Shockproof Sydney Skate

by Marijane Meaker

  “Hello?” Alison said.

  “How’s everything?”

  “Who is this?”

  “This is Sydney.”

  “That’s who I thought it was.”

  “What’s the matter?”

  “What’s the matter,” she said in a flat tone.

  “I’m calling from out of town.”

  “I know.”

  “I’m in Princeton. Just looking the school over. I might transfer here.”

  “Don’t lie anymore,” she said.

  “I am in Princeton.”

  “You don’t go to Cornell. You’re just out of high school.”

  “I’ve been accepted at Cornell.”

  “You told me you went there. And you told Shep I drop acid. I haven’t dropped acid in a year, Sydney. I don’t even like acid; it ruins your chromosomes.”

  “You lied, too. About the weekend.”

  “I didn’t lie.”

  “You said you were spending it with Raoul.”

  “Raoul canceled.”

  “I know. I heard all about it from Loretta Willensky.”

  “She doesn’t know anything about Raoul.”

  “I heard how you spent the weekend.”

  “Sydney, I don’t want to talk about it. I don’t want to talk to you. Why did you tell Shep I take acid? Why did you send me that wire? That was really gross, reading my postcard and sending me that wire.”

  “Why did you send my mother a wire like the one Raoul sent you? That’s gross, too.”

  “I suppose you told her.”

  “No.”

  “Why did you tell her I take acid? I haven’t had any acid for a year. Why did you tell her that?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Do you know the trouble you’ve caused?”

  “What are you getting into with my mother? My mother’s old enough to be your mother.”

  “Were you the one who told Ann where Ellie was staying?”

  “My mother’s old enough to be your mother.”

  “Ann was waiting in the Algonquin lobby last night when Ellie and Gloria arrived. There was a terrible scene, Sydney.”

  “I don’t know anything about all that,” Shockproof said. “What are you getting into? Do you know what you’re getting into?”

  “I’m not going to talk about it with you, Sydney.”

  “Ask your shrink what you’re getting into.”

  “I just came back from my shrink.”

  “What does she think about what you’re getting into?”

  “I’m not getting into anything. I know what I’m getting into.”

  “What?”

  “What?”

  “I said what do you think you’re getting into?”

  The operator interrupted.

  Shockproof stuck more quarters into the slot.

  “I don’t take acid, Sydney,” Alison said.

  “All right. I’ll tell her it was a lie. Is that all you care about, what she thinks?”

  “Sydney, I’m super-upset. I don’t even think I’m going to my New School class tonight.”

  “You’re handling too much.”

  “What?”

  “You’re going in too many directions.”

  “I’m not going anywhere. Thanks to you.”

  “Where do you want to go? Do you want to go with her?”

  “Sydney, I’m not supposed to talk about this with you.”

  “Did she say that?”

  “I don’t want to talk about this.”

  “What did she say?”

  “She said you told her I took acid.”

  “I said I’ll tell her you don’t take acid.”

  “Did you tell her about yesterday afternoon, Sydney?”

  “No,” Shockproof said. “She doesn’t tell me things, and I don’t tell her things.”

  “I’m not even going to get to do that gum commercial now.”

  “Is that what you want, to chew gum on television?”

  “I need the money, Sydney.”

  “That isn’t what you want. That isn’t what you’re getting into.”

  “Sydney, I’m going to hang up.”

  “Don’t hang up.”

  “I don’t have anything to say to you.”

  “My mother’s going on forty-three, Alison.”

  “I’m going to hang up, Sydney.”

  “Don’t.”

  “I don’t want to talk about Shep.”

  “I’ll come over when I get home.”

  “I don’t want to see you, Sydney.”

  “I’ll come by tomorrow on my lunch hour.”

  “Sydney, I don’t want to see you.”

  “Then you can feed Dr. Teregram yourself. You can buy your own mice.”

  “Are they expensive?”

  He slammed down the receiver, removed his racer’s goggles, and pulled himself out of the race.

  He had the usual longing to let Estelle Kelly drag him down the rest of the way, but he was afraid to call there.

