Getting It Through My Thick Skull (25 page)

Jessie and I returned to our hotel room late that night. I was in the bathroom washing my face when I suddenly heard her wail, “What? No! How could you do that?!” She sounded absolutely distraught. I shut off the water and stuck my head out of the door.

Jessie was on her cell phone, tears literally rolling down her face. “What’s the matter?” I asked.

She threw down the phone and said, “She moved back in! Evanka’s back! He knows how much we hate her, and Daddy moved her back in because you told him you weren’t coming back!” Jessica was absolutely beside herself. “I’m not going back there. I’m not!”

I got on the phone. “What are you saying to her, Joe? For God’s sake, I didn’t say I was going to marry the guy. We’ve been on a few dates! What are you doing?” It had been literally twenty-four hours since we’d last spoken! I tried to console Jessica, but she wasn’t having any of it. The last night of our trip was ruined.

When our plane landed in California the next evening, Jessica absolutely refused to go back to her father’s house in Chatsworth. She insisted on returning to Santa Barbara. It was summertime, before classes began again, but she would not go to the house if Evanka was there. She preferred to find something— anything—to do in Santa Barbara. She was an adult, so I let her go and went back to Newport with a heavy heart.

I was hardly looking to get married again, but I was giddy with the excitement of a new relationship and the fun of dating. Tony, however, was the eternal bachelor. No one had ever tied him down before, and he wasn’t about to make an exception for me. At fifty years old, he’d never even had a steady girlfriend! He’d meet a woman, conquer her, then quickly move on to the next. He was very charming and managed to stay friendly with his ex-girlfriends. At the time we were dating, I wasn’t aware of his extensive dating history. All I knew was that he started to pull away after a few weeks, once the infatuation had faded.

Tony had many of Joe’s qualities. He liked to push the envelope, take risks, and above all have a good time, always. He was a real macho man. It was clear to me that this was not what I needed in my life on a permanent basis, even if he had been more emotionally available. It was all fun and games and laughs with Tony, and I’d had plenty of those already. It was pretty obvious that we weren’t meant to be—to both of us. But I was in no hurry to give up the pleasure of a romance again.

“So, what are we going to do this weekend?” I asked him one night on the phone.

“I’ve got errands to run this weekend, so I don’t really have time to get together,” Tony said. He was backing off, and my feelings were hurt. This guy most definitely did not want to be one-half of a couple. It wasn’t love, and had never been love, but we both got a little testy as the relationship wound down. We’d had such fun together—going out dancing, to concerts, out for sushi, hosting cookouts. Tony’s circle was the best group of friends I’d made since leaving Long Island. Stu was in this group and was someone I enjoyed chatting. He was a funny guy. I liked him a lot—I liked all of them a lot. I regretted the prospect of losing them as much as I regretted losing Tony. I would miss their company.

Joe called one night, as he did periodically, and asked about Tony. “Things didn’t really work out,” I told him.

“Oh, I wish you had told me sooner!” Joe said.

“No one told you to move Evanka back in literally two minutes after I mentioned that I was going on a few dates!” I was tired of his nonsense. I didn’t care who lived where. The breathtaking speed with which he’d gotten Evanka back was the last straw—if she’d ever really been gone. I needed to enjoy my life without Joey in it. Whether that meant dating again, or if Tony had been my one and only final fling in this life, that was fine with me. I was going to live without interference from Joey from here on out. “I” had come back. I was reclaiming the “me” I’d been before marrying Joe, having kids, and Amy Fisher. The hold Joe had on me, by virtue of thirty years spent together if nothing else, was finally,
finally
loosening and slipping off for good.

Stu called me one night. “So, will you be at the bar this Friday night?”

“I don’t think so, Stu. Tony and I aren’t really dating anymore . . .”

“Come on—listen, that’s just Tony. He’ll never stick with anybody for long. Believe me, I’ve known him for twenty years. He’s never going to change. Why don’t you come by anyway? I’d love to see you. In fact, I’d really like to take you out!”

I had to laugh. “Oh, great, just pass me around like a bag of chips!”

“It’s not like that . . . really. Mary Jo, I’d love to take you out. Just stop by. All of us will be there. Please come,” Stu said.

My new attitude said,
Why not? Why not, indeed?
I liked all of these people, and they liked me. Stu was inviting me to come by, so why the hell not? It was one night of my life.

I was fully aware that the situation was somewhat awkward. When I walked into Residuals, a popular bar/nightspot in the Valley that night, Tony did not look pleased to see me. Stu, on the other hand, was beaming. We all sat there awkwardly for a minute, and then I turned to Brett, the other single man in the group, and said, “When I’m done with Stu, you’re next. After that, I’m going after Rick. I plan to work my way through all of you!” Everyone burst out laughing, and the tension immediately vanished. We all had a great time that night, and Stu was clearly smitten with me. This was his big chance, but to me, it was a casual night out with friends. As the night wore on, it became obvious that this man really, really liked me. He bought my drinks, touched me when he spoke, laughed at all my jokes, and walked me to my car when it was finally time to call it a night.

