Dead Stars (20 page)

Thursday, 1PM, the Polo Lounge . . .
back in the game.

He treated himself to 6 Norcos and 6 klonopins, in celebration. He was in his bedroom, but heard his mother singing a childhood song. Her voice carried over the baby monitors her caregivers had placed in the living room and kitchen.

Bud pictured himself in one of the storied booths of the fabled pink palace, & said a recently youtubed Gleason line outloud:

 

Howwwwwwwww sweet it is!

EXPLICIT

[Jacquie]

Seared

She

got lucky with the Sears job because it wasn't a slamdunk, not even close, especially not at her age. But there she was, amidst the dolorous big box retail funk—the perfect storm of 3 (count em)
just-fired
employees + a gay manager who was way into her from the presentation/gate . . . during the interview she charmed by reminiscing about those adolescent darkroom days plus
very
carefully
alluding to perhaps being a bit overqualified, not of course summoning googleable glory days but rather pulling a few savvy foto technique remarks out of the hat, simple but effective enough (she hoped) to seal the deal. She was mindful to keep her comments modest and leave her ego out of it, which was hard,
is
hard, & kept reminding herself she was on a down-low mission from the muses. To offset any potential Brahmin vibe/takeaway, Jacquie humbly stressed that she was super-trainable (knowing that training was always management's bane), even tho probably just an hour's tutelage on the machines would do—i.e. the girl was camera-ready. And she flirted a little the way fag hags do: those superheated moments in the early stages of any wild, drama-strewn romance between a gay man and hetero woman. All's fair in art and war, & the art of war too.

She just wanted to get hired.

. . .

Moms brought their babies—lots of baby portraits. (Everything was called
portraits
and
portraiture.
) Family pets even. On Saturdays, families came in for their formal sittings. On Sundays, they came after church, & Jacquie got that feeling of real Americana. She thought, in 100 years, her work would be featured at flea markets & yard sales, anon family portraits, circa early 21st-century. Young couples sauntered in, cholos & cholitas, fewer though than Jacquie would have thought. They were almost always at the store shopping for something else. They'd pass the photo studio & the girl would get the idea and not let it go until her boyfriend caved.

The manager was one of those dream homos—shockingly ascerbic, hilariously brilliant, borderline heartbreaking homely. Shaved head, big butt, tender heart. (“I cry at the drop of a pillbox hat,” he told her. “Make that an
Isabella Blow
hat.”) They began to lunch together in the mall, telling stories from their lives, stock shards & bravura fragments typically kept on reserve for a crush, or a simpatico new acquaintance; the broken pieces soon conflating into the unwashed picture windows & stained glass one risks sharing with a veritable new friend. Such as: before coming to Sears, Albie worked for an online company that turned photo submissions of pets/family into large, hangable prints in the style of Warhol & Lichtenstein. Such as, he spoke reasonably fluent Japanese, courtesy of an older man who took Albie as a lover when he was just 14. (They were together 10 years.) He was 38 now, & a widower. His husband Francesco recently died of AIDS, & Francesco's grandmother was a famous black panther, which Albie thought ironic, in that Francesco was an albino. (Albie honed and exploited the albino-Black Panther routine through the years to great comic effect.) Albie was HIV-positive himself, coming up on 23 years . . .

Fragments & shards.

Jacquie came clean, telling him the whole certiwikifiable truth & nothing but, ending with the confession that once upon a time she was a celestial body (but no more), one of those shooting stars fated to arc across diurnal skies, consigned to perpetual underexposure. Albie surprised her by saying that he already knew, because he was required to websearch all job applicants. “There was something
about
you,” he added. “You remind me of Anne Sexton! But I'd have looked you up
anyway
. I look
everyone
up.”

Of course he does. Because that's what people do—they look you up. Everyone looks everyone up, that's what
she
should start doing.

No—too late.

Suddenly, Jacquie felt old, uncertain, unsophisticated.

Undernourished, underwater, underexposed.

Washed up & washed down.

That most pitiable thing:

A performance artist without a concept.

. . . menopausal Sears employee.

A familiar fog rolled in & clung to her coast.

. . .

–I got your note. And I'm sorry that I haven't been more present.

–That's OK.

–No, it isn't. Because we have a lot to talk about. First of all, how are you?

–Fine.

–Are you really?

–Yeah—why . . .

–You're going through changes in your body. Any changes in your head?

–Like what?

–I don't know. It's not my head.

–Sometimes I feel really
sad.
Then sometimes like I am
so happy.
That I'm going to have this baby. & being a mother scares me? But I think it's something I'll be really good at?

–(
Smiles
) Is that a question?

–(
Smiles
) No. It's a statement? (
They laugh
) It's a
statement
.

–I got a call from—is it Eliza? Hirschorn?

–The social worker.

–Is she the one who works with all the parents? Of the girls who are expecting?

–Uh huh. She's really nice. I mean
really
nice.

–Good, good, that's great. How many girls over there are expecting?

–Just Marisol. She's six months . . . last year there was I think three. No! Four. Yeah there were four. Remember Toleda?

–From Salvador? Those big green eyes? What happened to her?

–She had a little girl, I think. No! A little boy. She went back. To Salvador.

–I talked to Rikki's dad.

–You
did
?

–We've had
several
conversations. I'm off tomorrow, and we're having lunch.

–Cool. Is his mom going?

–I don't know. I don't think so.

–How's Rikki.

–He's good.

–Can you bring him by this weekend? For lunch? Because now he is
definitely
in my life! I want to know him. We've hardly had a conversation. Is he smart? His father's smart.

–O my god, Rikki is
so smart
.

–Not that it's a prerequisite . . . it's all about the heart. Does he have a good heart? Is he a good man?

