“Was there no family to take you in?” Beth asked.
“There was family somewhere, but I don’t know who or how many. My grandparents threw my mother out when she got pregnant and she moved in with Helmut Gobrich, who she said was my father. She later said he wasn’t my father after all, but he believed he was and that was good enough for her since she had nowhere else to go. I have no idea what happened to that relationship. He might have been a loser who walked out on her. Or, she might have told him the truth and left him. We never heard from him. When I asked if my grandparents were dead, she said, ‘No, Helen. I am.’”
“I can’t believe no one would want to adopt you! No family would come forward and take you! Even this Gobrich guy!” That came from Barbara Ann, who won the prize for having the most people to care for in her life, immediate and otherwise. It brought a smile to Sable’s lips because just considering the number and variety of doomed pets her sons had rescued over the years virtually guaranteed that Barbara Ann would not have left little Helen to flounder untended, had she but known. You had to love her for that.
“I wasn’t a cute little girl, Barbara Ann.”
“That’s hard to believe. I mean, look at you.”
“You’re looking at tens of thousands of dollars’ worth of orthodonture and plastic surgery. I was ugly as a stump.”
“That’s not true,” Elly said.
But it was. Ironically, that was probably the hardest part of the story to tell. Much of her early abuse derived from her looks. She was called the Ugly Duckling by her own mother. If that wasn’t hard enough, foster families and schoolmates followed suit. If she’d looked then like she looked now—slim, blond, pretty—maybe parts of her life would not have been so difficult. Or, giving the human race the benefit of the doubt, if she’d had anything to smile or be perky about, maybe things would have been smoother. But added to her disadvantaged looks were downcast eyes, a grim mouth and withdrawn or skittish behavior.
“There was a social worker, when I was nearing eighteen and about to be dumped out of the foster care system. He was this nerdy guy named Boyd. He gave me some tests and I passed….”
“She excelled,” Elly corrected.
“I did okay. He helped me get a GED and a scholarship and off I went to college, where I really didn’t belong. But that’s where I met first Gabby and then Elly.”
“Didn’t belong? Ha! You cannot imagine what she studied, this girl who hadn’t finished high school,” Elly said.
“You can’t imagine what this woman threw at me. She tossed nine-hundred-page volumes at me and said things like, ‘If you had earned your place in this class, you would have read this two years ago, so read it now.’ It was so much bullshit. Most of Elly’s students hadn’t read that shit in the first place and she knows it.”
“They were supposed to have,” Eleanor said, but her lips curved slightly. She had never before had a student like Sable. It had been intoxicating.
“Gabby had taken me under her wing and was pretending to ask me for help with her psychology course. She was studying me like a lab rat. When she thought I was interesting enough, she shared me with Eleanor, who then took over the grooming of the poor kid. Elly was wearing those tweed skirts, flat-soled brown shoes, and she even had that huge purse back then. She’s been chain-smoking for forty years. She felt sorry for me, I think, sitting in her class day after day, auditing.”
“That is categorically untrue. You fascinated and impressed Gabby, then me.”
“I fascinated you? Impressed you? You never said that.”
“I didn’t think I had to,” Eleanor replied, but inside she suddenly felt a huge stab of regret. Could things have turned out altogether differently had she outrightly praised Helen? “I should have.”
“No, Elly, I liked you the way you were. I wouldn’t have believed you any other way. The problem was mine. I was still mired in the old life. I couldn’t believe I was really smart enough to be there, to do anything significant with my life, therefore I didn’t. I went back to Fresno when my mother got in touch and said she needed me. My return was so ambivalent. I resented that she would draw me away from my one chance to have a life, but I was relieved to go back to a place I felt I belonged. Or deserved.”
