The Stork Club

by Iris Rainer Dart

  "I fed you a bottle just like that," Bobo said to Rick, "only you weren't that cute." The old man laughed and jabbed Essie Baylis, Harvey Feldman's aunt.

  "My Harvey got you that baby?" the old woman asked. Every time Rick looked at Harvey Feldman's old aunt, he couldn't get it out of his head that she'd once been a Busby Berkeley girl. He would try to sort out the features of her face that must have been pretty then, and to imagine her as young, wearing one of those silly costumes.

  "That's right," Rick told her.

  "He's a genius." The old woman smiled.

  "How come you're not married?" Stella Green, Essie's friend, a tiny woman who walked with the help of an aluminum walker, asked Rick. Stella had worked as a secretary to Jack Warner for years.

  "Don't get him started," Bobo told her. "He's not married because he's a schmuck."

  Stella Green nodded as if she understood. Rick laughed.

  "Uncle B., I've got a son now, why do I need a wife?"

  "I'll have the soup," Bobo said to a passing waitress, then pulled out a chair and sat. "Essie darling, you want maybe a cup of soup? How about you, Stella?" The two women demurred and said their good-byes to Rick and the baby, who smiled a little at them around his bottle, which made both of the women happy.

  "Who do you have at home taking care of the little pisher?" Bobo asked Rick, peering closely at David. "Every week he gains five pounds. Look at the size of that guy. Hiya, bruiser. Say, Hiya, Uncle Bobo. You can call me Grandpa, you know. I wouldn't charge you extra if you call me Grandpa." Rick loved to watch Bobo with the baby.

  "What do you hear from the little girl?" Bobo asked Rick, suddenly serious-faced.

  "Not a word. It was part of our agreement. When she's ready to go back to Kansas, she'll call me and I'll send her off. She doesn't want to see David though. Maybe never."

  "Who can blame her, the poor kid?" Bobo tsked. "If I was a younger man, believe me, I'd go and find the son of a bitch who made her that way and go and kill him. Oy, is she a good kid. A tough cookie."

  David had drained the entire bottle.

  "Give him here," Bobo said. "I'll get a burp out of him. Won't I, slugger?"

  Tenderly Bobo placed the baby's stomach against his own shoulder and patted, patted, patted the tiny back with his arthritic hand.

  "He might need a little Dr. Brown's celery tonic, which always does it for me."

  "And me." Rick laughed.

  David didn't need it. His burp filled the room, and the waitress, who had just put the soup bowl down in front of Bobo, applauded the wonderful accomplishment.

  "I got a way with kids," Bobo told her. "Not like this guy here. He has a way with broads. But me, kids love me. When this baby gets a little bigger, I'll teach him how to play Go Fish and Spit in the Ocean.'' David was asleep on Bobo's shoulder. Rick used the camera he always had with him these days to take a picture of the two of them.

  On the morning David turned six months old, Andrea called. "I wanted to say happy birthday to David, and to tell you that Doreen is ready to go back to Kansas. She's lost all the weight, a miracle since she's been working at Mrs. Field's Cookies for the last few months. She says she feels good, and would like to leave on Monday. Do you want me to arrange a flight for her?"

  Rick and Doreen hadn't spoken since they parted at the hospital. Keeping the silence was their tacit agreement that there were no recriminations for either of them.

  "I'll do it. If it's all right with her though, I'd like her to leave on Monday night. There's somewhere I'd like to take her on Monday afternoon."

  "I'll tell her. And just in case you were curious, she hasn't said a thing about the baby. Even in the wee hours when we sit around in our pajamas and talk about our deepest feelings. Mostly she's been telling me about her mother and how much she misses her, and how worried she gets about her older married sister, Trish, and her kids. Apparently the brother-in-law Don is kind of a bad guy. Anyway, Doreen's got her strength back and she talks to her mom nearly every day. Sometimes they even pray together on the phone."

  "I miss her," Rick said. "And I'll miss her even more knowing she's so far away."

  "Me too. She was a breath of fresh air around the strangling bullshit of this town."

  Rick got off the freeway at the Vine Street exit and drove south, and when Doreen, who had been silent for nearly the entire ride, saw the marquee of the Merv Griffin Theater, she let out a hoot.

