Women (8 page)

The slut got up and played pinball, wiggling her behind to help the balls fall in. Then she sat back down, showing more than ever.

The seaplane came in, unloaded, and then we stood out on the dock and waited to board. The seaplane was red, of 1936 vintage, had two propellers, one pilot and 8 or 10 seats.

If I don’t puke in that thing, I thought, I will have fooled the world.

The girl in the mini-skirt wasn’t getting on.

Why was it that every time you saw a woman like that you were always with another woman?

We got on, strapped ourselves in.

“Oh,” said Dee Dee, “I’m so excited! I’m going up and sit with the pilot!”

“O.K.”

So we took off and Dee Dee was up there sitting with the pilot. I could see her talking away. She did enjoy life or she appeared to. Lately it didn’t mean much to me—I mean her excited and happy reaction to life—it irritated me somewhat, but mostly it left me without feeling. It didn’t even bore me.

We flew and we landed, the landing was rough, we swung low along some cliffs and bounced and the spray went up. It was something like being in a speed boat. Then we taxied to another dock and Dee Dee came back and told me all about the seaplane and the pilot, and the conversation. There was a big piece cut out of the floor up there, and she’d asked the pilot, “Is this thing safe?” and he had answered, “Damned if I know.”

Dee Dee had gotten us a hotel room right on the shore, on the top floor. There was no refrigeration so she got a plastic tub and packed ice in it for my beer. There was a black and white t. v. and a bathroom. Class.

We went for a walk along the shore. The tourists were of two types—either very young or very old. The old walked about in pairs, man and woman, in their sandals and dark shades and straw hats and walking shorts and wildly-colored shirts. They were fat and pale with blue veins in their legs and their faces were puffed and white in the sun. They sagged everywhere, folds and pouches of skin hung from their cheekbones and under their jowls.

The young were slim, and seemed made of smooth rubber. The girls had no breasts and tiny behinds and the boys had tender soft faces and grinned and blushed and laughed. But they all seemed contented, young high school people and old people. There was very little for them to do, but they lounged in the sun and seemed fulfilled.

Dee Dee went into the shops. She was delighted with the shops, buying beads, ashtrays, toy dogs, postcards, necklaces, figurines, and seemed happy with everything. “Oooh, look!” She talked to the shop owners. She seemed to like them. She promised one lady that she would write when she got back to the mainland. They had a mutual friend—a man who played percussion in a rock band.

Dee Dee bought a cage with two love birds and we went back to the hotel. I opened a beer and turned on the t.v. The selection was limited.

“Let’s go for another walk,” said Dee Dee. “It’s so lovely outside.”

“I’m going to sit here and rest,” I said.

“You don’t mind if I go without you?”

“It’s all right.”

She kissed me and left. I turned off the t.v. and opened another beer. Nothing to do on this island but get drunk. I walked to the window. On the beach below Dee Dee was sitting next to a young man, talking happily, smiling and gesturing with her hands. The young man grinned back. It felt good not to be part of that sort of thing. I was glad I wasn’t in love, that I wasn’t happy with the world. I like being at odds with everything. People in love often become edgy, dangerous. They lose their sense of perspective.

They lose their sense of humor. They become nervous, psychotic bores. They even become killers.

Dee Dee was gone 2 or 3 hours. I looked at some t. v. and typed 2 or 3 poems on a portable typer. Love poems—about Lydia. I hid them in my suitcase. I drank some more beer.

Then Dee Dee knocked and entered. “Oh, I had the most wonderful time! First I went on the glass-bottom boat. We could see all the different fish in the sea, everything! Then I found another boat that takes people out to where their boats are moored. This young man let me ride for hours for a dollar! His back was sunburned and I rubbed it with lotion. He was terribly burned. We took people out to their boats. And you should have seen the people on those boats! Mostly old men, craggy old men, with young girls. The young girls all wore boots and were drunk and on dope, strung-out, moaning. Some of the old guys had young boys, but most of them had young girls, sometimes two or three or four young girls. Every boat stank of dope and booze and lechery. It was wonderful!”

“That does sound good. I wish I had your knack of turning up interesting people.”

“You can go tomorrow. You can ride all day for a dollar.”

“I’ll pass.”

“Did you write today?”

“A little.”

“Was it good?”

