Growing Up in Manhattan

Part 5: Saturday Short Story

The following night he told Gladys he had thought it over, and perhaps it was pointless to postpone what was a foregone conclusion. They might as well split and get on with their lives, and the details could be managed. He had phoned his cousin Chester, who was a twenty-nine-year-old bachelor living on West End Avenue in the Nineties, and asked if he could move in temporarily and sleep on the sofa. He explained his marriage was going through a trial separation. Chester taught at Columbia, lived alone, and had no problem putting his cousin up. Chester was the most revered male in the extended family because he enunciated like Abba Eban. He always liked Sachs, and the two used to argue about books, film, and atheism. Sachs reasoned that it would be much easier to tell Lulu he was a bachelor, separated, in the process of divorcing, than a procrastinating wimp. When he told Gladys he had decided to move out, he expected a Bette Davis emotional explosion, but she surprised him with her poise and willingness to discuss it quietly. As it turned out, she had also rethought the matter and concluded that they had gotten off to a rocky start and their interests had diverged as they matured. She said they should view the marriage as a learning experience and, rather than have any regrets, they should focus instead on the alimony. The matter was turned over to their respective barristers, and in the end it was settled amicably, but not before Sachs was on the hook for a fat number. When they told their parents, hers were territorial and sided with her. Ruth Sachs predictably took Gladys’s side, as she would have taken the side of the thief if her son had said he was mugged. 

The next night he saw Lulu and took her to dinner at a restaurant way over east in the Forties called Gatsby’s. They were both Fitzgerald fans and liked the idea of eating at a place named after the fictional icon. The restaurant had red-flocked wallpaper, and the shades on the small table lamps were also red, and so the glow on Lulu’s face was soft rose, making her even more beautiful if such a thing were possible. They drank red wine. As he was unaccustomed to alcohol, it took only two glasses to transport him to a pleasant land just north of Oz. They held hands, and she told him how much she loved his play and admired the ingenuity and subtlety of the plot. She found it compelling and laughed at all the right places. She agreed completely about existential risk. Flushed with confidence and marinated in Beaujolais, he told her he was married. She did not keel over or clap her hands to her head in the manner of the Yiddish theater. He said he was separated and getting divorced. He had not wanted to get into the whole sad story until he knew her better but was now in love with her. He told her he had married clumsily because he was desperate to get out of his parents’ house and lead his own life in Manhattan. He admitted that he had come to see over time that he had been selfish and somewhat exploitive, using Gladys for emotional support to move and start life, but he had also given her the courage to leave home and take on the world. He explained that he and Gladys had very little in common. 

“And then you walked into my life,” he said. “It was like you stepped off the screen, sat down beside me on the bench, and since then my feet haven’t touched the ground.” 

“So you were worried I would be put off by the fact you were married,” she said. 

“Yes,” he said. “That’s it. You got it.” 

“My god,” she sighed, “what is it with me and married men?” She held her wine better than he did, but she drank more glasses and had her own little buzz on. 

“Have you been involved with a lot of married men?” he asked. 

“Not really,” she said. “So you’re in the process of divorcing. So what’s the big deal?” 

“I don’t know. Some women might—” 

“Might what?” she said. “Get spooked?” 

“I guess.” 

“I’ve had one or two flirtations with married men. Why they seem to gravitate toward me when they’re taken? Bring up a different topic. Let’s order another bottle of the same wine.” 

“But I’m getting unmarried,” he assured her. 

“I get it, I get it. You jumped into something you regretted. When I think how many times I’ve done that. But I’ve always been smart enough or nervous enough to say goodbye before it goes too far.” 

“I’m sure you’ve run through a lot of boyfriends.” 

“What can I say? Sooner or later people disappoint. Or maybe it’s me. I don’t know.” 

“Maybe your standards are too high.”

“Yes. Maybe they’re unrealistic.” 

“Why does this conversation give me the feeling I’m on thin ice?” 

