Unfinished Symphony

  "Maybe you shouldn't tell her anything just yet." "What do I do when she asks, lie? Is that what you're learning how to do out in L.A.?"

  "No."

  "Your mother's a good teacher," he muttered. "We both know that."

  "Look Cary, no matter what she's done, she's still my mother. You'd feel the same way."

  "No, I wouldn't," he said quietly and I could hear the sadness in his voice.

  "How's your father doing?" I asked.

  "There's been no change. He's still in the cardiac care unit in the hospital. It was raining here this morning, a small storm, so we didn't go out in the boat. I'm depending on the cranberry crop to get us through the year anyway," he added. "There's going to be a lot of work to do soon."

  "Maybe I can come back to help," I suggested. "And then what, return to L.A.?"

  "I just don't know, Cary."

  "You probably like it out there. Hollywood," he spat. "It's a lot more glamorous than living in an old house and harvesting cranberries. I don't blame you," he said in a tired voice. "I wish I could run away from my responsibilities, too."

  "I'm not running away from my responsibilities, Cary Logan. I'm running toward them. I'm trying to help my mother," I said firmly, determined to make him understand.

  "Right. Well, you know where I'll be. Give me a call sometime, if you have time," he said, not disguising his frustration and anger.

  "Oh, Cary, you know I'll call."

  "I gotta get back to the hospital," he said. "I left Ma up there with May. Bye."

  "Cary."

  The phone went dead. I held the receiver in my hand a moment and then put it back on the cradle, my heart feeling like cold stone. Cary didn't do well with sadness and hardship. He turned inside himself and bitterly closed up like a clam. It was the way I had found him when I had been left there to live with Uncle Jacob and Aunt Sara, and it had taken a while to get him to say two friendly words to me. I felt just horrible not being there at his side when he needed me so much.

  But when I gazed around this small apartment and thought about Mommy completely under Richard's control, I knew I had to stay. I had to try. It was times like this I wished there were two of me. I would send my other self back to Provincetown. I should have been the one to have a twin, not Cary, I thought.

  A rich peal of laughter came flowing up from under the patio. I went out and listened. Two young women were walking down the path toward the pool. They were both in bikinis, even skimpier than the one I was wearing.

  I do need a break, I thought, just a small intermission from all these troublesome thoughts. Just for a little while, I'll pretend to be one of them. My only fear was that whatever madness drove them would be contagious and what Cary suggested would come true. I'd find it was easier to just run away into my dreams and fantasies, and like everyone else here, not worry if they had any reasonable relationship to the truth.

  Despite that fear, I searched for and found a beach towel at the bottom of the closet and a pair of sandals. I scooped up Mommy's coffee-stained and cigarette-burned terry cloth robe and slipped it over myself. Then I headed down to the pool, telling myself it was just for a little while. No harm done. Right?

  "This is Melody Simon," Mel Jensen told the stout, light-brown-haired man on the lounge beside him. "Melody, meet Bobby Dee," Mel said.

  "Greetings," Bobby Dee muttered. He held the sun reflector under his chin and glanced at me quickly.

  "Bobby's the drummer for the Gross Me Outs, a rock band who cut their first single last week."

  "Oh. Congratulations," I said. Bobby Dee grunted. Mel pulled up a lounge chair so I could be beside him. Across the pool Sandy and two of her friends were sunning themselves, surrounded by two other young men. Everyone looked at me when I took off Mommy's robe and laid it neatly on the lounge. Mel's smile widened.

  "You better put on some suntan lotion," he suggested. "You're a bit pale in places that have obviously not seen the sun in a while." He handed me his bottle of lotion.

  "Thank you," I said and rubbed some lotion over my legs and arms.

  "I can get your back for you," he volunteered.

  "Watch out. That's how he starts," Bobby Dee mumbled. "First it's the back and then it's the arms and then--"

  "Never mind, big mouth," Mel said. He took the lotion and stood behind me. His hands felt warm on my skin, but the lotion was cold and I jumped.

  "He's the guy with the magic touch." Bobby lowered his reflector and really looked at me. "You don't sing, do you? We're looking for a new lead singer."

