Valley of the Dolls (47 page)

Jennifer was on all the front pages the following day. And Senator Winston Adams acknowledged they would marry early in 1961. In a flurry of ecstasy, excitement and headlines, she returned to the Coast to make her final picture.

1961

Jennifer returned to New York the first week in January. Senator Adams was detained in Washington for a few days, and Anne went with her as she bought her trousseau.

“Everything must be different,” she insisted. “Striking, but—you know—subdued. You’ve got to help me, Anne.”

They were in the fitting room at Bergdorf’s when Jennifer suddenly leaned against the wall. “Anne . . . have you an aspirin?”

She was ashen and the pupils of her eyes were dilated. The fitter rushed for the aspirin. Jennifer sat down. “Stop looking so terrified, Anne.” She managed a smile. “It’s the curse. It came early, from all the excitement, I guess. I get stabbing pains.”

Anne relaxed. “You scared me to death.”

Jennifer lit a cigarette. “It’s passed now. But that pain—it was a real bonecrusher. I guess that’s what labor feels like. If this is a sample, I’m going to find a nice painless doctor when I have my babies.”

The fitter returned with the aspirin and the head saleslady came rushing in, visibly concerned.

“I go through it too,” the woman said. “I crawl up walls. Thank God it only comes once a month.”

“You’re lucky,” Jennifer said. “Lately I’ve been getting it every two or three weeks.”

The salesgirl shook her head. “It’s better than my girl friend. She’s beginning to go through the change. She skips whole months and worries herself sick.”

Jennifer selected three dresses. The salesgirl thanked her, got her autograph for her niece and wished her luck.

Later, when they were sitting at the Palm Court having a drink, Anne said casually, “By the way, Jen, when was the last time you had a checkup?”

Jennifer was thoughtful. “Let’s see, the last abortion was in Sweden—it’s legal there—that was four years ago. The doctor said I was sound as a rock.”

“Well, it wouldn’t hurt you to check. My doctor is excellent.”

Jennifer nodded. “Maybe I will.”

Dr. Galens was calm and easy as he made out her card. The internal examination was over; she was dressed and seated across the desk from him. “How long has this been going on?” he asked.

“A few months. I wouldn’t even have thought about it, but Anne’s been on my neck. And then, when the curse continued—it’s been ten days. I’m getting married next week, so I wanted to be sure everything was in order. After all, I intend to start having babies right away.”

He nodded. “Is the Senator in town now?”

“No, he’s in Washington. He’ll be here next week.”

“Well, then suppose you check into the hospital tonight.”

“Tonight?” Jennifer crushed out her cigarette. “Is anything wrong?”

“Absolutely nothing. If you weren’t planning on getting married next week, I’d say let’s wait and watch your next period. You have polyps in your uterus. It’s very common. You go in for tonight, have a scraping tomorrow and leave the hospital the following day. You will stain for a few days, but if you go in now you’ll be fine for your wedding day.”

Alarmed, Anne checked with Dr. Galens. He was hiding nothing from Jennifer. It was a simple “D and C.” She helped Jennifer pack a bag and went along to the hospital with her.

Anne sat in the empty hospital room after Jennifer was taken up. She was glad it was nothing serious—Jennifer wanted a baby so much. And she deserved one. Funny . . . as close as they were, Jen had never explained why she had gotten rid of Tony’s baby.

Dr. Galens was down in an hour. Anne sensed instantly that something was wrong.

“She’s sleeping off the anesthesia,” he said.

“What is it?” Anne demanded. “I can tell—something’s wrong. It wasn’t just polyps.”

“It
was
just polyps—exactly as I thought. There’s nothing wrong with her insides,” he said. “But while the anesthetist was checking on her heartbeat, he found a lump in her breast the size of a walnut. She must have known about it.”

Anne felt weak. “But lots of lumps mean nothing. I mean—some are only cysts, aren’t they?”

“I took the lump out,” he said quietly. “It was a simple, tiny incision that wouldn’t leave a noticeable scar. I had an immediate biopsy performed. Anne, it’s malignant. She must go up tomorrow and have the breast removed.”

Anne went cold with horror. Oh, God, why Jennifer? And why now? She felt tears running down her face. “You tell her,” she sobbed. “I can’t!”

Jennifer opened her eyes slowly, struggling to wake. It was over. She smiled at the hazy figure of the nurse beside her. “Is everything all right?”

