The Good Life (51 page)

“Please don't, baby. Your mother would know and think I put you up to it. It's better for it to stay the way it is.”

“I don't understand why she's so dead set against you. I sometimes think she's jealous.”

“It's simple. She doesn't think I chose suitable parents.”

The war was no longer relegated to the fringes of life. Despite Bet and Perry's constant worrying about their separations and nerve-racking secret life as well as about Billy's health, they were almost consumed by thoughts about the world's health. With lend-lease and other oblique involvements, Roosevelt had edged the country closer to an overt alliance with England and France.

In early December, Japan bombed Pearl Harbor, and the deed was done: The United States was at war.

Timmy called and discussed the draft with Perry in more serious terms. Even Billy was worried about it.

“I've had a rather bad morning,” Billy confessed when Perry dropped by for a drink. “I hadn't heard the war news, so we can't blame it on that. I'm deeply distressed about it for your sake. The draft will begin to operate in earnest now. I understand that married men will be taken later and men with children taken last. Men with medical disabilities will be rejected automatically. I guess that lets me out.”

“Don't be silly. We'll both join up and wipe out the Nazis and the Japs in one fell swoop.”

“I managed to miss the first war, and I don't mind telling you that I'm not unhappy to miss this one. I'm not sure just how much of a coward I am and am pleased not to have to put it to the test.”

“I'm not absolutely positive that I'm ready to become cannon fodder myself,” Perry admitted.

“Why should you? It's idiotic.”

“Shall I marry Bet and have a set of triplets as quickly as possible?”

“Don't be flip, dearest boy. This is serious.” He waved his empty glass at Perry. “Freshen this, will you please?” A grimace of pain crossed his face, and he pushed a fist into his abdomen.

Perry grabbed the glass and squatted beside his chair. “What is it, Billy? Are you all right?”

“Yes. Yes, it passes. Damn.” He took a deep breath and leaned back in the seat. “Just put more than usual of the best medicine in the world into that glass.”

Perry splashed a double portion into it, and when he handed it back, Billy was smiling.

“There. Thank you.” He took a long sip. “Better than what the doctor gives me. No, you don't have to have triplets or even an eight-inch scar on your abdomen to avoid the draft. There are simpler ways.”

“I've heard of shooting a hole in your foot.”

“Less drastic than that. I've been on the phone with my lawyers all morning. One of the disabilities avoids the draft, and you don't have to be a cripple. The lawyers tell me that homosexuality will count as one.”

“One what.”

“A disability. A medical or legal disability.” Billy looked pleased with himself. “Nothing to it.”

“How do they decide if you're a homosexual?” Perry asked with a chuckle, imagining all sorts of sexy demonstrations.

“If you say you are, that's enough.”

“I could say I was, but I've never felt very homosexual.”

“You know quite a bit about it,” Billy reminded him. “Have you talked to Bet about it? Homosexuality, not the draft.”

“Enough. She knows I've had experiences. She's more curious about it than shocked.”

“How much does she know about me?” Billy demanded.

“I honestly don't know,” Perry said. “I've often wondered. You know how people are, Billy. They know what they want to know. I gather that at that school of hers she learned a lot of things — and not all of it from books. She seems to think that it's something that lots of men go in for.”

“You and me?”

“I really couldn't say. I don't think she's thought about it. She probably doesn't want to.”

“I don't wonder. You see why it's difficult for me to accept the idea of your marrying her? However, that doesn't much matter anymore.” He took a thoughtful sip of his drink. When he looked back at Perry, he nodded as though he'd come to a decision. “Yes. Marry her, my dearest. Go on, do it. And the sooner, the better, as far as the draft is concerned.”

“And have those triplets?” Perry laughed.

“That would take considerably more time than just telling them you're homosexual.” He looked steadily at Perry over the rim of his glass and took another sip. “Would you consider telling them?”

“You mean get married and then say I'm a homosexual?” Perry moved to the bar and mixed himself a drink. “Would that make sense to anybody?”