  "I sing when I play the fiddle," I said. "But I'm not good enough to be in anyone's band."

  "Fiddle. You mean as in hoedown music?"

  "I guess so," I said. Mel rubbed the lotion into my arms and then spent some time on my shoulders and neck. "Thank you," I told him. I had the feeling if I didn't speak up, he'd keep at it all afternoon. "No problem."

  "Hell's a Poppin' has a fiddle player in their band," Bobby said. "They got a gig in the valley, at Market Square off of Ventura. Ever hear of them?"

  "She just got here, Bobby. She doesn't even know what you mean by the valley," Mel said.

  "Oh yeah?" He studied me a moment and then went back to his sun reflector.

  Sandy and one of her girlfriends dove into the pool and swam over to us. The young men jumped in after them.

  "Hi again," Sandy called and raised herself up to look at me.

  "Hi."

  "You've met Mel, I see," she said.

  "At my office," he told her.

  "Watch out, he bites," she warned, laughing as she pushed herself away.

  "Why is everyone warning me about you?" I asked him.

  "Jealousy," he said. "Beware of the green-eyed monster. It possesses everyone around here eventually." Bobby grunted.

  "Look who's talking," he said. Mel spun on him.

  "What, you're not jealous of Tommy and the Loafers?" Mel asked him.

  "It was just luck that they got that contract instead of us," Bobby replied.

  "You're still jealous," Mel said. "See?" he told me. I smiled, lay back and closed my eyes. Someone turned on a radio and the music drifted our way. The sunlight was warm. There was laughter around me. It was easy to forget problems. I could get used to this, I thought shamefully.

  "Are you going to Sandy's party tonight?" Mel asked.

  "I think so," I said.

  "Good."

  I opened one eye and glanced at him. He was on his side, turned toward me.

  "Why don't you bring your fiddle to Sandy's tonight," he suggested.

  "I didn't bring it to California," I said.

  "You didn't? Why not?"

  "I . . . didn't think anyone would want to hear a fiddle player," I said.

  "Doesn't Jerry have a fiddle?" Mel asked Bobby. "Yeah. We'll dig it out for you. I'll bring it tonight."

  "No, I'd rather not. I'm really not that good," I said. "If there is one place in the world modesty doesn't work, it's L.A.," Mel said. "Here, you're considered weird if you don't blow your own horn."

  "Then I'll be considered weird," I said firmly, "because I don't."

  Bobby laughed.

  "She plays the fiddle, stupid," he said, "not the horn." "I bet you're good," Mel insisted. I didn't reply.

  "Come on," he said poking me, "let's get wet."

  He got up and dove into the water, a smooth, graceful dive that barely made a splash.

  "Come on in," he said when he surfaced. "It's great." I looked at Bobby, who shrugged and said, "I took one bath already this week."

  Mel treaded water and Sandy and the other girls began to splash him. He splashed back. It looked like they were having fun so I got up and sat at the edge of the pool. Mel swam over and seized my ankles.

  "Come on. You won't drown. It's only five feet deep." He tugged and I went forward, falling into his arms and into the pool. The girls came to my rescue, splashing him so much he had to dive under. I joined in, but when they turned to me, their ey
es widened with shock. I paused, curious.

  "What's wrong?" I asked.

  Sandy swam forward.

  "Your suit," she said and I looked down at the top of my mother's bikini. In water the suit became transparent. I was as good as naked.

  "Oh no," I wailed, wrapping my arms around my breasts.

  "Just wait a minute," Sandy said and climbed out of the pool. She got my towel off the lounge and returned. I got out and she wrapped the towel around me. Everyone was looking at us, and some of the men who had arrived were shaking their heads gleefully. Even Bobby Dee was laughing at me.

  Embarrassed to the bone, my face and even my body turned so red I looked like I had gotten a had sunburn.

  "Thanks," I told Sandy. "It's one of my . . . moth-- my sister's suits. I didn't know it would do this," I explained. I looked at the others and then grabbed the apartment keys off the table by the lounge and fled.

