Confessions of a Crap Artist

  Using Mrs. Hambro's library phone I called Nat Anteil. We had found that when we used that phone—as contrasted to the extension in the kitchen or the living-room—we got better results. It was the luckiest phone in the house, and in a situation this grave I wanted everything favorable in the universe to be at work.

  However, I got no answer to my rings. No doubt Nathan was over at the Hume house.

  The next day I called Fay's number several times, and at last got an answer. She said only that she was too busy to talk and would call back; thereupon she hung up, and did not call back. The next contact I had was a printed announcement, mailed by her, of the services.

  I did not attend the services, because it seems to me, as Pythagoras says, the body is the tomb of the soul and that by being born a person has already begun to die. The physical attribute of Charley which would be on display at the mausoleum was of no consequence to a person like myself who is concerned—not with this world—but with the real, that is, the eternal. Charley Hume, or the essence of him, the soul, the spark, had not been extinguished; it still existed as it always had, although now we could not see it. As Mrs. Hambro phrased it, the corruptible man must put on immortality, and I thought that was a good way of putting it. So I did not feel that Charley had left us; he was still hovering in the sky near Drake's Landing. And it would not be very many more days before the rest of us joined him—a fact he was ignorant of when he took his own life.

  During this time speculation throughout the Point Reyes— Tómales Bay area concerned whether Nat and Fay would stay together or whether Charley's death would cause them to break up through remorse. At first the issue seemed in doubt. Neighbors along their road, especially Mrs Bentely, reported that Nat was not spending much time at the Hume home. The children had been taken out of school temporarily, so they could not be asked. But then his car was seen going back and forth once more, and the consensus was that they were once again resuming their relationship.

  The item published in the Baywood Press merely mentioned that Charley Hume of Drake's Landing had “taken his own life,” due apparently to despondency over ill-health. The article mentioned that he had had a heart attack and had been just released from the hospital. It did not mention Nathan at all, only that “he is survived by his widow, Fay, and his two daughters Elsie and Bonnie.” The headline read: C.B. HUME ENDS OWN LIFE.

  The group felt that a much fuller account could have been given, and I prepared a complete factual presentation, describing Fay's relationship with Nathan fully, and informing the public at large that the real cause of Charley's death had not been despondency over ill-health at all but his having discovered that during his period in the hospital his wife had cheated on him with another man. However, the Baywood Press declined to publish this; in fact they did not even acknowledge receiving it—although, to be perfectly fair to them, I must admit that we were careful not to give our names or box numbers in case there was any legal action taken regarding use of the mails, etc.

  However it did not matter whether the Baywood Press chose to publish the complete account or not, since everybody in the area knew the real story anyhow. It was the main topic of discussion at the post office and the grocery store for weeks on end. And certainly, in a democracy, this is right. The public should know the facts. Otherwise it can't judge.

  In reference to the element of judgment, it was our observation that the average opinion in the area ran fairly strongly against Fay and Nat, and quite often we heard words of censure—although, of course, these were not delivered to either of them, and certainly not to the children. The Bluebirds continued to meet under Fay's guidance at the Hume household. Fay still attended the dance group, and none of the women either resigned or withdrew their children. The only overt action taken in reprimand of Fay and Nat was that some residents ceased waving to them when their car passed, and two or three mothers that I know of declined to permit their daughters to be picked up by Fay to play in the afternoons at the Hume house. But of course that had begun before Charley's death; it took place as soon as the group promulgated the original dramatized presentation that I made available to them. Mrs. Hambro had had it mimeographed and mailed out to the list of residents that she had gotten from the Republican Party in Marin County, so persons as far away as Novato had been fully informed.

  I don't think that either Nat or Fay were too conscious of this public disapproval, since they had had so many problems of their own to settle. For a fact I know that they were concerned with the two children hearing something unpleasant on the playground, but when this did not transpire, their apprehension diminished. Outside ofthat, they seemed more interested in how to arrange their own lives, and I did not blame them for being wrapped up in that; they certainly had overwhelming moral and practical problems to cope with.

  A week or so later I received a letter from an attorney in San Rafael named Walter W. Sipe, informing me that I was wanted at ten in the morning on April 6th in his office on B Street. It had to do with the C.B. Hume estate.

  Mrs. Hambro felt very strongly that I should be there; she not only urged me to go but promised to drive me down. So on that morning, having put on a coat and slacks and tie of Mr. Hambro's, I was driven down by Mrs. Hambro and let off at the lawyer's office building.

  In the office I found Fay and the two girls and some adults that I had never seen before. Later I learned that some of them had worked for Charley at his plant in Petaluma and some were relatives of his who had flown out from Chicago.

  Nat, of course, was not present.

  We were given chairs, and after we had seated ourselves the lawyer read us the will that Charley had made out. I could make little or no sense out of it. It was not until days later that I understood what it meant. Legal language being what it is, I am still not sure about certain details. In any case, the gist of the disposition of his estate was this. Mainly, he was concerned about his two daughters, which was understandable. Since he had had a good deal of distrust of Fay for years—which I had recognized already—he had started a process of withdrawing capital from his plant and putting that capital into stocks and bonds in the children's names. This had all been done before his death. The plant, then, was not worth nearly as much as might have been thought; in fact, it had been bled to the bone.

