Unfinished Symphony (14 page)

"That's all right. You have enough on your mind. Just give Cary my phone number, please, but tell him not to call until he really has a free moment. It's not any sort of emergency."
"I'm afraid it is here," she said in a tiny voice. "We all try to be strong for Jacob, but it gets so hard to keep our spirits up."
I heard her start to sob and then she quickly excused herself and hung up. I felt awful about being away from Aunt Sara and the family when things were going so poorly. I felt myself pulled in every direction. Mommy also needed me, but she seemed to have chosen her predicament. Cary and Aunt Sara and May had no choice.
Where did I really belong?
It seemed like I had been searching for home forever. Just when I thought I'd found it. . . .

8
A Star Shines
.
After I got dressed, I went downstairs and

asked a man working on the grounds where the closest grocery store was. He spoke broken English mixed with Spanish words, but I remembered enough from my high school Spanish class to communicate with him. The supermarket was a little more than three long blocks away. When I got there and saw all the delicious produce, I wanted to fill my cart, but thinking about the long walk home kept me from going wild. It was already hot and sticky, with only little puffs of clouds lazily sliding toward the horizon. A nice day for a stroll but not for lugging groceries around.

A handsome young man with dark brown hair was just turning in his apron at the next counter when I checked out, and I caught him looking my way as I was paying the cashier. As I walked from the store, struggling not to spill anything out of my two bags and hoping the bottoms wouldn't burst, I heard someone behind me say, "You look like you could use a third arm."

I turned to see the handsome young man from the store. In the sunlight, his hair held hints of copper. His laughing eyes were hazel with long eyelashes. Although he wasn't what I would call muscular, he was well proportioned, sinewy, sleek, his face very masculine, especially around his mouth.

"I could carry one of those for you," he offered. "I won't steal your food," he added with a soft smile when I hesitated.

"How do you know where I'm going?" I asked. "The Egyptian Gardens, right? I saw you there yesterday. I was at the pool when you went by. I live there, too," he said. "I'm walking that way anyway," he added, "going home." He shrugged when I didn't reply. "Light's changing."

