"I'm very impressed, Norton. But I don't know all the details yet."
"You will, Bettina, you will."
And by the next day she did. A remarkable sum of money, the best backers on Broadway, a producer people killed or died for, and a theater that was nothing less than a dream.
It was one of those rare events in the theater when absolutely everything falls into place. Normally her play wouldn't have been put on until at least six months later, but because of the simplicity of the production, the availability of the theater, the backers, and the producer, everything was set to roll within three months. The producer was almost certain he could get the actors he wanted. The only thing lacking now was Bettina's okay. It all hinged on her.
"Well?" Norton asked her at the end of a grueling day. "Shall we sign it today and give everyone the green light, madam?" He beamed at her and waved at the mountain of contract forms on his desk. Technically she understood almost none of what was happening, all she knew was that if she agreed to accept a vast sum of money and come to New York until the play opened and the kinks had been worked out, and then kept an eye on what was happening with it for a little while, her play was in business and would open before Christmas. It was as simple as that. But she looked exhausted and nervous as she faced Norton across his desk. "What's the problem?"
"I don't know, Norton ... I ... have to talk to my husband. I don't know what I'd do with the baby.... " She looked terrified and he looked startled. The baby? She had a baby?
"The baby?"
She laughed nervously. "My three-year-old son."
Norton waved a casual hand and smiled again. "Bring the baby with you, put him in school in New York for three or four months, and after Christmas you all go home. Hell, if you want to bring your husband. For God's sake, they're paying you enough to bring all your friends."
"I know ... I know ... and I don't mean to sound ungrateful. I'm not, it's just that ... my husband can't come, he's a doctor, and--" She stopped, staring at Norton. "I don't know, for Cod's sake. I'm scared. What the hell do I know about Broadway? I wrote a play, and now I wonder what I've done."
"What have you done?" He looked at her for a moment with hard, beady eyes. "You have done nothing. Zero. Zilch. You have written a play. But if you don't let someone produce it, if you don't take your chance when you get it, then, my dear, you haven't done shit. Maybe what you'd like better"--he paused for a moment, and then went on--"is to take your play back to California and have it put on by some local playhouse, where no one will ever hear of it, or you again." The silence in the room was deafening after his brief speech. "Is that what you want, Bettina? I'm sure if he could see it, it would make your father very proud." He smiled at her benignly, unprepared for what happened next so that he jumped slightly when she slammed a fist down on his desk.
"Screw my father, Norton. And Ivo. And John. Everyone is always wanting me to do what suits their purpose, and invoking whatever names they have to to get whatever they want done. Well, I'm not doing this for my father, or my husband, or Ivo, or you. If I do it, I'm doing it for me, Norton, for me, do you hear me, and just maybe for my son. And the fact is I can't give you an answer and I'm not going to sign a damn thing today. I'm going to go back to my hotel and think it over. And in the morning I'm going to go home. And when I've thought it out clearly, I'll call you."
He nodded calmly. "Just don't wait too long." But now she was tired. Of him and of them. Of everyone. And of being pushed around.
"Why not? If the play's any damn good, they'll wait to hear from me."
"Maybe. But they may lose the theater, and that could change the deal. You need everything going for you at one time, Bettina, and right now you have that. I wouldn't take too many chances with that if I were you."
"I'll keep that in mind." She looked troubled as she stood up and looked at him, but he smiled as he came around the desk to her.
"I know it's hard, Bettina. It's a big change. Especially after being gone for so long. But it's also a big chance, and good things are never going to happen to you if you don't take a chance. It could be a huge success, and I think it will be. I think it will make your career."
"Do you really think so?" She looked at him in confusion. She didn't understand any of it. "But why?"
"Because it's about a man and his daughter, because it says a great deal about our times, about men, about you, about dreams that wet broken, and about hope that somehow pushes through the rocks and the shit and the weeds. It's a tough play, but it's a beauty. You said something you felt in your heart, Bettina. You paid a price for that understanding, and you felt every word you put down there, and the beauty of it is that others will too."