  Under California Community Property law, one half of all assets acquired during the marriage belonged to Fay. Charley, in his will, could not dispose of that. But the stocks and bonds no longer belonged to either him or Fay; they belonged to the children. So he had gotten most of his assets out of his and Fay's hands, and into the girls'. In addition, he had instructed that the bulk of the estate be put into a fund to be administered by Mr. Sipe for the girls' benefit, and that at their twenty-first birthday the fund be turned over to them.

  So not only did the girls own the stocks and bonds but they also got his share of the plant in Petaluma. The stocks and bonds, although belonging to them, were to be kept in trust by his brother, who had flown out from Chicago. He was to make funds available to the children according to their need. The children were to be allowed to live with their mother, and about that Charley had a lot to say.

  All he had left to Fay was the Buick—that is, his half since the other half already belonged to her. She, of course, already owned one half of the house under California law, and one half of all the personal property in the house. Charley could not dispose of that. But here is what he had done with his half. He had willed his half of the house to me.

  To me. Of all the people in the world. So Fay owned one half and I owned the other.

  As to the personal property that was his, he had willed that to the children direct.

  He had left as much to me as to Fay, unless you include the Buick, which was not worth much.

  In the will was a long stipulation regarding tenancy of the house. Neither Fay nor I could forcibly exclude the other from the premises. We could, however, come to an agreement regarding sale of the house or use of the ho
use. Each of us could sell his share to the other, for instance. Or rent it to the other for a sum to be named by the Bank of America at Point Reyes as reasonable. He had also set aside various small sums, derived from their joint bank account, half of which was his to will. He had almost a thousand dollars to be used for psychiatric help for me, if I chose to use it, and, if not, it was to be turned over to the girls. And he had left money for funeral expenses.

  His having committed suicide had voided his insurance policies, so Fay got nothing out of them.

  When it came down to it, he had left everything to the girls and nothing to Fay. And her property under California law consisted only of her half of the house—on which there was a large mortgage to be paid off—and her half of the plant, which did not amount to anything like she had expected, since the plant had been bled over a number of years. Of course, she could get an attorney and go to court and claim that a good deal of the stocks and bonds actually belonged to her, since they had been bought with her money as well as Charley's. And she could challenge the will in other ways, claiming, for instance, that he had willed her the Buick which was not his to will, since she had actually bought it before the marriage. A will which contains provisions of that sort can be tossed out, I understand. But Charley had written a clause in concerning her contesting the will. If she did so, the administrator of the children's share of the estate—that is, his brother Sam—was to take action against her in court on the grounds that she was an unfit mother, and the girls were to be taken away from her, and his family appointed guardians. Now possibly that provision could not hold up, it being punitive. But even by investigating it she risked having it enacted, and evidently Sam declared himself willing to go through with the requirements of the clause. Charley had gone to some lengths in the will to describe— although vaguely—her relationship with Nat, and he also mentioned me specifically as a witness to this. There was no doubt that the house and funds left to me were in the nature of an inducement to me to cooperate fully in the “unfit mother” clause if Fay did challenge the will; at least I so construed it.

  She did not contest the will, although for a time she and Nat discussed it. I know they discussed it, because I was present. How could I not be? Almost at once, as soon as I had transportation, I moved back into the house with Fay and the children, and, of course, with Nat Anteil, to the extent that he was staying there. And this time they could not throw me out, because it was as much my house as hers. And it was not Nat Anteil's at all; he had no legal right to be there, as I had.

  So when Claudia Hambro drove me back there in her station wagon, along with my possessions, she was driving me back to my own house.

  When I walked in the front door, Fay and Nat were flabbergasted to see me. Without saying a word—they were that affected—they stood around while I unloaded the station wagon and said good-bye to Claudia. In a voice loud enough for them to hear I took pains to invite Claudia and her husband and the rest of the group over, to use the house as a meeting place or just to visit. Then, waving to me, she drove off.

  Fay said, “You mean you'd just walk right in? Without discussing this whole business first?”

  “What is there to discuss?” I said, feeling wonderful. “I have a legal right to be here, as much as you.” And this time, I didn't have to take up residence in the utility room, like a servant. Nor did I have to do their unpleasant tasks for them, such as emptying the trash or mopping the bathroom floors.

  I felt on top of the world.

  The two of them remained in the living room while I began fixing up the study; that was the room I had elected as my bedroom. Neither of them made a move to interfere, but I could hear them talking in low, grumpy tones.

  While I was hanging my clothes up in the study closet, Nat approached me. “Come on into the living room and we'll discuss this,” he said.

  Enjoying myself, yet wanting to be at the job of getting my stuff arranged, I followed him. It was nice to seat myself there on the couch and not have to retire off somewhere in the rear while others conducted their affairs.

  Fay said, “How the hell do you plan to make your payments on the house? There's two hundred and forty dollars due a month on this place, including interest. Half of that is yours to pay. One hundred and twenty a month. And that doesn't include taxes or fire insurance. How can you pay that?” Her voice shrilled with outrage at me.

