Pale Guiteau slants his disappointed child’s face downwards; the better to study bloodstains left by assassins more accomplished than himself who required benefit of anonymous surgeons specially qualified for skewering the muscles of the mighty.
The guard who saw him claimed also to hear demon cats and could not be relied upon. these portents once were matters of congressional dispute; now no matter; caught within the marbled lurch of history, victims
of the uninspired mad; those who pursue the corpse from whom the ghost escaped. He haunts our history like the villainous barber who sings as he slits both throats and wombs, a pure tune some say, picked clean of tragedy which only the dying hear.
Seafronts.
Coastal Rd, Morecambe, Lancashire.
Venus and Cupid sculpture by Shane Johnstone (2005).
Seated mother swinging child with Morecambe Bay and Cumbrian hills beyond.
THE WITNESS
You say you love me for myself but I killed that bitch out of jealousy Now as sole survivor I’m the only clue. She was the confidential client I left to clean up after.
In the furnace of morning I lie Between darkness and wolfcall Charges taunting me like unborn children: Ask him to marry you, mommy! Ask him! Ask him!
God said, “Bring for the creeping things” It is you who are a creeping thing thinks Lord Julian Of his pasty priest, with the Underdone face.
Were he a fish I’d throw him back. Good thing his knees are flexible as his Scripture. The priest speaks Of dominion, something
His lordship understands. It means Possession without surrendering the Self. Power begs abuse. He’s the master, he alone
Understands that here. Necessity’s The chain that stops the dumb animal Straying. Lifting eyes to the Steepled trees he feels the boredom of fall
Fade into the dullness of winter. The animals would be fat Were any left – ripe for scissoring but He ripped too many out.
Life’s start and stop – a blood bath brings Renewal. These men could stand a wallowing. They await his pleasure with Lowered eyes.
His pleasure is not them. He needs Men glamorous as girls, hopes As high as fever but none Are to be found.
Like the animals, they are gone. Julian’s scarred hands twitch the reins – Each scar is named, he counts them proudly: Attempted usurpation
The burning brand, the bear that fought The dog that turned on him The boar defending young. Past pain surmounted
Makes him long for wounds – A cut so deep he looks into The creature’s eyes for Some sweet glimpse of freedom.
Lord Julian, the scorpion-hearted Scents a smell the dogs can’t follow – The jingling behind him should be men The silky shadow should be deer.
His horse afraid – the creature moves Too smooth – when he dismounts Avenger plummets off – now He’s alone in moss and slime.
This thing is stalking him! He sees it through the trees Smells hot stink – a tiger! What ghost is this?
The prickled hairs stood high – he threw His knife – a sailor’s trick but Useless. He saw boars Twelve deep, spirals snorting
Through their tusks. The trees Morphed into deer and every beast He’d ever killed surrounded him. Face forward in the muck
At least the mud was real. Fox feet pattered, the tiger whisked him With its ruff – he dreamed a lifetime Lying there – every friend a slight
And every promise broken. This dark that stops his ears is surely death. But when he stands it’s not hell he sees but Dripping swamp. The mare he kicked and drove
Now leads him home. His blood is dried But he must cleanse the blood of others. To be struck he understands, now he must Know what spared him.
Washerwomen lift their heads At his approach – they don’t recognize this man. Hiding faces not from fear but Some new glory.
Scene 4 (PERSEY turns out the light and the women exit. Firelight spreads across the room, lighting glittering eyes of the portrait – the eyes move, watching the women leave. DIGGER’s Dance with the WOLVES: Sniffs wolves suspiciously; they are wild and strange, he is home-raised and scared but envious of their freedom and “cool.” Threat & counter threat; posture & preening. Gradually DIGGER becomes wolf-like and runs with the pack. The moon appears and the WOLVES salute it. It lights PERSEY getting ready for bed. Above her BRUCE appears clinging to the skylight, peering down. WOLVES & DIGGER threaten and howl him away.)
Act 2 Scene 5 (The deepest forest. PERSEY, DIGGER and a police officer NED wandering listlessly around in the unscary, perfectly ordinary daylight. Scratchy background noises from NED’s radio)
PERSEY There’s a skeleton Around here somewhere, officer.
NED (Skeptically) That you saw late Midsummer Eve.
PERSEY Are you even a detective? I was promised “Cold Case” professionals!
NED “Open Unsolved”. I’m all that there is.
PERSEY You sound defeated. On the verge of retirement?
NED Hell no, lady. Never. Too many cold cases. I’ll die in this job.
PERSEY Sounds like a death wish.
NED It’s a life wish. I love my work.
PERSEY Searching for … skeletons?
NED Solving puzzles. Perfecting antennae. Following undercurrents Right to their source. (He kicks the leaves) Where’d you unearth This cadaver exactly?
PERSEY It’s around here someplace. It was Digger who found it. (Kneels to talk to DIGGER) Remember those bones, boy? Go get ‘em, Digger!
(DIGGER scratches himself stupidly)
NED Speaks English, that dog?
PERSEY I know he speaks wolf.
NED Wolf?
PERSEY Wolves howl at him and He howls right back.
NED No wolves around here.
PERSEY Coyotes, then. Coywolves. Something’s howling. I’ve seen ‘em.
NED Feral dogs more likely. Tame goes wild more often Than the other way round.
PERSEY You’re argumentative.
NED I respect facts When assembling theory. Dogs taste the outdoors And they never go back.
PERSEY Just like some people. Go, Digger, go! Shoo!
(She pushes him. DIGGER ambles off)
You’re a puzzle fan?
NED Yup. I’m addicted.
(Takes a Chinese link puzzle out of his pocket and plays with it)
I’m never without one. Solve ‘em in my sleep.
PERSEY So, what special skills Do puzzle mavens require?
NED Pattern recognition. Patterns are everything; The basis of speech Building blocks of thought.
(As they look out over the audience, the TREES rearrange themselves and spit up a pink stiletto platform shoe, which DIGGER retrieves.)
NED What you got there, boy? (DIGGER dumps the shoe at his feet. NED holds it up for PERSEY’s inspection)
NED This what you saw?
PERSEY Definitely not. Bones! Digger! Skeleton! Go get ’em boy!
(She mimes walking like a zombie while DIGGER watches her, bright-eyed.)
NED You play charades with this dog?
PERSEY He watches a lot of movies.
(DIGGER leaves them alone, ambling off to search. NED & PERSEY kick the leaves in awkward “first date” embarrassment. They are attracted to each other.)
NED (Might be bragging – just a bit) Wouldn’t be the first corpse Located hereabouts.
PERSEY No! How many were there?
NED (With relish) Multiple body dumps. Arms, legs, Torsos. So many go missing.
PERSEY Jarod was right!
NED You don’t mean Jarod Gunver?
PERSEY You know him?
NED (Evasive: suddenly circumspect) Well…he’s a cop. So, I’ve seen him around.
PERSEY Yeah, yeah, I get it. Thin blue line.
NED Very thin.
PERSEY Power shields power. I know all about it. He’s my husband’s best friend. Claims to be “expert” but Usually wrong. He’s Wrong about everything. I’m surprised he spoke truth about Forests of corpses.
NED You don’t like him.
PERSEY I don’t. Bad influence – rough crowd.
NED He talks police business?
PERSEY If he thinks he’s impressing! That he’s smarter than anyone! He collects slaves — “Whoever Dies With the Most Souls Wins” That’s his motto. He’s got lots of followers – Information’s his currency – Bragging and scaring – Trying to frighten – “Don’t walk in the woods!” He LOVES scaring women.
