Five Women (16 page)

She still had white friends, but now that she had started to date she dated only black men, holding fast to her emerging sense of herself. She was aware how immature she was when it came to men. Given her sexually precocious childhood it seemed to her she should have been less uncomfortable and frightened, but it apparently didn't work that way. Along with their own voice, her generation had delightedly discovered sexual freedom, but she had not. She couldn't help thinking about her mother, who was so unhappily obsessed with sex and love.

However, because without even being aware of it she had absorbed a certain body language from watching her mother all her life, Felicity was naturally seductive and charming with men. The tilt of her head, her pout, her smile were all Carolee. Felicity listened to her dates talk as if what they had to say was the most important thing in the world, even when it was idiotic. Although she hadn't done it purposely her way of dressing was provocative, and she was curvy and pretty. Her dates could hardly keep their hands off her. But when she got frightened, which always happened when they tried to get physical, she withdrew. She quickly got the reputation of being a cockteaser. That was the last thing she wanted to be, but she didn't know how else to handle her fear. Her freshman year she remained a virgin.

The college meals were starchy, unbalanced, and abundant For the first time in her life, Felicity started to overeat. At breakfast she broke the sweet, crumbly muffins apart, noticing the streaks of grease they left on the plate, and ate three. No matter how bad the food was, she devoured it. At night when she was studying she was always available to go out for pizza with her friends, who had rejected dinner although she hadn't. Suddenly she was hungry all the time, a strange sort of hunger because it was more like an emptiness that sighed through her body, something less akin to appetite than to fear. Chewing and swallowing sedated her. Wasn't everybody scared their first year at college? So many choices, all that freedom . . . Felicity looked in the mirror, trying in vain to close her jeans, and knew she was getting fat. She thought of Theodora.

When she went home for Christmas her jeans were a larger size and she was wearing baggy sweaters outside them so her mother wouldn't notice. The dashikis she had bought at college made a good disguise too. She was afraid to weigh herself because she knew it would make her depressed.

“You look a little chubby,” Carolee said, eyeing her.

“I always blow up when I'm expecting my period,” Felicity said offhandedly.

At the end of her first year at college when she came home for summer vacation she was even fatter. There was cellulite where none had existed before, and she felt heavy and logy. She got on the scale for the first time since the previous September, with trepidation, and discovered she had gained twenty-four pounds.

“What have you done to yourself?” her mother cried. “You look like your sister!”

Theodora sulked and turned away.

“I'm on a diet as of this minute,” Felicity said.

If her mother could lose twenty-five pounds in a few months without even trying, surely she could lose twenty-four over the summer when she was trying very hard. Her sister turned back to look at her with a sardonic expression that said: Join the club, and Felicity thought: Never.

Felicity had learned about syrup of ipecac at college, from her roommate, Iris, who was slender and popular. She bought a bottle, and all that summer, no matter what she ate, she made herself vomit afterward. Ipecac had the nastiest taste imaginable, and after she threw up particularly violently her eyeballs were red and she was afraid they might bleed, but the extra weight began coming off fast. The ipecac also made it possible for her to binge whenever she felt so empty she couldn't stand it anymore. She stuffed herself only when no one was around. Full or empty, her stomach hurt all the time.

She never talked to Theodora about it because somehow Theodora seemed to represent the enemy. But Felicity thought about her sister gnawing constantly, like some kind of huge, neurotic woodchuck, and for the first time she thought she understood her sister's pain. She also wondered if Theodora had
chosen
to become the outsider in that family, rejecting her mother's ideal of womanhood and thus rejecting her mother's unhappy life. She didn't discuss that with her sister either. They had never clung together when they were threatened by danger, they had never been close. Each in her own way had been too busy trying to survive. It was sad, but at the bottom of her soul each of them knew she would turn on the other one if she had to, because that was the way it was.

