin
And I need someone to ease the pain
Of being a woman and needin’ lovin
And the man I’m lovin’s got to feel the same.
The next morning as he drove me home, Richard confessed he was engaged to a woman back East, but I didn’t care. I’d crossed over to womanhood. Richard was just a means to an end. Not until later that day did I start to feel hollow and sad, wondering what it would be like to actually make love.
“I’m a Woman.” That was the name of the song. It was about a woman still believing in true love and Prince Charming. I’d never sung it for anyone and I wouldn’t dare sing it for Dani or Nina. I’d read Betty Friedan. I’d read Gloria Steinem. And still, I felt conflicted, sandwiched between the Women’s Movement and Disney fairytales. Sexual liberation vs chastity, career vs family, sisterhood vs motherhood. Did I have to give up love to be liberated?
I’ve not yet given up my childhood fantasy
Of what I think my true love should be.
Cause I’m a woman and I need lovin
And the man I’m lovin’s got to feel the same.
“Hey, Sexy.”
I looked up and saw Eric staggering towards me, eyes half-closed, hair unbrushed, t-shirt inside out, and sexy as hell. He kissed the base of my neck and took my hand.
“Come here. I’ve got something for you.”
“Is this the surprise you promised me?”
“It is, Babe!” Eric opened the bag and handed me a beautiful hand-painted pastel blue and yellow box. The word Paris was subtly painted in fancy letters on the front of it.
“Open it. It’s about our future.”
“It is?” I asked, praying there would be a ring inside. I opened the lid and found a plane ticket to Paris. What? Were we eloping to Paris? I was speechless for reasons that Eric could never figure out.
“We’re going to Paris!” he shouted, drawing me into his arms. “June 10th!”
“Wow! I don’t know what to say! What’s happening?” I asked, wriggling out of his arms.
“The band’s going on tour to Europe for four months! They said we could bring our girlfriends! Don’t you see, we’ll be living our dream, Carol! It’s all coming together, Babe!”
For Eric, it was all coming together, but I was completely coming apart. How could I have been so naïve to think he was going to propose? What should I do now? Leave New York and put my life on hold for four months? How could I do that? But how could I say no and burst his bubble?
“Phew! June 10th. That’s only two weeks from now.”
“But you’ve got your passport, right? I remember you telling me you got one in college in case the revolution came and you had to leave the country,” Eric said, half kidding, but he had a worried look. “It’s our dream, babe. We’re going to Paris. The most romantic place in the world! What’s wrong?”
“What about all the other places you’ll be touring?”
“London, Amsterdam, Rome—what’s wrong with that? Don’t you wanna see the world? And Paris will be our main location. We can even sublet if you want to stay!”
Eric had obviously given this a lot of thought. I should have been flattered, but I was too upset to feel anything but panic.
“What’s the matter, Carol? I thought you’d be happy. Isn’t this what we always wanted?”
“I don’t know what I want!” I ran into the bedroom, slammed the door, and threw myself on the bed in tears. Just when things were going so well! Was it the three-month curse? I did love him, but was I willing to put my dreams on hold? What about my music? Did Eric just see me as his groupie?
I dialed Bruce and set up an emergency appointment. I needed him to help me sort things out. I paced up and down the bedroom and took some deep breaths until I calmed myself down, Then I fixed my make-up, combed my hair, and walked into the living room. Eric was still sitting on the couch looking serious and pale.
I sat down beside him, took both his hands in mine, and looked into his eyes. “You know I love you, but I need a few days to think about all this,” I said softly.
“Don’t wait too long. I’ve got to tell the band by the end of the week. You know how much I care about you, Carol. This could be a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity!”
He sounded hurt, and his face softened. The only other times I’d seen him looking so vulnerable was when we were making love. That night our love-making was intense and passionate—our bodies saying what we didn’t dare say out loud. Eric was desperately trying to show his feelings for me, and I was desperately trying to hold onto mine.
38
PRINCE CHARMING
And now, my friend, I’m glad you took the time to listen.
Understand, for twenty years I’ve been conditioned to believe
That my Prince Charming really would appear—
And it’s so hard to conquer twenty years of fear,
To stand alone and have my vision clear.