NED (Being The Cop) What did he tell you?
PERSEY “Boy girls come to bad ends”. He really hates anyone Who isn’t his slave. Roy envies his power – I ignored him. Till I found that skeleton.
NED He’s out of line. Information comes in Not supposed to go out.
PERSEY (Pointedly) I suppose YOU’ve got no friends?
NED Shoptalk is different.
PERSEY Men always say that.
NED Yeah. We are boring.
PERSEY But investigation’s exciting!
NED You find my work exciting?
PERSEY I don’t know about puzzles But I favor the truth There’s the real power – Knowing what happened.
NED Just the facts, eh?
PERSEY Who’s alive and who’s dead Who’s a demon pretending – Who’s a monster despoiling; only Mimicking life.
NED (He gets right to the point) You think Jarod’s a demon?
PERSEY I’m not willing to hang around him Long enough to find out.
NED Here’s what I know – We’re all demonic In our own special way.
PERSEY Speak for yourself.
NED If these woods shelter corpses How come you’re still here?
PERSEY ‘Cause my demon’s inquisitive. Trees can’t hurt you. These woods are a temple – A Most Sacred Place. Stupid people think they’re nowhere It’s the ultimate Somewhere.
(The TREES swell pridefully. DIGGER runs up with a silk pair of zebra-striped harem pants – rather the worse for wear – dangling from his jaws.)
PERSEY Oh Digger! You frustrating dog!
NED (Snatches at the silk) Could be evidence of … something.
PERSEY Even trees have their secrets.
(Mockingly)
Maybe Jarod’s wife, Stormee Dropped her pants in the woods. Not the first time, I’m sure.
NED (Places his find in an evidence bag) Meow! Jarod’s finished with Misty?
PERSEY Over Misty. Under Stormee.
NED What’s the number of wives Jarod is up to? Never mustered more Than two wives, myself. I’m a single guy, now.
(But PERSEY has picked up a stick and DIGGER is falling all over himself hoping she’s going to throw it. She conceals it behind her back and points him into the woods – he races towards nothing – then stops in confusion.)
PERSEY You know what I want! Human! Person!
(She knocks against her head)
Skull. Go get it!
(DIGGER slinks away. PERSEY drops the stick and brushes the dirt off her hands)
PERSEY Jarod sheds wives seasonally Like the snake that he is.
NED So what are you doing when You’re not nature-ing?
PERSEY Reading and thinking. I sit on my deck and Gaze into the trees.
NED Sounds relaxing. She’s a tree-worshiper, this one!
(The TREES nod, bow, sigh.)
PERSEY Do your missing have names?
NED Eh?
PERSEY You said there’s so many. Don’t these missing Have names?
NED Everyone has names. Monikers, nicknames Aliases Given names, borrowed names Street names – Disguises; red herrings; Wish fulfillment – everyone.
PERSEY So many lost women!
NED Didn’t say they were women. Bi-curious, tri-curious Foraging wanderers Hitchhikers and travelers Tourists and runaways Just passing through.
PERSEY Passing through HERE?
NED Or somebody brought them. Along for the ride.
PERSEY Why does nobody know?
NED “High risk victims”. It’s a way Of saying nobody cares.
(PERSEY is stunned. A TREE opens up and shakes out a full skeleton. DIGGER staggers back – TREE hands DIGGER the skull.)
NED Success at last!
(DIGGER leaves the skull at PERSEY’s feet and wags his tail. She drops instantly to hug and kiss him while he basks in her attentions)
PERSEY (Lavishing DIGGER with love while NED looks bemused, even jealous) I knew you could do it! Smart dog! Who’s a puppy As clever as beautiful? Digger is! I’ll say!
NED Wish I got that much attention For finding a bone.
(Picking up the skull with the stick and turning it over reverently)
You should take that dog on the road.
PERSEY Probably should. He drives my mother-in-law crazy.
Now we need forensics, a search team of Real sniffer dogs.
PERSEY (Standing up and brushing dirt off her thighs) REAL sniffer dogs? That’s all the thanks that poor Digger gets?
NED (Puts the skull down carefully, pats DIGGER’s head) Good dog.
(DIGGER snaps at the skull up again – NED blocks him – PERSEY grabs the dog’s collar)
PERSEY Come on, Digger!
(She leashes him.)
Let’s go home. Our work here is done.
NED Sorry, no. There’s papers to sign.
PERSEY Paperwork, ugh! Nothing doing. My husband never likes me Getting involved.
NED But you are involved, now. Aren’t you?
PERSEY Can’t I be secret? A secret informant? After all, who needs to know? Maybe Jarod’s the killer! I’ll tell all about Jarod. Just keep ME a secret.
NED Even informants have paperwork. You think your husband’s best friend’s a killer? There’s a dangerous liaison.
PERSEY Do we have a deal?
NED OK, I’ll bite. I’ll tell them I found it.
PERSEY Sure, you take the credit. Digger prefers backrubs.
NED What makes Jarod a killer?
PERSEY He brags about killing. About his “justified kills” He’s cold and he’s fake Looks for every advantage. He likes people’s suffering. He says he kills people As part of his job.
NED I heartily doubt it. Undercover’s a whole different ethos But word gets around.
PERSEY The man lies like he breathes.
NED Those guys specialize in Put-ons and disguises.
PERSEY How about you?
NED I’m one lone wolf.
PERSEY Drinkers and braggers Find it hard to keep secrets.
(NED offers his hand – They shake – he likes touching her)
NED I’m interested in all you can tell me. We’ll have to work closely.
PERSEY Solving puzzles – Making theories! Sounds Deliciously different. Now I’d better skedaddle. I’m running late.
(DIGGER’s straining at the leash to be gone)
NED I’ll keep in touch.
PERSEY See you later.
(She waves. Leaves with DIGGER. The DEADGIRLS and BOYGIRLS morph from the trees, reaching out their leafy arms longingly. NED stares after her thoughtfully.)
(BABE, (Persey’s mother-in-law) a commanding, magnificent, scary older woman strides into the yard, holding a blanket and calling,)
BABE Persey! Persey, where are you?
(PERSEY & DIGGER emerge from the forest, both looking dirty, scratched and sheepish) Oh, my goodness, poor PERSEY! What happened to you!
PERSEY Er – Hello – Mother.
(Allowing herself to be enclosed in a blanket, she says with bitter irony) You weren’t expected.
BABE Please call me Babe – Everyone does! Aren’t we family? Aren’t I spontaneous? Spontaneity’s a right Claimed by mothers-in-law.
(Guiltingly)
I can’t be alone today- It’s BRUCE’s DEATH anniversary!
(Throaty gasps)
PERSEY I thought that was last month.
BABE (On the edge of hysteria) No! No! It’s tonight! Roy’s too sweet twin brother! I still see him hanging Neck so distorted A hideous specter to torment a mother!
(A scary, elongated shadow projects against the wall.)
PERSEY I’m so sorry. I guess we forgot. Today’s Jarod’s birthday.
BABE Dear Jarod! How is he?
PERSEY (Pulling thistles out of protesting DIGGER’s fur) Having the time of his life, Thanks to you.
BABE (Majestic and cold) Jarod deserves our support. I called with good wishes Roy said you were on your way home. That was hours ago! And your cellphone is HERE! Where’s the Mercedes, Persey? Did you wreck the Mercedes?
