The Girl With the Glass Heart: A Novel

by Daniel Stern

  “You see, you’re as stiff and rigid as Jay and you make me just as angry. When I was a kid I thought of people as categories—when you grew up you would be a fireman or a policeman or a doctor or an actor—”

  “I think thief comes before doctor in the old rhyme.”

  “Or a thief. And that’s the way you think. Either you’re all actor or all something else. You could get a job at this or that until the right parts and the breaks came along. Why must you think either Max supports you or you give up your chosen work?”

  Max’s expression, he thought. Chosen field, chosen work, chosen profession, the emphasis on the fact that no one had asked him to be an actor, that he was self-appointed.

  Now the past five years seemed like an odd dream—his living with Annette, a shimmering reflection in an imagined pool, becomes now quite insubstantial—and he saw himself with his older brother Max, disembarking at a station as a slender little Elly ran toward them, dress fluttering about her, the windy hair flying round her shoulders and back. He was aware that Annette was staring at him, that his fingers were still enmeshed in her hair, that the recording had ended and the noise of the party was rising again in a protective wave. A fear gripped him, one so strong that it could not be attributed simply to the idea of losing Max’s support or the idea of losing Annette—it was like the touch of a deep alien cold, as if to stop accepting money from his brother meant losing all contact with him and the family along with twenty years of his life—and, feeling a long finger of chill loneliness probe down beneath the liquids of the eyes and into the pumping heart, he grasped Annette tightly by the shoulders and kissed her on the cheek, saying, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, but I’m afraid.”

  “Alec,” she whispered, “I’m thirty-one. When will we have children? I’d give up dancing at a moment’s notice for children…. How are you?” She smiled at a couple who danced slowly past and waved.

  “People are noticing us arguing,” Alec said. “Let’s dance.” He put his arm around her and they danced slowly to the oozing dance music from the radio.

  “Isn’t this nice?” Annette said as she moved her big body gracefully with Alec’s wide steps. “All the gang here and all.”

  “Yes,” he said, “I’m glad we had them over and it’s good seeing Jay.”

  “Give the money up, Alec. Max will never accept me. Aren’t I as beautiful as a monthly check?”

  “Frankly—” He laughed and then sighed. “What to do, what to do.”

  “You know, I’m sorry he made all this money lately. Maybe his wife would have cut you off after a while.”

  “I never saw a girl so intent on taking the bread out of her own mouth. There’s Wally with some beer. I’d better put it on ice.”

  He lugged the wet paper bag full of bottles into the kitchen. It was partly a bring-your-own-bottle party and Wally was pretty generous.

  “How have you been, boy?” Wally was a big, loud actor who also directed their little-theater group.

  “All right, Wally. I heard you were working. Keep it up. Someday you’ll be a director and we’ll all work.”

  Wally laughed. “Someday. I heard your place was busted into. They get anything?”

  “What have we got?” Alec shrugged and poured the foaming stuff into the glasses on a tray. “Be a good guy, will you, and distribute this evenly?”

  Wally left and Alec stood there for a moment wiping his hand absently on an apron and listening to the muffled sound of conversation coming from the other room. Eleanor Rich came in looking for a bottle opener.

  “Hey,” she said, “isn’t it nice?”

  “What?” Alec asked.

  “That I’m pregnant. Isn’t that nice?”

  “Yes. I’m glad,” he said. “Everybody should have babies. It’s the answer to Communism.”

  She knew he was truly glad, though. He rinsed some glasses after she left, not wanting to rejoin the party yet. The sink was full of broken glass. Someone was probably drunk. Alec scraped the glass up into a towel and deposited it in the can on the back steps. He made a messy job of it, spilling a few slivers on the ground and letting them lie there. He would never make a real home owner. He was real Hollywood material. Live in rented houses the rest of his life. He had never seen the fabulous house Max had built a year ago, the glass one. A John Marron Lang house. He shrugged. You never knew.

