by Judy Fischer
Russell took over my life, it seemed, with endless book signings in the Hollywood area and he started to set up similar signings in other states also. I never thought being a writer would change my life in so many ways. All I wanted to do was to keep on writing. Instead, I had to spend the next two months travelling, sleeping in unfriendly hotels, meeting people who were strangers to me and signing my name in books. People lined up to beg for my autograph and requested the strangest comments as dedications.
Russell became my travel companion. The company endorsed his travels in order to promote new books and their authors because the initial campaign was paramount in the ultimate success of the book. He was also my chaperone, in a way, because of my age. I needed his presence, for in some instances, I was not even eligible to attend certain functions because of it. The age of adulthood in the USA was 21 and I was not even 19. Missy Drake became my pen name and the public ate it up with an uncanny devotion. The line-ups at bookstores were endless and I was so caught up in the frenzy that every night after a day of work, I collapsed on my hotel bed, unable to move. I missed René so much, even though we talked almost every night after completing my obligations to the publisher. I arrived back to my room those nights, next to exhausted, and to make matters worse, I was homesick, not for Montreal, but for the place where René was. My life became a struggle. The life of fame sucked. At nights, before I closed my eyes, I thought of the place where I had written my bestseller, the place where I had met Michael, the place where life was filled with love, friends and peace. My dreams, however, were forever of René.
By the end of March 1980, I completed my tour and returned to Florida again, but to my dismay, the house was empty and there was a brief letter from René waiting on my bed.
"Dearest Missy,
Larry and I have left to do a long haul. We will travel to Montreal, then down to New York City, continuing south until we will arrive at home sometime in April. I will call you often. I hope you will rest and overcome the hardships of your past few weeks. Take care of yourself.
Love
René"
Although Larry’s house provided all the comforts I needed, I didn’t like the emptiness of it. After only a few days back, I started to feel the loneliness so deeply I decided to call on Russell and invite him out for dinner. Much to my surprise, he accepted my invitation. I would have invited someone my own age had I known anyone. I was still a newcomer in Southern Florida and I had not met anyone. I had become so immersed in my career as a writer I didn’t even know the area in which I lived.
Russell arrived to pick me up in his car and at his suggestion, because I had none, we went to a French restaurant, Oceanside. He was good company and we shared our life stories with each other over wine and lobster tails. Even though he was almost twice my age, my life story was longer and more interesting, for some reason. I attributed it to the fact that as a writer of fiction, compared to his travel documents, I was more astute in telling outrageous tales. I also told him, after the third glass of wine, about my non-existent love life. He laughed, telling me he didn’t have one either. Given our differences in age, we still had many things in common. He kept insisting he liked the very same foods, same songs and same hobbies. He continued to order more wine and with our good-natured exchange of stories, drinking was an accepted activity.
He confessed he had cried after reading my story about Michael; however, he also told me that while he was reading it, he was drinking red wine known to bring him to tears as well. I laughed because I knew that men don’t usually read stories such as mine, admitting to an emotional outburst was too candid, even for him.
Russell lived in Fort Lauderdale, a city near Hollywood, and he had to pass through it to drive me home. The dinner date was pleasant and even though I was somewhat inebriated from the wine, I really didn’t want the evening to end, thus, when he suggested I visit his condo, I agreed. He was so friendly and pleasant as a host.
His condo was on the 20th floor of a high-rise complex, right on the shores of the Atlantic Ocean, where many other structures similar to his lined the coast of Southern Florida. The coastline in Florida seemed to be very congested with hotels and condos to accommodate all the people who flocked there, escaping the poor weather of the north.
He parked the car in the indoor parking complex located under the building. We took the elevator up and when he opened the door to his place, I was pleasantly surprised. It had one main living area, with windows all around and the view from the 20th floor was breath-taking. The whole coast along the beach, all the way down to Miami, was visible and absolutely beautiful. I had always loved those picture-perfect vistas of nature. Russell dimmed the lights right away claiming I could get the ideal look out.
He opened a bottle of wine and offered some to me. After the first sip, the remaining events of that night became fuzzy and confusing. I remember sitting on a white leather couch, facing the windows, and as we sipped the wine, we talked more and more. Honestly, I don’t remember talking at all, but I do remember that before long Russell slipped his arms around my shoulders as he inched his way closer and closer to me. So close, I could smell the garlic on his breath. Before I knew it, he pulled me so close to him that suddenly, though reluctantly, I succumbed to my own sexual desires. He kissed me with a determination to entice me even more.
There was no unusual force, no insistent pressure, just a natural attraction between René and me. We finally got caught up in a moment of mutual desire. I had fought my body’s sexual needs for too long and the timing that night was perfect. I closed my eyes and kissed René’s lips and pressed his firm body next to mine. Suddenly, René lifted me up and carried me into the bedroom, where our king-sized bed was waiting for us. The room was spinning but I managed to unbutton my blouse and slip out of my skirt to wait for him to continue his erotic advances, touching those parts of my body which ached for him. In the dark, I reached for his naked flesh and as he ravaged mine, I cried out from the rapid rise of my ecstasy. His tight well-formed body lay there on top of me and as he reached his own climax, we lay there, silent and spent in each other’s arms.