(Threateningly)
You KNOW you can tell me.
PERSEY The Mercedes is fine, Babe. But it’s Midsummer night – Digger needed a walk, So, I thought –
BABE (Full of disgust) Oh, Persey You’re the limit! Don’t TELL me that ill-favored mutt Dragged you to the woods! Surely Jarod warned you? There’s killers abroad! Your husband forbade you – The forest is VERMINOUS And my future grandchildren Deserve better than THAT! Have that fleabag put down, Get a highly-trained guard dog From an ACCREDITED school! An attack dog, not some troublemaker Who waltzes with thorn bushes! (DIGGER and BABE bare their teeth at each other. She moves to strike, he cowers but lifts his leg when she turns away. PERSEY shields DIGGER)
BABE We all worry about you You promised Roy! Do your promises mean NOTHING? PERSEY, my girl?
PERSEY Roy knew I walked home. We can handle the woods. Digger protects me I’d NEVER get rid of my beautiful Digger! Digger’s my baby!
BABE (Much distaste) Roy deserves a REAL baby, Persey, Time’s growing short.
(She attempts to be confiding)
What is the latest from BabyMakers Inc.?
(She taps a foot – can’t disguise her impatience)
PERSEY (Steps past BABE evasively) These things take forever. They’re testing and testing – You know how it goes. Roy hates to be tested. It’s a free world, I say. All the best things happen In their own little time.
BABE I bought you this house This magnificent house On the clear understanding – That soon we’d be FOUR. Where’s my grandchild? Oh Persey –I’ve had so many losses.
(PERSEY steps into the house – BABE attempts to shoo DIGGER away)
PERSEY Oh, let him come in, Babe. He thinks it’s his home and It’s so cold outside.
(DIGGER shivers exaggeratedly.)
BABE But he’s so dirty!
PERSEY I’ll give him a bath. (Lighted hot tub bubbles up at her feet. PERSEY touches BABE’s arm) Please be patient. I’m certain Happy times are ahead.
(Hastily disrobing PERSEY steps into smoking hot tub with a sigh of relief. DIGGER jumps in with an ecstatic splash and paddles rapturously around)
BABE (Averting her eyes & gagging, shaking off droplets) You’ll NEVER get clean with That thing in there!
PERSEY (Calmly) Why not mix up some drinks?
(She soaps DIGGER’s head. He splashes her playfully)
BABE (BABE is conflicted. Feels ordered around in PERSEY’s house but she loves booze, so unwillingly turns her back to accommodate) If only I’d known you were indulging some mutt I don’t know that I’d have purchased this house.
PERSEY Roy loves this house, Babe. We’re both very grateful.
BABE (Bringing drinks for the pair of them, she settles down in a chair beside the tub) Roy’s a good boy…eventually. But you have to keep after him Monitoring, reminding.
PERSEY We’ve been so happy here. Cheers!
BABE Chin-chin.
(They drink. Potent stuff and PERSEY reacts.)
PERSEY Wow, BABE, you concoct A powerful drink.
BABE (Mollified – drinks with pinky extended) Strong medicine’s required For life’s brutal reverses.
(She drains her glass. PERSEY surreptitiously adds water to hers. DIGGER jumps out of the tub and shakes all over BABE who springs to her feet)
BABE Oh, that dog! Just look what he’s done!
PERSEY So sorry, BABE. Will you hand me those towels?
BABE (Very grumpy) If you need this much help, Persey, You require a maid.
PERSEY Roy prefers privacy We’re not fond of strangers.
(BABE hands over towels. PERSEY steps out of the tub and into a towel but not fast enough)
BABE Persey, you’re so thin. One must feed babies SOMETHING!
PERSEY Babe, you worry too much! Stress is so bad for everyone. Aren’t we just enjoying A quiet evening at home?
BABE I can’t help my conviction We’ve run out of time. I keep warning and warning and Nobody listens.
(WOLVES howl)
Nobody cares about Poor Abused Me Giver of Life and Signer of Deeds; Creator of Wealth and Addresser of Needs Nobody cares about Me!
PERSEY We’re so grateful For all that you’ve done. What’s the rush? We’ve got nothing BUT time. Let’s go sit by the fire.
(She presses a button and fire springs to life. There’s a dog bed in front of it where DIGGER settles in – after stretching, pacing, rolling)
BABE Such a wonderful house! All the amenities! (addresses audience) My gifts are so wonderful My taste so exquisite – Lucky I’m rich and know Just what to serve! Too bad I’m never Loved or deserved! My love is perfect My example superb. But I won’t live forever, Persey.
PERSEY Your gifts are appreciated. Thank you, Babe.
(BABE gives her a robe and a cellphone)
BABE Three calls missed from Roy.
PERSEY He’s checking on me.
BABE Because he loves you Just as I do.
(PERSEY dons the robe. BABE has a pile of towels for herself with which she makes a show of covering her chair, blotting her dress, feet, shaking her head, etc.)
PERSEY (On phone) Sure hon; got back safe.
(Holds phone away from protesting, squawking, threatening noises)
I can hardly hear you.
That’s quite a party you’re having.
(Loud music & squawking)
Babe’s here, with Our own celebration.
BABE (Shouts at phone) Remembrance! For Bruce! Poor, dead Bruce!
PERSEY Of course we won’t wait up You should really stay over –
(BABE snatches for the phone, PERSEY evades)
BABE Let me talk to him.
PERSEY (Waving her away – admonitory finger- bravely lying) It was just a short walk, Under a glorious moon.
(DIGGER covers his ears and trembles in memory. Rolling her eyes at ROY’s protests; holds the phone away from her giving BABE chance to snatch phone)
BABE Sweetheart, we must go To the cemetery and visit dear Bruce.
(Horrible noises from phone)
Renew all the vows Made to dear, dear, lost Bruce.
(Significantly – threatening)
Don’t you remember?
(Raving noises from phone; then silence. BABE tosses it to PERSEY)
BABE He hung up on me! Can you believe it? That man needs a leash! Or obedience school.
PERSEY It’s a PARTY, Babe. They’re all off the leash.
BABE If you’d given me that phone When I asked for it Persey –
PERSEY He can’t feel about Bruce As you do, Babe, because Bruce made him suffer. You must understand.
BABE (Getting more and more upset – she launches to her feet and paces) Roy deserved it! Sweet Bruce was my honey-child, So biddable, good!
PERSEY That’s not the story I hear.
BABE (As if she’d not spoken) He’d do anything for his mother –
(Starts to sob)
PERSEY Bruce tortured Roy, Babe. I’ve seen the scars. With my own eyes.
BABE Roy teased him! You’re insulting the dead, Persey! Now I need a drink!
(BABE staggers toward bar, WOLVES gather around house, DIGGER alerts)
PERSEY I think we need music!
(Persey switches on radio)
RADIO (Impossibly proper BBC voice) Four missing girls …(squawk) Body Dump Case (squawk squawk) While in other Serial Killer News- A Beautiful Blonde –
(PERSEY cuts radio off as BABE extends a drink – even darker than the last. BABE’s drinks would make a mule cross-eyed. PERSEY dumps half out but BABE is too worked up about her own problems to notice.)
BABE Roy doesn’t care!
PERSEY Boys will be boys.
BABE Tonight of all nights!
PERSEY It’s the living who count.
BABE I hope I’m not grudging But Life’s so unfair!
PERSEY Babe, the past is the past!