  Actually, I hadn't given much thought to that. The realization diminished my pleasure somewhat.

  “By acquiring half the title to this place,” Nathan said, “you acquire half the indebtedness. You're responsible for maintenance costs, utility costs, as much as Fay is. Do you know what it costs to heat this place? She's not going to pay them; that's a cinch.”

  “Fifty dollars a month,” Fay said. “That's what your share of the heating bill is going to be. My god, it'll cost you another hundred a month for utilities—it'll cost you three hundred a month to own half this house. At least three hundred.”

  “Oh come on,” I said. “It doesn't cost six hundred a month to maintain this house.”

  At that, Nat whipped out the big cardboard carton in which Fay kept incoming bills; he had also the checkbook and past stubs and bills. “That's what it comes out to,” Nat said. “You know you have no money. Your part is going to lapse. How can it not lapse? You can't live here. It's impossible.”

  All I could think to do was smile at them, to show my lack of anxiety.

  “You horse's ass,” Fay said, her voice continuing to rise in accusation. To Nat she said, “This is just to pay him so he'll go into court and tell a lot of lies about you and me— good god, Charley must have been out of his mind; he must have been a paranoid at the last, there, in the hospital, believing all that crap.”

  “Take it easy,” Nat said to her. Of the two of them he seemed to me the more rational. “You better sell your equity right now,” he said to me. “Before it's encumbered with indemnities.” On a piece of paper he made out figures. “You've got approximately a seven thousand dollar equity,” he said. “And you'll have to pay inheritance tax on that— did you realize that?”

  I said, “You mean, you people buy my share of the house?”

  “Yes,” Fay said. “Otherwise the bank'll be taking your share and you'll wind up with not one god damn cent out of this.” To Nat she said, “And then we'll be living here with the Bank of America.”

  “I don't feel like selling,” I said.

  Nat said, “You have no choice.”

  To that, I said nothing. But I continued to smile.

  “There's a bank payment due right now,” Fay said. “One of them. One-fifty-five. Do you have half of that? You have to have. It's your share. Don't imagine I'm going to pay your share of it, you—” She called me a name vile beyond belief. Even Nat looked embarrassed.

  We argued to no avail for at least an hour, and then Fay went off into the kitchen to fix herself a drink. Meanwhile, the girls had come home from playing with some friend of theirs. They both seemed quite glad to see me, and I played the airplane game with them. Fay and Nat watched with dark countenances.

  Once, I heard Fay said, “… gets to play with my kids, and what can I do about it? Nothing.” She hurled her cigarette at the fireplace, and it missed and landed on the floor beyond. Nat went over and got it. She paced around and around the living room while he sat gazing somberly at the floor, occasionally crossing and recrossing his legs.

  When I got tired of playing with the girls I sent them off to their rooms to watch tv, and then I joined Nat and Fay in the living room. I seated myself in the big overstuffed easy chair that had been Charley's favorite. Putting my hands behind my head I leaned back and made myself comfortable.

  After some silence, Fay said suddenly, “Well, I'll tell you one thing; I won't live in this house with this asshole around. And I won't have him playing with my kids.”

  Nat said nothing. I pretended not to hear.

  “I'd rather give up my share of the house,
” Fay said. “I'll sell it or give it away.”

  “You can sell it,” Nat said. “It shouldn't be hard.”

  “What about now?” she said. “Right now? Tonight.

  How'm I going to sleep here?” Glancing at Nat she said, “God, we can't make a move; we can't even eat a meal or take a bath—nothing.”

  “Come on,” Nat said, standing up and motioning to her. Together they went outdoors on to the patio and stood together, far enough from the house so that I couldn't hear them.

  The upshot of their discussion together was that they decided to leave the house entirely and move over to the smaller house that Nat rented, the one which he and Gwen had lived in together. As far as I was concerned, that was fine. But what about the girls? That house was too small for four people, even two adults and two children. At least, that was my understanding, from what I had heard. It had only one bedroom, and then one small utility room in which he had done his school work late at night. Plus of course a living room and bathroom and kitchen.

  They took the girls that night, at about nine, and drove off with them. Whether they stayed at Nat's house or in a motel I don't know. In any case, I prepared to go to bed alone, in the empty house.

  It gave me an odd feeling that night as I changed from my day clothes into my pajamas and prepared to get into the guest bed in the study. After all, this had been Charley's study, where he had spent a good deal of time. Now he was dead, and his wife had gone off, taking his and her daughters, leaving no one in the house but me. All of them gone. All of them had left this house which they had gone to so much trouble to build. And who was I? For a time, as I lay in bed, I felt confusion. I wasn't actually one of the persons who owned this house … at least, who owned it in a real sense. Perhaps I owned a legal share of it, but I certainly had never thought of it as mine. I might as well have had someone point to some movie theater or bus station and tell me that I owned a share of it. In some respects it was like when as a child I had been told that, as an American citizen, I'd someday “own” a part of every public bridge and dam and street…