“As much as any of it. They shouldn't try to classify sexual preferences. The British know they wouldn't have an army at all if they did. Certainly not a navy. Britannia
not
ruling the waves? It's unthinkable.”

“I don't much like the idea of having that sort of thing on my record.” Perry sat on the arm of Billy's chair and put an arm across his shoulders. “I gather you're anxious for me to stay out of it?”

“Frankly, the thought of being without you for the next few months — or however long it takes — terrifies me. You don't have to worry about the record. It's strictly confidential. All anybody will know is that you're classified 4-F, as if you had fallen arches.”

Perry gave Billy's shoulder a pat and moved back to his chair. If Billy needed him, that was reason enough, but he'd do anything to speed up his marriage to Bet. “Okay. I'll do it. I don't really long to be put in uniform, no matter how gorgeous I'd look in one.”

“If you looked more gorgeous, you'd probably be thrown out of the Army as a disrupting influence.”

“Does that mean that I can tell Bet you've given us your parental consent?”

“Definitely. There may be papers she wants me to sign. Tell her I'll sign them. I don't envy you having Arlene as a mother-in-law. God help you. Thank heavens my condition should make her hesitate to drag me into the fray. That's the only good thing that can be said about my condition.”

“I wonder if I'm strong enough to survive the ordeal?”

“You're as tough as she is, dear boy, and that's saying everything. I've settled everything with my mother as best I can. I can't discuss certain things with her. We can't blame a woman of her background and age for considering the essential facts of my life as beyond the pale.”

“God knows how she'll react to mine.”

“I've made her promise not to let Arlene influence her, but her sense of family is too strong for her to allow a breach with her only grandchild. She may receive you, but probably not until I've made myself scarce. She'll do everything for Bet that she's done for me.”

When Billy talked so openly about the inevitable, it made Perry's throat ache with anguish. He struggled to keep himself under control. “Jesus, Billy,” he muttered.

“Careful,” Billy said, looking over his shoulder for the Filipino cook, and then smiled into Perry's eyes. “I'm sorry. I have to say one more word about business, and then we won't talk about it again. I've gone over my affairs carefully, and there's just about as little as I thought. There's the boat if we can manage to get it here. I'm working on it. I'll leave it to Bet just so I have
something
to leave her. Other odds and ends add up to about $25,000. I'm arranging to have it turned over to you. That, unfortunately, will be the end of what I can do for you. I hope you can keep it long enough for it to earn a little interest. It'll undoubtedly go soon enough. Girls like Bet are expensive.”

“She has her allowance.”

“I know, but that barely keeps her in hats. I have a couple of Bonnards and a Pissarro put away in storage, but Mother gave me extra money to buy them, so I don't think it would be honorable not to give them to her. She likes them. I haven't been a collector, as you know. I thought it would be fun to start picking up things that we liked, but it appears that we won't have time. How funny. It's just occurred to me that you're going to be rich as I never have been. What fun you and Bet will have when Mother joins me. I envy you.”

“You said you didn't want to be gallant, Billy, but I don't think you can help it.”

Billy smiled slyly. “The temptation is sometimes overwhelming.”

Bet squealed with childlike glee when Perry told her they could go ahead and get married as soon as possible. The long waiting was over. They got the formalities, blood tests, and so forth over in a morning's dash from office to office.

“Now I know what a Wassermann is,” Bet said proudly.

“You're growing up,” Perry teased. “You'll soon be old enough to get married.”

Billy nodded approval when Perry told him over drinks that they were going to City Hall the next day.

“Not much of a wedding, but it's the simplest way,” Billy said. “Come in for a glass of champagne after. I'll see you together now, but don't let's make a habit of it. Something in me continues to feel affronted. I don't understand it myself. I may simply be embarrassed. I'll try to get over it. Is Arlene behaving herself?”

“She doesn't know yet. Bet's going to tell her after the fact.”

“For heaven's sake, tell her before it gets in the papers.”

“I hadn't thought of that. I'll remind Bet.”