“Oh. René. I love you,” I whispered before passing out.
The early morning sun edged its way slowly over the horizon and as its rays became more intense, they flooded the bedroom with a blinding light that shone directly toward me, causing my eyes to open. Still half asleep, I reached over to feel René’s soft skin, but I found myself with a stranger in my bed and a sudden wave of panic swept over my entire body. I leaped out of bed glaring at Russell who was still sound asleep. I was shocked to have found that man in my bed but upon further examination of my surroundings, I came to the realization that it was not my bed, not my room, nor my house. I dressed and ran. I took a taxi home, locked all the doors, took a long shower and went to my bed to cry myself back to sleep. I was hoping to awake from a terrible nightmare.
I woke up later to the ringing of the phone beside my bed. For a moment, I hesitated, still feeling the guilt of my actions the night before and not quite sure as to what really happened.
“Hello?” I whispered.
“Missy, I called you several times last night. Where have you been? I was worried,” René said frantically.
“Everything is okay. I went to grab something to eat. I am so sorry, René, that I wasn’t here to talk with you. I wish I had not gone out,” I started to cry.
“Missy, what’s wrong?”
“I miss you so much. I don’t like being apart. I don’t feel at home.”
“I’ll be back soon. Listen, I wanted to tell you that while Larry and I were in Montreal, I picked up my real birth certificate, so now I can proceed with re-establishing my true identity. I’ll explain everything in a few days.”
“Hurry back,” I finally said.
I stayed in my bedroom for the rest of the day, too ashamed to face the world outside of it. Slowly, the events of the previous night started to come back. I blamed myself, for I had fall
en into a trap I had allowed someone to set. Blaming Russell was unjust, I was the one who drank too much, I was the one who willingly went to a strange man’s home. If he took advantage of me, I was the only one to blame. My head was still heavy with a peculiar drowsiness I couldn’t understand and I finally fell into a profound sleep, again.
Haven
Larry had left the Beetle in the driveway, knowing I would be back before them. The key was hanging on a hook by the front door and a keychain with my name on it was secretly attached as a surprise addition. With all the commotion of the past two months—the travelling, the crowds, and now the total silence and loneliness—I had only one choice, and that was to pack a bag and hit the road toward Virginia.
I grabbed a few of my books, a pair of jeans, a T-shirt, bathing suit and a few other odds and ends. I locked all the doors, turned off all the lights and wrote a letter to Larry explaining my absence. I didn’t call Russell, even though he was my agent. I had no reason to call him and I knew I probably never would.
The events of the night before placed a smear on his reputation in my mind and the gentleman I had thought he was, no longer applied. Whatever did happen was now in the past and I decided I would publish my next book using another company and another agent.
The drive back to Virginia seemed faster than I had remembered. I sped along State Highway 95 north until the sign for the Chesapeake Bay exit appeared on the billboard, some 950 miles from where I started.
I did not eat anything along the way. I stopped only to fill up the gas tank. There was an odd force which propelled me to get to my destination as fast as possible. There was an emptiness, a longing to be held by loving arms and the closest ones were those of Irma. I had not spoken with my own mother for many weeks and she was too far for me to crave for her embrace. However, the arms I really wanted around me were those of René’s.
Somehow, my short success as a writer had given me a monetary reward but the success had also taken away many more important things, and for those, I was desperately looking.
As I drove into the parking lot of the Anderson Estate, a flood of memories rushed through my mind and I had to stay in the car for a few minutes to find the strength to run up to the main house. The memories were a mixture of good and bad, sad and happy, I had to sort through them immediately and hold on to the positive ones only.
Irma and Fred were sitting on their back porch, unaware a visitor had unexpectedly arrived on their property. The main house was so far away from the front gate and parking area that there was no way of knowing when someone arrived. Many years ago, Fred had told me, he had installed an intercom connecting the gate to the house; however, it had been broken and never fixed due to infrequent use.
I walked down the path from the guest cottage, the one where René and I had lived, and made my way to the sandy beach. As I passed in front of the main house, I saw them relaxing, unaware of my presence. I had not called to tell Irma I was driving up to see them.
“Hello, lovers,” I yelled out loud enough for them to hear.
Irma stood up to see who had called out to them and when she saw that it was me, she made her way down the stairs and ran toward me.
“My Lord. Missy. What are you doing here?”
“I wanted to surprise you. I hope you are taking visitors.” I grabbed her and gave her a warm embrace. I could see Fred behind us, still standing on the porch, trying to see the two women down on the beach and not sure who one of them was. His eyesight was deteriorating and unless he had his glasses on, he couldn’t see very well.
We went back to the house, arm in arm, and the warmth of her precious soul next to mine was so comforting, I didn’t want to let go of her. Fred finally got gist of what was happening and grabbed and pulled me into his arms too. For me, it was like arriving in my childhood home, greeting my own parents. I realized then that my own parents were missing their own daughter and I promised to them in my heart they would be the next ones I would visit.