I liked him, too, but more than that, I loved my newfound freedom. That short-lived fling with Tony had done absolute wonders for me, even though it was clearly over.
I can do this,
I thought.
I can date. I can get out in the world and have a good time!
It wasn’t that I wanted another boyfriend, but I was intoxicated by the possibilities. I had played by the rules all my life. I wasn’t doing anything wrong or bad. If I wanted to go out and play the field a bit, who cared? I was going to have a good time. Stu, meanwhile, began to call me frequently. We forged a much deeper friendship during many late-night chats, some lasting as long as four hours. It was good to have a confidante, and I enjoyed his conversation very much. He could be a bit abrupt sometimes, as I’d seen the day I met him, but underneath he was a very kind man.

Stu owned a printing business in Chatsworth—oddly enough, just a mile from Joe’s auto body shop. In a city as spread out as L.A., what were the chances of that? I lived eighty miles away in Newport Beach. We spent so much time on the phone that I really came to know him in a way I might not have face-to-face. It turned out that Stu had also been through quite a lot of drama, including infidelity and drug abuse, with both his former wives. He had pretty much sworn off relationships when I came along. He was a devoted weekend father to his young son, C.J., and daughter, Hutton. Martine, who was sixteen, spent less time with him because she was busier with friends and high school. All three children lived with their mothers.

One night on the phone, Stu began talking about Martine, who had lived with her mother since she and Stu split up when she was only a baby. He told me of the deep sorrow he felt over missing so much of her life. Now she was a moody teenager, involved with her own social life, and soon would be completely grown. He bitterly regretted all the milestones in her life he had missed and worried that it was too late to ever catch up.

“I can’t believe I’m telling you this,” he said suddenly. “I’ve never talked to anyone about how I feel about the situation with Martine.” He was opening his heart to me, and I sympathized.

“I never would have imagined I’d be a middle-aged guy, divorced twice, with three kids by two different mothers,” Stu mused. “You get married, you stay married, you work things out . . . that’s always what I believed. I still believe it! I’m not a cheater. I love my children and want to spend time with them. I always provided . . . I just married women who wanted something more. Regular married life was too boring for them. They needed
excitement
all the time.”

Oh, could I ever relate to
that
.

John Walsh had a new show on the air—a regular talk show this time, not
America’s Most Wanted.
One of his producers called me out of the blue and asked if I would come to New York to appear on a show about regular people who had become overnight tabloid sensations. The other guest was going to be Kim Goldman, sister of Ronald Goldman, who had been murdered alongside Nicole Simpson. Kim was a young woman who I very much wanted to meet. I also admired John Walsh and all the good he’d done for others, so I accepted the invitation. I stayed with Joey’s sister, Anne, and her husband, Ken. Of course, I filled Anne in on what was going on in my life and told her that I was seeing a nice man, but it was nothing serious.

“Oh, but you and Joey are fated to be together,” she said with great assurance. “It’s destiny. You two are meant to be . . . I hope it will happen soon.”

“I don’t know, Anne . . .” was all I could say. I didn’t want to crush her hopes, but I knew there was no going back.

Stu and I had become quite close over the phone. Off the phone, we had what I considered a pleasant dating relationship, but nothing more. For one thing, it was hard for the two of us to spend any real quality time together. There was always an event with the kids, or a last-minute rush print job, and eighty miles was a real obstacle given Southern California traffic.

After a couple of months of casual dating, Stu suggested we go on vacation to Las Vegas for a nine-day getaway. I had grown very fond of Stu, but this sounded like a little too much togetherness to me. I didn’t want to live with anyone again, and nine straight days in a hotel room was definitely living with someone. But again, I gave myself a lecture about being more open.
Just do it!
I told myself. Vegas was only a four-hour drive away from my apartment. If things didn’t work out, I was free to leave whenever I wanted. I could do what I wanted; we weren’t married. I should try to enjoy some time off with this very sweet man, I told myself, and go with a good attitude and an open mind.

And, lo and behold, from the moment we arrived, I felt perfectly at ease with Stu. Everything just seemed right. We had a great time together, and none of it was too much. Far from feeling crowded, I wanted only to stay by his side. As the days passed, I shared my most private feelings and fears with him— about everything—and he did the same. We had similar values. He not only listened, but he understood and empathized with everything I was saying. I felt open and vulnerable—in a good way. The most amazing feeling of love, acceptance, and warmth radiated from Stu. I felt both comforted and comfortable. We laughed, went shopping, had drinks, ate great meals, saw shows, and spent lots of quiet time together talking seriously, and I loved every minute of it.

All my life, I had been drawn to big, dark Italian men. Stu didn’t fit my physical type at all—in any way. When I was a young and shallow girl, I wouldn’t have given Stu a second look. But my eyes opened in Las Vegas. All of a sudden, I realized he had the most beautiful eyes—and a wonderful smile. While we were gambling, it struck me that he had such nice hands. And so on and so on. I couldn’t believe I hadn’t noticed it before—Stu was such a good-looking man! In fact, I couldn’t take my eyes off him. What can I say? The chemistry kicked in! I was in love! Much to my surprise, nine solid days joined at the hip wasn’t enough. When the vacation ended— much too soon—and I was back in my apartment in Newport, I was lonely. I missed Stu. I wanted to be with him all the time. I started living for the weekends.