Bet was as thrilled with the bleak little ceremony in City Hall as if she'd been married in Westminster Abbey.

If Billy was nervous about seeing them together, he didn't show it. Laszlo kept opening bottles of champagne, and even Jesus came in to make an incoherent toast. Billy presented them with a sizable check, and they unwrapped a big Tiffany box from Laszlo filled with every conceivable bar implement, from cocktail shaker to corkscrew, in sterling silver.

Bet left the room and came back with the announcement that she'd just called her mother and there'd been no fuss. Not a word. “She fainted, I think,” Bet said, beaming triumphantly.

They had an uproarious dinner at the Stork Club, with cameras flashing and reporters following the newlyweds on their rounds to the Rainbow Room and El Morocco.

When they finally got back to the little apartment, Bet made a comic ceremony of removing her diaphragm and sailing it out the window with a flourish.

“It's probably worn-out anyway,” Perry pointed out. “It's been through considerable stress and strain.”

“So have we,” Bet said. “Now. Come here, you. Let's finally do this thing right.”

Bet wasted no time in finding another apartment — five rooms in a handsome building on Park Avenue at 67th Street. Perry shuddered at the thought of paying $250 a month but bit his tongue. If he could get back into a lucky bridge-playing routine, they just might be able to afford it.

Bet did the groundwork in searching for furniture and then would take Perry back to the shops for his approval. He was pleased that they agreed on almost everything. They radiated happiness, and shopkeepers beamed at the beautiful couple as they had the time of their lives furnishing and decorating their new home.

Being married was even better than Perry had imagined; Bet was adorable, open, and enthusiastic about everything, and being able to finally live together with nothing to hide was bliss. Even the expensive secondhand baby grand piano that Bet bought was excused when Perry learned that she could actually play it. She'd been right. It was also perfect for the living room.

In London, Perry had noticed the widespread custom of displaying silver-framed photographs on tops of pianos and splurged at Cartier for his little collection of celebrity photos, including the one of the duchess of Windsor. He thought they looked elegant and gave him a sense of roots and continuity.

Bet's interest in New York's glamorous nightlife was also enthusiastic and unflagging.

“But, sweetheart,” Perry reasoned, “why have Nancy in to cook if we go out all the time?”

“Nancy is here primarily to do the cleaning, darling. She is not remotely a Madame Didine in the kitchen.”

“But she does pretty well. We could have some people in from time to time and not go out every night.”

“If we stay in, how will we know what's going on?”

Perry took her in his arms. “Afraid that something will happen that you'll miss?”

“Exactly. Something or
somebody.”
She brushed his hair back from his forehead. “Let's not start out being stick-in-the-muds.”

The little flurry of publicity surrounding the marriage of an heiress established them at the center of the smart, young set in the city. They were mentioned often in the columns and were singled out as pacesetters.

Bet loved meeting people, and going out was the way to do it. Perry tried not to complain about the expense, but it was a constant nagging worry. Granted, the new contacts brought in new business for the studio and even new groups with whom to play cards. Perhaps it would all even out.

Perry had his session with the draft board and had several much-needed drinks with Billy after the ordeal.

“Was it awful, dearest boy?” Billy asked, handing Perry a drink when he'd slumped into a chair.

“Awful? Hideous.” He took a reviving sip. “The most humiliating day of my life. Jesus — oops, sorry.” He looked up to see the cook peek around the door. He shook his head at him and smiled. “Dare I say ‘Christ'? Anyway, I've wanted to swear all day.”

“Tell me.” Billy beamed with anticipation.

Perry told him about the physical, which wasn't so bad. Some twenty or thirty men stood around naked for hours while doctors slowly took blood, blood pressure, urine samples, and their own sweet time about everything.

“One thing was sort of funny,” Perry said. “We were in line in a small hall, going from one room to another, and a sergeant said, ‘Okay, tighten ranks in there. Close in, you guys. Get so close to the guy in front of you that he smiles.'” They laughed and sipped their drinks. “And that was about the only laugh I had all day.”