  He headed back to his T-bird, telling himself he would keep his promise to Loretta, and have her in for a lot of weekends. Massive doses of Vitamin A and pHisoHex soap had cured Joel Schwartz’s acne—no problem—and one thing: Shockproof felt ready for a horny S summer.

  Ten

  ZIPPERS IN DESCENT

  It was the beginning of the Fourth of July weekend.

  Shockproof had gone back to his old ways, reading scores of novels, some books on herpetology, writing letters (never sending the ones he wrote to Alison), working overtime for Leogrande, and silently following the Ellie Davies–Gloria Roy affair. Liz Lear knew now; she was frantically calling M. E. Shepley Skate, crying one day, threatening to get revenge on them the next. Ellie and Gloria had rented a cottage in Quogue for the summer; weekdays they stayed at the Algonquin.

  During the past ten days, Alison Gray was never mentioned, but Shockproof watched what was taking place. There were dozens of matchbooks from Stay in M.E.’s pockets—M. E. Shepley Skate always went there a lot at the start of things, and there were long closed-door phone conferences with Cappy, who gave advice from Sneden’s Landing, across the George Washington Bridge. Some nights M.E. pretended to be staying with Liz, because Liz was “having problems”; through it all packages were pouring in from T. Jones, Lord & Taylor, Bonwit’s, Tape-measure, and Saks—“the trousseau,” Victor had remarked one evening when he’d called to take M.E. to theater, and spied the array in the foyer. New record albums included Shirley Bassey’s, Eydie Gormé’s, and Dionne Warwick’s. M.E. had even changed perfumes, was wearing Cabouchard now.

  Then that Thursday noon, the beginning of the long holiday weekend, as Shockproof was setting up a woodland terrarium for salamanders at the store, he heard Alison’s voice behind him.

  “What do you call this green snake?”

  “Jake.”

  “No, but what’s the name for it?”

  “Green snake.”

  “That’s the name?”

  “Yes.”

  “How are you, Sydney?”

  “Okay.”

  “Dr. Teregram’s appetite is sluggish.”

  “You’re probably feeding her too much.”

  “She hardly eats at all.”

  “She might want a change.”

  “Like what?”

  “Probably other snakes. Something live.”

  “Oh no.”

  “Just drop them in and don’t look.”

  “I guess you’re super-angry at me.”

  “Why should I be?”

  “It’s even gross to think you’d admit it.”

  “I’d admit it.”

  “Are you glad to see me?”

  “I’m not anything,” Shockproof said. He had finished lining the bottom of the tank with gravel. Now he was pouring in a thick layer of sand and mixing it with humus. Alison was standing beside him, wearing white cotton bell-bottoms, a white blouse with the middle cut out, and a bright red and blue sca
rf around her long black hair. Y again, and Shockproof’s stomach jumped at the scent.

  “I’d like to feed Dr. Teregram before I go away for the weekend.”

  “Are you going to Quogue?” M.E. was going to Ellie’s and Gloria’s for the weekend, leaving tomorrow.

  “Yes. I’ve never been to the Hamptons.”

  “I thought you’d be going there.”

  “Well, I was invited.”

  “Then go.”

  “I feel down.”

  “You look nice.”

  “Nice,” she said.

  “Do you want some ribbon snakes for Dr. Teregram?”

  “I don’t think I can go through with it.”

  “Go through with what?”

  “You know what.”

  “Then don’t.”

  “Well, would you do it?”

  “Go to Quogue?”

  “No! I have to go to Quogue,” she said impatiently. “Would you feed Dr. Teregram?”

  “Oh.”

  “Well, why would you think I meant Quogue! I’ve been invited to Quogue,” she said.

  “I didn’t know what you meant.” He was standing there with his hands smeared with humus.

  “I meant would you feed her?”

  “I know what you meant now.”

  “Why would you think I meant Quogue?”

  “I didn’t know what you meant, that’s all.”

  “Don’t you get a lunch hour?”

  “Yes,” he said. “All right, Alison.”