It didn’t take a d
egree in psychology to figure out what had happened between me and Eric. I was dressed in all black—black sweatshirt, black jeans, and black glasses to hide my bloodshot eyes. I walked into Bruce’s office, grabbed the tissue box by the side table, and began to cry.
“What’s going on, Carol?” Bruce asked softly.
“Eric wants me to go on tour with him to Europe for four months,” I stammered between sobs. “That’s what the big surprise was. A plane ticket to Paris, not a ring.”
“You must be very disappointed. What did you tell him?”
“I said I needed time to think about it, but he has to let the band know in a week. The ticket is for June 10th!”
“Could you go to Paris for a shorter visit? Four months is a long time.”
“I don’t know. He was so excited about the trip that he seemed surprised when I told him I needed to think about it,” I answered, wiping my eyes.
“Have you thought about the practical details involved in taking off for four months?”
“Not really, I’ve been too upset.”
“What’s happening with your apartment? Have you heard from Marvin?”
“Yeah, he’s staying in California. If I want to, I can keep the apartment.”
“You do have a lot to consider. Give yourself credit, Carol. The fact that you didn’t say yes right away shows a great deal of maturity. I don’t think you would have reacted like this a year ago.”
“Aren’t you gonna say I told you so?” I asked in a bratty voice.
“No. I can see you’re in a lot of pain.”
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. I know you’re not like that.”
“I think you’ll make the right decision. Let’s talk about it more at your regular time on Thursday.”
When I got home I called Eric and told him I needed to be alone to figure things out. He sounded down and a little angry.
“Okay Carol, but I don’t get what there is to think about—Paris, love, music. It seems like a no-brainer to me.”
I promised I’d see him the following night. I wanted to call Nina, but I was in such a daze that I just plopped on the bed. My mind was going in a million directions. No way was I gonna fall asleep. I spotted Mona’s letter on the nightstand and picked it up. It blew my mind all over again. Someone with real connections believed in my talent and wanted to help me. I wondered what Eric would think about Mona’s offer. How would he feel if I told him that I was going to LA for four months and wanted him to go with me and drop everything?
My thoughts turned to my last conversation with Rose. She’d called to suggest I join ASCAP and asked me to come to her office to sign the song contract. “It looks good, Carol. Things are starting to heat up. Promise me you won’t do something foolish like running off with that cute guitar player! I’ve known plenty of smart women in the music business, even big stars, who did dumb things when it came to men.”
Rose was teasing me and warning me at the same time. How could she have known? Was she psychic? Why did life have to be so complicated? Had Eric just been a diversion? Or a way for me to sabotage my road to success?
The next morning I called in sick. I told Katie I had a bad cold and needed at least two days to recuperate. My voice must have sounded hoarse from all the crying because she readily agreed. Over the year I’d worked at the health food store, Katie and I’d grown closer, but were not quite friends. She kept things professional, but we did share confidences. She’d recently told me her husband was pressuring her to have a baby, and he was upset because she wanted to wait. I agreed with Katie. How could she have a baby and manage a store? Or worse, quit her job and scrounge for diaper money on her husband’s meager intern salary? Lately, it seemed that male-female stereotypes were upside down. Men were acting more impulsively and women were making wise decisions. If only I knew what I wanted!
I rolled over to Eric’s side of the bed, closed my eyes, and replayed our lovemaking. I could still smell the faint scent of Herbal Essence shampoo on the pillow. I’d teased him about using a girls’ brand, but he just laughed it off and said an old girlfriend had turned him on to it and he liked how it smelled. He wouldn’t say anything more about her, but I pictured her with long wavy hair with flowers in it like the woman on the shampoo bottle. I was glad he didn’t give me the details. I was insecure enough as it was.
I couldn’t wait until evening to see Eric, so I called him after I’d showered and drunk my second cup of coffee.
“Hi Baby, are you at work?”
“No, I told Katie I had a cold. All I can think about is you and what’s gonna happen with us.”
“You want me to come over?”
“Yeah.”
“I’ll be there in an hour.”