“You never know until 18 days later.”

Dee Dee went over and looked at the love birds, talked to them. She was a good woman. I liked her. She was really concerned about me, she wanted me to do well, she wanted me to write well, she wanted me to fuck well, look well. I could feel it. It was fine. Maybe we could fly to Hawaii together some day. I walked up behind her and kissed her on the right ear, down by the lobe.

“Oh, Hank,” she said.

Back in L.A., after our week in Catalina, we were sitting around my place one evening, which was unusual. It was late at night. We were lying on my bed, naked, when the phone rang in the next room.

It was Lydia.

“Hank?”

“Yes?”

“Where’ve you been?”

“Catalina.”

“With her?”

“Yes.”

“Listen, after you told me about her I got mad. I had an affair. It was with a homosexual. It was awful.”

“I’ve missed you, Lydia.”

“I want to come back to L.A.”

“That’d be good.”

“If I come back will you give her up?”

“She’s a good woman, but if you come back I’ll give her up.”

“I’m coming back. I love you, old man.”

“I love you too.”

We went on talking. I don’t know how long we talked. When it was over I walked back into the bedroom. Dee Dee seemed asleep. “Dee Dee?” I asked. I lifted one of her arms. It felt very limp. The flesh felt like rubber. “Stop joking, Dee Dee, I know you’re not asleep.” She didn’t move. I looked around and noticed her bottle of sleeping pills was empty. It had been full. I had tried those pills. Just one of them put you to sleep, only it was more like being knocked out and buried underground.

“You took the pills. . . .”

“I . . . don’t . . . care . . . you’re going back to her … I don’t . . . care. . . .”

I ran into the kitchen and got the dishpan, came back and placed it on the floor by the bed. Then I pulled Dee Dee’s head and shoulders over the edge and stuck my fingers down her throat. She vomited. I lifted her up and let her breathe a moment, then repeated the process. I did it again and again. Dee Dee kept vomiting. Once, as I lifted her up, her teeth popped out. They lay there on the sheet, uppers and lowers.

“Oooh . . . my teeth,” she said. Or tried to say.

“Don’t worry about your teeth.”

I stuck my fingers down her throat again. Then I pulled her back.

“I don’,” she said, “wans ya to seee my teethhhs. . . .”

“They’re all right, Dee Dee. They’re really not bad.”

“Ooooh …”

She revived long enough to put her teeth back in. “Take me home,” she said, “I want to go home.”

“I’ll stay with you. I won’t leave you alone tonight.” “But you will leave me, finally?” “Let’s get dressed,” I said.

Valentino would have kept both Lydia and Dee Dee. That’s why he died so young.

20

Lydia returned and found a nice apartment in the Burbank area. She seemed to care a lot more for me than before we parted. “My husband had this big cock and that’s all he had. He had no personality, no vibes. Just a big cock and he thought that was all he had to have. But Christ he was dull! With you, I keep getting vibes . . . this electric feedback, it never stops.” We were on the bed together.

“And I didn’t even know he had a big cock because his cock was the first one I had ever seen.” She was examining me closely. “I thought they were all like that.”

“Lydia …”

“What is it?”

“I’ve got to tell you something.”

“What is it?”

“I’ve got to go see Dee Dee.”

“Go see Dee Dee?”

“Don’t be funny. There’s a reason.”

“You said it was all over.”

“It is. I just don’t want to let her down too hard. I want to explain to her what happened. People are too cold with each other. I don’t want her back, I just want to try to explain what happened, so she’ll understand.”

“You want to fuck her.”

“No, I don’t want to fuck her. I hardly wanted to fuck her when I was with her. I just want to explain.”

“I don’t like it. It sounds . . . icky … to me.”

“Let me do it. Please. I just want to clear things up. I’ll be back soon.”

“All right. But make it soon.”

I got into the Volks, cut over to Fountain, went a few miles, then took a north at Bronson and cut up to where the rents were high. I parked outside, got out. I walked up the long flight of stairs and rang the bell. Bianca answered the door. I remembered one night she had answered the door naked and I had grabbed her and as we were kissing Dee Dee came down and said, “What the hell’s going on here?”

This time it wasn’t like that. Bianca said, “What do you want?”

“I want to see Dee Dee. I want to talk to her.”

