Portraits (52 page)

“Oh, my darling innocent Doris…sex has been around for a long time—”

“I heard…but how come you weren’t afraid of getting a girl pregnant?”

“Honey, your sex education has really been badly neglected. You don’t know anything about the facts of life, do you?”

“Well, it wasn’t one of the topics at the dinner table, but I’m honestly not that dumb. I knew a girl who had a baby out of wedlock, as the neighbors so subtly put it. I wasn’t sure how it all happened until last night. As the novels say, do you think I could be with child?”

“No.”

“Why?”

“Because…look at this.”

She observed Henry’s shriveled organ. Only a few minutes ago it had been extended like a small sausage but now it looked like something in the casing of a hot dog, and at the tip there was a fluid…This was the first time she’d seen a penis, shriveled or otherwise, and she found it embarrassing. She had to remind herself that Henry was her husband and she had a right to look and ask questions.

“What’s that?”

“It’s called a condom.”

“Oh? And that’s how you know I’m not with child?”

He laughed again. “That’s how I know. When we come home from our honeymoon, you’ll go to a friend of mine and be fitted for a diaphragm.”

“What’s that?”

“A rubber disc that’s inserted in the vagina to cover the cervix—”

The
cervix
? Well, she wasn’t going to go into anatomy this morning. Presumably they had a whole lifetime to make this a topic of conversation…“Henry, we’ve never talked about our honeymoon…”

“I thought it would be nice to drive down the coast to Los Angeles. I have a lot of school friends there who moved from Denver to go into practice. I know they’d love to meet you and you’ll be crazy about them.”

Henry knew so many things.

The drive along the coast was long and bumpy, and to make it worse the car was acting up. By nightfall the car chugged into San Luis Obispo, where Henry immediately found a garage. He was shocked when the mechanic told him he had forgotten to put oil into the crankcase and that the transmission was shot. Henry was fuming, the car was fuming and Doris knew papa would be fuming if the new Reo couldn’t be repaired. Well, a man in love forgot a lot of things, like buying his bride-to-be a bunch of daisies or a wedding ring, or taking her to a lovely restaurant for a wedding-night dinner.

“What the hell is this going to cost?” She hadn’t heard that tone in his voice before.

“It could cost eighty or ninety dollars,” the mechanic said, wiping his hands on his overalls.

Well, Henry thought, if he ran out of money he could always get a loan from one of the Phi Sigma Delta brothers in Los Angeles. “Okay,” Henry said, none too happily, “get started on it first thing in the morning. We’re on our way to Los Angeles.”

“Do my best…Now give me your name.”

“Mr. Levin.”

Mr. Levin! Of course, Doris would later find out that Henry never used his title when dealing with tradesmen. It always drove up the price. Doctors were millionaires…

When John Steinbeck…or was it Bobby Burns?…had so profoundly written, “The best laid schemes of mice and men…” Doris was sure he must have had the Levin newlyweds in mind.

The three days in San Luis Obispo were hardly Doris’ idea of a honeymoon. They stayed at the Mission Hotel, an adobe building that looked like it dated back to the Spanish Empire, and its monastery atmosphere made Doris feel that perhaps some of the monks were still stomping on the grapes in the cellar.

The weather was a scorching hundred and ten in the shade, and the only shade was at the Mission Hotel. The two dresses she had were not only inappropriate but impossible to wear in the heat because of their long sleeves and weight, so she stayed in her room and read movie magazines or wrote notes home.

After Henry’s anger over the car had simmered down, he was very attentive and catered to her every whim. Well, almost. They ordered room service for breakfast, but lunch and dinner were a bit steep so Henry returned with sandwiches at noon and delicatessen at dinner. The sardine cans were carefully put into a paper sack along with the empty carton of potato salad and carted down the back stairs, where Henry had found a garbage can…

When they finally rolled into Los Angeles, Doris took one look at the Biltmore Hotel and knew that at last she was to have the kind of honeymoon she’d always dreamed about. The room was truly beautiful, and every night the maid turned down the bed and left one light softly burning on the nightstand. It looked romantic, just the way it should…

Henry spent most of the first day calling his “frat” brothers…“Benjie, guess who’s in town?”

“Cookie! What the hell are you doing here?”

“You better sit down…I got married.” Henry beamed.