  "Oh my God. 'Jeopardy!' Look, there, that's where they do 'Jeopardy!' My 'Jeopardy!' The Alex Trebek 'Jeopardy!' "

  Rick made a right turn into the parking lot.

  Doreen opened the window of the Mercedes and stuck her face out. "We're stopping. We're parking! Are we going to . . . are the other people in those cars going to see 'Jeopardy!'? I can't believe it." Rick's smiling face had the answer.

  "We are. Oh, we are. Oh thank you. Thank you."

  She was literally bouncing up and down in her seat, and the second they were parked, she threw the car door open and ran ahead of him to the front of the theater. There was a very long line of people waiting, and she ran back to Rick, seized his arm with her tiny hand, and said, "C'mon, let's get in line."

  "It's okay," he said, "don't worry," and moved her instead toward the front door where a blue-blazered page was waiting.

  "I'm Richard Reisman," he said to the page, feeling Doreen's excitement by the way her hand, which was now holding his, couldn't remain still. "We're guests of Mr. Griffin."

  The page pulled a folded sheet of paper out of his inside jacket pocket, opened it, read something from it, and gestured for Rick and Doreen to follow. They walked through the cool building and then the page pushed open a heavy studio door. Doreen gasped when there in real life was the familiar set she'd seen on television for so long. There were two seats closed off by masking-tape ribbons right in the center of the first row. As the page led Doreen and Rick toward them, Rick could hear Doreen making tiny sounds of joy in her throat.

  The page removed the masking tape so they could be seated and said, "We'll be shooting two shows while you're here, and then three more later this afternoon."

  "Two shows!" Doreen said excitedly, then elbowed Rick. "We get to see two." As the page turned to go she said, "Um, sir," and he turned back to look at her.

  "Is Mr. Trebek here?"

  "Oh sure."

  Doreen gave out with a little yelp of pleasure. Within seconds of the page's departure, the studio doors opened and hordes of people flooded in to be seated. The studio became a buzzing hive of activity and excitement, all of it reflected in Doreen's eyes. The camera crew assembled, and an announcer named Johnny Gilbert did the warm-up, but it wasn't until the entrance of Alex Trebek when Doreen moved to the edge of her seat, never taking her eyes from him, her face lit with excitement.

  When Trebek moved toward the audience, she pounded Rick's arm. "A sheet of paper. Ohh, why didn't I bring a sheet of—" Rick pulled a piece of blank white From the desk of Rick Reisman notepaper from one of his pockets and a pen from another and handed it to Doreen, who had already leapt to her feet and was thrusting the paper into the face of the handsome Alex Trebek, who smiled at her.

  "Please," she said. "Can you make it out to 'Bea Cobb, who is the best mother in the world'?"

  "If I say that, my mom will get jealous," Trebek joked.

  "Ahh, she won't find out," Doreen said, and then gave him a smile with just a little hint of flirtatiousness.

  "You're right," he said, handed her back the signed paper, and was on to the next fan, as Doreen clutched the paper to her heart and choked out a thank you.

  "My mom's gonna freak out," she said, sitting back down in her seat, alternately looking at the message then clutching it against her chest. She held it that way during the entire taping and in the car on the way back to Andrea's. When it was time to say good-bye, it amazed him that she hadn't said one word about the baby.

  "Call me collect if you ever need anything," he said.

  "Ma
ybe just a picture of David. For Christmas?" she said and asked at the same time.

  "You've got it," he promised.

  22

  LAINIE felt herself being awakened by the sensation of Mitch fondling her, waking her with his hands all over her body, his tongue moving slowly down her body. She must have fallen asleep while they were watching television in bed, and Mitch had stayed awake. Maybe something on television had made him feel sexy. No, Mitch always felt sexy. Mitch, delicious Mitch, wanting her.

  "Mmm, baby," he said. "I love you. How I love you, my baby—"

  And the phone rang.

  "The machine . . . " Mitch said. "The machine will get it." He was inside her now and very hot. "The machine'll pick up," he managed.

  The phone rang again, and again. Maybe it was . . .

  "Jackie's phone," Mitch said, finishing Lainie's thought.