–He's got a
really
big heart. O my god, he is
so generous
.

–Terrific.

–So how's it going? I mean work.

–Fine. Work is fine. Your note said you wanted to talk.

–Okay. I—yeah. I wanted—

–Sorry to interrupt but are you going to tell your father?

–I guess. Maybe. You mean, now?

–Yes, I mean now. Have you thought about it?

–Kind of. It's not like he—I haven't talked to him in like, 3 months.

–You do what you need to do. I'm not advocating either way, but that's his grandchild. If I talk to him, I certainly won't discuss it without your permission.

–Oh my god, please don't!

–OK, I'm done.

–Mama, I wanted to ask you . . . it's just something—you know, we can talk about it another time.

–What is it? (Reeyonna looks down at carpet/stressed out) Jerilynn? What's going on?

–Well I've been thinking. I've been doing a lot of thinking, &—I've been thinking about how we're going to
live,
Rikki and I, when, when the baby's born. You know, where we're going to
live———

–(
Doesn't know where this is going
) Okay?

–& I thought we could get an apartment, we could get an apartment that's like really close, or not too far away . . . . . . . .

–You're going to need
a lot of help
, Jerilynn, I don't think you
realize———

–
. . . . . . . . because if I just keep living here & Rikki keeps staying at his house, I
totally know
what's going to happen from watching all those
Teen Mom
shows————

–You're
you,
Jerilynn, you're
not
a TV show.

–They're
reality
shows. They show what—what happens—what
can
happen. In
reality
. And it's because they stay at
home
and are dependant on their
moms
. There's, like, no
consequences
.

–Well, I think it's good you're having these thoughts, but—

–I just think it will be
so much better
if we live in an apartment.

–And how do you expect to pay for that? Is Rikki working? Are his parents going to give you money?

–I don't
think
so.

–And I don't have it, Jerilynn, I just don't have it. I'm working at Sears! I think it's a sweet—it's a good idea, I mean it's
sound
, but there's—the baby is
already
going to be a big expense. The baby is a
hardship
. You really need to start to realize. There are
diapers
, there—

–I know! And I don't—I wasn't going to
ask
you for any money. I want to use my
own
money.

–(
A kind of crazy look
) Your own money?

–From my trust.

–What do you mean trust?

–For the money. For the pictures—

–What pictures—

–The ones you
took
. Of
me
. The
photographs
. Remember when you said you were going to put money away? Because you said you wanted me to
benefit
? You said you wanted me to
benefit
from your work—

–Oh. Yeah. OK. Okay—this—this is . . . . . . . . . . . .

–I'm not
asking
for your money. I'm not asking for anyone's money but my
own
. And I know I might not be able to have it until I'm 21 or 18, legally or whatever, but what I wanted to ask you was if you—if they—the bank or whomever—if they could give me my money
early
because of my—because of my
circumstances
. I can even help
you
with it, I mean, if you need money, so you don't have to work at Sears anymore, it would take off
such
a burden from everyone's shoulders . . . or I can even take
part
of, like, whatever it is, I could take just like 125,000 or even a hundred—

–(
Trancelike
) A hundred and twenty-five thousand . . .

–Mom, I don't
care
what it is, you can release to me
whatever
, it'll just make things so much
easier—
I mean, so people—you & Rikki's parents—so no one has to
worry
 . . .

–Jerilynn, I want you to listen to me. I want you to hear this. I really want you to hear this. For a lot of years, I raised you and your brother alone. Your father gave me money for a while & then that stopped. And I was desperate. I was very, very depressed. I felt like the world passed me by. It's a terrible feeling to have. I started taking pictures again because it was the only thing that stopped me from spiraling down. I started taking pictures of
you
because you were my light, my little faerie, my little blond angel. I had
no idea
anyone would be interested in those photographs. Because they were really just for me. Are you listening?
Because I really want you to listen, Jerilynn, you really need to listen.
I was absolutely—I couldn't believe they got so much attention, even acclaim. And it allowed me to begin a new life, it let
us
begin a new life. But what you need to know is that I did not become rich. Not me, not the galleries, not anybody. It was more—it's like my career has been more—more a
cause célèbre
than anything else. Do you know what a
cause célèbre
is, Jerilynn? It's when something's
controversial
but not necessarily
profitable
. You know, so I traveled to England to show my work, to
tremendous
expense, & everywhere we went—it wasn't cheap bringing you on these trips, that's why I had your brother stay with Ronny in NY—there were always these little
tempests
when I showed my work, & it seemed that as long as the pictures were
controversial
, people were more apt to buy. They sold for twenty-five hundred up to $12,000. We didn't sell too many $12,000 ones, we sold a lot in the midrange & even more in the lower, the lower prices. And the galleries took 50%.
50% . . .

–If what you're saying is there's less of the money left, I already told you that's OK, because—

–I didn't
have
to put you in a private school, but I
did
. Do you know how much New Crossroads cost? $23,000
a year.
For a 12-year-old!—

–Mom, it doesn't matter, I'll just take whatever's there—

–Jerilynn, I don't even remember, but that's not—

–You don't remember how much is there? In the trust?

–I don't remember . . .
promising
that—because I knew what our
situation
was. But that I don't remember isn't the point—I'll take your word for it, & it
does
sound like something I would have definitely wanted to do if I could—

–There isn't any money?

–Jerilynn, I'll go over my bank statements with you, I'll have the
accountant
go over them with you. Right now, I'm carrying $90,000 in credit card debt.

–O my god. You totally lied. You totally scammed your own daughter . . . . . . . . .

–Jerilynn—

–O my god, I
hate
you————

–That isn't fair. Apparently, you weren't listening when—(
Reeyonna starts to SCREAM
) Jerilynn—Jerilynn,
stop.
Stop!