BABE (Determined to quarrel) Are you saying Roy didn’t love His only blood brother?
PERSEY Bruce was a bully! Since he lived with his father I never met him but Roy tells me –
BABE Bruce killed himself, Persey! I found the body! Do bullies self-sacrifice? Such deaths DESTROY mothers!
PERSEY Suicide’s impulsive–
BABE You know nothing about it!
PERSEY I’m sorry.
BABE A mother has feelings –
PERSEY I know just what I’m told.
BABE Roy owes me allegiance! I gave him everything!
PERSEY It was so long ago!
(WOLVES howl)
BABE It’s neglect I can’t handle!
PERSEY Roy’s home tomorrow –then we can –
BABE Disrespect!
PERSEY (Desperately) We love and admire you, Babe.
BABE Should a mother have to visit Her child’s grave ALL ALONE?
(WOLVES howl frenziedly. DIGGER scratches to go out.)
BABE Don’t let that dog out! He’ll get dirty again!
PERSEY (Lets DIGGER out to dance with the wolves) We’ll visit the grave with you! I promise we will.
BABE We all make mistakes. I deserve second chances.
PERSEY (Can’t quite follow this) Meaning…?
BABE I demand forgiveness!
PERSEY I don’t understand.
BABE I didn’t kill Bruce!
PERSEY No one killed Bruce, Babe. According to you.
BABE But Roy MIGHT have done it. That night they were fighting – At each other’s throats!
PERSEY (Looks at her empty glass like – there’s not enough alcohol in the world for this. Wearing the hopeless expression of someone arguing with a crazy person) I’m sure Roy didn’t hang Bruce.
BABE You weren’t there!
PERSEY Bruce was the strong one. As you’re always saying.
BABE (Exalted) Bruce was born first. He pushed Roy aside! He pushed ME aside! He strong-armed the doctor! (Sighing with pleasure) Roy was the weak one, Roy was the gentle one. Tender and thoughtful. Mama’s last angel. Bruce made such fun of him. Wicked, vicious fun.
(She sounds gleeful about it. PERSEY fills BABE’s glass – might as well make a night of it)
I can’t be alone on this terrible night. Here’s to crime. Bottoms up.
(Sits up abruptly)
Why, I brought you a present!
PERSEY (Trepidation) You did?
BABE Sharing’s my motto. I can’t look at it any longer. So I thought Roy might – treasure it.
(She touches a light switch and the portrait above the fireplace is illuminated. It depicts in overwrought oils a glamorous woman with a blond boy hanging off each arm. PERSEY almost jumps out of her skin)
PERSEY Oh, my God! (She covers her face as if to hide from the portrait) Babe – I’m afraid – I don’t think –
BABE It’s a great work of art. At least admit that.
PERSEY Babe, don’t you remember The Chinese vase you once gave us?
BABE Roy had an accident, Persey. And it was only a copy! I don’t understand your compulsion To make Roy the bad guy. After all, He’s indulged you like a princess.
PERSEY (Trying to be gentle) He might not like the portrait, Babe. I’m only saying.
BABE But it’s my only picture of Bruce!
(Starting to cry)
It’s all I have left! He couldn’t be cruel to the one who gave everything!
(Poor PERSEY rolls her eyes. The WOLVES and DIGGER howl at each other)
BABE Oh, my God, what is that!
PERSEY Coyotes are unsettling.
BABE Those are WOLVES, Persey. Not some harmless creatures! People say the spirits of the murdered Howl at night in the woods, Thirsting for justice.
PERSEY Justice?
BABE Or maybe revenge. There’s no justice in this world or My boy would have lived!
(DIGGER & The WOLVES square off suspiciously)
PERSEY (Nervously) That’s superstition!
BABE You’re too isolated here. This is all a mistake. Why do my gifts go so bad?
PERSEY We need country, Babe. Roy loves to hunt.
(Stands up to listen; mustering up her courage) It’s music really.
Those noises don’t scare me. Coyotes protect us. Cleaning the forest Eating vermin and carrion.
(Puts her hand to the light switch)
Ready for bed?
BABE (Collapsing sadly. The party’s over and she never has as much fun as she wanted) I suppose so. Now I know I’ll have nightmares.
26 hours without T. Spoke to him last night and again this afternoon. His acceptance of me is total, but it comes from a position of strength and I have fears of being annihilated. Last night I experienced hallucinatory states – drove home the wrong way – felt something was happening to the car – re-experienced my swallowing problem. Resolved my panic by starting a poem.
Sat night Toss and I read the diary passages where
we lose our “divinity” (his word) together. He cried and told me what he’d felt like from his “side”, wanting to be male & in control, feeling helpless & immature. Agreed if we had married then we’d be divorced now.
11:05PM Trying to read Oneness & Separateness. Not well suited to me right now! Much as I want to be a mother the thought of a demanding infant between me & T truly horrifying. Insane fears of rejection and abandonment – why on earth should I trust this man? Called T at work! Complete craziness. He reassured me we will have private alone time a real vacation in the Berkshires. He said champagne arrived. Called A & we discussed Mom & Dad – how they rewarded “self-sufficiency” and responded to neediness coldly. Makes it hard to be honest now but I hate this weirdly formal relationship with my own parents. Avril says there is no retraining them.
Sat 14 July 79 – StormFall Farm – 11:15 PM Oh, my God who would believe it – here I am 11 years later! Told T about my uncle last night as we made sexual “confessions”. He was completely calm about it so it’s no longer a Big Secret. He insisted I read his ex-girlfriend’s letters. She was a Piper Cub to his Concorde, believe me. He kept carbons of his letters to her!!!! Not very loving – downright fatherly. In a bad way.
T’s actual father and he smoked cigars last night
after dinner leaning against the mantel – they were so beautiful together I felt stunned. Wrote a poem:
MY HUSBAND SMOKES CIGARS WITH HIS FATHER BY CANDLELIGHT
Your profiles cut my heart like glass. Go ahead. I’m a bleeder, I’ll Still be here when you look back. Your father is a silver-headed Walking-stick; his elongation glows with far less heat. You’re his nemesis; and he’s used to it. The wooden floors washed cornelian Perhaps by sunset Perhaps by jealousy of girls who Lost you; judged too soon the temper of your eyes Wrote too many letters or Not enough; the wrong kind Addressed to the pale law student with The cinderblock heart Traveling commentator with the hundred Dollar bill rolled inside his shoe, The long-haired Pinkerton guard. You learned to suck the cherries Scarless from the tree; it’s no mean art Broke a few at first; we all did. By what right am I the winner? You chose me in thirty seconds leaving enough time to smoke another cigar.
Everyone wants us to marry before May. But I feel
I need some time in Kentucky first. Toss told me last night that on paper he is a millionaire. Here’s luck, because if I keep on keeping on, I’m a pauper! Tom’s grandmother’s response was “I am not surprised.” She committed herself to reading my “thriller”. At dinner he announced I’m the only woman he’s ever wanted to marry. Tom’s dad said he thought he’d be a bachelor forever. Privately we affirmed absolute sexual fidelity forever. Will we be able to keep it?
Plush Palace – Wed 18 July 79 – 4:55 PM Boring day but good tips. Magnificent party at The Third Edition last night for Avril’s birthday. (I didn’t care for Avril’s latest “honey” Vigo but was furious at myself – she should date as widely as possible. Maybe I was affected by T who is a snob and a purist.) Drinks, fruit & cheese – then dinner at The Old Angler & Frank Langella in Dracula. (Not a good version.) “Finances” discussion with T. He talked me out of selling my car. I worry about being dependent on him but he says it will be fine. Sounds to me like he is living on a knife’s edge – working part time, going to law school, selling stock when he needs money (which he is loathe to do being naturally frugal.) Too tired to make love last night but we started up in the middle of the night – both asleep. Doors keep opening – then there’s another one.