“Here’s Doctor Galens now,” the nurse said brightly.

He touched her forehead gently. “Coming out of it?”

“Mmmm . . . tell me, it was just as you thought—polyps—wasn’t it?”

“Yes, everything is fine in that department. Jennifer, why didn’t you tell me you had a lump in your breast?”

Instinctively her hand reached to her breast. She felt the small bandage.

“I took out the lump. How long have you had it?”

“Dunno . . .” She was getting drowsy again. “ ’Bout a year . . . maybe longer.”

“You go back to sleep. We’ll talk about it later.”

Through the haze of anesthesia she felt the fear. She reached out and grabbed his arm. “Talk about
what
later?”

“I’m afraid I’ll have to bring you up here again tomorrow . . . to do a little more cutting.”

“Cutting? Like what?”

“We’re going to have to perform a mastectomy. Dr. Richards will do it. He’s one of our top breast surgeons.”

“What’s a mast—what you said?”

“We have to remove your breast, Jennifer. That lump was malignant.”

She struggled to sit up. “No!
Never!
Oh, God—
no!”
She fell back, her head spinning. Something was shot into her arm.

She fell asleep, fitfully, waking some time later and clutching at the nurse, pleading, “It was a dream, wasn’t it? I just dreamed it under gas, didn’t I—what he said about my breast? Tell me . . .”

“Now, now . . . relax,” the nurse said softly.

She saw sympathy on the woman’s face. It was no dream. Oh, God, it was true!

Anne had rushed to Kevin’s office and sobbed out the story. He had listened in silence, then asked. “Did Dr. Galens say the prognosis looked hopeful?”

Anne stared at him impatiently. “Hopeful? Haven’t you heard a word I’ve said?”

“I heard everything. She must lose her breast. It’s dreadful, but it’s not the end of the world. Anne, do you know how many women live long and happy lives after successful breast surgery? The point is to catch it in time.”

She looked at him gratefully. That was Kevin. Always taking hold, finding the hopeful side of everything. He got Dr. Galens on the phone. The doctor said he had every reason to believe the prognosis would be good. Dr. Richards had agreed. It was a small tumor, and the survival rate in breast surgery was high. If there was no metastasis, the prognosis would be excellent—but that could not be determined until the breast was removed and the lymph glands examined.

Somewhat reassured and calmed by Kevin’s matter-of-fact reaction, Anne returned to the hospital. Jennifer was wide awake and oddly emotionless. She reached out and clutched Anne’s hand. “Dr. Galens called Win,” she whispered. “He’s flying here immediately.”

“Did he tell him?” Anne asked.

Jennifer shook her head. “I told him not to say a word. I feel I should be the one to tell him.” She smiled weakly at the nurse. “I’m all right Would you leave me alone with my friend?”

“Don’t let her drink any fluids for at least two hours,” the nurse said. “Do you want a special nurse ordered for tonight?”

“No, the operation isn’t until tomorrow and Dr. Galens ordered round-the-clock nurses starting then. I’m fine—please just leave us alone.”

She watched the nurse leave—then she jumped out of bed.

“What are you doing?” Anne asked, alarmed.

“I’m getting out of here—right now!”

Anne seized her arm. “Jennifer, are you crazy?”

“Look, they’re not going to disfigure me. How could Win want to come near me!”

“You said yourself he fell in love with
you,
not your breasts. Now don’t be ridiculous.”

But Jennifer was at the closet, pulling out her clothes. “I’m getting out of here. I’ll take the chance. He got the cancer out—he’s not taking off my breast!”

“Jennifer—it’s the only way they can be sure. It might have spread to another part of the breast.”

“I don’t care! It’s bad enough that I won’t be able to give Win any children, but I won’t come to him deformed.”

“It could be suicide if you leave. Do you think that’s fair to Win? To marry him and perhaps a year later put him through this? His last wife was sick. And what has this got to do with having a baby? You can still have children. Dr. Galens said you were fine inside.”

“But I mustn’t get pregnant. Dr. Galens said so. A pregnancy might stir up some malignancy in the ovaries. There’s some direct connection with the breast and ovaries. In fact, he said after the operation he may give me some X-ray treatment on my ovaries to insure sterility! What would I have to offer Win? No children, a maimed body . . .”

