Chapter 16

 

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From the Jung Institute, I drove all the way down Washington Street until I got to Grant but Washington Square wasn’t on Washington Street, as I had anticipated, so I had to get directions in a gas station. I drove around for ten more minutes until I found a parking place on Greenwich just above Grant, on the steep hill that leads to Coit Tower and I was 15 minutes late to the meeting.

Jeannette was sitting in front of the Fior d’Italia, at a white-covered table that was in a row of tables along the sidewalk. I spotted her before she saw me, and the expression on her uncomposed face produced the same feeling that had led me to joke to Dr. Orenstein that I had fallen in love with her. When she saw me, she waved and her wave reminded me of Marlo’s wave, although I couldn’t say why.

She said, “I was afraid you were going to stand me up.”

“I couldn’t find a parking place.”

“Let’s go sit in the park in Washington Square.”

We got up from the bare table and walked across the street. The vault of the sky was still powder blue and the same misty gray obscured the horizon. A pleasant breeze blew in from the Pacific Ocean. We sat down on a freshly painted green bench facing Saints Peter and Paul Church. A white Cadillac limousine was parked in front of the church, at the foot of the steps. I avoided her searching eyes and looked up at the church’s sun-drenched, faded-ochre façade. I said, “It’s beautiful.”

“I was very close to your father.”

I turned to her. “Dr. Orenstein told me that you had an affair with him.”

“Tell me everything that Dr. Orenstein said about me.”

I dropped my eyes. I was silent for awhile and then said, as if asking a question “He said you were having an affair during the year before he was murdered.” I looked into her dark brown eyes, searching for what it was my father had loved.

“Murdered?” She asked. Her eyes were guileless and they startled me. She smiled and I colored.

I added, “Earl said they never found the murder weapon.”

A great tenderness came into her face.

I continued, “I know that the body was never found. My mother even tried, once, to imply that my father might not be dead, that he might simply have deserted us, but my grandfather got very angry and she never said it again. My grandfather told me that he drowned in the undertow off Malibu where he liked to swim.”

“Yes, we swam there often. It was considered dangerous but he was a very powerful swimmer.” Her expression became abstracted. “Does Earl, have any idea who murdered your father?” She pronounced Dr. Orenstein’s first name with a familiar tone. She turned her face away and I felt suddenly alone, even abandoned.

I followed her eyes to the pale, sun-drenched facade of the church. She pressed her hands together, as if in prayer, and her head moved slightly, from side to side. She closed her eyes and her lips moved imperceptibly. I was plunged into a kind of apprehensive sadness and I said, “No, he doesn’t. Or if he does, he didn’t say anything to me about it. Earl said that my grandfather didn’t want me to know that the police had NOT ruled out murder.” My voice was suddenly husky. After a pause I added, “Earl said I could look at the evidence and...” I stopped in mid-sentence. Her face had turned back to me and it was strangely happy, even ecstatic. I was overcome with emotion and sprang to my feet. I turned my back to her and looked at the church again. I asked, without turning around, “Do you know Hal Lipset?”

“Of course. Hal and your father met during the war, in Europe. They were friends.”

When I turned around, she was looking at the backs of her outstretched hands. I said, “Hal gave all the evidence to Earl.”

She placed her hands on the back of her head and pulled her arms back, causing her breasts to push against her beige and white short-sleeved sweater. She closed her eyes. “Brad.”

“Yes.”

Her eyes remained closed while she said, “I want you to do everything in your power to keep Salas away from my daughter.” She opened her eyes.

I sat down and studied her face, looking again for the cause of her power over my father. I found nothing but an improbable assemblage of curves and angles.

She said, “Marlo thinks she loves you.” Her tone was incredulous and mocking.

A flash of anger went through me.

“Brad.”

“Yes.”

“When I found out who you were it nearly drove me out of my mind. I’m still shaking.”

She raised her hands to show me, but they were steady. She closed her eyes again and shook her head.

I waited for tears to fall but they didn’t.