By the fall Felicity was thin again, even thinner than she had been before the episode, and her mother was so relieved she bought her a new wardrobe for her second year at college—letting her pick the clothes herself—and a small scale for her dorm room. When she got back to school, Felicity went to a doctor her friends knew about who gave her a prescription for diet pills. Everyone was taking diet pills, and everyone knew they were full of speed, but nobody thought there was anything bad about that including the doctor who prescribed them for her. The pills and her willpower kept the gorging at bay, and whenever it overtook her Felicity knew she had the disgusting ipecac. It was no big deal; it was just what you had to do.

Her junior year she was finally ready to have a real boyfriend. His name was Lincoln, and she met him at a school party. A friend had brought him because he didn't go to college anymore; he had dropped out as a way of rebelling against his successful parents. She identified with that; she was rebelling, too. He was dabbling with writing, with painting. He was sitting on the floor, next to the window, his dark chiseled features outlined by the glow of the setting sun, his fingers long and sensual the way she thought an artist's should be, and the first thing she thought when she saw him was, That's for me. He was good-looking, smart, and fun to be with. He was the man who taught her about sex. When they started going together she was so timid she wouldn't even let him put the lights on when they made love, but he was very gentle and persistent, and eventually Felicity was able to relax. She was a child starving for love, and Lincoln made her feel safe, made her understand that lovemaking could be a generous thing, a sharing and giving of love. Soon they were living together off and on, in her off-campus apartment, for which she paid the rent.

She and Lincoln stayed together while she finished college. When they talked about their plans for the future Felicity didn't know how they would ever work it out. She wanted to go to law school; he didn't know what he wanted. He was very bright, but she was beginning to think he was much too unfocused about life. He wasn't even serious about his art. None of the things he wanted to do fit in with her own middle-class upbringing and her upwardly mobile ambitions, which had solidified through her new sense of entitlement. When Felicity brought him home to meet her family, her mother at first couldn't cater to him enough, under the guise of encouraging the romance (but Felicity suspected she was flirting, and watched helplessly); and then when Carolee realized he was really very interested in Felicity she became violently opposed to him as a good-enough husband for her daughter. Now she didn't want Felicity to see him at all.

“If you don't break up with him you'll get trapped,” her mother told her. “Listen to me; I know.”

Felicity tried to persuade Lincoln to go back and finish college and consider going to law school afterward, but he didn't want to. Then she got into Harvard Law.

As a woman and a black she felt she had two extra reasons to be the best she could, and she studied long hours; and while she studied, Lincoln played. It was obvious by now that they were drifting apart, but she didn't know what to do about it. Then one day he simply didn't come home. He stayed away for three weeks, and she was frightened and miserable wondering where he was while her mind wandered in class and she worried about keeping up with the work. Sometimes when she was trying to study in the library she found herself dissolving into tears instead, in front of anyone who cared to look. And then he came back. He told her he had been with another woman all that time but that it was over and he was back now.

Felicity didn't know why he had told her about his affair, but when she discovered he had been cheating on her something inside her went cold and dead. It was over, and there was nothing Lincoln could do to make things the way they had been before. She made him move out.

I shouldn't settle for a man like him, Felicity thought to console herself, and concentrated even harder on her studies. Her mother was delighted they had broken up, and gave herself the credit for showing Felicity what a bad mistake she could have made. They both finally agreed on something, that a much better man would come along.

After all, look what had happened to hopeless Theodora! A brilliant student, she had gotten into Radcliffe, and in her junior year, Theodora became engaged to Calvin Longman, a black Harvard Medical School student with a great future and who didn't mind how enormous she was. This happy ending for her was a complete shock and a wild stroke of luck. She was so secretive that no one in the family had even known she had a boyfriend. Felicity thought Calvin was unattractive, not that it mattered; Theodora was in love.

Theodora and Calvin were married in the family's church in Detroit the day after her graduation. Felicity thought they must have bought all the white tulle in the whole city. Theodora looked like a galleon in full sail coming down the aisle, and she had a long train that hadn't been seen since royalty. The radiant couple were hoping to have four children and live in Cambridge, where he would do research. It was also the day after Felicity's graduation from Harvard Law School, but she attended the wedding alone.