  When I got up to the apartment, I looked at myself in the mirror. This suit was obviously not meant for bathing, I thought. I got out of it quickly, dried off and put on my clothes. As I was drying my hair, I heard the buzzer. It was Mel, bringing the rest of my things.

  "Now that was a dramatic exit," he said when I opened the door. "You're definitely an actress. You made a big first impression."

  "Thanks a lot. I'd rather not have been noticed. I didn't realize that suit wasn't meant for swimming. I borrowed it from my sister's dresser drawer."

  "No explanations necessary. I kind of liked it," he said, leaning in close to me.

  "I wonder why," I said sarcastically, and then reached for my robe and sandals. "Thanks for bringing these."

  "No problem. I'll see you at Sandy's," he said. "Dressed?"

  "I'm not showing my face," I wailed.

  "That's silly. Everyone understands. Something like that happens around here regularly."

  "Not to me," I cried. He laughed as I closed the door. When Mommy and Richard Marlin came home, I took Mommy aside and told her what had happened.

  "Oh, I haven't been down at that pool ever," she said. "Those suits are for modeling jobs. You don't want to get too much sun when you're my age. It brings out wrinkles," she explained.

  "It was very embarrassing," I said and she just laughed.

  "I bet it made you instantly popular with the young men around here," she said, with a tinge of jealousy in her voice.

  "I'd rather not be that popular."

  "Of course you would. The more men looking at you, the more important you are," she told me. "Take your time giving any one of them your individual attention. You've got years and years to go before you do what I did, chain yourself to one man."

  "Is that what it was like for you, Mammy? You felt trapped all the time?"

  "Yes," she confessed easily. "And please, remember, don't call me Mommy," she whispered.

  Richard came out of the kitchen.

  "You bought quite a bit," he said. "There's actually some real food in this house for once."

  "Well, we don't have to worry about it tonight. We're going to Sandy's party," Mommy reminded him.

  "I can't go, Sis. Not after what happened this afternoon."

  "Nonsense, Melody."

  "What happened this afternoon?" Richard asked. Mommy told him and he laughed. Then he looked at me seriously.

  "I think I got you a job. I described you to this producer and he wants to see you tomorrow. After I drop Gina off at the mall, I'll take you to the studio."

  "Oh Melody, that's terrific, and so fast, too. Now the girls around here will really be dying with jealousy."

  "The green-eyed monster," I said nodding, recalling Mel's words.

  "What?"

  "Nothing. What kind of a job is it?" I asked Richard. "What do I demonstrate?"

  "Don't be so smart. It happens to be an acting job," he said, "in an independent movie."

  I looked at Mommy, who beamed.

  "But I've never acted," I said.

  "So you'll learn," Richard said. He looked around and nodded. "She did a good job with the place, didn't she, Gina?"

  "Yes. Thank you, honey."

  "Maybe, maybe this will work out after all," Richard said, smiling like a Cheshire cat. It was a smile that sent chills down my spine. Suddenly, I was feeling like a cornered mouse.

  My little incident at the pool made me the star at Sandy's party. The moment the three of us came through the door, there was a cheer. I was

  embarrassed by the attention, but thought everyone was very friendly. The party was already in full swing by the time we arrived since Mommy had taken forever to put on her makeup and decide on how she wanted to wear her hair.

  "Besides," she'd told me, "in Hollywood, being on time is a sign of weakness. Always be fashionably late."

  Mel had helped Sandy with the food, bringing her things that were ready-made at, the supermarket. They started with recorded music, but Bobby Dee and his band began to play as more guests arrived. The apartment wasn't much bigger than ours and it seemed to me everyone who lived in the complex was there, and it wasn't long before everyone was dancing. Even people standing and talking were moving to the rhythm of the music as they spoke. If ever fun was infectious, it was infectious here, I thought, unable to keep myself from swinging and moving to the music and laughter around me.

  Almost all the conversations I heard were about auditions, parts, agents and producers. What amazed me the most was how easily everyone accepted Mommy as about their age. In her micro mini and her black tank top with her hair pulled back into a ponytail, she did look more like my sister than my mother. I understood why the lie was so easily accepted.