“She’s sick. Really sick. I don’t think you should get to see her after the way you’ve treated her. You’re a real grade-A son of a bitch.”

“I just want to talk to her a while, to explain things.”

“All right. She’s in her bedroom.”

I walked down the hall and into the bedroom. Dee Dee was on the bed in just her panties. One arm was flung over her eyes. Her breasts looked good. There was an empty pint of whiskey by her bed and a pan on the floor. The pan smelled of vomit and booze.

“Dee Dee …”

She lifted her arm. “What? Hank, you’ve come back?”

“No, wait, I just want to talk to you. . . .”

“Oh Hank, I’ve missed you something awful. I’ve been nearly crazy, the pain has been awful. ...”

“I want to make it easier. That’s why I came by. I may be stupid, but I don’t believe in outright cruelty. . . .”

“You don’t know how I’ve felt. ...”

“I know. I’ve been there.”

“Want a drink?” she pointed.

I picked up the empty pint and sadly put it down again. “There’s too much coldness in the world,” I told her. “If people would only talk things out together it would help.”

“Stay with me, Hank. Don’t go back to her, please. Please. I’ve lived long enough to know how to be a good woman. You know that. I’d be good to you and for you.”

“Lydia has a grip on me. I can’t explain it.”

“She’s a flirt. She’s impulsive. She’ll leave you.”

“Maybe that’s some of the attraction.”

“You want a whore. You’re afraid of love.”

“You might be right.”

“Just kiss me. Would it be too much to ask you to kiss me?”

“No.”

I stretched out next to her. We embraced. Dee Dee’s mouth smelled of vomit. She kissed, we kissed and she held me. I broke away as gently as I could.

“Hank,” she said, “Stay with me! Don’t go back to her! Look, I have nice legs!”

Dee Dee lifted one of her legs and showed it to me.

“And I have nice ankles too! Look!”

She showed me her ankles.

I was sitting on the edge of the bed. “I can’t stay with you, Dee Dee—”

She sat up and began punching me. Her fists were as hard as rocks. She threw punches with both hands. I sat there as she landed blows. She hit me above the eye, in the eye, on the forehead and cheeks. I even caught one in the throat. “Oh, you bastard! Bastard, bastard, bastard! I
HATE
YOU!”

I grabbed her wrists. “All right, Dee Dee, that’s enough.” She fell back on the bed as I got up and walked out, down the hall and out the door.

When I got back Lydia was sitting in an armchair. Her face looked dark. “You’ve been gone a long time. Look at me! You fucked her, didn’t you?”

“No, I didn’t.”

“You were gone an awful long time. Look, she scratched your face!”

“I tell you, nothing happened.”

“Take off your shirt. I want to look at your back!”

“Oh, shit, Lydia.”

“Take off your shirt and undershirt.”

I took them off. She walked around behind me.

“What’s that scratch on your back?”

“What scratch?”

“There’s a long one there . . . from a woman’s fingernail.”

“If it’s there you put it there. . . .”

“All right. I know one way to find out.”

“How?”

“Let’s go to bed.”

“All right!”

I passed the test, but afterwards I thought, how can a man test a woman’s fidelity? It seemed unfair.

21

I kept getting letters from a lady who lived only a mile or so away. She signed them Nicole. She said she had read some of my books and liked them. I answered one of her letters and she responded with an invitation to visit. One afternoon, without saying anything to Lydia, I got into the Volks and drove on over. She had a flat over a dry cleaner’s on Santa Monica Boulevard. Her door was on the street and I could see a stairway through the glass. I rang the bell. “Who is it?” came a woman’s voice through a little tin speaker. “I’m Chinaski,” I said. A buzzer sounded and I pushed the door open.

Nicole stood at the top of the stairs looking down at me. She had a cultured, almost tragic face and wore a long green housedress cut low in front. Her body seemed to be very good. She looked at me with large dark brown eyes. There were lots of tiny wrinkles around her eyes, perhaps from too much drinking or crying.

“Are you alone?” I asked.

“Yes,” she smiled, “come on up.”

I went up. It was spacious, two bedrooms, with very little furniture. I noticed a small bookcase and a rack of classical records. I sat on the couch. She sat next to me. “I just finished,” she said, “reading The Life of Picasso.”