"We can cross now," he said, indicating the traffic had stopped.
"Oh."
He reached out and took one of my bags.
"Better hurry up," he said. "This is one of the shortest lights in L.A."
He grabbed my elbow and gently directed me across the street. We walked quickly and didn't speak again until we were on the sidewalk.
"I don't blame your hesitating to accept my offer. I don't trust my groceries with strangers either," he said with that silly, impish grin again. "Strange women are always approaching me and offering to carry one of my bags."
"Very funny."
"My name's Mel Jensen."
"Melody . . . Simon," I said.
"There. Now we're no longer strangers," he quipped. "I can carry your groceries all the time."
"Just because we exchanged names doesn't mean we're not still strangers," I replied and he turned very serious.
"You're right. Besides, around here, you're never sure the person is giving you his or her real name anyway," he said with a tiny turn in the corner of his mouth, and I felt myself turn a bright crimson. He was looking straight ahead, so he didn't notice. "But that's my real name and I intend to make it a household word," he bragged, now turning to see my reaction.
"What are you selling?" I asked and he laughed, the light in his eyes getting even brighter. He paused when he saw I wasn't kidding. "You're serious? You think I'm a salesman?"
"Well, you said household, so I thought . . ."
"What are you doing in L.A.?" he asked, suddenly very curious and suspicious. I looked away before replying.
"I'm visiting my sister," I said.
"Sister? Simon," he thought aloud. "Oh, you're Gina Simon's sister?"
"Yes," I said. I never thought of myself as a good liar and I had doubts that I would be able to fool people the way Mommy and Richard Marlin wanted. I was positive people would see through me or hear the hesitation in my voice and know immediately I wasn't telling the truth, but if Mel Jensen saw my deceit, he ignored it.
"Of course," he said nodding, "you two do look a lot alike. I suppose you want to be an actress and a model, too?"
"Not really, but my sister's agent thinks I can be. He says he's going to try to get me a job while I'm here," I replied.
"Stranger things have happened. The doorman at the Four Seasons got offered a small part in a television pilot. The pilot was picked up and he got a recurring role in it. Now he's an actor who drives up to the Four Seasons in his own Mercedes and has doors opened for him."
"Are you an actor, too?"
"No, I'm a dancer, jazz, interpretive, that sort of thing. However, if they made musicals the way they did when Gene Kelly and Fred Astaire were alive, I'd be in the movies," he claimed. "Anyway, this job packing groceries and stocking shelves is just something to keep a roof over my head while I fight the good fight. I share an apartment with two other guys, who both happen to be actors. Aren't you and your sister from the Midwest someplace?"
"Yes," I said quickly, hoping he wouldn't press me for details. I didn't know all the lies Mommy and Richard had spread about themselves.
"I'm from Portland."
We turned into The Egyptian Gardens and I stopped to take back my second bag of groceries.
"That's all right," he said. "I'll go up to your sister's place with you. I'm not in any rush. I'm not waiting for anything. I have an audition tomorrow morning and then I'll be hovering around the phone." He laughed and we walked down the pathway to Mommy's building. "You should see the three of us when we've all gone for something and the phone rings. It's a mad dash. Lately, all three of us have been disappointed, but my luck's changing. I can feel it." "I hope so," I said.
"Thanks. See, we can't be strangers any longer. You're already wishing me luck."
He stepped into the elevator with me and carried my bag of groceries to the door of Mommy's apartment.
"Thank you," I said as he put the bag into my arms.
"Just an added service we provide at the Bay Market," he replied with a soft, beguiling smile on his lips. "What are you doing with the rest of your day?"
"I'm . . cleaning," I said.
"It's so hot today."
"I have to do it," I said.
"When you take a break, come on down to the pool and I'll introduce you to some of the other tenants." "I'd like that," I said hesitantly.
"See you later then," he replied and started for the elevator.
I don't know why I said I might go to the pool, I thought. I don't even have a bathing suit. I put away the groceries and began to clean the apartment. From the gobs of dust and the cobwebs I found, I realized neither Mommy nor Richard had ever done much cleaning since they had moved into this place. The pail of water turned black from my dipping the mop in it after two or three swipes of the kitchen floor. The windows were so crusted with grime, they made the outside world look gray even on a beautiful day.
The bathroom was even dirtier. Stubborn mildew had formed in every crack and space, and when I moved a small rug near the tub, I jumped back a foot because of the size of the bugs that came crawling out.
Finally, I turned my attention to the bedrooms. The little balls of dust under the beds were like tumbleweeds. There wasn't any vacuum cleaner either, so I had to sweep under the beds and wash by hand the places the mop wouldn't reach. I didn't know whether Mommy would want me to go into her and Richard's dresser drawers, but .1 saw she wasn't folding her clothes any better than she used to fold them back in Sewell. I did most of our washing and ironing back then, too.
Clothes were draped over chairs and there was a pair of jeans and a blouse crumpled on the floor. While organizing one of her dresser drawers, I found a light pink two-piece bathing suit and I thought about Mel Jensen's invitation. It was still very sunny and warm outside and I was about due for a break.
When I tried on the bathing suit however, I realized it was very revealing. I was going to take it off and look for another, more modest suit, but all I found was another bikini, this one even skimpier.
I stood up and gazed at myself in the mirror again. The suit fit well. I was a little bigger in the bosom than Mommy so the top was snug. My hips were more narrow, but the suit was like new and not stretched. I turned around, gazing at myself from different angles, not unhappy with what I saw. I didn't approve of girls who flaunted themselves, but I didn't see why I should be ashamed of having a nice figure. I could use a little tan, I thought, and conjured up Mel Jensen's soft, handsome, inviting smile. Did I have the nerve to go down to the pool in this suit? Just the thought of it was titillating.
While I was considering it, the phone rang. It was Cary.
"I tried calling earlier," he said, "but when the answering machine came on, I decided not to leave a message. You wouldn't know when to call me anyway. I'm in and out so much."
"I went shopping for groceries."
"Shopping for groceries? Where are you? What did you tell Ma? She can't remember anything these days. What's happening?" He fired questions at me without taking a breath.
I told him about my confrontation with Mammy and summarized her story quickly.
"So they sent a strange woman's body to Provincetown? I can't believe it. That's against the law, isn't it?" he asked.
"I suppose so," I said.
"What about the woman who's in the grave? Isn't anyone looking for her?"