Castle – 1 PM – Thurs 19 July 79 So happy I can’t take it all in. Feel like someone recovering from a long illness. Read Cheever’s Goodbye My Brother – as satisfying as a novel. Last night we made love for hours and hours but I just couldn’t come – kept holding his face saying, “Is it really you”? Dancing with Barbara the Kikuyu and blonde Joyce of the day-glo costumes.
3 PM Party Castle – 24 July 79 First real friction last night – very predictably, about my job. I’m irritated over the assumption that its sordid and brutalizing. It is totally NOT the same as the dancers in DC!!! LIFE can be sordid and brutalizing – I like this club because it ISN’T and I’ve tried others. We discussed HIS job which also has its sordid and corrupting aspects. Duh. His last girlfriend gave him shit about it (and refused to read the paper!) so it’s a sore point. He should get it. There was a horrible moment when he felt foreign and alien – but I expected it – too much intimacy always causes a backlash. Trying to read Sisters & Strangers. The Victorian novel is not dead.
Castle – 2 Aug 79 – Wed Seems hopeless to TRY writing in this book – things happen so fast – a month is an eternity. Last night celebrated our 11th “divinity loss” anniversary – and a difficult anniv. It was. T came to see me dance for the first time – with Avril so it wouldn’t be so bad but had to leave he was so upset. He didn’t like me smiling! Like I’m ENJOYING myself! The PLACE didn’t bother him (“reverent & reserved” were his words) just my pleasure in movement beauty & freedom! Uh oh! He goes back to my parents’ argument: IT’S TURNING MEN ON. So what? I get impatient with that – that way lurks the “hajib”.
We have to educate each other. At the end the atmosphere seemed cleared and we both cried with relief. Even though I know my love is in the larval stage, I’ve never loved anyone the way I love him. We had our last dinner at 641 E street – steak and wine, fruit, cream, brandy. He asked me if there were any boyfriends’ the report of whose marriage “depressed” me (he was referring to my marriage) and I had to say no.
He opened a letter from Mindy, ex-girlfriend he was thinking of re-starting a relationship with except she went to Nepal. A letter I would have thought perfectly reasonable two months ago now strikes me as ridiculous – an ounce of love is worth more than all these pages of barter.
I got a wonderful letter from Devon – he’s found “another girl” (with three more in reserve I’m betting) and wishes me the best. But T was upset because he closed with “I love you” a word NOT thrown around in his world! (Mindy and Cindy don’t say it!) He says it’s the only part of the letter he believes – “the guy is a total phony.” I said his only victim is himself. We then made love on the floor on top of all our exes’ letters. Gloriously. Got a poem out of it.
The Bridesmaid Yes, I know everything You’re my poor Relation. I know of your daddy’s desk where you Fucked with formaldehyde fingers I know of your lonely Rosary of abortions I repeat, I know everything. We made love on your letters undisturbed As two icons. She’s imperfect He told me. Unseated by mortality We must take our place With the king’s crazy mistresses; Brewing menstrual blood coffee And mandrake root tea. Swim away, little bridesmaid, You’re too young I’m in love We’ve got Too much in common ever to meet. Need to see dentist & gyno, overhaul bike, pay bills. T. meets Ralph Nader at 6. Lucky me snagging someone so ambitious and competent.
Castle Mon 6 Aug 79
God I need Maine. I love T but I need to get away
from him. I am used to being alone 4-5 hours a day. Starving for that. Wonder how many otherwise perfect relationships break up for this reason! T. is a little TOO driven. A little TOO single-minded. Makes me argue with him – I can’t help it. For example: he talked about the “ugliness of the desert landscape.” It’s not my “thing” either – because I grew up somewhere else – but O’Keeffe taught me to see the beauty of it. What he REALLY meant was “I don’t like it” but he raises it to a religious principle “New England is better.” That’s embarrassing.
I constantly feel he’s trying to “re-educate” me – for example he didn’t like my turquoise silk pants because he “doesn’t like colors that don’t appear in nature.” When shown an aquarium of tropical fish he doesn’t “count” them, their colors are “cultivated” and somehow “wrong.” The truth is bright colors make him nervous. So say THAT.
Sat night we went to an office party of his people (to which I wore the aforementioned pants) and praised the house over- extravagantly. (He does NOT like my yellow velvet furniture. I’m giving it to Maureen.) “One good picture” per wall, beige Danish oldern furniture – unbelievably boring and sterile. A chipped china frog would have done the place a world of good. Could warn of decorating problems ahead. His younger brother Dominic in town – when I complimented his Mazda sports car and said I’d love to have one someday Toss said “we’ll see” as if I could never buy one for myself! These flare-ups are important signs. Must work on my self-value.
8 Aug 79 Packing for Maine came across D’s letters. Not a “good” one among them. “Phoniness” is NOT his problem – that’s not the right word – he’s not even “tone deaf” which was Bruce’s disorder. I think it’s a “temperature” thing – he WANTS all passion sexualized (not that he would ever admit it) and doesn’t trust intimacy, closeness – as if he doesn’t believe – doesn’t want to believe it exists. He fears never freeing himself from the physical so he cultivates a lonely “spirituality” but he’s mired HIMSELF in it. So that’s pathetic. I take responsibility – he probably felt hounded by my love. Thank God I escaped is all I can say. I’m betting he was geared up to torture me for a lifetime. I let T read my short story about his mother. That was probably a mistake. (In it he’s planning her death!) He made some idiotic writing class comments – I said it wasn’t THAT far along – but there’s something appealingly mythic about this undigested mass. Worry about it in ten years!
Shadowe Island ME – Mon 7:30 AM 12 Aug 79
Toss just left on the ferry so I can relax. Wish this
diary ended here – I need a New Life. But Not Yet. Rainy with a gray sea. Dogs stretched out snoring on the Greek carpet. This visit has been everything I wanted, but the first night was classic in its ghastliness. Guests showed up at cocktails and stayed through dinner – unexpectedly – this mob scene making our announcement a bit tougher. Toss whispered, “Want to go through with it?” I said, “Sure.”
We opened the champagne. The guests loved it – Mom & Dad really surprised. Dad started talking about his difficult father-in-law and how things would be different but flat out calling me a liar when I chimed in about how Wilbur returned his prison mail (he told me this story HIMSELF last Christmas!) I kept my temper – oh I must have got it wrong. (I didn’t. We’d discussed it later ad nauseam.) Avril attacked me later for bringing it up and “embarrassing” Dad – but he’d been TALKING ABOUT HIS DIFFICULT FATHER IN LAW. Toss was surprised at Avril’s hostility – used to her as an ally. He said, “They obviously think you’re invulnerable.” Probably. If so they’re all idiots! I thought A was upset about her own out-of-his-depth boyfriend, Vigo. Anyway T rescued the evening bringing tears to Mom’s eyes by talking about how he’d always loved me. M & D apologized & congratulated us.
Sunday the four of us toured the island – trying to get along with Vigo. (A says he has just one testicle as if that’s all that’s wrong with him.) At dinner watched slides of my growing up – T tremendously moved – then lobster dinner.