"I hope so." She whispered it as she looked at him sadly.
"Then give them that chance, Bettina. Go home and think about it. And then sign the papers and come bade here. You belong here, lady. You have a job to do right here in this town."
She smiled at him then, and before she left him, she kissed his cheek.
She didn't see Ivo again before she left New York, and she didn't speak to Norton again either. And as it turned out, she didn't stay in the hotel to sleep. Instead she called the airline and caught the very last flight home. She walked into their house in Mill Valley at two o'clock in the morning and tiptoed upstairs to their bedroom, where John was sound asleep in bed. Like all doctors though, he was a light sleeper and he sat up instantly as she closed the door.
"Something wrong?"
"No." She whispered softly. "Go back to sleep. I just got home."
"What time is it?"
"Almost two." As she said it she wondered if he appreciated the fact that she had hurried home to him and had made a point of spending only one night in New York. She could have stayed for another evening, another dinner, another night in a fancy hotel, but she wanted to get back to Mill Valley, to her husband and her son. As he lay back in bed slowly, watching her, she smiled and set down her bag. "I missed you."
"You didn't stay away for very long."
"I didn't want to. I told you I wouldn't."
"Did you make your deal?" He sat up on one elbow and switched the light on as slowly Bettina let herself into a chair.
For a moment she didn't answer, and then she shook her head. "No. I wanted to think it over."
"Why?' He looked at her coldly, but at least he was talking to her about the play. But she didn't want to tell him all the details. Not so quickly. Not in her first hour at home.
"It's more complicated than I expected. We can talk about it in the morning."
But he was wide awake now. "No. I want to discuss it now. This whole thing has been much too shrouded in secrecy from the start. You've been sneaky about it since you started writing that piece of garbage. Now I want it out in the open all around." So it was back to that, then.
She sighed softly and ran her hand tiredly over her eyes. It had been an endless day, and by New York time it was already 5 A.M. "I never meant to be sneaky, John. I didn't tell you about it, in part because I wanted to surprise you, and in part because I was afraid you'd disapprove, and it was something I had to do. It's in my genes maybe, what do I know. I wish you'd try to see this thing a little more broadly. It would make it a lot easier for me."
"Then you don't understand how I feel about this, Bettina. I have no intention of making it easier for you. I don't choose to. And if you were smart, Betty, you'd forget about all that. I gave you that chance five years ago. I don't understand why you have to go back now. Do I have to remind you that you tried to commit suicide, that you lost a baby, that you had been married twice and left destitute by your father, then you got swept up on the beach like an orphan out here." It was not a pretty picture he painted, and Bettina hung her head.
"John, why don't we just stick to the issue."
"What is the issue?"
"My play."
"Oh, that." He looked at her angrily.
"Yes, that. The problem, since you want everything o
ut on the table, is that if I sell it. I'll have to spend the next few months in New York." She gulped hard and went on, avoiding his eyes. "Probably only until Christmas. I could come home right after that."
"No, you couldn't." His voice was like ice.
But her eyes flew innocently to his. "Yes, I could. Norton, my agent, said that I don't have to be there for long at all after it opens and they want to open in late November or early December. So by Christmas I should be home."
"You didn't understand me. If you go to New York to do this, I don't want you back."
She looked at him with horror as he sat in rigid fury on his side of the bed. "Are you serious? You'd give me a choice like that, John? Don't you understand what this could mean to me? I could be a playwright, for God's sake, I could have a career.... " Her voice trailed off as she watched him. He didn't give a damn.
"No, you could not have a career, Betty. Not and remain my wife."
"It's that simple, then? Go to New York with the play and you throw me out?"
"Exactly. So that takes care of it, doesn't it? It's a very clear-cut choice. I thought you understood that before this."
"I didn't or I wouldn't have bothered to go to New York."
