All That Was Happy (20 page)

“
Okay, you win,” Beckie said. “We can
try again. There’s nobody else.”

Chapter
35

“
Bernie was a golden child, no
question,” Beckie said. “His father came here after World War II
and worked his way up from kitchen helper to head chef. He never
wanted Bernie to suffer what he did, so he handed Bernie the world
on a silver platter--but somehow, Bernie likewise turned out to be
a hard worker like his dad.”

“
There’s a down side to such an
existence,” Black said. “Kids who are spoiled often grow up
believing that all they have to do to get what they want is to ask.
And that’s exactly what happened when Bernie showed up on your
doorstep this morning--he asked, and you complied.”

Beckie and Black were making fair progress
down the shoreline bike path which ran from the southern side of
the Marina Del Rey channel all the way to the Redondo Beach Pier, a
distance of about ten miles, of which Black planned to complete
approximately half before turning back at the Smokestacks, an
energy nexus with three tall stacks which were visible for miles
around, the compound surrounding them of which housed the necessary
onshore pumps to suck dry the massive offshore tankers, hooked up
as they were to a bib about a half mile out. Beckie, riding the
bike Black had brought with her, rode along side Black, who ran
with an experienced, relaxed conversational gait, sweating easily
and unafraid to snort or spit as the occasion required, with no
loss of grace. The morning was overcast with a light breeze which
frothed the wind-broken waves and spoiled the surf.

“
I had a feeling of disorientation when
he asked me to start over,” Beckie said. “I was probably in shock
because of my breakup with Huntington. I found out that I don’t
know either man like I thought I did. I guess I caved to the
pressure of twenty-nine years. Are you going to tell me I made a
mistake?”

“
I’m your therapist,” Black said. “It’s
my job to help you decide those sorts of things for yourself. The
real issue here is--are you going to be able to resolve your
underlying desire to experience passion again with your desire to
rebuild your marriage with Bernie, a relationship which has become
increasingly distant over the years?”

“
If I was smart,” Beckie said, “I’d
leave Bernie and go on my own--but I feel weak. When I was cut off
from Bernie, even though I hated him for doing it, the feelings of
abandonment were almost unbearable. I was facing those feelings
again after learning of Huntington’s calling to the priesthood.
Right then, Bernie showed up and got on his knees.”

“
We’re tribal animals,” Black said.
“None of us handles being cut off from support and affection
well.”

“
The best I’m going to be able to do,”
Beckie said, “is try out the marriage one day at a time. At least
I’ve become a member of WE--I won’t be alone like I
was.”

“
How do you feel about going home?”
Black said. “Obviously, you’ll be returning to your marriage bed
this evening--any problems with that?”

“
Well, this is going to sound strange,”
Beckie said. “But tonight I’ll be alone. Bernie’s leaving for Japan
today to meet with some honchos at some Japanese Bank about the
upcoming merger. I won’t be seeing him for at least a
week.”

“
I feel sorry for the Japanese,” Black
said.

“
How so?” Beckie said.

“
By all accounts,” Black said. “it
appears that Bernie’s a master manipulator. He waltzes in, restores
his marriage and the next thing you know he’s headed for
Japan.”

“
That’s certainly true,” Beckie said.
“But I maneuvered a few things out of him as well--among which was
a check for eight-hundred grand.”

“
That’s a tidy sum,” Black said. “Dare
I ask why?”

“
I’m going to pay Huntington back the
five million he gave me,” Beckie said. “I needed the eight hundred
grand to make up the shortfall.”

“
And Bernie wrote you a check just like
that?” Black said.

Beckie coasted up alongside Black and
smiled.

“
He never batted an eyelash,” she
said.

“
Our doctor-patient time is up,” Black
said, as they reached the smokestacks, the mighty engines of which
were roaring like a workshop in hell as the crude oil was
transferred from the offshore tanker. Los Angeles, city of cars as
it was, drank a lot of crude, and the sound of its guzzling,
accompanied by the belch of thick black smoke into the fresh sea
air, was nothing less than obscene. Black turned around and started
the return jog back to the Marina.