  Dr. Teregram knew Alison, uncoiled at her touch, and wound herself around Alison’s arm.

  Alison had taught her a trick. She had stretched a sturdy rope across the cage, and Dr. Teregram moved from one end to the other like a tightrope walker.

  While Dr. Teregram dined on ribbon snakes, Alison said, “Look out here, Sydney.”

  He followed her out to the balcony. On a board resting in the sun, she had stretched out the molted skin Dr. Teregram had shed, and had painted it with shellac.

  “That’s why she wasn’t hungry,” he said. “But after they shed, they have good appetites.”

  “Do you want to turn on?”

  “I can’t. I have to finish that terrarium.”

  “Will it hurt to smoke?”

  “I have to landscape it. It’s all in miniature.”

  “I’m going to smoke,” she said. “Do you want a sandwich?”

  “I don’t feel hungry.”

  She had some pot already rolled in blue paper. While she was lighting up, Shockproof noticed a suitcase and an airline bag near the door.

  “All packed already,” he said.

  She went and sat down on the couch. “I’m being picked up around four.”

  “I thought my mother wasn’t going until tomorrow morning?”

  “I’m driving out with Fay Foote.”

  “End of succotash, beginning of pure corn.”

  “Smoke with me, Sydney, don’t be so uptight.”

  “I can’t smoke. A terrarium isn’t easy to set up.”

  “What’s this about the end of succotash?”

  “Fay Foote calls being bi, succotash.”

  Alison giggled. “Hey. You know something?”

  “What?”

  “I actually think I shock Dr. Teregram.”

  “The snake or the analyst?”

  “Oh, very funny,” she said.

  “I don’t want one of these giggle sessions about your shrink,” Shockproof said, sitting down on the couch. “You sound super-stupid when you’re on that subject.”

  “I’m meeting everybody, Sydney.”

  “Who’s everybody?”

  Alison rattled off a list of celebrities from M. E. Shepley Skate & Company repertory: the fashion editor Cappy used to call “Round Heels”; the TV actress who played a lawyer’s mistress in a series, and once set fire to Judy Ewen’s apartment after Judy left her; the nightclub singer who years ago had tried to commit suicide by jumping off the Fire Island ferry. On and on. He could suddenly not remember one good thing about any of them; he was an American Legionnaire reacting to the names of hippies and crazies.

  “Everyone’s so interesting, I feel really gross around them,” Alison was continuing. “I know I’m young and they don’t care if I’m not anything yet, but the thing is at the rate I’m going, I don’t think I’ll ever be anything, Sydney.”

  “You’re sure to be something,” Shockproof said.

  “I’m not creative, I’m really not,” she said. “It’s Bryn Mawr’s fault. Of the Seven Sisters, we’re second academically. Radcliffe’s first. We’re grinds. And I feel really super-seedy about the way I look. My whole clothes allowance for the last year was four hundred dollars. Period!”

  “No one needs a big wardrobe on chicken lane.”

  She was not really listening to him. “Do you know Kay Grail, Sydney?”

  “She used to burp me,” Shockproof said. “She went with Gloria Roy before Liz did.”

  “I saw one of her movies when I was about seven, and I thought she was the most beautiful woman there could be, and she’s still beautiful.”

  “Or else she went with Liz before Gloria did,” he said.

  “The other night she sat with us in Stay, and I couldn’t believe it! Actually I’ve seen her in about ten movies. She doesn’t look any older than thirty, Sydney. They all look so super-young and incredibly glamorous. I’m having such a fantastic time. It’s all really blowing my mind, Sydney.”

  Then she covered her face with her hands. Tears were running through her fingers.

  Shockproof looked at her. “Was that pot or hash?”

  “It’s me,” she said. “I’ve been down all week. Hold me, Sydney.”

  Then she said, “Hold me harder. Really hold me. Sydney? I can really understand why mental patients need straitjackets. I need something to press around me, something to reassure me I’m not splitting, shattering.”

  “Well, what’s Dr. Teregram doing? What’s she doing?”