  He washed his hands and, returning to the living room, saw a cluster of people gathered near the front door. He hadn’t heard the buzzer, but what was all the excitement? He couldn’t see Annette so he guessed she was in the center of the group. Then he heard a familiar voice—but that was impossible! Elly was two thousand miles away. But there she was, Annette holding her hand, her heavy topcoat draped over her arm, with no suitcase or anything—just herself, Elly, here in California.

  “Elly,” he called and she ran to him, her eyes closed.

  “I’m sorry, Alec,” she said as she hugged him. “I wanted to come so I came. I suppose you know all about everything.”

  He nodded. “Does your father know where you are? Did he let you come all the way out here alone?”

  “No—” she grinned, suddenly elated—“I got off the train at night. I left him a note, though.”

  “That was nice of you. Give me your coat. It’s good you’re here. I don’t give a damn.”

  “That’s just what I wanted you to say.”

  “Come inside to the bedroom—I want to talk to you.”

  He closed the door behind them and sat down on the bed which was strewn with ladies’ hats, a few fur pieces and a man’s hat, Jay’s Homburg.

  “Well,” he said, “you’ve certainly done it, haven’t you? Who was he?”

  “It doesn’t matter. Nobody special. I just couldn’t go home yet. Once I get back there now, I’m stuck for good.” She smoothed her rumpled hair. “I flew, Alec,” she said. “It was fantastic. I fell asleep (Mom would have a hemorrhage if she knew I flew) and when I woke up I looked out. I was sitting over the wing, and I looked up and couldn’t see anything, but I looked down and guess what I saw?” She paused. Alec threw his hands up in mock despair. “The stars.” She laughed. “The stars were underneath me—imagine it. It was fantastic.”

  “Fantastic, fantastic. Everything’s fantastic,” Alec said. “Except the one really fantastic thing, and that is that you’re here of all places. What am I sitting here talking for? I’ve got to call Max and tell him you’re all right. I guess he hasn’t got the new phone number and it’s not listed.”

  “Wait,” she said. “Please wait. Was that your girl, the big one?”

  “That was her. How’d you like her?”

  “She’s nice. Are you living together?”

  “You little stinker! If you asked that then you know we are. Why? Has Daddy been talking about it?”

  “Not so as I’m supposed to hear, but you know. You glad I came, Alec? I wanted somebody to be glad I’m somewhere.” And she was in tears so suddenly Alec could hardly assimilate the fact and move to comfort her. She came and sat next to him. She’s been pregnant, he thought in amazement. My little Elly has had the beginning of a child in her, has had a man. He pushed away the nagging thought that there might have been more than one man. He was angry with himself for thinking it and he held her in penance. She stopped crying almost immediately.

  “I won’t ask you why you did it, Elly. You’ll probably get enough of that from your mother, but—”

  “No, I won’t,” Elly said in triumph. “Dad hasn’t told her and he’s not going to. He never tells her anything he thinks will upset her. I’ll bet he’ll tell her he sent me here to you. You’ll see. If you call don’t say a word to Mom.”

  Alec reached for the telephone. Elly came and sat on the floor in front of him and put her hand over his. “I’m not going back there, now,” she said quietly.

  “What do you mean, now, baby?”

  “I was thinking about it on the plane a long time. I want to go to New York first, f
or Christmas. Then I’ll go home. And if Daddy won’t let me, I’ll tell Mom what happened at school.”

  Alec stared at her for a moment. He had never heard her utter threats before. She was changing. Or changed. It had been a long time since he had been this near to her. Letters couldn’t tell too much.

  He shook his head. “After what’s happened I don’t think you’ve got much of a chance.”

  A half-sullen look crossed her smile. “Won’t you help?” she said. “Won’t you tell them they should let me go?” The look vanished and she said, “Oh, listen, Alec!” She flung an arm outward. He heard nothing except the buzz of the party from the other room.

  “That’s the ocean, isn’t it? I’ve never seen the sea.” She jumped to her feet and ran to the window. She flung the casement windows wide and stood there listening. “Doesn’t it ever stop?”

  “Not so I’ve noticed,” Alec said.

  Elly toyed with the buttons on her blouse. “I’m going to New York, Alec,” she said. “I’ve got to go. I’ve been thinking about it since I got off the train the other night. Please. Please!”