Tues 13 Aug 79 – 5 PM T called last night on his WATS line and we talked ½ an hour. Says he used to play an “airport game” of “Looking for his future wife” but thought “I AM married!” Wow!
Sun. 19 Aug 79 T’s letter came! Glorious. I do not feel worthy. Tension between A & V – he teases her too much – we all try to ignore it – tough to figure out how to call him on it without opening up hostilities. Hope she dumps him. T on phone! Ex-island boyfriend visits. A says he acts like he wants to knock me to the floor and French kiss me to death. Seems accurate. Glad T missed him.
Party Castle – 11 PM 22 Aug 79 Glad to go to Maine and thrilled to leave it. Mary & Debby dancing. Today’s been eventful – T got my letters and was enormously moved. He says the worst mistake he ever made was burning my teenage letters. We should try to exist without this phoning but can’t help ourselves. Diet going well: I feel good. Struggling with a pile of thank you letters.
Castle – 7 PM Fri 25 Aug 79 T. and I separated 11 days already – feels like eternity. Avril announces she wants her own apt so I should put house on the market. Maybe its easier. Flooding small publishers with Blood Memory – feel pessimistic however. 3 poems accepted – 2 by Colorado Woman, 1 by Friends Journal. Doesn’t feel as good as I’d hoped. Struggling with new novel where I try to tell the truth about Devon. But why should anyone want THAT God knows. Moving costs $400. I still think I should sell my Fiat. Rotten crowd. Bored and jerking like a marionette. Dancing with crazy Robin and Anne who never stops talking. She says June’s in the hospital in a full body cast – will never dance again. 2 more sets – praise God. Trying to read about Lewis Carroll. A says Zach threatening to show up. Don’t show up, Zach. I have a headache.
2:30 AM Sun 27 Aug 79 – There is a God. Zach didn’t show. Long phone call w/T then walk dogs to think about it. He is such a powerful person it’s a little disturbing. Said he read my poem (The Duel) to his most erudite friend who was very impressed. We wound up in another argument about my dancing. I can’t bear his slurs so I referred to his past drug use – WE’VE BOTH EXPERIMENTED, ALL RIGHT? He wants me to live without money then complains about selling stock. I told him it’s a “schizophrenic bind.” Didn’t mention how I have to PRY my stock (that’s in my name) out of Mom and Dad.
Reading an idiotic romance – its very idiocy is refreshing. I see why people get addicted to these. Like looking at maps when you’re lost. Ok they’re only two dimensional but its SOMETHING!
Party Castle Tues 28 Aug 79 Last night dancing. Celebrate with chocolates but I’m too enervated to appreciate it. Finished I’m Radcliffe, Fly Me. Ultimately a failure. Fails to explore the inherent corruption of institutional structures. Horrible night. $5 in tips – they are sick of the sight of me and I refuse to buy new costumes. I am scared to death of being dependent on T. I think he could reassure me but doesn’t know how because if I really needed him would I be so desirable? Is a puzzlement.
I feel like I’m unfastening my suckers from Avril and grabbing onto T! Up here without a net! Then I get mad at myself for being so infantile. Can I just write and feel powerful? We’ll see! Doubts creeping in! This time next week I’ll be in Kentucky! Well, I’ve written some good poems lately. Self-confidence atrocity attack. Feel & look rotten. Realizing the extent to which I was fertile soil for my parents’ anxieties.
3:30 Thurs 30 Aug 79 Everything done, ready to leave. I’m in shock. Crawled into the bath with a vodka tonic and now I’m feeling better. Trying to figure out how to approach parents for money. Maybe they could give me my own stock as engagement present? Feel I won’t be able to disguise my rage. This “I’m All Right Jack” no matter WHAT – is mighty convenient for them. I realize its any sense of helplessness that triggers all this rage NOT a good sign for T’s and my relationship. He can’t “make” me independent! I must not succumb, or Plath-ize. (She sacrificed herself to the gods of rage.) I’m doing this guy no favors handing him a woman on the edge of breakdown.
4:25PM – My darling just called! Relief! He borrowed a truck from somebody so although we’ll have to drive separately we won’t have movers or returns to cope with. He’s driving it out here so I can sleep as late as I like which I really need. Impossibly intense happiness. Peace & joy. Feel we have been standing in a dinghy trying to balance. Equilibrium is everything. The irrevocableness of marriage. My children mutely regard my choice. The hopelessness of explaining myself to any of T’s friends. Rain. Any excuse not to take a walk (T lives in bad neighborhood.) Feel like a girl in a gothic novel except for the constant sex which makes it a different kind of novel. Break with the past.
Reading Robert Ludlum’s perfectly ludicrous Matarese Circle. In 100 yrs people will wonder how we stomached this stuff. A. and I going to Olney theatre to see The Bat tonight.
TOMORROW STARTS WOMAN INTO WOLF Alysse Aallyn’s thriller about difficult marriages & split identities
…a thrill-ride, unique and highly recommended reading.” –Entrepreneur.com “deceit, rape, fertility, imprisonment and a mother’s grief…as each piece of the tightly coiled fiction was loosed I waited for the revelation to come…she couldn’t imagine the extent of the deception until it was spelled out. Neither could I.” –MyShelf.com “one of the most unusual mysteries I have ever read…I loved reading Woman Into Wolf … kept me on the edge of my seat right through the end…I highly recommend this novel to fans of crime mysteries that also enjoy some extra spice in their stories.” – Readerviews.com “a very fine psychological thriller… the characters in this book are as bright as crystal and as sharp as shattered glass. Aallyn not only can describe them to a neo-noun, she can make them speak true to those characters. Quite a talent…a novel every bit as worthy as her first.” ArmchairInterviews.com
Party Castle 8:20 PM Fri May 18 - 1979
Fasting all day so feel much better. Two more sets. I am
the only dancer willing to dance to Baker Street so they keep playing it for me and it is a tiring song. However all that stretching is good for my muscles probably. Reading A Time to Keep Silence. Secaire has got me on a religious kick.
Genevieve’s Apt. off the Park – NYC – Sun 20 May 79
It’s me laughing and joking and eating a whole box of Entemann’s cookies – and it’s not me. Family. The constant ache of having so little of myself accepted. It’s like being with people like Usher, really – they want such a little piece of you. The worst part is, you get so used to the pain you can’t imagine life without it. Thank God I am usually content to be alone.
Went to the Whitney – gave me some ideas to recast Memory – unfortunately not ones people will like. I want to make it even more choppy and episodic– rather than “telling the story –“ which is what everyone seems to want. But that’s the only way I can get excited about it – I would like reading it to be like visiting an art gallery.
Queen’s Chapel Rd – Tues 22 May 79 That trip helped. I feel better, more focused. My new agent submitted Memory to Putnam who loved it but said they had just published a book with incest theme! Goddamn it all to hell. But their reaction cheered me up – they didn’t say anything about choppy, episodic, incomprehensible motives, etc. So maybe I’m a real novelist and not just a bad poet hungry for money. Making plans for The Lives of the Dancers – a poem for each one. Fun. More fun than novelizing with such a hideous plot – can’t seem to get my people out of the airport.
Write a haiku BECAUSE THEY’RE EASY. Relief.