"Well, I hope you didn't waste your own money." He shrugged and turned off the light, and Bettina went to undress in the bathroom, her shoulders silently heaving as she clutched a towel to her face to silence her tears.
Chapter 35
"I'm sorry, Norton, I can't help it. It's my husband or you." She felt laden as she sat holding the phone. She had cried all night long.
There was a long pregnant silence, and then Norton told her the truth. "I think you ought to understand something, Bettina. I'm not the issue here, you are. It's your husband or you. That's a hell of a choice he's given you. I hope he's worth it."
"I think he is." But as she hung up the phone she wasn't as sure of it, and she was even less so as she wandered over to Mary's and stared forlornly into her coffee as she shed fresh tears.
Mary looked at her numbly. "I don't understand it."
"He feels threatened. He hates that part of my past. There's nothing I can do."
"You could leave him."
"And do what? Start over again? Find a fourth husband? Don't be ridiculous, Mary. This is my life here. This is reality. The play is a dream. What if it's a bomb?"
"So what? Can you really give up your dreams for this man?" She looked at Bettina angrily. "He's my friend, Betty, and so are you, but I think he's being ridiculous, and if I were you, I'd take my chances and go to New York." Bettina smiled a watery smile and blew her nose.
"You're just saying that because you're tired of your kids."
"I am not. I adore them. But I'm not you. Remember that bird of paradise story I told you ... well, you're starting to look ridiculous with a gray and brown beak. You don't belong here, Bettina. You know it, I know it, Seth knows, even John knows it, that's why he's busting his ass, and yours, to keep you here. He's probably afraid he'll lose you."
"But he won't." She said it with a mournful whine.
"Then tell him that. Maybe that's all he needs to hear, and if he doesn't shape up after that, screw him, pack your bags, take Alexander, and go do your play." But as she watched Bettina walk back to her place, Mary knew that she wouldn't do it. She wouldn't leave him. She was too sure that he was right.
Bettina spent the afternoon alternately trying to read one of her father's books and staring out the window, and eventually the phone rang and it was Ivo this time.
"Are you nuts? Are you crazy? Why did you bother to come to New York if you were going back to hide again?"
"I can't help it, Ivo. I have to. Please ... don't let's discuss it. I'm unhappy enough."
"It's that moron you married."
"Ivo, please--" She faltered.
"All right, dammit, all right. But please, for God's sake, Bettina, reconsider ... you've wanted this for your whole lifetime. Now the chance comes and you're throwing it away."
She knew what he was saying was true. "Maybe there'll be another chance later."
"When? When your husband dies? When you're a widow? In fifty years? My God, Bettina ... think of it ... think of it ... your play could have been on Broadway, and now you've doomed it to silence. You did it. No one else."
"I know." Her voice was little more than a whisper, and then her eyes filled with tears. "I can't talk about it anymore now, Ivo. I'll call you tomorrow." But when she hung up, she was once again blinded by her tears. She wondered if John knew what it had cost her to deny her life's dream.
And then, pensively, wiping her tears on her shirtsleeve, she went back to her book. Oddly enough it was one of her father's that she hadn't read in years, and Mary had had it in her bookcase. Bettina borrowed it months before and never read it. But it seemed comforting somehow today. As though he understood, as though he had written it knowing what she was feeling. She felt his presence as she continued to dry her tears and read. And then she found it. A folksy passage he had liked so well that he had often quoted it to her. Something his father had long ago said to him....
Don't give up your dreams or your dreaming. Don't let life cut your line as you reel in those dreams ... hold on tightly ... keep reeling ... don't give up ... grab that net ... and if they look like they're about to leap out of the net after you've caught 'em, jump in after 'em, and keep on swimming, till you drown if you have to ... but don't ever let go of those dreams....
Bettina slowly closed the book on her lap and this time she laughed as she gave way to her tears. She walked quietly to the kitchen and dialed Norton. And then she waited for her husband to come home that night. When he did, she told him, quietly, firmly, that her mind was made up.