Felicity was pleased for her sister, who had never had much happiness, but she was also bewildered and—she had to face it—jealous. How is it that she picked the right one for her right away and I have such bad taste? she wondered. Am I stupid? Maybe it's because Theodora knew to grab her chance, and my chance just hasn't come yet.

Thinking this made her feel better. When the right man comes along, I'll know, Felicity told herself over and over. If it can happen for Theodora, of course it can happen for me, too. And my husband will be a winner. I feel it, I know it. Someone wonderful will come along for me soon.

Chapter Fourteen

E
VE HAD BEEN STRUGGLING
in Hollywood for four years. When she looked at her friends, who were also trying to be actors, she realized she wasn't any worse off than they were, but that was not what she had intended for her life. She knew she was special. She had an agent who still believed in her, although Beverly hadn't gotten her any movie roles or, in fact, anything but go-sees that seldom turned into auditions, and she had begun to wonder if her agent was any good. She still had faithful Juan, who was doing so well as a house painter he had put his dreams of being a star on the back burner for now. She had never been a woman who needed a man to represent her in the world, so if Juan didn't want to be an actor that was his business, although she thought it was a waste. As long as he paid his share of the rent . . .

But Eve had known all along that she had never been in love with him, and now she began to wonder if it was time for her to move on, go East. Friends she had made were telling her the work was in New York. There was theater in New York, and off-Broadway, where you could be discovered, and there was television, and long-term work in soap operas. Los Angeles was a one-company town, in some ways a very small town, and while this was good for developing contacts, it was also limiting.

Nicole was still with Eve's mother, who was getting impatient now that the baby had turned into an active little girl. Eve had hoped she would get so fond of her granddaughter that she would want to keep her, the way you read about from time to time in those custody battles, but no such luck. Even though Nicole wasn't actually living with her, Eve had to pay most of her support, as well as take care of herself, and she was always looking for ways to make extra cash.

Another waitress who was also an actress, her friend Joanne, had been moonlighting as a clown at children's birthday parties. That summer she talked Eve into trying it. The pay was very good for only a couple of hours on a Sunday afternoon, and she would be in a billowy clown suit, a red wig, and white face paint, so no one would know her. Besides, there wouldn't be anyone there she knew. They were rich movie executives and stars, and their wives, and the little brats she was to entertain. The husbands probably wouldn't even be there, except for the birthday father. She would blow up balloons, keep up a clever patter, do rudimentary magic tricks that she had learned from Joanne, give out party favors, and generally make a fool of herself. Joanne told her she could think of it as another kind of acting experience, but Eve was dreading it anyway. She didn't even like children. But money was money.

It was a hot day. The party was in a mansion in Beverly Hills, on Crescent Drive, or more precisely outside the house, where the kids couldn't do much damage. In the driveway there was a pony wearing bows in his mane and ribbons on his saddle, and there was a man dressed in white holding his halter so the kids could take turns riding around. Eve left her car with the valet parking guy who had been hired for the event and, in her full clown costume and makeup, carrying her knapsack filled with magic tricks, went out back by the swimming pool.

The birthday girl and her friends were already there, some with their mothers or governesses, and the lone father, who had nothing to do because there was a professional cameraman taking the home movies. Most of the parents would come back later to pick their kids up. Some of the kids were all dressed up, and others had changed into bathing suits. Eve looked at the pool longingly, and at the lucky brats jumping into it. She was bathing only in sweat. She could tell this would be a long party.

“Hello, hello,” she said with a fake chuckle. “I'm Yahoo the Clown, and we're going to have a good time.”

“Are you a boy or a girl?” one little boy asked, poking her.

“You'll never know,” Eve snapped. She saw the mother looking at her peculiarly. “I mean, I'm just a clown person,” Eve corrected herself. “You can call me Yahoo.”

The first part of the party she had to wander around and be sociable, and then, before the ice cream and cake, she had to do her act. It must be over ninety out here, Eve thought resentfully. The little brats were the age of her own daughter, and her daughter had never had such an expensive party with a clown and a pony.