Harness UP – ON WEARING A BRA
Two kinds of clothes – Comfortable and un: Two viewpoints: Supportive and –
Fasting again today. So horribly fat right before my period it would not surprise me to go into labor onstage. Apparently no one else has noticed I have lost my waist. Have agreed to see Devon in Boston next month. I am going off birth control so we will see what happens. I feel sure I can get him into bed. But never telling him he is a father? Can I pull it off? I will try. Getting past block in my novel by having different characters tell different parts of the story.
I give up on Pamela Hansford Johnson. Holiday Friend is The Perfectionists all over again– but not as good.
Party Castle 12:35 AM – Fri 25 May 79
Funny how it all comes together sometimes. Dancing
tonight has been ecstasy – is it the fasting? I am cutting my schedule at the Plush Palace – the audience here is so much better. They are really quiet and intense. Probably because it’s so close to the FBI. They get the same relaxation from watching us that you get from a tank of tropical fish. Except of course with a sexual frisson that reminds you you’re alive. Read Laura Hobson’s The Tenth Month – pretty shocked by a doctor who would prescribe Nembutal to a pregnant woman. But that’s the way they were back in the Dark Ages.
Now I’m on Highsmith’s Edith’s Diary – which is fabulous – the review in New York Times was downright immoral. Books should not be reviewed by the stylistically tone deaf. Reviewer should be open to many styles – I don’t think that’s too much to ask. The idiot. Went on stage glittering with body jewelry – big stones. Big tips.
Queen’s Chapel Rd – 28 May 79 – Memorial Day
Very staid and old-lady weekend working on the
house. We have a wonderful big backyard with gas grill – A. and I “broke it in” yesterday for shish kebab. Last week’s trip seems months ago already.
Thought about getting pregnant by poor D all day. Am I using him? Is it wrong? Nah. I am giving him a chance to be more than he is – and he doesn’t need to know if he can’t handle it. I haven’t even told Avril about this – and I won’t unless it actually works. With my irritating body I might not be able to get pregnant just because I want to.
A and I saw Peter Sellers in The Prisoner of Zenda – just awful. Sun went back to the Unitarian Church – unfortunately it was a downer. The worst memories of childhood surfaced as we were lectured on current events as if we were a class of high school students. I would rather hear about personal fascism than international fascism – that is the real spiritual problem. Bullying a captive audience seems eminently fascist to me. We recovered at Ms. K’s Toll House – such a fun place. Spent the afternoon trying to write a poem about how beauty and finiteness are the same thing – when we love someone’s beauty it’s their mortality we are in love with. Not laying a glove on it.
Saw Alien in the eve – the treat of our lives – what a rollercoaster ride! We both adored it. I’m now officially giving up on reviewers – the Washington Post said it wasn’t as good as Star Wars. What is wrong with people!!! Apparently reviewers have to pass some sort of idiocy test.
The “cure” was completed when I crawled into bed with Bloomsbury Portraits. Fabulous people. These are the ones my father refers to as the “sexual degenerates.” I adore their interior decorating. Sex lives not so much. Going to ask Maureen to make me a dining room mural.
By sheer good luck I don’t work till Wed. So I get a
real rest. That feeling of pressure negatively impacts my work. Slept twelve whole hours – which means I may be up half the night – but I don’t mind if it’s productive. I especially like walking the dogs in the middle of the night so I can ignore the leash law. They are so good about voice command.
2pm 30 May 79
To my surprise novel goes well. Finished first bloodletting scene. Reading Flannery O’Connor’s The Habit of Being – love it. Dreading work tonight – not ready to get back.
1:15 AM 31 May 79 Hard night. Feel like I have had some protective coating scraped off my eyes and I can see everybody’s pain. Everyone is in pain. Not pleasant.
Plush Palace Fri night 1 June 79 7:50 PM Had to stop at dance store to buy fishnet Danskins on my way to work. (Kristi darns hers but I’m too lazy). Horrible traffic jam coming and going – then they were out of the ones with the seams which are the only kind that properly shape the buttocks. So I bought a black pair. They only look good close-up. So I arrived in an automatic bad mood – put on my black costume with the little mirrors. I’ll go to the Maryland Danskin’s tomorrow. Feel better after a couple of bourbons. I can see how dancers get into the booze not to mention the bute. I am trying to do too much. Working, fasting, writing the Great American Novel (it’s turning into the Great Canadian Novel) – something’s got to give.
Two bagels, two bourbons, then I’m cutting myself off. Zachary coming in tonight. I feel I’ve had it with the purely recreational sex (with quarrelsome underpinnings) that is all he has to offer. At least I have a good excuse to turn him down till June 22 – I’m booked solid. Idly reading George Weinberg’s Self-Creation. Ho hum.
Working with Kristi tonight. She has the most perfect body I have ever seen but is totally neurotic about it. She can’t appreciate it herself. I speak to her in monosyllables because I don’t want to get sucked into her game of “How can we improve me” that she lays on other dancers. She’s a “yes, but”, never pleased with anything. Fatima came in hawking her used makeup. She is so bizarre. Claims she needs to sell everything for an “important medical operation.” Won’t say what it is – she probably just wants to ruin her breasts as is the fashion lately. Maggie’s breasts are hard as stone. She’s destroyed her own body. The air is heavy with female paranoia. Specific personal worries degenerate at a moment’s notice into far-flung government conspiracies. Nervous about upcoming visit with D – at least twice a day I decide not to go. If he knows me better than I think he may guess what I’m up to.
8:30 PM Sat 2 June 79 Rescued today – got four nights work instead of a possible six. Thank God. Bought wonderful music on the way to work at discount store – all Tchaikovsky’s orchestral music and Purcell’s Fairy Queen. Therapeutic listening after boogy-oogy-oogy.
My parents finished Memory – want to know who Oz is based on. Uh oh. That rattled me. Should I tell? Decided not to and feel like a coward. But they wouldn’t believe me any way and that would be way too painful. They translate any vulnerability or sharing into “no wonder you’re so sick”.
D’s most recent letter suggested canceling our date – he’s about to be ordained and must “purify”. He wants to escape from his past – which I’m a part of. Get it? He knows me so well he psychically intuited where I’m at, or more likely he inhaled a whiff of neediness and we can’t have that. He must be the needy one.
Zachary and I went out to breakfast after work last night. For an “artist” (I use this term very loosely) he has less intuition than a stone. His compliments are so over the top I am filled with disgust but he doesn’t appear to notice. Had a horrible insight I now can’t get rid of. I am his Devon – the Great White Whale. Horrors! Will he now try to get pregnant by me? Thank God, the sexes AREN’T the same.
Feeling a little slowed up by O’Connor’s prejudices in Habit. She seems too content to be a creature of her era. Tried to read Caroline Gordon because of friendship with F – but not my cup of cappuccino. She is Edith Wharton strained painfully through Somerset Maugham. Instead I am branching into a self-help jag – brought a book tonight called The Gift of Grief. Is this a gift anybody wants?
Avril and I trying Silver Spring Unitarians tomorrow.
Party Castle Tues 5 June 79 – 12:35 AM Devon ordained Sunday. I blew up under all the pressure yesterday – sobbed and sobbed. Avril said she would go out, get a part time job and just give me the money. I am so jealous of her for being a full-time student I guess. What an idiot. I apologized. I am experimenting with giving up writing. Why force myself to do it? I just won’t do it – enjoy life and job at least for awhile – till I have to write. We’ll see when that is. Trying to read bio of HP Lovecraft. There’s an object lesson wrapped around a cautionary tale.