“You son of a gun, and you didn’t let me know? We went through school and college together…”

“I can’t wait for my wife to meet you. Let’s get together tonight, Benjie.”

“Sure. I’ve got news for you too. I’m engaged. Where do you want to meet?”

“Here at the hotel. I’m at the Biltmore. I’ll get some booze—bellhops know everything if you slip them a few dollars.”

“By God, Henry, I can’t wait to see you. By the way, have you called Jerry?”

“No, you were the first. Do you have his number?”

“Yeah, wait. I’ll look it up…Here it is.” Benjie gave Henry the number. “Wait till you see Jerry. Remember how shy he used to be? Well, he lost his shyness when he married Pamela Rose—of the movie houses by the same name, no less. Thanks to her dad’s connections, Jerry’s got some practice on Wilshire Boulevard. And a house in the Valley to boot.”

“But he was already a rich kid.”

“I know, but nothing like he fell into. Anyway, we got a lot to catch up on. Congratulations, and I can’t wait to meet the little bride. See you at seven.” …

Ben Schwartz and his fiancée, Elaine Halpern, arrived promptly at seven. Talk about Betty Boop, Doris thought. Elaine was five-feet-two with eyes of blue and was a perfect size-six. She was dressed in yellow strapless taffeta, with shoes to match.

Then Jerry came in with his rich new wife, but any resemblance between Pamela Rose and her name was purely coincidental. She was unattractive in a way that made it impossible not to notice her. Her hair was a dull pitch-black, and her small eyes were outlined exotically. Her figure was another matter, however, and the black satin dress accented her curves and made one forget her lack of good looks. With her money, she didn’t have to worry about winning any popularity contests, which was a good thing. She wasn’t the most lovable person Doris had ever met. Condescending was the kindest thing she could think of to describe her.

Pamela extended a diamond-bangled hand to Doris. “Congratulations,” she said through clenched teeth, enunciating the word in a way that branded her Vassar, or at least Wellesley.

Davy Marks knocked on the door just then, calling out, “House detective, open up and get the broads out.” A real funster.

Henry opened the door and planted an arm around Davy’s shoulder, they shook hands in the secret shake of the Phi Sig—with the pinkie finger and the index interlocked.

“Davy, this is my wife, Doris. Did I say she was gorgeous?”

“You sure did. Doris, you’re a doll…Congratulations. This is my wife, Ethel.” …

Suddenly the room became crowded with an assortment of “brothers” and their spouses, and it all began to look like a Phi Sigma Delta reunion. They also all seemed stamped out of the same mold, and Doris couldn’t remember half the names. Henry was busy filling the glasses. There was a lot of laughing, and Henry received any number of pokes in the ribs…“Well, kiddo, how does it feel to be married?” A wink, another elbow in the rib…

Doris went unnoticed into the bathroom and locked the door. This wasn’t a honeymoon, and just when she’d begun to think she might want Henry to herself she couldn’t have him.

Henry knocked. “Honey?”

She swallowed back the tears. “Yes?”

“You okay?”

“Terrific.”

“Come on out, honey, everyone wants to go to dinner.”

“I’ll be out…” She washed her face with a damp cloth, put some makeup on, refreshed her lipstick and took Henry’s arm as everyone walked down the hall to the elevator.

They went off to the Cotton Club, a very posh place, they said. Doris sat at the long table, looking at everyone dancing in their beautiful gowns and felt like a reject from the Salvation Army. The girls had all but ignored her and their self-confidence intimidated her. Henry was so involved with Benjie, Davy, Jerry and whoever the rest were that she wondered if he remembered she was a bride of only four—no, five—days…

That night, as Henry took her in his arms, he said, “Well, didn’t I tell you they were real people? I knew you’d love them, Doris…and everybody raved about you, honey.”

When they’d arrived in Los Angeles last night, Doris had almost looked forward to their love-making and the tenderness of lying in his arms. Not so tonight. Tonight she was weary and disappointed and she added a new ploy to her growing sexual knowledge. “Henry, I really have a terrible headache tonight.”

“Oh, do you, darling? I’m sorry, and I don’t even have an aspirin. Some doctor…well, just lay your head on my shoulder and rest, honey.” …

The next day they took a tour bus to see where all the stars lived, and when they returned at five to freshen up Henry suggested having dinner at the Brown Derby.

It was eight-thirty when they left the restaurant, the shank of the evening…“How about a walk down Wilshire Boulevard. The stores are beautiful, Doris.”