"I don't know all the details, but there are a lot of people here who have left their families behind forever. Besides, I think it was mostly Richard Marlin's doing," I added. "Mommy seems . . . under his control, but I'm going to get her out of here," I said and explained why I wanted to stay in Los Angeles and try to save her from Richard's evil grip.
"Maybe she doesn't want to be saved, Melody," Cary said.
"I've got to try."
"Why? She didn't care about you. Look at what she did. If your friend back in West Virginia hadn't found that picture in the catalogue, do you think your mother would have ever called again?" he argued. "She was just like those other people you mentioned, people who forgot their families."
I knew he just wanted me to go home to him, although what he was saying was not untrue.
"That's just it, Cary. I did see the picture and I did find her and I know she needs me. One day she's going to find herself all alone here. Once Richard decides he can't get anything more out of her, he'll leave her stranded."
"She should have thought of that herself. You don't belong there," he insisted. "They're criminals, sending a stranger's body to be buried as if it were your mother's. Grandma Olivia's going to be furious."
"Maybe you shouldn't tell her anything just yet." "What do I do when she asks, lie? Is that what you're learning how to do out in L.A.?"
"No."
"Your mother's a good teacher," he muttered. "We both know that."
"Look Cary, no matter what she's done, she's still my mother. You'd feel the same way."
"No, I wouldn't," he said quietly and I could hear the sadness in his voice.
"How's your father doing?" I asked.
"There's been no change. He's still in the cardiac care unit in the hospital. It was raining here this morning, a small storm, so we didn't go out in the boat. I'm depending on the cranberry crop to get us through the year anyway," he added. "There's going to be a lot of work to do soon."
"Maybe I can come back to help," I suggested. "And then what, return to L.A.?"
"I just don't know, Cary."
"You probably like it out there. Hollywood," he spat. "It's a lot more glamorous than living in an old house and harvesting cranberries. I don't blame you," he said in a tired voice. "I wish I could run away from my responsibilities, too."
"I'm not running away from my responsibilities, Cary Logan. I'm running toward them. I'm trying to help my mother," I said firmly, determined to make him understand.
"Right. Well, you know where I'll be. Give me a call sometime, if you have time," he said, not disguising his frustration and anger.
"Oh, Cary, you know I'll call."
"I gotta get back to the hospital," he said. "I left Ma up there with May. Bye."
"Cary."
The phone went dead. I held the receiver in my hand a moment and then put it back on the cradle, my heart feeling like cold stone. Cary didn't do well with sadness and hardship. He turned inside himself and bitterly closed up like a clam. It was the way I had found him when I had been left there to live with Uncle Jacob and Aunt Sara, and it had taken a while to get him to say two friendly words to me. I felt just horrible not being there at his side when he needed me so much.
But when I gazed around this small apartment and thought about Mommy completely under Richard's control, I knew I had to stay. I had to try. It was times like this I wished there were two of me. I would send my other self back to Provincetown. I should have been the one to have a twin, not Cary, I thought.
A rich peal of laughter came flowing up from under the patio. I went out and listened. Two young women were walking down the path toward the pool. They were both in bikinis, even skimpier than the one I was wearing.
I do need a break, I thought, just a small intermission from all these troublesome thoughts. Just for a little while, I'll pretend to be one of them. My only fear was that whatever madness drove them would be contagious and what Cary suggested would come true. I'd find it was easier to just run away into my dreams and fantasies, and like everyone else here, not worry if they had any reasonable relationship to the truth.
Despite that fear, I searched for and found a beach towel at the bottom of the closet and a pair of sandals. I scooped up Mommy's coffee-stained and cigarette-burned terry cloth robe and slipped it over myself. Then I headed down to the pool, telling myself it was just for a little while. No harm done. Right?
"This is Melody Simon," Mel Jensen told the stout, light-brown-haired man on the lounge beside him. "Melody, meet Bobby Dee," Mel said.
"Greetings," Bobby Dee muttered. He held the sun reflector under his chin and glanced at me quickly.
"Bobby's the drummer for the Gross Me Outs, a rock band who cut their first single last week."
"Oh. Congratulations," I said. Bobby Dee grunted. Mel pulled up a lounge chair so I could be beside him. Across the pool Sandy and two of her friends were sunning themselves, surrounded by two other young men. Everyone looked at me when I took off Mommy's robe and laid it neatly on the lounge. Mel's smile widened.
"You better put on some suntan lotion," he suggested. "You're a bit pale in places that have obviously not seen the sun in a while." He handed me his bottle of lotion.
"Thank you," I said and rubbed some lotion over my legs and arms.
"I can get your back for you," he volunteered.
"Watch out. That's how he starts," Bobby Dee mumbled. "First it's the back and then it's the arms and then--"
"Never mind, big mouth," Mel said. He took the lotion and stood behind me. His hands felt warm on my skin, but the lotion was cold and I jumped.
"He's the guy with the magic touch." Bobby lowered his reflector and really looked at me. "You don't sing, do you? We're looking for a new lead singer."
"I sing when I play the fiddle," I said. "But I'm not good enough to be in anyone's band."
"Fiddle. You mean as in hoedown music?"
"I guess so," I said. Mel rubbed the lotion into my arms and then spent some time on my shoulders and neck. "Thank you," I told him. I had the feeling if I didn't speak up, he'd keep at it all afternoon. "No problem."
"Hell's a Poppin' has a fiddle player in their band," Bobby said. "They got a gig in the valley, at Market Square off of Ventura. Ever hear of them?"
"She just got here, Bobby. She doesn't even know what you mean by the valley," Mel said.
"Oh yeah?" He studied me a moment and then went back to his sun reflector.
Sandy and one of her girlfriends dove into the pool and swam over to us. The young men jumped in after them.
"Hi again," Sandy called and raised herself up to look at me.
"Hi."
"You've met Mel, I see," she said.
"At my office," he told her.
"Watch out, he bites," she warned, laughing as she pushed herself away.
"Why is everyone warning me about you?" I asked him.
"Jealousy," he said. "Beware of the green-eyed monster. It possesses everyone around here eventually." Bobby grunted.
"Look who's talking," he said. Mel spun on him.
"What, you're not jealous of Tommy and the Loafers?" Mel asked him.
"It was just luck that they got that contract instead of us," Bobby replied.
"You're still jealous," Mel said. "See?" he told me. I smiled, lay back and closed my eyes. Someone turned on a radio and the music drifted our way. The sunlight was warm. There was laughter around me. It was easy to forget problems. I could get used to this, I thought shamefully.