She didn’t drag it out. She spit it out fast, sharp and clear. For a writer capable of dynamic, moving description, she stuck to the facts, which were bad enough. Stuck with a sick, drunk mother. Finding some solace in Butch. Having the baby. The death of the baby. Her near death from grief. Escape to L.A. Escape into women’s fiction. Writing and working like a woman who had nothing to lose, because…
Beth was staring down into her coffee cup, her fingers tightening and relaxing around it at intervals. Barbara Ann got up from her chair. “Stop a minute,” she said weakly, softly. She turned her back on Sable and walked to the edge of the deck, looking out at the trees. “Give me a minute,” she said.
“Please don’t cry about it,” Sable said. “I can take anything but pity. Really.”
“I’m not crying out of pity,” Barbara Ann said, turning back to Sable and revealing the wet streaks on her cheeks. “I’m… You can’t believe what I’ve thought of you. All these years.”
“I know what you thought. I know what everyone thinks.”
“No, you don’t. I’ve been so jealous. I didn’t want to be—it was at least as hard on me as it was on you. It just seemed that everything in your life went your way, no matter what! God, you designed the perfect life for yourself and pretended to be living it!”
Sable laughed hollowly. “Right from the time my surgeon father and designer mother took their fateful trip to Alaska and died in a plane wreck?”
“Even that sounded romantic. I gotta admit, Sable, you sure can tell a story.”
“The critics don’t agree,” she dourly replied.
Barbara Ann wandered back, sitting down. “You were so hard to love sometimes. You were so—”
“But you see, that’s what makes this even worse! Are there people out there who will be able to treat me with respect now? Because my life was such a disaster? Because I grew up as bad as any dog? How the hell is that fair?”
“That’s not what Barbara Ann means, Sable,” Elly said.
“Don’t tell her what I mean,” Barbara Ann protested.
“I’d better, because you’re going to fuck it up. It wasn’t your constant good fortune that made you distant, Sable. Nor does revealing your many hardships make you more lovable. There is a place between the truth and the lie where you became untouchable. Your life hasn’t been perfect since you started making millions, but you didn’t trust anyone enough to tell the truth about that either. You had problems. You’ve covered everything up for long enough.”
“Are you suggesting that if I’d complained about business problems—like my tax bill—I’d have gotten sympathy?”
Elly sat forward and sighed. “Do you miss the point intentionally, or are you dense? I think it’s pretty well established that money—taxes included—is not one of your problems. But you reveal nothing about your real self. And since you don’t, I can’t elaborate.”
“Now, Elly, you have a nerve—”
“We’ll expose my secrets another day!” she snapped. “This is about you! Do you want to understand this, or not?”
“Jeez,” Sable said, taken aback. “Don’t get huffy.”
“Is there anything imperfect about your life? Do you sweat? Get pimples? Have hemorrhoids? Secretly take Valium in amounts not particularly recommended?”
Sable was stunned. She felt turned on. Cornered.
“Elly, that’s not what I meant,” Barbara Ann said quietly.
“Yes, it is, you just don’t realize it yet. Well?” Elly said, looking at Sable.
“Of course there’s stuff about my life that’s hard. You know that. I get trouble from fans sometimes. That prison guy had me pretty scared.”
“You threw money at that problem; Jeff is taking care of it
for you. He’s in touch with the prison, correct? What about the way you live, Sable? What’s going on inside your personal life?”
“I can’t believe you’re doing this to me,” she said. “I’ve never known you to be cruel.”
“Cruel? I’d just like to know who the hell you are. I’ve felt, for all practical purposes, like a mother to you. At least a favorite aunt. I’ve loved you, I’ve taught you, I’ve defended you, I’ve lauded your accomplishments. But most of the time I wonder who you really are. You know, I don’t have the first idea how you’re dealing with Gabby’s death. And aside from hiding out, I’m not sure how you’re dealing with this!”