She opened her eyes and said, “I want you to stop seeing Candy.”

I fell into a bottomless rage that was more like panic than anger, and my head reeled. I stood up for the second time and turned in a crazy pirouette in front of her. “Oh God, I feel sorry for you,”

“Tell me about your relationship with Candy.”

I watched her eyes closely as I described the farmhouse we had rented and the land around it and how I had I promised to buy her a horse, even though neither one of us knew anything about horses.

She took both of my hands and pulled me toward her. The duplicity in her face caused me to pull away. She said, and her voice was swiftly sad, “She cries in the night. I can’t console her.” She sat there on the green bench, impassive, looking into my eyes, and I suspected that she was thinking that I was too young and inexperienced to know what love is.

I had a sudden impulse to dominate her with a kiss. I searched her face for direction. There was none. I said, “I can’t explain it. Candy’s like a sister to me.”

She was silent for a long time. Finally, she said, “Normal young men don’t make love to their sisters.”

I wanted to tell her to stop treating me like a child.

“Was Anne your first relationship?”

“No.” I stood up again. She stood up too. “I’ve been in love several times.”

She looked away and said, as if she hadn’t heard me, “Brad.”

“Yes.”

“I have something to tell you.”

“What?”

“It might be ... difficult for you.”

Her frightfully powerful eyes were on me again.

“Say it.”

She drew close to me.

“Anne told Marlo that you raped her.”

I drew back. My mind raced back to the night in the apartment with Anne. “Raped her?”

“Would you like to tell me what happened?”

I explained what happened and when I finished, the far away look was in her face again and her right hand rested on her cheek and her left hand rested, absently, on my knee.

I said, “Let’s go for a walk.”

We walked, very slowly, arm in arm, on the circular path towards the church.

I asked, “Have you ever been inside a church?”

“Of course.”

I was suddenly aware again of the great difference in our ages. I said, “Marlo tells me you’re an atheist and a Communist.”

She was silent. “My parents were Communists and I thought I had to be one too.”

“Oh.”

“I was accused of being a Communist during the McCarthy period. When I was in the Ph.D. program at UC Berkeley.”

“Ph.D. program?”

“I was studying French.”

Marlo never told me that.”

“Good.” She smiled. “Then you don’t know everything about me.” We walked across Filbert Street and stopped at the foot of the concrete stairs in front of Saints Peter and Paul Church looking up at the massive doors. She said, “One of the professors said that if I didn’t put out, I wouldn’t pass my orals.” I colored. She looked away, pretending not to notice and added, “I’m not kidding.” The antic sadness was in her face again.

I smiled stupidly.

She tugged my arm, “Let’s go in.”

We climbed the stairs and I opened the door for her and she went in before me. We stood behind the last pew, waiting for our eyes to adjust to the dark. At the far end of the Church, a Priest stood at the altar in white cassock and chasuble. At least fifty candles burned behind him while he spoke, in Latin. Acolytes, bridesmaids and the parents of the bride and groom crowded around him. The church was dark and about half full. To our right, a boy of about five was standing on the seat and pulling at his mother’s dress saying, “I wanna go home. I wanna go home.” He pulled the strap of her dress off her shoulder. She bent over and whispered something in his ear and pulled the strap back into place. He grabbed the strap and pulled it down again. All at once, the Priest pronounced the couple man and wife, and there was sparse clapping from the congregation. The bride, who was blonde, gathered the dark haired groom into her arms and swept him up into a mock passionate kiss. He pretended to swoon in her arms and the congregation laughed. She had flowers in her hair, and the groom wore an enormous purple velvet top hat, which had fallen onto the carpet when they kissed. He picked up his hat and they walked, barefooted, down the aisle to the door. As they approached us, I saw that her breasts were visible through the flower pattern of her dress. She waved to me, thinking I was someone else and I smiled. Instead of going out the door, they turned and circled the congregation.