Thurs 7 June 79 2:40 PM Foolishly agreed to go to the Belmont Stakes with Don, my patent lawyer who is now a regular at the Castle. (He has forgiven me for my hair.) Now I want to back out. He says we can have separate rooms, he’ll pay for everything, etc – he is going up with a whole party of people. I can’t believe I am going to get into this whole ordeal of having to get to know someone again. What would he do if I said absolutely nothing about myself? He doesn’t even know I’m a writer, for example. And if I go to Belmont, can’t see Devon. It’s all too stupid – have to think of an excuse to get out of this. If I ruin him as a big tipper what a dope I am. I guess this means I have gone through the whole dating thing and emerged out the other side. Ready for the next stage – whatever that is. Invited again to present at the Writer’s Conference at Coltsville. Shall I tell them I’ve given up on writing?
Castle – 11 PM – Thurs. 15 June 79 Don came in wearing tennis whites (purple in the black light) complete with racket like a Noel Coward character. I told him I was emotionally involved with someone else and just couldn’t go. He just sort of nodded and left without getting a drink – or tipping me – so he probably came in only to see me. Relief. Freedom beats money any day. I secretly hope he never comes in again. I will live without the tips. I applied for a MasterCard – hoping that will give me a backup way to manage emergencies. Dramatic scene with Jordana tonight – she came in sobbing – her boyfriend wants her to marry him and go to Florida and she doesn’t know what to do.
I said what I always say, take the risk. So she quit. Managers are furious with me.
Queens Chapel Rd – Sun 17 June 79
Exhausting weekend at seminar. I was supposed to
give a reading from Blood Memory. I was a nervous wreck beforehand, sweating, had to switch my breathing to manual – the works. It went fine. There was so much silence and building tension – then at the end, the release was cathartic. Bravos. That was the good part of the conference. The classes were the bad part.
Students disappointed that I’ve had only one book published and I’m still poor – they feel I might not be a “real” writer and I don’t blame them. Lamely told them about switching agents. I could have used some more stage presence or at least some bald-faced lies. My lack of confidence was broadcast far and wide. Having my period. Damn.
Starlight – Sat night – 23 June 79
What a week! I have discussed it with Avril in depth
but I still don’t understand it – I’ll just write it out and see what happens. Got a letter from Toss Sheffield of all people – my blood-mate from high school – a wonderful letter. He read my poem in the Alumni Directory and noted I was “divorced”. (Of course, technically I’m still just separated because of Bruce’s malfeasance.) Toss is working with Ralph Nader on Three Mile Island in DC all summer and wants to see me. The rest of the time he is a prizewinning journalist studying law in Kentucky. Woo hoo!
Timing could not be better – my restlessness desperately seeks somebody new – someone I don’t have to explain my childhood, schooling and family to. The Boy Next Door! At the very least I could use him as a cat o’nine tails on Devon (which he royally deserves). Last Wed night Devon showed up in the middle of the night on his way out to California. More push me – pull you. Very unsatisfying night as we finger each other gingerly like priceless objects pre-smashed, badly glued and inexpertly set. He invited me out to Calif. in Sept. Long wait, big ticket, which is the story of Any Girlfriend of Devon’s Life. Might be able to manage if I get that MasterCard. On the other hand said our parents were “hoping we’d get together” which is major turnoff.
GiGi came in again. She obviously misses us. Said she saw Buck the other day and he spoke of me fondly. There’s a load off my mind. Leave ‘em sighing, that’s my motto. Toss Sheffield put the phone number of the house where he’s staying in his letter – I’ll call him tonight around ten. Wait till he finds out what I do for a living. Or I might not tell him. It all depends on him.
He said he missed me at our tenth reunion – only went because he thought I’d be there! I didn’t go because I didn’t want to “explain my life” – and if I tell him, there’s a possibility everyone might know. Can I handle that much exposure?
Struggling to read Joan Didion’s Slouching Toward Bethlehem but she is pretty depressing. Read Millheiser’s The Mirror. Absolutely stank. What was Putnam thinking of to choose that novel over mine? Shows there’s a factor here I don’t understand. Wish I was a multizillionaire with my own publishing co.
Castle 26 June – Tues – 10:30 PM
How to describe my ecstatic dinner with Toss? He
opened himself up to me like a book. “Take. Read”. He loves the universe but in a healthy way – vibrates to it and wants to be overwhelmed, then empowered by it. Just like me! He explores the DC area with the zest of one “learning” a foreign country – touchingly amazed that one eats the whole of a fried crab – “Even the eyebrows!”
We discussed everything – politics, theology, my marriage – his parents’ divorce – his horrifyingly determined Catholic virgin of a high-maintenance girlfriend – he chose her because she reminds him of his grandmother. And he admits it!
This is all scary but I feel I must ride with it. He is so intelligent – such a relief to talk to someone who knows the difference between a prodigal and a prodigy and can tell a scherzo from a schizo. He showed up for dinner at Queens Chapel Road, driving an immaculate yellow Rabbit. I was frightened to so much as look out the window – I said to Avril – “Tell me what he’s like.” She said, He’s exactly the same.
And he was. Gorgeous poet’s face (Rupert Brooke) long blonde hair – wrestler’s body – maybe a little too thin. (He’s had a rough hardworking year of self-denial following Bad Relationship.) He wore a white cotton sweater and what looked to be the same corduroy pants he wore throughout high school. I wore tight white capris and my pink gauze blouse. He noticed my body immediately – how hard and slender – asked if I was a runner. I told him my doctor says I have a runner’s heart – but no, I’m a walker. I like taking my time to see all there is to see.
We had swordfish prepared on my new gas grill. We responded to each other in exactly the same way we did right before he left for college – his eyes feasting all over me – so humbling and overwhelming to realize someone loved me so deeply at such a painful period of my life. We marked each other in every meaning of the verb. I feel chastened and grateful to have such an effect on another person. We have so many similarities – both listened to Miss Goggins as children! We can each quote whole skits, tossing back bourbon in brandy snifters. As soon as I was drunk enough I declaimed my poem about how we spent Class Day in the treehouse.
He didn’t remember the frickin’ treehouse! The memories of people who don’t keep diaries are appallingly patchy. I showed him the trunk under my bed – decorated with flowers and my childish handwriting – and gave him the diary that described those nights! He was open mouthed; he stared at me as if I were a witch. Who knew diaries can come in so handily to resurrect the dead? He told me I am a fabulous writer and should never give up. That the purpose of existence is to find what you were born to do and do it. No one else in my life talks like this!
There was no lingering hostility over our unfortunate parting – our fundamentally dishonest Dear John – Dear Jane letters. No game playing – none of that. I can’t even recall who touched who first – my guess is we lunged at each other – it must have been mutual. Well, if I’m a witch, he’s a knight in shining armor.
Only he can rescue me from this hellish situation I’ve fallen in with Devon – with all of them. That he could make love to me that way and not want to see me till Sept has been playing tricks with my mind. Devon uses me to flagellate himself and I can be so much more than that.
It’s definitely fun to talk to someone who has exactly the same background as me – someone who reads and gets all my references. I was beginning to feel like an exotic (about to become extinct) rarity. He wants to date me solidly the whole time he’s here – (he leaves in Sept – that mystic date). Fri we’re going out – and probably Sun and the fourth of July. He says he’s never gotten over me, never loved anyone else the way he loved me. He wants me to come to his family’s place in the Berkshires in August – where I last went at 18 years old – why not say yes? I turn down work joyously while the managers gnash their teeth. It’s only money.
Alysse Aallyn 