I wiggled into the tightest jeans I could find and put on my sexiest black t-shirt. I covered the black circles under my eyes with concealer and put on some light pink lipstick to make my lips look pouty. I paced around a while, then walked over to the piano. I’d just played the first chords of Carole King’s So Far Away when Eric walked in. He looked tired and sad, the opposite of how he’d bounced into the apartment just two days ago, all excited to see me and bursting with news.
“You didn’t sleep either?” I asked as he hugged me.
“Yeah, I was beyond surprised by your reaction. I thought you’d be flying high.”
“What if I just went to Paris with you for a couple of weeks?”
“I don’t know.”
“It’s just that I have a life too, and I can’t just up and leave it. I’m not like those other musicians’ chicks. Besides, their boyfriends are probably supporting them.”
“Is that what it’s about? Money?”
“No, I don’t want your money, but I do have to pay the rent.”
“I know Carol, but four months is an awfully long time for me to be without you or . . .”—he hesitated for a minute—“someone.”
I tried to hide my shock. Did I hear him right? Is he saying that he can’t be without a woman and that she doesn’t have to be me? Am I that replaceable?
“You’re saying you couldn’t go without sex for four months? I actually thought you were going to propose to me when you got back from the tour! What a fool I’ve been!”
Now it was Eric’s turn to be shocked. “Whoa! Now it all makes sense. That’s why you looked so disappointed when you opened the box. You thought the ticket was gonna be a ring!”
“Obviously, I was way wrong.”
“I love you, but marriage? I can’t change my life for you, Carol. I thought we had something real and you got what I was about.”
“I thought so too. And I thought you got what I was about.”
We sat huddled on the couch for a few minutes. Then Eric turned to me and held both my hands. “I love you, Carol, but our lives are going in different directions. Let’s not make this any more painful. I’ll just pack up my things.” He reached over and tenderly wiped away the tears from my cheeks.
“I’m sorry. I really wanted it to work,” I said shakily, trying to keep it together. Eric opened his mouth as if he were going to speak, then stopped, got up, and walked into the bedroom without a word. He came out with his clothes balled up in a plastic bag and gave me one last hug. He glanced down at the table, sheepishly picked up the ticket, crammed it in his pocket, turned his back, and walked out the door.
I sat there staring at the Paris box. It was as empty as I felt. When I finally walked into the bedroom, all that remained were some tortoiseshell guitar picks Eric had left on the dresser when he’d emptied his pockets the last night we’d made love.
It was official. Eric was gone.
39
TIME FOR ME TO GO
Goodbye, my friend, it’s time for me to go now.
I think it’s time to bring my soul back home now.
I’ve said all that
I could possibly say,
I’m just hopin’ and prayin’ for a brighter day
When all our daughters won’t have to feel this way.
“You made the right decision, Carol,” Bruce said with tenderness in his voice.
“I really loved Eric. I hope I didn’t make a big mistake!”
“Do you still think he was the right man for you?”
“I don’t know. He was selfish. He put his career first and didn’t respect mine. But now I’m alone. What if I never find love?”
“You will. You’ve come a long way.”
“I don’t know if I can ever get over Eric.”
“Time is on your side. You have a lot going for you.”
“You mean with my music? I could move to LA. Mona would help me get settled, but I’d rather stay in New York. I’m just gonna send her a tape. I’ve got some things happening in New York that have taken me a long time to get.” I seemed to be answering Bruce, but I was actually thinking out loud.
“Like working with Rose? What’s happening with your song?”
“Rose is still waiting to hear from the publisher. He’s pitching it to some sort of werewolf movie.”
“That sounds promising. And think of all the other things you’ve accomplished in one year. It’s hard to be objective but look: You have a steady job, you’re supporting yourself, you stood up to your parents, and soon you’ll be officially renting Marvin’s apartment. Not to mention that you quit smoking.”
“But I’m a big failure when it comes to relationships - Robbie, Joshua, Eric. None of them worked out.”
“You learned they weren’t the right ones for you. That doesn’t mean you’re a failure.”
“I knew I’d be crying today,” I said, reaching for yet another tissue.
“It hurts now, but someday you’ll look back and realize how much better off you are not being with them.” Bruce paused for a minute and gave me a look that pierced my very soul. The intensity rippled through me from head to toe. “They were too weak for you,” I heard him say.