“
Our time is up?” Beckie
said.

“
We’re done analyzing your life for the
moment,” Black said. “For the rest of the morning, which I hope
includes you buying me a huge breakfast someplace, you and I are
going to forget our troubles and live our lives as a couple of
girlfriends out enjoying each other’s company.”

“
But Dr. Black, isn’t that against some
kind of rule for a therapist to be a friend to her
patient?”

“
It’s rules like that which have
everybody all screwed up,” Black said. “What if God had such a
rule?”

Beckie smiled at her newfound friend as
together they ran and rode down the winding path through the
endlessly varied scenarios of planes taking off and ships passing
by, most of which, unlike herself, knew where they were going and
why.

Chapter
36

She’d enjoyed a superior breakfast of hot
thick Belgian waffles at the hotel with Dr. Black and upon
returning to her room found the note slipped under the door,
expressively written in a nice fountain pen script across a sheet
of paper, the expensive kind, with the Crane watermark.

My Darling
Beckie
,

I’m writing to say that I love you. I’m so
confused and depressed right now. I still want you. I’ve wanted you
from the moment you ordered the Banana Banshee.

I am your slave--held captive by your charm,
your beauty, and your ability to “walk the nose” of life even in
the face of adversity. I want to be your Mickey Dora and for you to
be my “ham sandwich” as I hang-ten on the nose of this world.

The fact that we met in a bar was not a bad
thing to me--rather it was important to me because it showed me the
power of God to accomplish his will no matter where we are. The
time we spent together I will always remember. Your decision to
break it off was a noble one--I realize you’re doing this for my
own good--and, although deeply saddened, I love you for it.

I have not given up hope. I’m sending you a
present. After you receive the present, you will hear from me a
final time, to ask you, as Regis likes to say, “Is that your final
answer?” If I don’t hear from you, I’ll know that it is over and I
will remain respectfully out of your life forever.

Love always, Huntington.

After she was able to stop the tears from
flowing sufficiently to see again, Beckie picked up the phone and
called the desk and arranged to have any gift which arrived for her
in the coming days forwarded by special messenger to her home, to
which she prepared to return, having instructed the hotel to
likewise package up all her recent purchases and deliver them to
her.

She then sat down at her desk and wrote a
check on her money market account for four million, two hundred
thousand dollars, endorsed over her own check from Bernie for the
eight-hundred grand she’d received from him, stuffed the checks
into an envelope addressed to Huntington at the house on the
Strand, gathered up Mr. Boopers and her straw bag containing her
gun and the sack filled with one-hundred grand in cash, and
departed the room, leaving the envelope containing the checks at
the desk to be hand-delivered to Huntington by a bonded, secure
delivery company, her last and final act of the morning before her
Mercedes Roadster was pulled around, upon which she climbed behind
the wheel and left behind, perhaps forever, her passions, and
headed for home, a place, she knew, she might never truly find
again.

She was back on Wilshire and nearly to her
turnoff when she took a call on the hands-free from Lauren.

“
I’ve got a lot of material from the
agency,” Lauren said. “We need to go over it very carefully. It may
figure prominently into our strategy.”

“
Not anymore,” Beckie said. “The
divorce is off. I’m back with Bernie.”

“
Oh?” Lauren said.

“
As of about 5 A.M. this morning,”
Beckie said.

“
Wow,” Lauren said. “Talk about
volatility. I’ve been glancing through the agency’s findings--are
you sure you don’t want to go over them with me before you make
such a big decision?”

“
I’m sure,” Beckie said. “The big
decision was made twenty-nine years ago in Las Vegas when I
promised to love, honor and obey until death did I part--no matter
how rigorous such a vow might be to keep, or no matter how much of
a guinea pig I might become.”