  But then the ringing stopped. Mitch sighed with relief and then he was kissing her and pressing his hard chest into her breasts and then he was up on his knees, pulling her legs up on either side of him, spreading her legs high around him, pushing deeper into her so she could feel him all the way at the small of her back. "Oh, God, Mitch, Oh, God . . ." But the phone rang again and broke the moment, and a frustrated Mitch collapsed on her and reached out for the receiver.

  "Oh, God, Mitch," Lainie heard a voice on the phone cry. "Oh, God."

  "Jackie."

  "I'm in labor, and I hurt so much. Oh, God."

  "Did you call the doctor?" Mitch asked, climbing off Lainie and sitting at the edge of the bed to talk to Jackie. Lainie could see how nervous he was.

  "Yeah, yeah, and Chuck Meyer too. They're both meeting me at the hospital."

  "What about the car and driver?" Mitch was holding the phone loosely to his ear, and Lainie, whose pelvis was still ringing from the abruptness of his wrenching himself out of her, could hear every word Jackie said.

  "Did you call for the car?"

  "It's on the way, but Mitch, please, I know I said I wouldn't do this, only I forgot how much this hurts and how scary it is to do it alone, and I don't have anybody else to call. I know we decided you shouldn't be there, but I'm begging you. You've got to do this, please say you'll meet me at the hospital. I mean, Jesus Christ, it's your baby too. I can't do this with some lawyer I hardly know and a limo driver I never saw before. I need you there."

  "I'll be there," Mitch said. "Stay calm, Jackie. Will you? Promise me you will?" he asked her in a very gentle voice.

  Then he was throwing on his clothes. Lainie watched him numbly. Waiting for him to say, "C'mon, let's go." But a minute later, he had his car keys in his hand and was shoving his wallet into his pants pocket.

  "Mitch . . . " Why hadn't Jackie asked for her? Maybe she thought that Lainie would be able to say no to her, but at this stage Mitch would do whatever she asked. "Mitch!" Mitch stopped and looked at his wife, then put his hand to his face as if to say, What in God's name am I doing? It hadn't even occurred to him that she should be coming along. He looked embarrassed and more flustered than before.

  "Oh, baby," Mitch said. "I'm sorry. I'm out of my mind with worry here. I know this wasn't in the plan we made, but I think I should drive out there. She sounds panicked. I probably won't get there until it's over, but what if it's a long labor? What if decisions have to be made about the baby?"

  "What would you like me to do?" she asked.

  "What do you want to do?" he asked. He was standing nervously at the bedroom door, looking as if he wished she'd say, "Call me when it's over," so he could leave, but she didn't. She jumped out of bed and opened her closet.

  "Start the car," she said. "I'm coming with you." She heard him run down the stairs and out to the garage as she pulled out various choices in her closet, hating this situation. What to wear? Who cares, she thought, pulling on a pair of jeans and a big cotton sweater. Jackie was the one everyone would be looking at. Not her.

  By the time she had her clothes on, she heard Mitch honking the horn. There wasn't time for makeup, or even to brush her teeth. She rushed out into the chilly night and got into the car. They drove wordlessly down Ventura Boulevard toward the freeway. A digital clock above a bank told her that the time was 1:10. There was very little traffic. Lainie felt stung, pushed around, angry that Jackie hadn't kept their bargain. The friendship during the pregnancy had been a good thing, but she had specifically told Mitch she couldn't bear to watch him helping Jackie through the delivery.

  They had put it into a contract they'd worked out with Chuck Meyer, the lawyer. They would come to the hospital after the baby was safely in the hospital nursery. But if Mitch continued to drive as fast as he was now and the labor was long, they would be there to watch the delivery. She looked out the window and reminded herself that Jackie had very little in her life, and that was why she had broken her word about calling them. Jackie knew that after the baby was born there would be no more relationship with Mitch and Lainie, so for one more night she needed them there. One more night, and maybe a day or two in the hospital. Then they would have their baby, and that's what mattered.

  Sliding doors opened. Lainie followed far behind as Mitch raced through them and down the hall through the hospital. Around corners, and through doors and down ramps, past brightly lit nurses' stations and open doors to patients' rooms, through which Lainie caught glimpses of people connected to IVs.