  Alec dialed long distance while Elly roamed restlessly about the room, examining Annette’s possessions, squirting a little toilet water on her blouse front and every now and then pausing to cock her head sideways a little and listen to the sound of water on shore. She walked to Alec’s bureau while he was getting the number and pulled out drawer after drawer, rummaging aimlessly through them. Beneath a pile of underwear she found a box of cartridges. Did Alec own a gun? Perhaps you had to, living out here near the ocean far from the city. Beneath the little box, at the very bottom of the drawer, was a small, leather-covered notebook. She opened it. Scrawled on the first page was MY JOURNAL—Elly Kaufman. Elly shivered a little, trying to remember what was in it. She remembered the circumstances of giving the diary to Alec, as if it had happened yesterday, but the contents of the book—that was something else again.

  “Yes, I’ll wait, operator.” Alec cradled the phone against his cheek and, lighting a cigarette, saw Elly with the book in her hands. He turned his face quickly. Elly flipped a few pages and began to read.

  “Hello, Max. This is Alec. Listen, Elly is here. Don’t be frightened—she’s all right. She’s fine.”

  Sometimes you may wonder how it is with me on a holiday when I’m all alone in my room.

  “She didn’t really know why. I suppose she’s upset by everything that’s happened. She just waited till you fell asleep. Yes, she flew. No, I won’t mention it to Rose. Don’t be hard on the kid.”

  Hello—how are you?—I love you.

  “Yes, I know, Max, but that’s silly. Never let her out of your sight again? Even if it was right it wouldn’t be possible.”

  Snow and love and the sound of bells and hearing the phone ring and answering and wanting to hear someone say …

  “Listen, Max. Elly wants to spend Christmas in New York. Oh, cut it out, will you? Well she wants to go and she is going to be at home from now on.”

  Hello—how are you?—I love you.

  Alec crushed his cigarette angrily in a shower of sparks. “How do we know?” he almost shouted. “If I’d have come when you asked me and if I was on the train with the two of you, she might have hopped off and gone somewhere else. How do we know?” Alec knew he didn’t sound convincing and he knew Elly had come to him, to her Uncle Alec, and if he had been there as Max had asked him, she wouldn’t have run away.

  Elly was thinking: Could I have written this there, in that stinking little apartment, in that lousy little room? Standing there with the night sounds of wind and water ruffling the curtains and her hair she tried to recapture that time and place. She remembered the texture of the bricks, the dark dingy yellow of the apartment walls. Returning now to a glass house, that old apartment and its life seemed opaque and she transferred the longings in this diary to the present time instantly and made them her own again.

  “Hold the wire. I’ll see.” Alec turned to Elly and covered the mouthpiece of the receiver with his hand. “Do you want to talk to him now?”

  She had been so absorbed in her thoughts that she had hardly taken notice of the conversation.

  “Who?”

  “Stop kidding around. Your father.”

  “What did he say about New York?”

  “He doesn’t want you to go.”

  “Then I won’t talk to him. And tell him I’ll tell Mom.”

  “Hello, Max. She’s pretty upset and she really wants this trip to New York. Why don’t you send Charlotte to meet her there? Then she wouldn’t be alone in the city.”

  Elly grimaced at the mention of Charlotte but said nothing.

  “Yeah, I’ll make the arrangements. You have my address. You can send the money here for Elly. Okay, hold the wire.” He motioned Elly to the phone.

  “Hello, Dad. How are you?” she said blithely. “Thanks a lot and I’m sorry, but I don’t know why I did it. The thought of being cooped up in Crofts scared me. And besides I was afraid to face Mom…. Yes, I know you’re not going to tell her. I’ll come home after Christmas in New York. Okay, I’ll tell him. Yes, I know she loves me…. Who? … Yes, I’ll tell you all about her. Send me some money here. ’By.”

  Alec reached for the phone but she had already hung up.

  “He wants to know about your girl, Alec. Imagine at a time like this he wanted me to report on what she was like and so forth. Oh, I’m going to New York. I won that, didn’t I?”