Chapter 36
"Promise you'll at least call me once in a while?" Mary looked at her mournfully, the car filled with children, her eyes filling with tears.
"I promise." Bettina held her friend tightly, she kissed everyone, then waved at them all as she scooped Alexander out of the car.
"Good-bye!" He waved at them frantically, and then marched into the terminal beside his mother, holding tightly to her hand. She had explained to him about going to New York for a few months and going to a new school, having a baby-sitter sometimes, and seeing a real play for children, and meeting some of his grandfather's old friends. He was sad that he couldn't take his Daddy, but he understood that Daddy had to stay to help sick people, and he was glad he was going with his Mom. He had left his Dad a big drawing, and then hurried to finish packing his favorite toys. And that had only been the night before. His Dad was already gone when he got up that morning. Someone must have been real sick for him to have to leave so early. And Aunt Mary from next door had driven them to the airport. It had been okay except that she and his Mom had cried a lot.
"You okay, Mommy?" He looked up at her with a hesitant smile.
"I'm fine, sweetheart. How about you?" But Bettina had been looking anxiously all over the airport on their way to the gate. John had been gone before she got up that morning also, and she was still hoping that he'd turn up to say good-bye. She had left him a letter telling him that she loved him, and she had called his office several times but even the nurse wasn't there, and the answering service hadn't been able to page him. He never showed up, and Bettina and Alexander boarded the plane.
It was Alexander's first trip on an airplane, and he had fun playing with the things they gave him and running up and down the aisle. There were three other children to play with, but eventually he fell asleep in Bettina's lap. This time when they arrived in the New York airport, Ivo had been unable to come, but he had sent his car.
Bettina was delighted with the comfort, and the driver took her to the hotel she had chosen, further uptown than the last one. She wanted Alexander to be able to go to the park. They had a pretty suite with bright-colored fabrics and paintings and lots of sunshine. The autumn afternoon sun was streaming in the windows as the porter set down her
bags. There were flowers from Norton, and Ivo, and a huge arrangement of roses from the producer of the show, which said Only WELCOME TO NEW YORK.
That night Bettina spent settling in with Alexander, and before he went to bed, they tried to get John on the phone, but he wasn't there when they called him, so they called Seth and Mary and their kids instead.
"Homesick already?"
"Not really. We just wanted to say hi." But Mary knew that Bettina was probably worried about John. She'd settle down once she started work on the play. And he would probably eventually come to his senses. And who knew, maybe he'd even go to see her in New York. She voiced her hope to Seth over dinner, but he only nodded vaguely.
Bettina tucked Alexander into his new bed in the suite's second bedroom, and then walked across the large pretty living room to her own and sat down on the bed with a small sigh. She had rapidly done all her unpacking. All that remained to do the next day was meet Alexander's baby-sitter and check out the school she had selected for him.
She managed to accomplish both of those tasks before noon and turn up in Norton Hess's office by one for a quiet lunch his secretary brought in on trays.
"You ready?"
"Absolutely. My son's new baby-sitter is adorable, and he loved his first morning at school. Now I can get down to business, when do we start?"
He grinned as he saw her, she looked like a pretty young matron from the suburbs as she sat there in a camel's hair coat, black slacks, a sweater, her Goldilocks hair, and a little black hat. She had style, even as she sat there in the clothes she had worn to take her kid to school, but there was something so subdued, so quiet about her. It made him wish that she would tear off her clothes and jump on his desk.
"You know, I never thought I'd see you here, Bettina."
"I know. I didn't really think I'd come."
"What changed your mind? It couldn't have been anything I said?" His eyes asked a question, but she laughed and shook her head.
"It wasn't. It was my father." His brows knit immediately in answer. What the hell did she mean? "I was reading one of his books and it was something I saw there. I realized that I had no choice. That I had to come."
Loving (1981) Page 21