“Think of it as existential risk.” 

“Just what I need in my life. To have my heart broken by a Polish princess.” 

“The good news is you make me laugh. And you seem to get it.” 

“Get what?” 

“Life. You’re one of the few people who sees it for what it is.” 

“You mean a giant So What?” 

“Did I tell you I loved your play? I think you’re going to be an important writer, and I love that you’re self-effacing. All the good people are self-effacing. None of my other boyfriends ever lacked confidence. They were all so accomplished and so full of themselves.” She was a little farther down the road from finishing the bottle of red. She flashed a smile that could have charmed a charging rhino. On a roll, he summoned the waiter to bring a second bottle of the Beaujolais. He had been so worried, but now it was over. She clearly was attracted to him. He got it. Life. He made her laugh. He was self-effacing. His low self-esteem had finally paid off. 

“It’s sweet,” she said. “Your vulnerability. You were awkward when we met but fun to talk to. And I’m so fed up with intellectual wunderkinds who come on with all the answers and then flame out. You know what character I loved most in your play?” 

“Which one?” 

“Sarah Shuster.” 

“Because?” 

“Because she also doesn’t realize her insecurity is attractive. Of course, underneath she has great confidence. And I thought it was terrific that she chose to act when all those prissy bores urged her to have the child and she just didn’t want to, and she took it upon herself to go to Mexico and get it done. And then the chutzpah to have an affair with the Mexican doctor. That was inspired.” 

“You don’t think I made her too self-destructive?” 

“That was what was so interesting about her. Self-destructive people are often the most fascinating.” 

Sachs was captivated by her insights, but Jiminy Cricket couldn’t help thinking, this boy is in over his head. 

“Who’s your favorite fictional character?” she asked. 

“In my play?” 

“In all of literature,” she said. “What made-up character do you most identify with?” 

They ordered dinner and she ordered an artichoke and penne. He had never had an artichoke, and she ordered one for him and then had to show him how to eat it. 

“Where I grew up, you ate canned food. String beans, green peas, Del Monte fruit salad.” 

“So what character in fiction do you most identify with?” she pressed him. 

Finally, he said, “Gregor Samsa.” 

“My god, you kill me.” She laughed. 

“Sorry to say there have been many mornings I woke up and felt like an insect.” 

“Self-effacing is attractive, but I draw the line at a roach,” she laughed. 

“What about you?” he asked. “What character in all of literature do you most identify with?” He expected to hear Anna Karenina or Emma Bovary or Miss Julie. 

“Have you ever read The Little Prince?” she asked. 

“Saint-Exupéry? Yes.” 

“Remember the fox?” 

“Vaguely,” he said. 

“I identify with the fox. Interesting, isn’t it? Both of us identify with creatures rather than humans.” 

“Why the fox?” he said. 

“Because the fox says, ‘Tame me.’” 

“Uh-huh.” 

“My whole life I’ve been searching for someone to tame me.” He looked at her beautiful face, was overcome by her sensuality, which since going to bed with her was now a new nuclear ingredient. He finished the glass he was nursing and, staring at those big beautiful violet eyes, considered again exactly what cards he was holding. Her praise for his work improved his hand from aces up to a straight, but she was still sitting with her full house, and to tame her he might be forced to bluff. Such were his wine-soaked thoughts at Gatsby’s. 

“I just may have to take charge of your life,” he said, overplaying his aces. 

“Then I would surely marry you,” she said, squeezing his hand and letting his imagination do the rest. 

They finished eating and drinking most of the second bottle and wanted to make love, but her parents were home and so was cousin Chester. Sachs was tapped out from the dinner tab, so Lulu popped for a double room at the Plaza Hotel. Between his run-amok desire and her total lack of inhibition, it was surprising their lovemaking didn’t cause a blackout on the Upper East Side. 