“
Where shall I messenger all this
information?” Lauren said. “It won’t hurt you to take a look at the
findings--that’s my opinion as a friend, not as your lawyer, since
I assume you’ve just fired me.”

“
I’ll be home in a few minutes,” Beckie
said. “You can send it to me there. I’m going to bed--just have
them go around back and leave it on the stoop.”

“
I wish you luck,” Lauren said. “Call
me if you need me.”

“
Thanks, Lauren,” Beckie said. “You can
send your final accounting to my husband’s accountant at the
warehouse. I appreciate everything you’ve done for me. You’re a
great lawyer.”

“
Don’t think of me as a lawyer,” she
said, “but as a friend.”

Beckie turned off Wilshire and cruised slowly
down her street. It all seemed the same and yet smaller somehow, as
though the neighborhood had suffered some kind of shrinkage in the
prior 48 hours. She pulled into the driveway and shut off the motor
before removing Mr. Boopers from his lair in the purse and dropping
him onto the small, ornamental lawn. Something was missing--with a
start, she realized what it was--her fountain. Somebody’d managed,
in her absence, to rip it off.

Chapter 37

She awoke at 3 P.M.
feeling drained, as though somebody’d come in while she’d slept and
opened the petcock which allowed her bodily fluids to escape. Her
mouth was covered with a patchy fur and her eyes were filled with
sand. Fifteen minutes later, after a needle-hot shower, her teeth
carefully brushed, and a half-cup of microwaved instant coffee
consumed, she felt almost human.

She checked the back stoop--Lauren’s package
was there, a thick folio of documents with a five-page, closely
typed summary prepared by the investigative agency. She wandered
back to the living room and felt a pang--there, in the ashtray on
the coffee table lay the remains of the two stogies she and
Huntington had enjoyed together on their star-crossed first
meeting. She clipped and lit a fresh cigar in his memory, enjoying
the first few puffs in between sips of a decent Tawny Port. Her
thoughts wouldn’t come together into any logical order about
anything. Pacing about for a moment, she finally abandoned her feet
in favor of sliding deep into the cushions of the overstuffed
leather couch, where she fought to keep her emotions from veering
out of control on the curves of her anguish.

She pressed the TV remote--nothing much
on--Rosie O’Donnell wading through one of her endless self-promos
as Hollywood’s Best Friend--Jenny Jones, her inane smile focused on
a couple of gross, lower-percentile humanoids announcing their
setting of a new record in moral lows.

She was lonely. The time unraveled minute by
minute, as though in no hurry to proceed with bringing the future
into the present. She checked her palms--they were cold and clammy.
In spite of the fine Spring weather, she was shivering slightly.
The phone rang. Leah.

“
He doesn’t deserve you back,” Leah
said. “But I’m glad--not for you--but for me. Dinner
tonight?”

“
Only if you let me pay,” Beckie said.
“But can you come into town? I’ve got just enough energy to go
maybe someplace local before I sock myself in with an old movie and
a decent bottle of scotch.”

“
I’ll come in if I can stay over,” Leah
said.

“
Sure,” Beckie said.

“
Beckie? Are you all right?” Leah
said.

“
I’m just wondering if I answered the
questions correctly,” Beckie said. “You know which ones I mean. The
first question is, Is It Better To Leave? The second question is,
Is It Better To Stay? I chose to stay. I wonder if I chose
correctly.”

“
It’ll take time,” Leah said. “What
Bernie put you through was a sin--the main thing is, you need to
give yourselves both a chance to get to know each other again.
You’ve got to give it time.”

“
We talked a little bit about my having
a baby,” Beckie said. “They have the technology to do wonders for a
woman my age.”

“
There’s no rush,” Leah said. “Bernie
has a lot of groveling to do first--don’t let him get away with
taking you for granted.”

“
We may try Paris when he gets back
from Japan.”

“
Paris could do wonders for you both.
My best tip? Don’t be too considerate to him for awhile--play hurt
for as long as you can milk it.”