  “I can’t talk to anyone but you. I can’t go anyplace without you. I don’t feel right.”

  “Go anyplace? Where have we ever gone?”

  “You know what I’m saying. I don’t feel right without you. Lock me in with your arms and legs, Sydney.”

  She was pulling at his zipper. “Sydney?”

  Shockproof had never made it with anyone without pot or booze. Even the first time with Loretta Willensky (whom Shockproof had invited for the weekend) he had gulped down four dark Löwenbraüs beforehand.

  When he took off his clothes and saw his poor limp penis, he was convinced there would be no way for either of them to get it up. Not only was he sober, but she was crying, and Shockproof felt sorry for her. Pity put everything way out of whack, and when she knelt down and wanted to take his penis in her mouth, with tears still streaming down her cheeks, Shockproof felt like some bent fellow from the subways who had cornered a night nurse out at an early morning hour and forced her into fellatio.

  Shockproof reached down and pulled her away from there. Then he got down there and began to lose the feeling he pitied her, as she made little whimpering sounds which were not sad anymore.

  He zapped up hard as a brick, stood up and showed her.

  That was when she started kissing him; they started kissing, long, deep, drinking-in kisses, and Shockproof was Charley of The Pretenders in the Warwick Hotel with Louise. He pushed her back on the couch, and remembered Charley slapping against Louise like the waves of an ocean gone violent, and she felt the breaking of her own personal tide.

  Charley was thrusting and she was pulling and they were straining, and Shockproof soon stopped caring that Leogrande would probably fire him, and that Loretta Willensky would arrive to a locked and empty house. She was due between three-thirty and four. Shockproof had planned to unlock the back door during his lunch hour, as he had told her he would, buy a single rose from the Gramercy Florist, and put it in a vase in the den, where she was stayin
g.

  None of that mattered, nothing mattered now but Alison. They were wet everywhere and so was the velvet couch. She fell asleep first while she was under him and he was still in her, a deep sleep as though she had been awake for forty-eight hours, and Shockproof finally eased out of her, turned toward her on his side, and fell asleep too.

  Her downstairs buzzer woke them up.

  “Don’t answer it,” she said, hanging on to him.

  “No.”

  “Oh, Sydney,” she said. “Ummm.”

  “Alison? I love you.” He remembered Rick saying that to Diane in The Pretenders and Diane saying back, “And just what does that entail?” He half expected the same sort of answer, or none at all.

  “I love you, too,” Alison said drowsily. “Mucho mucho.”

  Shockproof smiled. “Neat.”

  The buzzer sounded again.

  “Sydney?”

  “What?”

  “It couldn’t be four o’clock.”

  “Probably,” he yawned. “That’s probably Fay Foote leaning on the bell.”

  “Four o’clock!” She was up in an instant, flying across the room with her breasts flopping madly, making a lunge for the clock on the table.

  “Oh, wow, this is really gross, Sydney. I’m going to keep her waiting.”

  “What?”

  “I’m going to have to shout down to her,” she said, scooting across to the intercom on the wall, “if she hasn’t gone back to her car already. I’m super-upset, Sydney, are my white bell-bottoms all wrinkled?”

  She was pressing the intercom button and yelling, “Fay? Fay? Fay?”

  Shockproof watched her.

  “Where are my panties? I can’t wear these. God, they’re wet. That’s gross. Where are fresh panties?”—darting in and out of the room—“I can’t wear these bell-bottoms. Sydney, you’re no help. I knew she’d go back to her car, and now she’s waiting. God. I’m glad we fed Dr. Teregram at least. Sydney, if you’re not going to dress in a hurry, then leave a note for my cleaning woman I want her to defrost. Would you? This is gross. There. Panties.”

  Shockproof finally said, “I’ve probably lost my job.”

  “I can’t think now, Sydney. It’s better if you don’t talk to me. I’m really super-confused. I can’t find my Tampax and I’m going to get my period. Oh. I can get it out there. I can buy it out there. At least I packed. The hell with this hanger. Look at me carrying around this hanger.”