“I’m terrified, all right?! I don’t know if I’ll have anything left because of this! I may not have a way to earn a living, I may not have any friends left, and I might never—sleep. I don’t sleep anyway. I toss and turn. I have nightmares. I’m scared to death to be alone! That’s why I have Dorothy and Art living on the property! Every single night before I turn in, I check the locks in the house fifteen times, and then I can’t settle down until I’m sure the light’s on in their cottage. Every time I made some money, I could at least surround myself with more people, to insulate me. To keep me safe. The secretary can shield me from the calls, my publicist can shield me from the reporters, my agent from the publishers…. I have to have protection!”
Elly sat back, satisfied. She gave Sable a minute to collect herself. Then she stood. “Well, I can’t speak for Barbara Ann and Beth, but I’m not going anywhere. I can’t help you fall asleep or protect you from the boogeyman, but I will be your friend, one hundred percent, no matter what crap you reveal about yourself. Not your insulation, but your friend. I can’t be scared off by your distance or this adverse publicity that’s going on all around you. Coffee? I’ll bring the pot.” She clomped off the deck and into the house.
There was a moment of silence all around. It was Barbara Ann who finally spoke. “I have never seen a display like that in my life!” She reached from her chair to Sable’s, covering her hand. “Are you all right?”
“She was just making a point. I’ve been dishonest.”
“I don’t think keeping your worst problems to yourself is really dishonest. More like, private.”
“That’s the excuse I used, too,” Sable said.
Eleanor came back in time to hear those last remarks. She began filling coffee cups. “I’d hate for you to misinterpret what just happened between Sable and me, Barbara Ann. I hardly think anything can be gained by public sniveling or chronic complaining, but Sable’s fears and anxieties come from the cradle. If she complains, they won’t love her. If she isn’t perfect, they’ll abandon her. And above all, she’ll be left alone and frightened, no matter what she does. Harboring fears like those keep people from being intimate. It’s only through a willingness to be vulnerable—admitting to the weakness of such fears—that one can become intimate. With friends, with mates, with family. It’s time, I think, to put that to rest once and for all. It’s safe for you to be yourself now, Sable. You aren’t as alone as you feel. There are people who will love you as you are.”
“There are,” Beth said softly.
“That was always the hardest part about being your friend, Sable. You didn’t need anything,” Barbara Ann said.
“I apologize, Sable, if my timing was bad,” Eleanor said. “I’m not very good at these things, but I do know the drill.” She sighed heavily. “You can’t imagine the things I’ve been forced to admit.”
“Did it help you, Elly?”
She actually had to think for a moment. “Ultimately,” she said. “I was a hard sell, but eventually I learned that it was more than gin that caused me to tuck the back of my dress into my hose before walking on stage at a baccalaureate ceremony. I mooned the class of ’76. It was a magic moment, one of my brightest displays.”
The women began to laugh, in spite of themselves. Barbara Ann was laughing through tears.
“Get ahold of yourself,” Sable said. “Obviously, I’ve gotten through it.”
“Oh, that’s not it. I never thought there could be this deep, horrible reason you behaved like such a bitch sometimes.”
“Funny, I thought that deep down inside you might be secretly relieved to know I wasn’t so cool.”
“Relieved? Gimme a break! It was hard enough for me to deal with all you had in your life! Now, in addition to everything else, you’re tragic. Jesus, Sable. I’ve never felt so ordinary in my life!”
“Well, if it’s any comfort, I’d prefer to be the way I was when people hated me.”
“I never hated you, Sable. You didn’t have to go through all this to get my sympathy. You could have just spilled chocolate syrup on your blouse to make me feel vindicated.” She blew her nose. “You’ve always got some strategy,” Barbara Ann said. “What’s your plan now?”
“I have a non-plan,” she said. “I’m not going to do anything.”
“You could call your lawyers,” Barbara Ann suggested. “I’ve always been so impressed that you had lawyers. And stockbrokers. And financial planners. All those little bunnies, hopping around doing things for you.”
“I have a feeling that a lot of little bunnies could get rich off this without doing me much good, and I don’t want to participate. What would happen if I didn’t spend a lot of money trying to head off what I can’t head off anyway?”