Sometimes she thought about her daughter and her feelings surprised her. For instance now, when she had to act like a clown for the extra money so she could send it to her mother to buy Nicole just basic clothes to replace the ones she'd grown out of. Part of her felt embittered when she thought of the burden of another person in her life, but another part felt badly that her daughter couldn't have any of the advantages these kids had. Nicole was getting cuter all the time, and she would have looked wonderful in one of those party dresses from Bambola that cost as much as the whole check Eve was going to receive today, the dresses the little girls here were rolling in the grass in. What did they care when they probably had a closetful at home?

She was so tired of scrimping and saving, of being poor, of having to parade herself in front of strangers who rejected her before she had a chance to say more than a sentence. Once she had even been rejected at an audition because she “stood out too much.” Wasn't that what they wanted? You always noticed the person with star quality.

Eve blew up a balloon and deftly shaped it into an animal, bowed, and presented it to the birthday girl, who smiled. She made a camera appear from her sleeve and gave it to the kid too, then another camera for someone else, and another. Some party favors. Where she came from you got gum.

“Me! Me, Yahoo! Me next!” the kids were clamoring. A few more years and they would be so jaded she would have to produce car keys for them.

Eve helped herself to some lemonade. She couldn't perspire through the white greasepaint on her face and she felt as if her skin was burning. In New York it would be cool, and there would be seasons. Her old car needed expensive repairs almost constantly now. In New York she wouldn't need a car. She would sell the heap. Beverly could probably get her more work in New York than she'd had here, because Hollywood actresses all looked so bland. Eve began to feel she had an Eastern energy, which is why she had never fit in anywhere, not in Florida, and not here.

“Showtime!” she announced.

The little kids all sat down on the grass to watch her. Their mothers and governesses were under the cool roof of the patio; they were no fools. Eve sang some kids' songs, told some jokes, and did her magic tricks, but the kids were not impressed. They had seen clowns before. All they were interested in was more presents, and the chance to play and be wild. It was time for the Mickey Mouse watches. That got their attention again for a few minutes. While Eve was distributing this bounty she automatically kept track of how many cameras and watches she had not yet given away, since she was planning to appropriate one of each for her own daughter. By now she was an expert at filching, having done it on a minor level in restaurants for years.

When her act was finished the kids raced for the birthday cake. The adults had canapés and champagne. Eve took a break to go to the bathroom, which was a major project since she had to take off the clown suit, and on her way there she picked up a couple of watches and cameras that the kids had already abandoned and tucked them into her knapsack with her magic stuff, along with the watch and camera she had kept back. She might as well take souvenirs for Juan and herself too.

When she got out of the bathroom two of the kids were crying. “Somebody took my camera,” one of them wailed.

“Where's my watch? I want my watch. I want my watch, Mommy. Mommy, I want my watch.”

“Yahoo, give her another one,” the birthday mother said. She was all dressed up in tight silk jeans and high heels and a ton of diamonds, and Eve knew her for one of those young Beverly Hills matrons who had to drive a Bentley into town to have lunch and go shopping when she lived three blocks away. Well, how could a woman like that carry a package, or walk in those heels? She never had to hike to the bus stop twice a day the way I did, Eve thought, resenting her and her money and privilege and fancy house.

“There are no more,” Eve said, opening her eyes wide.

“That can't be. I bought extra ones.”

“Yahoo took them,” a little girl said. “I saw him.”

Eve turned and glared at the little girl, who was three feet high and standing there with her tiny hands on her hips and her button eyes filled with smug malice. “Yahoo is neither a he nor a she,” Eve said. “Yahoo is a clown.”

“Well, do you have more?” the mother said.

“No.”

“You do too. I saw you,” the kid said.

“You are very short, and you are mistaken.”

The kid kicked her in the ankle.

“That's it,” Eve said. “I'm leaving.” She turned to the mother. “Give me my check and I'm out of here.”

“We need to talk privately,” the woman said, taking Eve by the arm. She led her to the kitchen, where a maid and a caterer were fussing around. “You are not to take the party favors for yourself,” she said.

