Call Me Zelda (25 page)

Zelda.

I began to run up the side of the lane and was horrified to see
my worst fears confirmed. The house was on fire. The upper floor that held Zelda’s hobby room was throwing flames out its window like a roaring furnace.

“Zelda!”

When I got to the front lawn I saw Scott running in and out of the house in his bathrobe, throwing furniture and paintings onto the front yard, while neighbors helped remove as much as they could get their hands on. Scottie, Andrew, and several other children stood at a safe distance, staring at the house in shock. I could not see Zelda anywhere, and threw my belongings on the ground. The violent clang of the chimes in the dirt followed me as I nearly collided with Scott.

“Zelda,” I said, “where is she?”

He gave a sharp gesture down the back lawn near the garden and pulled me away from the house.

“She started it,” he said.

I put my hands to my mouth. “No. On purpose?”

“She says she was burning the past in the fireplace,” he said, his voice quavering. He placed his hand on his forehead and suddenly lost all of the color from his face. I helped him to sit on the front lawn while the firefighters attacked the blaze. Smoke began to billow out of the house.

“She will be the death of me, Anna,” he said.

I could not disagree with him.

“Were you able to get out your manuscript papers?” I asked.

“Yes.” He pointed to the messy stacks near us, damp from the morning dew.

“Shall I get you some water from the Turnbulls’ house?”

“No,” he said. “Just see to her.”

I looked him in the eyes and put my hand on his shoulder. His pallor was so ghastly he looked like he needed to return to the hospital. Suddenly I saw Zelda. She stumbled toward us, her eyes on the house and red rimmed from crying, alternating
between laughing gasps and wails. When she reached us, she collapsed at Scott’s side, throwing herself into him. I was surprised to see him wrap his arms around her and put his lips in her hair. He had no fight left in him.

“I’m so sorry, Goofo,” she said. “So very sorry. I am a fool. I will be the death of us.”

He gave an ironic laugh and wiped his eyes with his free arm.

We stayed there watching the men extinguish the fire amidst a wreck of charred furniture and papers, paintings, and trunks. It looked as if the lower floor of the house would be okay, but the upper floors were blackened and exposed. Scott stood, straightened his bathrobe, and lit a cigarette. Zelda sat on the nearest chair. A small crowd had gathered, including the Turnbulls, the family who had rented La Paix to the Fitzgeralds.

“We’ll take care of this,” said Scott.

Mrs. Turnbull shook her head, dumbfounded, as a car pulled up carrying a newspaper reporter. I was shocked at how quickly the news had traveled. The reporter went immediately to the famous couple, eager to add this story to the volumes of legend surrounding the retired flapper and the alcoholic writer. Scott spoke to him while Zelda looked on, her face a mixture of adoration and remorse.

I saw the flash of the reporter’s camera go off, and noticed the wilted feathers of Zelda’s blue ostrich feather fan in the wet grass.

I
slipped over a puddle that had grown on the spotted wooden floors of the foyer of La Paix and grabbed the banister to steady myself. When I pulled my hand away it was covered with black soot. The wet, charred smell was unbearable, and I couldn’t believe that Scott had negotiated another month of rent to stay in the house so he could finish his novel.

There was a lot I would never understand about writers.

The sounds of Zelda’s opera music moaned from a nearby room, and I could hear Scott’s voice dictating dialogue aloud from his study down the hall, while Isabel typed furiously to keep up with him.

The thunder rumbled outside, and the whole house was so impossibly gloomy I felt as if I could cry.

Poor Scottie.

I walked through the back door of the kitchen toward the sound of the wind chimes, which played an especially melancholy tune in the quickening air. I saw Scottie’s silhouette on the lawn watching the approaching storm. She looked so small and alone. I decided to take matters into my own hands.

“Scottie,” I said.

She turned to me and her face lit with a smile that tugged my heart. I didn’t think I’d ever seen such a lovely child, and thought, not for the first time, that she deserved better.

“Hello, Nurse Anna,” she said, followed by a little cough. Her poor lungs must have been lined in ashes.

I stood next to her and placed my arm around her side.

“Would it be okay with you if I asked your parents if you could stay with a friend for a while?” I asked.

I saw a flicker of relief and longing pass over her face, and then she rearranged her features.

“Oh, yes, please,” she said. “Daddy is so busy with his novel, and Mother is…Mother, so maybe I could stay with my friend Peaches.”

“Why don’t you go ahead and pack some things, and I’ll speak to your father and make some calls.”

“Should I wait to see if he says it’s okay?”

“I’m sure it will be okay.”

She gave me a hug and skipped indoors as thunder rumbled over the reservoir.

I
stood in the driveway and waved at Scottie as her friend’s father drove away. A blast of hot wind on my face warned me that the coming storm would be severe, so I picked up the mail and turned back to the house. When I looked up, there was a dark form in the front room window, but it disappeared. It was probably Zelda lurking and watching: two of her recent unsettling habits. In spite of the summer’s heat, I rubbed away a chill on my arms.