“Couldn’t it all get a lot worse?”
Sable laughed.
“Couldn’t they find you?”
“Now that’s a problem. I’d really like to have a break. I want to think things over for a little while. I want to stay here and work on Gabby’s office. I need to get some cereal and cold cuts—Eleanor eats like a prison inmate. I should do something about my house. I don’t want anyone to hurt or upset Dorothy and Art. I don’t want to watch any more television reports on me or read any of the shit they write…. I just want to rest for a while. Think.”
“Is there any chance these media types could question us?” Beth asked.
“I suppose. Maybe even follow you. Do whatever you want.”
“Come on, it’s not like we’d say anything,” Barbara Ann insisted. “We’d better make sure no one’s following us when we’re coming over here. Make a list of what you need, Sable. I’ll run to the store. You can’t change your life without good food. Then, I think we ought to head them off at the pass, if possible. Elly, I have an idea.”
“This is Dr. Jerome Edwards, calling for Mr. Arnold Bynum,” Elly said, deepening her already deep voice. Barbara Ann couldn’t help herself; impossible-to-control laughter pushed its way roughly through her nose in a giant snort. Her head fell into her arms, which rested on the kitchen table. Her shoulders shook and she began to squeak helplessly. “This is in regards to his client, Ms. Sable Tennet. I’m her physician. Thank you.”
Elly put her hand over the receiver and angrily demanded, “Why the hell do I have to be a man?”
But they’d been over this. Barbara Ann insisted there were only ten women in America who had a voice as low and raspy as Eleanor’s. And Eleanor, known to be Sable’s friend and having been heard speak in public, would be found out. She could sound like a young, male doctor or Eleanor Fulton, period. “Just do it!” Barbara Ann said through her laughter.
“Yes, Mr. Bynum,” Elly was saying. “Dr. Edwards here. I’ve been asked by Ms. Tennet to give you a call. She’s been hospitalized with…for…” Oh God, they hadn’t come up with her medical problem. Six eyes widened in total panic and stared back at Eleanor, useless. “It’s mainly a stress reaction that seems to have caused…diverticulitis. Inflammation of the bowel.” Sable slid to the floor in shock, hugging herself. She could almost read the headlines now! Sable Tennet Succumbs to Stress-Induced Bowel Inflammation.
“Diverticulitis?” Beth said, confused.
“It’s…the only…illness Eleanor’s ever…had,” Barbara Ann managed to choke out, trying to control herself. She sat on the floor beside
Sable and covered her mouth to control her laughter, but tears ran down her cheeks.
“That’s why she eats that shit for breakfast,” Sable managed.
“You mean the forty gallons of coffee she drinks a day doesn’t run right through her?”
“Sometimes,” Sable answered. “That’s the other symptom. God, why couldn’t she just give me an ulcer? It’s not as though I haven’t earned it!”
“In fact, that’s the purpose of my call,” Elly was saying. “I’ve recommended that Ms. Tennet have no visitors and rest in a stress-free environment for a week to ten days.” Sable began frantically waving her arms at Elly. “Actually, make that two to three weeks. To that end, I have been asked not to disclose the hospital or the location and to inform you that she is going to be fine and will be in touch with you when she’s feeling better…. Well, Mr. Bynum, she didn’t ask me to give you any instructions about how to handle her current business problems, so that indicates to me that she trusts your judgment….”
“Or she doesn’t give a shit,” Sable whispered.
“Even if she could discuss business right now, Mr. Bynum, I don’t think it would be very useful to you. She’s been medicated for pain and depression. She’s silly as a goose….”
“Silly as a goose?” Beth whispered. “That didn’t sound very medical.”
“Great idea, Barb,” Sable remarked. “I’m slayed with bouts of diarrhea and I’m silly as a goose. Arnie won’t believe a word of this.”