Friday, August 26, 2016
1986 - Jay
No pain, suffering, death or dying, no maudlin scenes. We lived our lives, and I was fortunate to be a part of it. I forced myself through those moments when it was all so daunting, and then I’d go into their rooms in the middle of the night and watch them breathing and Delaney was a light sleeper and she'd say "Daddy?" and put up her hands.And Gaia. Lips of
pure honey. So warm beside me, like a
bottle of gin. I put my cold hands under
your shirt. You don't mind. Your breathing stutters, then again finds its
rhythm. In your dream, I am fine; we are
all fine.
I wanted to tell her to go on; to be who she set out to
be; to meet someone; someone handsome and funny (not too handsome and funny);
someone who would be good to the children; someone who would help to teach them
well, but we didn’t talk about such things.
We just let them slide.
I'd forget things
and get angry. I'd always been so damned
clever, so fastidious in my ability to remember every minute detail, and now
I'd forget. Paul. It was Paul and I'd have to remind myself,
and my father's name was William. It
wasn't like I'd forget; it was just as if the knowledge was suddenly blurry on
the page, a hiccup. I couldn’t always
remember my phone number, but I’d walk from the room and back again and it
would come to me; things were just increasingly out of reach.
John, Paul, George and Ringo. Richard Starkey. Peter, Mike, Davey, Mickey. To-morrow and to-morrow and to-morrow/
Creeps in this petty pace from day to day. 239 Carroll Canal, Venice, Calif. 90291. Tom Foolery, Otto the Clown, Freda Mende. Bill Mead.
It was nothing. It
was an inconvenience.
The hardest part was telling people. "Oh yeah, by the way…" I told Max.
He took it poorly. He thought I
was kidding. Paige insisted it would all
work out. She wasn't buying into
it. "Look at you," she said. "Beat this." What funny advice.
I called Leo Spivey. We met at the Frolic Room in Hollywood. We sat at the bar by the mural of the stars and got hammered. Just about everyone on that mural was dead:
Louis Armstrong, Bette Davis, Harpo Marx. "Is Frank Sinatra dead, Leo?"
"I'm saying, most of these people are dead."
"Who's 'at guy, God?"
“I an no. I think
it's George Bernard Shaw. Hey 'at's
funny; 'ats Picasso."
"How'd you know?"
"Both his eyes are on the same side of his nose."
"Bartender, my friend here is gonna die, so we're getting
plastered."
The bartender was drying a wet glass on a white
towel. He brought up another round. "On me." He looked at me. He said, "Right
behind ya."
Leo said, "My wife died, ya know. 1978. My daughter was twelve years old."
"You're angry with her. You're still angry with her."
"I'm not angry with her. It's just it's not fair."
"You know what I don't like? I don’t like being whispered about. People are always whispering. In that one respect, I wish it was over." I shouldn’t have driven home, all the way
from Hollywood to Venice. I did
anyway. I don't remember half of it, but
I remember the songs on the radio. They
played "Bennie and the Jets." They
played "Wouldn't It Be Nice." They
played "Groovin'" by the Young Rascals. I got lost. I don't get lost, but
then I crossed Venice Blvd. Venice Blvd.
was only a couple blocks from my house. But which way? I stopped in a
Shell station. "Which way is the ocean?" Two black men pointed. I said, "I thought so."
They played "My Back Pages." It was a sad song: "I was so much older then,
I'm younger than that now."
I stopped at a light. A car full of girls pulled up alongside. There was a redhead about 18 in the passenger's seat. She had long straight red hair, and she kept
glancing over. She had so many freckles
they were almost connected. She was
beautiful. She smiled at me and I smiled
back and the light changed.
We took the kids for a ride along the beach. We stopped at the Jack-in-the-Box and ate by
the pier in Malibu. I took Delaney and
Andrew into the surf. We stayed the
whole day and watched the sun set.
I took time off from work. Goldfram said, you work whenever you like,
kid. I put the kids in the car. We just drove. I showed them everything. I showed them the billboards. "See those billboards? Your grandpa used to paint those." There was a man on the one by the Chateau
Marmont, the one that had been Captain Fantastic.
"There's a man, daddy. Is that grandpa?"
We drove into the Valley. We got snacks at the Glen Mart. We rode by the house in Tarzana.
We stopped in Topanga. There was
no car in the driveway.
I got out and looked around. I got back into the car and we left. I looked in the mirror and in the dust I saw
her. I put on the brakes and turned off
the car. I jumped out. "You’re here.
Why are you here?" She
shrugged. She came to me and put her
head on my shoulder. She knew. "You know?"
"Yes."
"I'm sorry."
"That's you, isn't it? I'm so sad."
"I'm sorry."
"Love you, Jay."
"Love you, sweetheart." We took the kids inside. Andrew
fell asleep on the couch and Daisy slept the whole while in the kid
carrier. It was funny to have Delaney
sitting there on the floor in front of the TV. All the ghosts were there. I
glanced over and saw a teen-aged Laura sitting on the steps with a little
boy. I was glad I went in. I was glad she was there. I was glad that she already knew. Still, there was an awkwardness, and we left
before we should have. I held her in my
arms. "Bye, Jay."
"Bye, girlfriend." These were whispers.
"Bye, little girl.
It was so nice to meet you." They
shook hands like it was a Norman Rockwell painting.
We stopped at Leo Carillo to see mommy. She was there on the beach. An inflatable skiff was up on the shore and
she was sitting on its side eating a ham sandwich. Delaney ran to her. She kissed me. We talked. Her crew pushed the skiff back into the water and we watched them cruise
off around Point Dume.
There was never a time with Gaia that I had to do
anything but say, "This is my wish." If
I was out of deodorant, it would appear magically; if I called to say that I
felt like Chinese, she'd say, "Yeah, that was my plan." And so, the instructions were simple; Gaia
would work it out.
They got up early in the morning and drove to Disneyland
in the Mercedes. Gaia loved her
handbags. She had a big old Hermes bag
that you could have slept in. People
think that ashes are like cigarettes, but they're not, they're chunky and big,
like the remains of a barbecue. She put
them in a quart sized Baggie, like I was an ounce of pot. I'm surprised she didn’t get stopped at the
gate.
She took the kids to see Great Moments With Mr.
Lincoln. They had lunch at the Blue
Bayou. Delaney had a Monte Cristo
sandwich; how she loved it there in the bog. It was daytime outside, but it was nighttime inside and cool, and there
were fireflies in the air. They rode the
Pirates of the Caribbean and the Jungle Cruise and the Mark Twain
steamboat. They watched the Golden
Horseshoe Review. They rode the People
Mover and took a flight to Mars. Somehow
she carted the three of them through the park. She rented a stroller and Andrew was to hold on to one side, Delaney to
the other. In the queue she held
Andrew's hand and Andrew held Delaney's as Gaia hoisted the baby on her hip.
They parked the stroller by America the Beautiful and it
was time. They got in the queue for the
Skyway to Fantasyland. The line was
short. There was little wait. Delaney made a fuss that it was so high, and
Gaia said, "It's for daddy." They made a
deal. It had to be the mint green
gondola. It was there waiting for
them. Number 11. They got in. Gaia with the baby on one side. The kids on the other.
"I want to sit next to you."
"No, you sit next to Andrew. This is what we're doing for daddy." There wasn't ever a time when Delaney didn't
listen, especially if it was for daddy. She sat with her hands clasped on her lap. She looked so cute in a blue gingham
sundress. Andrew had little shorts, a
white polo and blue sneaks. He looked
just like me.