We went outside and Jeannette took my arm again, leaning against me as we walked down the stairs. She said, “That was a surprise,” and looking at the long, white limousine parked in front of the church, added, “I should have known.”

I said, “Let’s walk.”

“Your father and I walked these same streets after the War. They haven’t changed much. We ate over there a lot.” She nodded towards the Ristorante Fior d’Italia. She looked up at me and smiled. “It’s funny.”

“What’s funny?”

“You move and talk like your father but your mother is the surface.”

“My grandfather always said, to keep me humble, that I have my mother’s blocky, peasant looks.”

She squeezed my arm. “Her peasant good looks, you mean. But your father.” She looked into the distance for a moment. “Your father and Robert Hollyfield were two of the most beautiful creatures I’ve ever known. They were stunt men for Todd Hunter.”

“I know.”

“That’s why they looked so much alike and that’s how they met. On a Hollywood set.” She threw her head back and laughed. “I’ll tell you all about it. Some other time.” She paused and then added, “Your father had Bob’s good looks but he also had a brain. That’s a lot more than I can say for the Reverend Robert Hollyfield.” She paused again. Her face reflected the beauty of her memories and I wanted to kiss her again. She looked into my eyes defiantly and I stared back with nervous determination. She pulled at my arm, directing us towards Greenwich Street. She asked, “Do you think I should go to the police?”

“No. The police can’t do anything.” I paused. “It’s up to me, I guess.”

We stopped at the corner of Greenwich and Filbert and looked up at Coit tower. She said, “There’s nobody right now.”

“What?”

She looked away into the far away place again. “It’s just Marlo and me.” Her face was open and defenseless.

I said. “I feel like running.” I looked up the steep hill. “Stay here. Don’t move. I’m going to sprint to the top of the hill.”

Her eyes laughed. “Why?”

“Stay put.” I said, tapping her shoulder. I sprinted to the top of Filbert Street and when I reached the top, I waved. She waved back and this time it was clearly Marlo’s wave. I raised both hands and jumped up and down and then I loped down the hill towards her. After I crossed Grant, I did a cartwheel, lost my balance and slammed into the side of a car. I bounced onto the asphalt and skinned my right arm badly. She ran towards me. I got up, dusted myself off, and jogged to meet her.

She examined my arm. “You’re hurt. You’re bleeding.”

“It’s nothing. It’s just a raspberry. I’ve had hundreds of ‘em. Don’t worry. Let’s go back to the park.”

“Are you sure?”

I averted my face.

“Brad. Your face is white. Are you sure you’re OK?”

I said, “I feel weak. Let me lean against you.”

“I don’t know if I’m strong enough.”

She held me in her arms and I nuzzled my face against her thick hair. I whispered, “Hold me.” Her arms tightened around my back.

I said, “I’m beginning to feel better. My strength is coming back.” I kissed her hair lightly and loosened my grip. “Thank you. I don’t know what came over me.” We stood there in the street and she looked up at me like a concerned mother.

Her expression changed suddenly and she said, abruptly, “Let’s go back.”

“All Right.”

I reached out my hand and she took it, giving it a little squeeze.

I said, “I don’t know what to tell Candy.”

She was silent.

I said, “I’m very concerned about her.”

She looked away and I felt as if she were hiding something from me.

“You’re hiding something from me.”

A playful smile came into her face. She said, “Why are you so sure of yourself you crazy young.... Colt. Why are you so certain that you can stand the truth?”

“I can stand the truth.”

She looked at my forearm. It oozed blood, from the wrist to the elbow and was beginning to burn.

“The truth is that Marlo needs you.” She looked into my eyes. “Do you know that she’s dropped her classes at Hayward State?”

“Yes.” I said. “Well, actually no, I didn’t know. I...”
“Anne is her only friend and Marlo’s not speaking to her because Anne said you raped her and she refuses to believe it.”

I shook my head in disbelief. “That’s absurd.”

She looked into my eyes reassuringly. She said, “They haven’t talked in over a month.” She lowered her voice. “And she doesn’t want to see you either, unless you stop seeing Candy.”