  My thoughts were interrupted when Mel asked me to dance with him. As we spun around the room I noticed Richard had moved off to talk to two pretty women while Mommy danced with someone who called himself Stingo. He had hair as long as mine and wore two silver earrings. Mommy's laughter was soon heard over the music. Every once in a while, she glanced my way and beamed a smile. She looked happy, like someone who had been rejuvenated. Was it possible to really turn back time, to be young again?

  Suddenly, Bobby's band stopped playing and he announced to the crowd that there was a new talent in their midst, a fresh, innocent voice. I had no idea who he was talking about until he produced the fiddle and called out my name. Mommy looked as surprised as I was.

  "No," I said shaking. "I told you I wasn't that good."

  "We'll be the judge of that," Bobby declared. "Come on, we're all bitter friends here," he added with a smile.

  "Go ahead," Mel urged.

  "I can't. I--"

  "Just do it or he'll keep bugging you. That's Bobby."

  Reluctantly, I stepped forward and everyone cheered. Mommy and Richard stood beside each other watching with interest and surprise. Although Richard looked pleased, a strange look came over Mommy's face. If I didn't know better I'd have thought she was jealous.

  "This is a song an old friend taught me," I began as I took the fiddle. The crowd grew still, but I tried not to think of them and instead thought of Papa George and his pleasure whenever I played for him. "It's an old mountain folks song about a woman whose lover dies in a feud. She mourns him so much that her heart turns into a bird and flies away, up to join his soul."

  Someone laughed and someone else said, "Shut up, you idiot."

  I lifted the bow and began, singing softly at first and then lifting my voice and closing my eyes. When I ended, there was dead silence.

  "That was great," Mel said just loud enough for everyone to hear. There were murmurs of agreement and then there was loud applause and cheers.

  "Looks like you got a real good new client, Richard," Bobby shouted across the room. Richard smiled and nodded.

  "Do I know talent when I see it or don't I?"

  "Is that a question?" Someone shouted and there was more laughter. Bobby and his band started again and the wild, happy mood returned.

  "That was very sweet," Mommy said coming up to me. "You
didn't waste much time getting to know everyone and letting them know you played the fiddle."

  "I didn't. It just--"

  "But I really don't think that kind of music is successful in Hollywood these days, Melody, so don't get your hopes up."

  "Oh, I don't expect the fiddle to make me famous. I didn't even want to play it now. I didn't come here for that."

  She laughed.

  "Oh, maybe you did," she said with a wink. Without another word, she grabbed the arm of a tall, dark young man and went off to dance again.

  As I walked through the room everyone congratulated me on my performance and Sandy gave me a big hug.

  "You're great," she declared. "You're going to make it."

  "Make it? Make what?"

  "Success, silly," she said before rushing off to dance. Mel stepped up beside me.

  "You're a hit. No one has moved into this complex and won everyone's attention so quickly," he declared. "I'm not looking to do that."

  "What are you looking for then? A job in the supermarket? I can help you get that," he teased. "Somehow, I think you want more, just like the rest of us."

  "No," I insisted.

  I looked around at the gathering of young hopefuls, everyone believing something wonderful would happen if only they tried hard enough. They came from all over, the East, the Midwest, northern California, each of them waiting to get their big break. It wasn't wrong to have ambition, but there was a line, a difference between ambition and false dreams, dreams that would only bring pain and

  disappointment. I had no idea where the line was or who was crossing it, but I wasn't going to be one to do so, I vowed. Yet I could see how easily someone could be tempted to believe in fairy tales. I couldn't deny the compliments and encouragement had me daydreaming about being a famous musician.

  Cary's words came thundering through ray memory. It's more glamorous than living in an old house and harvesting cranberries. I don't blame you.

  "I'm tired," I told Mel as my thoughts came back down to earth. "I've had a big day." I flashed a smile at him and grabbed Mommy's arm as soon as she danced near me. "I'm going back to our place. I'm tired, Sis."