“How about a movie, Henry?”

“On a night like this? It’s so warm and balmy.”

“You’re right, we’ll save the movies for cold winter nights—”

He held her hand as they walked and walked and walked and…finally Doris saw a sign that must have been sent from heaven. Van Camp’s Confections and Bakery.

“Henry, let’s have an ice cream soda?”

“Sure, honey.”

Once they were seated she changed her mind. She decided to order a pineapple milkshake. “Make that extra thick and don’t spare the whipped cream,” she said, looking up into the face of the guardian angel who had just saved her honeymoon.

“Darling, do you think you should?”

She looked at him. “You don’t fall in love with fat or thin, you fall in love with a person, Doris…” he’d once said. “Why not, Henry? Let’s live it up. This is going to be the only honeymoon I ever have, and I want to remember this night.” Sweetly.

He took her hand across the table. “You’re right, sweetheart.”

When she had almost finished her milkshake she finally had the courage to ask, “Henry, how would you like to go home tomorrow?” When she saw his face brighten she almost sighed with relief.

“You know, I didn’t want to say anything because I wanted this to be your moment. But I would like to go back. The office has been closed for a week, and it’s about time we started our new life together.”

“Oh, for heaven’s sake, Henry, why didn’t you talk up?”

“I don’t know. As I said…”

“You didn’t want to spoil it for me. That’s so sweet,” she said, and she meant it.

They took the Wilshire bus back to the hotel.

That night as Henry made love to her she was gratified that it was beginning to hurt less each time, but what especially helped was thinking of that delicious milkshake…

T
HEY ARRIVED IN OAKLAND
at nine the next evening.

“My children have come home,” Sara greeted them at the door. The first thing she suggested was that they have something to eat. Mama was getting thinner, while Doris was getting fatter. But mama didn’t seem so concerned about that now that she was married.

“Mama, dear, we ate on the way home.”

“Are you sure you don’t want something after that long drive?”

“No, really…”

“Let me look at the two of you.” She sighed with
naches
. “You look like lovebirds. All right, go to your room, you must be tired. I’ll see you in the morning.”

Going up the stairs with Sara at her side, Doris asked, “Is papa still mad?”

“No, he got over it. Now, darling, I’ll see you in the morning.”

Doris went into her room with Henry and closed the door. As Henry began to undress, she suddenly felt embarrassed. They couldn’t do anything in her virginal bed, not with mama and papa down the hall and Lillian across the way. They’d simply have to find an apartment, and the sooner the better…

Henry didn’t have office hours on Saturdays, so right after breakfast they crossed the Bay to San Francisco with Sara. Henry had a friend whose father owned an apartment house on Pacific Avenue and, fortunately, there was a one-bedroom apartment on the second floor. It had a livingroom, dinette and kitchen combination, a bedroom and bath. The rent was forty-two fifty a month, plus utilities.

For the first time since meeting Henry, Sara was a little annoyed with him. “Don’t they have a two-bedroom, Henry?”

“What do we need a two-bedroom for?”

“Well, where would I sleep if I came to stay for a night?”

Doris looked at him and became nervous.

“I’m afraid I can’t afford more than this—”

He, the doctor, couldn’t afford better? “Henry, I don’t like bringing this up, but we were under the impression you could support Doris a little better than this—”

“I’m sorry if I gave you any false impressions, but I will support Doris in the best way I can. I’ve only been in practice five years and it takes time. There’s a depression going on, and I’m not exactly Dr. Mayo—”

“That wasn’t necessary, Henry. I was merely saying that Jacob and I thought you were doing very well.”

“I’m sorry, but I’m struggling to pay off what I owe now.” Henry turned to Doris. “Do you like it, honey?”

“Yes, Henry, I love it. I’m sorry, mama, that you don’t—really.”

“Why should you be sorry? You’re the one who has to live in it. So I won’t come and stay.” Funny, Sara thought, two married daughters, and she couldn’t spend the night with either one. In Rachel’s case she knew she wasn’t welcome, but at least in Doris’ house she would have been. She had hoped to have a place to spend a few days when Jacob was away; it would have been a wonderful change and it would have eased the loneliness she often felt. Oh, well, it was just give, give, give. She’d bought the furniture for this place so the doctor could enjoy, but the second bedroom set would have to be returned…