  By the time she got to the labor room, Mitch, and the limo driver, and a nurse, and Chuck Meyer, the lawyer, surrounded Jackie, who lay on the bed connected to an IV, holding court. Lainie stood quietly in the doorway. It wasn't until the limo driver had said good-bye and wished her well and Chuck Meyer stepped out to call his wife that Jackie looked past Mitch, who was brushing a curl out of her face, and noticed Lainie standing quietly in the corner.

  "Hey! Lainie!" she said. "Isn't this great? We're having a baby."

  "Great," Lainie said. Good God, it was true, she thought. It was like that commercial she remembered from years ago, for oven cleaner that you sprayed on and then left to do the work. A woman in the commercial was playing tennis, and when she hit a winning point over the net, she looked at the camera and said, "I'm cleaning my oven!'' Lainie was standing in a labor room in her jeans, thinking, I'm having a baby.

  Within minutes Jackie was in hard labor. Mitch and a nurse stood on either side of the bed while Lainie remained quietly in the corner. She could tell by the way the back of his La Coste shirt stuck to him that Mitch was sweating. Soon, with an entrance worthy of a star, the doctor swept into the room, made some comment about having to get out of his girlfriend's nice warm bed, and examined Jackie's pelvis. The anesthesiologist was a woman, and a moment later she came in, turned Jackie on her side, and gave her an epidural. After that, everything went fast. Somebody handed out sterile masks and gowns and boots and caps; the gurney was rushed into the delivery room. And again, Lainie, who was now dressed from head to toe in blue cotton like the others, stood alone in the corner of the tiled room.

  She watched the group of people gathered around the table where Jackie lay, chattering nervously about something, and all she could see was their eyes. It took her a few minutes to sort them out now, and when she did, she realized it was Mitch who stood by the head of the table, holding Jackie's hand.

  I'm not ready for this, Lainie thought. Her whole body was pulsing with panic. She didn't want to look, was afraid to see the blood, and now all she could think about was her own surgery. That day when they wheeled her into the operating room. She remembered that as she was falling into the drugged sleep, she already knew what the outcome would be. That her uterus would be removed, that her ovaries would be removed, and that she would never, never . . .

  The sudden cry of the baby as it burst forth from Jackie and into the doctor's hands brought Lainie back. "Here comes your girl . . . girl . . . a little girl," she heard voices say. And she watched as the tiny bloody baby was gently handed to Mitch, who Lainie could see was crying as he looked t
enderly down at the tiny thing. She felt the nurse's arms strong around her back, moving her toward the center of the room so she could watch as Mitch handed the baby to Jackie. It was a tiny, pink little girl who looked like Jackie.

  Jackie looked long at the baby, pursed her lips hard and closed her eyes as she handed the squealing baby to Lainie. The squeals were like sounds from a puppy. While Lainie stared at the baby's tiny face, the doctor put a small bulb in the nostrils and extracted some mucus or blood with a sucking noise. Lainie felt Mitch next to her and the doctor sliding the baby out of her hands to care for it.

  "Thank you, oh thank you," Lainie said, half laughing, half crying, leaning over to hug the exhausted Jackie. "Dear God, how can I ever thank you? What could I ever do for you or give you that could possibly mean as much as that precious little life you gave to me and Mitch? Oh, thank you," she said again, and while she held Jackie in her embrace she could smell the very distinct odor of Shalimar, and feel Jackie's sweaty face against her own cool one.

  "S'cuse me, please," someone said, brushing Lainie out of the way. With a tug of the gurney they wheeled Jackie off to the recovery room.

  Mitch put his arms around her. She turned and held him tightly, and they both cried. Neither of them was able to speak through the emotions. Through her tears, Lainie saw nurses, who were probably used to seeing people behave like this in the maternity ward, smile knowingly as they passed. Eventually, silently, Lainie and Mitch walked, arms around each other, out of the hospital to the parking lot.

  The morning light found them in their own bed, locked in each other's arms. When Lainie opened her eyes, she saw that Mitch's were already open, looking at her happily.

  "We have a baby," he said.

  She grinned. "Yes, we do." They kissed and held each other.

  "Let's go see her," Mitch said.

  "You got it."

  They showered and dressed quickly, all the while chatting about the details of the night before.

  "I was a basket case, wasn't I?" Mitch asked.