“I wouldn't dream of it.”

“Do you mind if I look in your bag?”

Rage filled Eve like a fever. She wanted to tear the woman's teased, bleached blonde hair out by its stringy roots. “You dare to accuse me?” Eve snapped.

“I just want to see. If you didn't take them you'll let me look.”

“What do you think this is, fucking Customs?” Eve said, having seen movies about smuggling although she had never been anywhere. “Are you the fucking government?”

“You don't have to be obscene.”

“You don't have to be such a bitch.”

“Get out of my house.”

“Give me my check.”

“I'll give it to you in the driveway.”

“You'll give it to me now.” Sweat was pouring down her body even though the kitchen was air-conditioned, and the itching of her sensitive facial skin under the greasepaint was almost more than she could bear. Her red clown wig felt like a hornet's nest. Eve pulled off the wig and grabbed a handful of paper towels and rubbed at her face. Her hair was wet and matted, and she was sure she had a rash. “You've given me a fucking allergy attack from this stupid costume,” she screamed. “I ought to charge you hazard pay.”

“I ought to call the police,” the woman screamed back. She grabbed Eve with her slim, muscular arms, iron-strong from tennis, and pulled her out of the kitchen, through the back door, and out to the driveway. The little kids who had been lined up to ride the pony were giggling their heads off. This was the first thing about the party that they really liked.

“My check!” Eve said, holding her knapsack closed with one hand, the other hand outstretched.

The woman took the folded check from the pocket of her silk jeans, where she'd had it all along, and finally gave it to her. “You'll never work for my friends again,” she said.

“I don't intend to.”

A man was standing there, having come to pick up his kid. A skinny guy with glasses. Eve recognized him. It was Sophocles Birnbaum, from her long ago waitress days at the Confident Onion, and he recognized her, too. She'd read in the trades that he had gotten even more successful since she had last seen him. It had never occurred to her before that he had a private life as well as a professional one, that he had a wife, and a kid who went to birthday parties, like a normal person. She didn't know if she should say hello to him or pretend she was someone else.

She didn't have to choose. He cringed away and sidled into the house, his face turned away, as if he had never seen her before and was not seeing her now. She wondered if it was tact or if he really didn't want to know her.

Eve's rage abated and she suddenly felt terribly sad. The valet parking guy had come with her car and she got into it and drove away. As she drove down the clean quiet streets under tall palm trees, past mansions that seemed uninhabited, all the things she had once dreamed would someday be hers, Eve's eyes filled with tears, and she realized with a vengeance how much she hated this phony town.

When she left for Florida to see her mother and daughter for Christmas, it was with all her belongings, on her way to move to New York. She had parted from Juan with more nostalgia on his part than on hers, and from Hollywood with none. She knew Juan would find another girlfriend in fifteen minutes. People left other people and places all the time. If she ever came back here it would be as a star, or not at all.

Eve had not seen Nicole since last Christmas, and she was surprised at the change in her. She was five years old, almost ready to start school. She was bigger than she had seemed in her pictures, which anyway were six months old. Nicole looked just like Eve, as if all Eve's genes had been dominant. Her posture and body language were just like her grandmother's, which was not surprising, so she gave the appearance of being a tough little kid, but she smiled all the time. Eve could not imagine from whom she had inherited this sunny disposition. Her wardrobe consisted of jeans, just as Eve's had, but times and fashions had changed since Eve was a child and everybody else dressed like Nicole. She did not have to feel out of place and ugly the way Eve had.

“You did a good job with her, Mom,” Eve said. She gave Nicole all her presents but forgot to give her a hug. Nicole didn't seem to care.

“Thank you,” her mother said. “And Nicole, what do you say to your mommy?”

“Thank you, Mommy.”

“She has a Southern accent,” Eve said disapprovingly.

“What do you expect?”

Eve hadn't even thought about what she should expect. She had gotten rid of most of her Florida accent over the past years through her own hard work, feeling it would limit her choice of roles, and now with this difference between them the child seemed even less like her own.

“How long are you staying with us?” her mother asked.