“And if I don’t stop seeing Candy?”

“No woman will share a man with another woman.” She looked inwards and seemed to doubt herself for a moment, but quickly regained her confidence and fixed me again with her brown eyes.

“I don’t know what to do.”

“Where are you parked?”

“On Greenwich.”

“Let’s walk to your car.”

We walked up the hill towards my Volkswagen.

She stopped, and pointed to my car. “Brad. Your car!”

“What about it?”

“It’s sandwiched in. You’ll never get out.”

It was locked between two larger cars.

She asked, “Have you ever been to Coit Tower?”

“No. Actually, I haven’t.” My mother had taken me to the top several times when I was little and I was surprised that I hadn’t told her the truth.

“I suppose spending all that time studying mathematics and playing ball, you never had time.”

I laughed. “Actually, I just remembered that my mother took me up there, once. When I was 9 years old.”

Climbing the winding, stone staircase, my legs got tired and I stopped to rest under the low hanging branches of a Myrtle tree.

She said, “Tell Candy the truth. Tell her you love Marlo and...” She stopped herself in mid-sentence and grabbed my hands and pulled me close to her. “Lie to her. Tell her you’ve left Candy. ” She dug her fingernails into my wrists. I tried to disengage myself by pulling my arms toward me but she didn’t let go and the force of her grip caused her body to move against mine. Her face was only a few inches away from mine, and she repeated, in a tense, loud whisper “Lie to her!”

I said, “All right.”

She dropped my wrists and backed away. “I’m sorry.”

She looked down at my left wrist. Her nails had dug into it and blood had formed along a small ridge of skin.

“Did I hurt you?”

My right forearm was bright red and the scratch seemed like nothing in comparison.

She took my hands in hers. “You’re a mess.” She smiled. “For what it’s worth, I’m a Black Belt in Karate and I’m dangerous.” She paused. “Marlo said you beat up Candy’s pimp.”

I nodded my head.

“You almost killed him.”

“It was for Candy.”

She dropped my hands and looked up at Coit Tower. “Let’s go to the top.”

We crammed into the elevator along with a German couple, their two small children and a baby carriage. Their faces were red and they were sweating. I spoke to them in German and the boy, about 5 years old, smiled at me. The two-year-old looked at Jeannette, curiously.

I asked, “In America on vacation?”

The man smiled, startled that I could speak German. “Yes. We’re on vacation.”

“Where are you from?”

München.”

“I’ve been there. It’s beautiful.” I guessed that everyone knew that Munich wasn’t beautiful, at least compared with San Francisco, but I didn’t know what else to say. “You’ll have to excuse my German. It’s been a while time since I’ve spoken it.”

“If I could speak English as well as you speak German!” It was the usual polite flattery. We got out of the elevator and watched helplessly while his wife struggled to get the baby carriage out of the elevator. As they walked away, I heard him explaining the meaning of my last sentence to his wife and I realized that I had made a ridiculous grammatical mistake.

“I am impressed,” Jeannette said. “Just like your mother. She speaks how many languages? ... Ten?”

“Six.”

Only six.”

“Yes. She said learning languages was a waste of time so she stopped learning them when she was 30. She reads Hebrew, Aramaic, Greek and Latin and speaks Spanish and German fluently.”

“It’s just like your mother not to speak French.” She laughed and added, “Is it true that you have her photographic memory?”

“She doesn’t have a photographic memory. It’s just very good. I inherited her good memory.”

“Your mother was a bitch.”

“You really hate her?”

“We both loved the same man.”

“Tell me about my father.”

We leaned against the stone wall and looked at the San Francisco skyline. She talked for a very long time, until we were both shivering against the fog-cold wind that blew in from the Pacific Ocean. It was after six when we got back to my car.

I said, “I’m going to tell Marlo that Candy has gone back to LA and that I never loved her.”

She looked into my eyes for a long time and then turned and hurried towards Washington Square.

Chapter 17

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