“I needed to see the both of you before I head back to a much overdue visit to Montreal. When I left Florida, my aim was to see only the two of you; however, I feel a need now to hold my parents in my arms and to thank them for their patience and to beg for their forgiveness. I had abandoned them and let them down. All the dreams they ever had for me were destroyed in a flash. I see things from a different point of view now. Older and wiser, as they say.”
“Missy, I spoke with Larry yesterday, they will stop over here before heading back down to Florida. You being here will be a pleasant surprise for them as well. Please wait for them before you go.”
“Oh. I’m not in a hurry. I would like to talk with Oliver too while I’m here. I hope you can put me up for a few days or weeks? I will pay for your hospitality. I am a famous writer now, so, I have some more money,” I laughed at my own conceit.
“Missy, you are our adoptive daughter, there is no need for you to feel you must pay for your stay. I appreciate your offer, but no. Give me an autographed copy of the book, that will be payment enough. We are both so proud of your achievement.”
I was touched by their admission of having found a close bond with me, so I did what I always do when I have deep feelings: I cried. I went over to them both to hold them closer to my body. I wanted to pour out all my emotions right there unto the patio table but I held back, not to disturb the positive aura of that moment.
The sky above was as blue as the water below it and had there been no horizon, the two would have merged into one solid colour of aquamarine. The gentle ocean breeze kept caressing our faces while the three of us just sat there staring out toward the sea, trapped in genuine serenity, each one of us holding unto some sublime contemplation of our own.
Again, as it had happened before, those inspirations that once overpowered my ordinary day-to-day thoughts activated my imagination and another idea was again forming in my mind. Luckily, I had packed the typewriter. I brought it back home to its owner but now it was going to be used again by me. Irma told me I could move back into the same cottage René and I had shared, but it was going to be rented out for the summer months. She explained that both cottages were already booked for July and August, but if I decided to come back, I could stay at the main house with them. I reconfirmed to her my plans to go to Montreal, but first, I had to attend to the book I knew I had to write. My trip to Montreal was an unplanned one, my parents had no idea I was going to startle them with my arrival, even though visiting them was all that it was going to be, a visit. The length of it depended on the sort of homecoming they had waiting for me We had grown apart over time, our outlook on life had changed and my ambitions, my beliefs, my lifestyle did not coincide with theirs. The rift between us had developed mainly because I was so headstrong and stubborn to help a homeless boy. To be honest, they were right in trying to discourage my youthful idealism. I was blinded by the love that was in my heart and in retrospect, I could have dealt with René’s predicament in different ways.
I often thought of the ‘what if’s’ of my life so far and I always came to the same conclusionI would not change anything about it. Certainly, there were many imperfections in my relationships, but they were mine and I treasured all of them, except the last one with my agent. That, I would rather exclude from my memory bank.
So, I moved into the guest house, alone for the time being, and gathered my tools to start on my next projectI decided to call The Guest House.
I asked Irma, in advance, to excuse my inevitable anti-social behaviour. I explained that I worked best alone and without sleep. I had this tendency to binge write. Time, hunger, even thirst had never stopped the flow. Once the words started spilling onto the paper, I couldn’t stop. We arranged, before my self-imposed exile, a meeting with Oliver to take place at some point in the following two weeks. Usually, if the manuscript was not finished in that period of time, I would end up trashing it. I always allowed my creativity to run that type of a course. Either it did or it didn’t measure up to the
quality I had set as my standard.
Irma, the thoughtful person who she was, delivered meals to my door daily and in those moments when I needed a breath of fresh air for my physical and mental well-being, I went up to the main house where there was always fresh coffee to drink and/or food to eat. I would linger by her side, enjoying her company, and on one of those days, I had the urge to reveal to her how I had recently lost my innocence. I had not talked or thought about it since the fateful time and it had started to weigh heavily on my conscience again.
"You know, Irma, I had waited for René to be the first man, in my life as a woman, to initiate my sexual role as one; however, he was not emotionally prepared to undertake the task. Before I came here, I had a dinner date with my agent and, Irma, I think he took advantage of me. We had many glasses of wine, but I think he also laced my last glass with something.
‘It’, whatever it was, rendered me incapable of resisting his advances. Honestly, I don’t remember most of that night, but I had this strange dream about René and I making love. When I awoke, there he was, my agent, sleeping soundly next to me. I panicked and left in such a hurry and anger that I never confronted him. Until this moment, I have not heard or want to hear from or about him."
“You, poor child. He should be in jail,” Irma said sadly.
“I am to blame. I willingly went to his place, what was I thinking, Irma?”
“You are young and very trusting. He made sure you couldn’t have said no to him. He played you well, Missy. He knew what he was doing. I’m sure it wasn’t the first time he rendered someone helpless. He slipped you a mickey. That’s what those drugs do, they render people defenceless, vulnerable and very much incapable of resisting.”
“The worst part, Irma, is that I had always imagined making love for the first time to be special, with a person whom I loved. Now, I feel cheated and cheap. Do you think I should tell René?”