“You offer him
you!
That’s all he really wants. Look—you said you were sick of living for your body. Well, prove it. And if you want children you can adopt them.”

Slowly Jennifer climbed back into bed.

Anne rushed on. “No one need ever know—just you and Win. He’ll love you and won’t mind about the babies. I’m positive of that. And if you adopt a child it will be the same as your own. And the operation will be nothing. Honest, Jen, with the pain killers today—and with the wonderful falsies you can buy—Jen, it’s not the end of the world.”

Jennifer stared at the ceiling. “You know, it’s funny. All my life, the word cancer meant death, terror, something so horrible I’d cringe. And now I have it. And the funny part is, I’m not the least bit frightened of the cancer itself—even if it turns out to be a death sentence. It’s just what it’ll do to my life with Win—not being able to give him children. And the disfigurement.”

“It won’t show, Jen. Some people have automobile accidents, have their faces disfigured. Some women are naturally flat-chested, and they manage. You’re the one who’s been saying all along you didn’t want to live for your body. Well, have some guts, some belief in yourself—start proving it. And start believing in Win.”

Jennifer smiled faintly. “Okay, then I’d better get out of this hospital gown. And get me my makeup. I want to look my best when I tell him.” She sat up and combed her hair. As she slipped into the filmy nightgown, she stared down at the breast with the small bandage. “Good-by, Sam,” she said. “You don’t know it, but you aren’t going to be around much longer.”

Kevin joined Anne, and they were both there when Winston Adams arrived at seven. Anne had arranged the lights. Jennifer looked every inch the movie star, and she was almost cheerful. After a brief exchange of greetings, Kevin and Anne left.

The moment they had gone, Winston dashed to the bed and took Jennifer in his arms. “God, I almost died of fear. The doctor was so strange on the phone—said you needed an operation, hinted that the wedding might have to be postponed. And now, to see you looking so beautiful. . . What kind of an operation, darling?”

She looked at him closely. “It’s pretty drastic, Win. I’ll be scarred and won’t be able to have any children . . . and I’ll be—”

“Hush . . . not a word.” He looked at her with adoration. “Shall I tell you something? I was going along with the whole thing because of you. The children, I mean. At my age, I really didn’t care one way or another. But I wanted to please you. You seemed to want it so much, so I pretended it was important to me. All I care about is
you
—can’t you understand—”

She held him close. “Oh, Win!” Tears of relief ran down her face.

He stroked her hair. “You weren’t afraid you’d lose me? Oh, my beautiful girl—you’ll never lose me. Don’t you realize I’m just beginning to live because of you?” He kissed her breasts through the filmy nightgown. “You’re all I want—not babies,
you
. you’re the only woman who ever stirred anything in me. God, Jennifer, before I knew you I often wondered if something wasn’t lacking in me. I blamed it on Eleanor. Poor Eleanor—it wasn’t her fault. She roused nothing within me, and I probably left her cold, too. But with you . . . At first, when we met, I turned away from you—remember?”

She nodded and stroked his head as he lay against her breasts. He kissed the firm skin of her neck. “But you changed me, made me realize I wasn’t running from you, that I was just afraid, running from myself. And the moment you walked into my apartment, I knew. I knew somehow everything would be different. Jennifer, you taught me how to love. I could never give that up.” He caressed her breasts. “These are my babies,” he said softly. “These are the only children I want, to lay my face against their perfection each night. . . .” He stopped as his finger stumbled against the small bandage. “What’s this? What have they done to one of my babies?”

Her smile was frozen. “It’s nothing . . . I had a small cyst. . .”

“There won’t be a scar!” He was genuinely horrified.

“No, Winston—they drew it out with a needle. No scar.”

“That’s all that matters. Let them take out your ovaries—I couldn’t care less. That’s not you—I’ve never met your ovaries. But as long as they never harm my babies . . .” He caressed her breasts again. “Why did that doctor sound so grim when he phoned? Wouldn’t tell me a thing—just told me to come quickly.”

“He—he knew I wanted children—and . . .”

“Why didn’t he just say you needed a hysterectomy?” He shook his head. “Those doctors—they’re all crepe hangers. But I’m glad I came. Now I can go back thinking of holding you in my arms.” He held her close. “I want to hold this memory. I won’t be able to return until Friday.” Then he wrote down a number. “Have Anne call me the moment the operation is over. If I’m not there, they’ll reach me.”