Once I shut the front door behind me, I felt the isolation press into me. With Scottie gone, all the light had left the house, and I felt her absence acutely. It was difficult watching a child become lost in the shuffle of her parents’ misery. I found myself wanting to hug her, talk to her, brush her hair. She was remarkably independent, however, and I reminded myself that my place in the house was at her mother’s side. After all, Zelda needed the attention just as much as Scottie did.

A flash of lightning lit Zelda’s form as she crept up the top half of the split staircase.

“Zelda, come down,” I said. How many times had I reprimanded her to stay away from the charred upper floors? Half of the hall looked as if it would collapse.

When she did not respond, I walked over to the staircase and started to climb after her. When I reached the top, I peered down what was left of the hallway, but did not see her.

“Zelda,” I called. “Come here at once.”

I heard a creak on the stairs below me, and looked back over my shoulder. I was horror-struck to see Zelda staring up at me.

“Who are you talking to, Anna?” she asked with the voice of an insolent child.

I felt my heart race. I was certain I’d just seen her go up the stairs. I looked down the hallway again and saw nothing, but had
the worst feeling of dread. When I looked back at Zelda, she was smiling at me in the most unnatural way. I slowly turned and started down the stairs, and when I reached the small landing at the bottom, I stood eye to eye with her.

Lightning crashed and rain began to pelt the front of the house. I looked past her out the windows and saw trees bent in the storm, and leaves blowing in the wind. When I looked back at Zelda she was not smiling, but rather had a look of fear on her face as she stared up at the second floor. She laced her arm though mine and pulled me into the front room.

“This is a bad house,” she said.

I felt inclined to agree with her at the moment and desired to break the spell the storm had cast. I pulled free from her clawlike grip to turn on the parlor lights.

“That’s better,” I said, still on edge.

It was then that I realized I still held the mail in my hands. I looked down to see whether there were any envelopes for Zelda before giving the rest of the pile to Isabel. Near the bottom of the stack I found a letter from Zelda’s mother, Minnie Sayre.

“Can you read it to me?” said Zelda as she rubbed her eyes, which had been giving her more trouble than usual. She had to take frequent rests from reading because of how poor her sight had become.

“Certainly,” I said.

July 14, 1933

My Dearest Zelda,

I received your letter, my dear, and though I’m sorry to hear the reading of your play was not as much of a success as you’d hoped, I’m proud of you for writing a whole play all by yourself, and you should be, too. I’m glad to hear that Scott
invited so many of your friends down to see it. He must have thought highly of it to do so.

I do have some sad news to report. It seems your brother, Anthony, is not well. His nerves are under some strain and his mind isn’t quite right. I’m sure it’s because he hasn’t been sharing as much with me as he should. I could help you children if you would just confide in me. It would make everything okay.

Anthony is getting treatment in Asheville. I hope he is well by the autumn so you can possibly come for a visit. He writes of you often and wishes to see you, as do I.

I’ll write you once he’s well. I hope you are taking rest for yourself, dear, and not overdoing anything.

Your Loving Mother…

Scott walked into the room while I read. When I finished, I looked from him to Zelda. She spoke first.

“I need to go to him,” she said.

“Absolutely not,” said Scott.

“He needs me.”

Scott laughed. “Oh, and how will you help him? You can’t even help yourself.”

“Enough,” I said.

He looked at me with surprise at my tone. I didn’t often interfere in their quarrels, but his meanness had reached new levels, and I could no longer tolerate it without intervention. My position as his hired employee had prevented me from speaking up much thus far, but I now felt that my duty to protect and care
for Zelda called for it. Especially because I knew he couldn’t get on without me.

“Am I wrong?” he asked.

“Yes,” I said. “In spite of Zelda’s fragile mental condition, her ability to work with others who are troubled has always been exemplary, even at the Phipps Clinic.”

“Thank you, Anna,” she said.

“So you think she should be allowed to travel south to see him?” said Scott.

“It’s worth considering,” I heard myself say, though I was aware that it would be highly risky for her to make the trip. I wondered whether my desire to get away from La Paix was influencing my words.

“Fine, go,” he said.

Zelda and I looked at him in shock.

“Oh, Goofo!” she cried, lunging into his arms. He moved his arms up and stiffly hugged her. He pulled away after a moment.

“I just ask this,” he said. “Let me finish this novel and I’ll go with you.”

She nodded her head up and down, like a child who’d been promised a trip to the candy store.

“I’m so close, Zelda. So close.”

“Yes,” she said.

“I’ll write to his doctor to see if I can get any more information,” he said, “and then we’ll see about arranging a visit.”

“Thank you,” she said.

“It’s best we wait until the fall, anyway, after the worst heat of the summer has gone.”

“Yes,” she said.

The front door suddenly blew open on a gust. I ran to close it, with some difficulty, and when I returned to the parlor Scott and Zelda were locked in a passionate kiss. I stood in the shadows of the hallway, perplexed though not unhappy about their
exchange. I never could have anticipated such an event following the terrible months preceding this moment, but I also knew that the only thing predictable about the Fitzgeralds was their unpredictability.