  “You sure did, baby,” Alec replied as the door swung open and Annette was smiling in the doorway.

  “Everything all right?” she asked.

  “Fine.” Elly threw out a laugh. “We’ve just been talking to Indiana and we got me a trip to New York. You’re Annette. We didn’t get a chance to talk before, what with the excitement and all. I’m Elly Kaufman.”

  “You sure are.” Annette smiled.

  “What do you mean by that?”

  “Just that you’re exactly like Alec described you. And showing up in the middle of the night like this. Well, we’re glad to have you.”

  Elly was surprised, irrationally enough, that she said “we’re.” She thought of Alec as being singular, alone in spite of all attachments and entanglements.

  “Thanks,” she said, “I won’t be staying long. I’m going to New York. Oh, I told you that already.”

  “How about some sleep, honey?” Alec said.

  Annette was thinking, So this is the fabulous Elly Alec loves so. Well, she lives up to advance reports all right. There was a vague awareness somehow that she could learn a great deal about Alec by watching this wild young thing. She was sorry in a way that the girl wasn’t staying longer.

  “Oh, no,” Elly complained, “I don’t want to sleep now. There’s a party outside. Do you know how long since I’ve been at a party? I’ve been working on my dance all semester. O-o-h, of course, Anny—” if she was so familiar in five minutes, Annette thought, what would she be like on longer acquaintance, and then she remembered that Alec was the only man she’d ever slept with on the first night—“you’re a dancer, too. I mean you’re a real dancer. That’s what kills me about not going back to school. They emphasize dance a lot.”

  “I’d love to see you dance sometime, Elly,” Annette said, looking at the long brown legs and the slim torso, thinking, You’ve been doing the dance of life too much and that’s why you’re here. Only seventeen. Amazing!

  “Thanks,” said Elly. “Let’s join the party I interrupted.”

  Alec shrugged. “If you’re sure you don’t want to sleep. No, I never slept when I was your age. Oh, Christ, I sound old!” He slipped his arm around Annette’s waist, conscious of it as a gesture of loyalty in some as yet undefined conflict and said, “Tell me I’m not old, baby.”

  “You’re young and so’s the party. Come on. We’re all going to the beach. That’s what I came in to tell you. Wally and a few others have their cars here.”

  “I’ll be righ
t with you,” Elly said. “You go on.”

  When the door closed behind them she took the diary and replaced it carefully in the drawer. Then she followed them. The room was more crowded than she had imagined. Annette was gathering glasses and ash trays. Elly looked away quickly so she wouldn’t feel obligated to help. There was one figure, at the far corner of the room, whose glance seemed as speculative as her own and whose air of detachment seemed to make him a little taller than those around him, when actually his height was average. Elly walked to the bridge table and mixed herself a rye and water, feeling a great sense of relief when she remembered that no one would caution her about drinking.

  Someone called out, “Hey, Jay, play us some Debussy before we take off. Come on, Jay.” The aloof man whom Elly had noticed smiled and, shaking his head, concentrated on his drink.

  “Oh, how about it, Jay, a Bach fugue.”

  “No, some Debussy.”

  “Leave him alone,” Alec called. “He works every night. This is his night off.”

  A young man was at her side. “Hello!” he exclaimed. “What have we here?”

  “Just me.” Elly smiled.

  “That’s enough. Do you dance?” He held out his arms.

  Elly found the question amusing. “Yes, I do, but not right now, thanks. What’s your name?”

  “Phil. Phil Rich. Rich in name only.”

  “Oh, that’s too bad,” Elly said. “Excuse me.” She was relieved to find that she didn’t like every man she met out here just because she was free for a while. This one was definitely not for her. She was also pleased to notice that a noticeably pregnant young woman was helping Annette clear up. She pressed her flat stomach with one hand and thought, If they knew! If any of them knew.

  The poor little Rich boy was back. “I’m a singer,” he volunteered. “What are you?”

  “I’m Elly,” she said, and moved on again dropping a smile behind her like a rope for him to trip on. She sipped her drink and walked up to the man they’d called Jay and said, “You’re not going to play, are you?”