When he waxed euphoric about Lulu to Chester, his cousin said that he had a friend at Columbia who knew her from Brandeis and said she was always very bright and popular and well thought of by everyone. All the guys were after her, and all the girls loved her. Chester’s friend remembered Lulu studying drama and said she was a good actress, but for whatever reason she dropped out of school in her senior year. The friend wasn’t sure why, but there was some talk of a nervous breakdown. 

“Lulu?” Sachs said in disbelief. “No way. She left to pursue a career.” Sachs wasn’t surprised she was well-liked and a good actress. Later, when he thought about the rumor of a nervous breakdown, it struck him as totally out of sync with the Lulu Brooks he knew. She was so up and optimistic, and yet when he thought about it more, it did seem odd to drop out of college so close to the finish line just to get a small jump on show business. He resolved to get into it with her on their next date, a drive out to Oyster Bay in a Hertz rental. They parked in a secluded spot where they could watch the moon reflect off the water and found some good soft jazz on FM, “Waltz for Debby” by Bill Evans. He kissed her once or twice, they marveled at the stars in the night sky, quoted Auden and Kurt Weill, and he brought the conversation around to her checking out at Brandeis. To forfeit a diploma just so she could go on auditions a few months sooner or take classes at the Actors Studio that could easily wait a bit. What was the point? 

“It wasn’t just that,” she said. “Although I do get antsy. I’m not a patient person. Don’t you find that if you have to wait too long for a thing it kills it? You don’t want it anymore.” 

“Well, I don’t know, but since you’re spoiled, I can imagine.” 

“I went through a bad period,” she said. 

“In what way?” 

“I was involved with one of the professors, and he was married and I was sure he was going to leave his wife. At least that’s what he told me. But he didn’t.” 

“I see. So you got hurt.” 

“More than hurt. I was more fragile than I realized, and in the past I was always the one who ended the relationships. I wasn’t used to being dumped, and I was really crazy about the guy.” 

“I guess he was one of the few who didn’t disappoint you. Or hadn’t disappointed you yet,” he said. 

“He was super bright and charismatic, and usually I was in control of the situation, but here, he was in control. I found it very confusing because I didn’t like not being in control, but I also loved not being in control. You understand what I’m saying?” He nodded, thinking “mixed feelings,” but then she said, “And it wasn’t mixed feelings, it was something else. I don’t know what it was. I was just so crazy then.” Sachs was glad he didn’t say “mixed feelings.” 

“My shrink told me I test guys,” Lulu said. “I look for any possible weakness so I have an excuse to bail out. He says I’m caught between longing to get close but being afraid of getting close.” 

“Gee, this is all very reassuring.” Sachs said, while at that moment a dark cloud had drifted over the moon, a touch, he felt, of Chekhovian symbolism entering on cue. 

“He was the only person I ever met who looked like he might tame me. And then suddenly it was wiped out, and I felt completely lost. And I guess you could say I had some sort of a mini-breakdown. I was depressed. I couldn’t concentrate on my schoolwork. The Miltowns didn’t help. They made me feel more anxious. I don’t know, maybe it’s genetic. I know my great-grandmother on my mother’s side was supposed to be very emotional. She killed herself. I look like her. And I would say I’m emotional. I cry at movies and plays. And what the hell was I doing studying art history anyway? Maybe because he taught it. I had to take something when the school registered me. I should have majored in drama, but I was so confused. I didn’t even want to go to college. But I met some wonderful kids. I made some great friendships.” 

She finished her story and lit a cigarette. Sachs had listened and was insanely jealous. She had really fallen for this guy who broke her heart, a charismatic intellectual who had the key to her. Till then, it had been Lulu who had graded the test scores, and apparently no one passed. Now she had received the F. Sachs imagined himself being tested by Lulu and how any one of his flaws, which he estimated at six figures, would become apparent and doom him. 

She was right when she described herself as spoiled. She was a smart brat in her four-poster canopied bed. She probably grew up never hearing the word “no.”