Marlene: A Novel

by C. W. Gortner

  “I hate it,” I grumbled as he drove me home. “I’ve done endless plays and three pictures to date, and nothing is happening. Joe May was mistaken. I’m definitely not going to be famous.”

  “Patience.” He patted my knee. “These things don’t happen overnight.”

  He sounded like Gerda, like my mother. I shot a barbed look at his hand. This time, however, he did not remove it, his fingertips sending shivers up my thighs as he parked the car.

  “I’m broke.” I lit a cigarette to distract myself from his touch. “Patience isn’t going to buy me food. Or pay the rent. I owe Trude two months. By next week, it will be three.”

  He reached into his vest, extracting a bill clip. “How much do you need?”

  I exhaled angrily. “I’m not your child, Rudi. If you’re going to pay me, then at least let me do something to earn it.”

  “You will.” He lifted his eyes. He had beautiful eyes, a hint of amber mellowing their chocolate hue; his eyes were always smiling, even when he was not. “I know you will.”

  In no mood for an argument, I stuffed the cash into my purse. As I leaned over to peck his cheek, wondering why I persisted in this bizarre courtship that had more of the dead empire in it than the urgency of today, he yanked me to him. I hadn’t a moment to realize what he was doing before I felt his kiss flooding me, his mouth moist with gin from the drinks he’d had at the cabaret, his hands roving, cupping my breasts under my blouse until I gasped.

  His mouth curved against mine; he breathed, “Marry me.”

  “What?” I pulled back.

  “Marry me,” he repeated. He was grinning now, and as my gaze dropped to the thrusting tent in his pants, I had to laugh. “You’re drunk.”

  “I am. I also broke off my engagement with Eva May.”

  “You—you what?”

  “You said you needed a good enough reason, although your obligation ended before mine. I thought it was time to give you one. What do you say? Marry me. Be my wife.”

  I gaped at him. “You’re not only drunk. You’re mad.”

  “Mad with love for you!” He grasped my hands. “Say yes. Say yes and I promise you, I’ll make you famous. I’ll make you the most famous woman in the world.”

  I should have paid heed to his enticement, but I was too overwhelmed. I knew by now that Rudi Sieber was considered quite the catch. Most of the girls at the academy were so envious of my relationship with him they could barely utter a civil word to me, and Camilla had ceased speaking to me at all—proof that he was both coveted and pursued. I’d begun to think he kept me dangling for his amusement. I couldn’t believe a man like him, with his looks and cachet, had been celibate and pining, while I toiled at rehearsals and onstage.

  “I . . . I need to think about it,” I said.

  “Why? What is there to think about? Don’t you love me?”

  I gave him an appraising look. “I might. But I prefer to see the menu before I order.”

  His expression shifted. Somberly, as if he were accompanying me to a funeral, he followed me upstairs to my room. It was dark, the glow of distant streetlamps filtering through the lacy curtains I’d hung at the windows. As I moved to the lamp, he said, “No. Leave it this way. I want to see you bathed in the night.”

  It was such an absurd sentiment, I almost scoffed. But I couldn’t. My heart hammered in my chest, my mouth gone dry as he crossed the room and slowly undid my blouse. I wore a slip underneath; I’d noticed how he frowned if I went out without a bra, and as his fingers slid under the straps, I said, “You do realize I’m not a virgin?”

  He raised his hand to my cheek. “Pretend you are. For tonight.”

  Inwardly, I shrugged, but I soon discovered I didn’t have to feign. As he tugged off my skirt and sank before me, teasing my slip up above my midriff, I began to pant. His tongue flicked out, licking me. A groan escaped me. He licked again, more strongly. Shudders coursed through me. I groped for the edge of the sofa as he burrowed his mouth into my sex. God in heaven, it was divine. Gerda had done this to me, but not often. Rudi did not falter; he was eager and skilled, reducing my body to that pulsation between my thighs, his hands spread-eagling me, collapsing me onto the cushions, hiking my legs onto his shoulders as he nibbled and sucked until I cried out.

  “Ssh,” he said, coming up from between my legs to kiss my mouth. “You’ll wake Trude.”

  He tasted of me. It was intoxicating, the wet of me on his lips. I didn’t feel him pull off his clothes, only that suddenly he was naked, smooth yet firm to the touch—a supple body, not overly developed, but beautiful and slightly bronzed. And then I felt his hard length parting me and he whispered, “Don’t move.”

  My hips were rising of their own accord. He held himself back, the tip of his penis at my entrance, just enough to make me want to explode. “Now,” I said. “Do it now.”

  He smiled. It was enough. Even as the waves of my climax crested, drowning out my very breath, he slid inside me to the root. He barely thrust. He moved gently in and out, while I heard my own whimpers, my pleas for him to go faster, deeper, until he, too, could endure no more and bucked hard, crying out his release.

  He fell upon me, gasping for air. After a long moment, as my heart subsided and I floated upon a cloud of waning pleasure, he said, “Does the lady wish to order now?”

  “Yes.” My voice was hoarse. “I want to dine here every night.”

  “And so we will.” He kissed me. “Every night until we die, Frau Sieber.”

  HE WAS THE ONE TO SUGGEST that I move back in with my mother. At first, I was outraged. I had no wish to return to that dragon’s lair. I’d not spoken to her since our confrontation; I’d vowed to only see her again when I could prove how wrong she had been. I had imagined the scene in my head countless times, sauntering into her flat dripping in fur and fame, flinging marks like confetti. I had never told him this, only that she and I did not get along because she disapproved of my decision to be an actress.

  “But now you’ll marry me,” he said. “I want it to be proper. I want to fetch you for walks in the Tiergarten on Saturdays and have tea with your mother on Sunday afternoon. I want to meet your uncle and buy your engagement ring at his store. I want everyone to know we are serious.”

  “Engagement ring?” I looked askance at him. “With what money? And why can’t we be serious living here? I see no reason to—”

  We were in bed, after a rousing night of cabaret outings, dining, and lovemaking. I had the day off. I wanted to luxuriate, cook a meal, and do some much-needed cleaning, not find myself coiled in knots over Mutti.

  “We can’t afford both.” He drew on his cigarette. “Joe May fired me.”

  I bolted upright in bed. “You never told me that.”

  “I’m telling you now.” He sighed. “He didn’t take my leaving his daughter well. He told me I was a cad who had broken Eva’s heart.”

  “But we’ve been out every night this week,” I exclaimed. “We’ve been going to restaurants, to the nightclubs—” I couldn’t fathom his lackadaisical attitude. “I don’t have a job. I haven’t applied anywhere yet because I have rehearsals coming up next week for a new play at the academy. How on earth are we going to exist?”

  “I have enough savings to get by for a while. I’m also going to apply for a position with the UFA; I know people there. Just think, Marlene. By the time we get married, I could be working for the most powerful studio in Germany. There’ll be plenty of work for both of us.”

  “If they hire you. You don’t work for the UFA now. My rent is due. I can’t keep making excuses to Trude. That loan you gave me paid off what I owed, but not next month.”

  He nodded. “Like I said.”

  I wanted to shriek. This room was all I had, my one freedom. I was loath to give it up. I’d started to pull back the sheet to get out of bed when he said, “It’ll only be for a short time, to give us respectability. You still want this, don’t you? You still want to be my wife?”

 
At that moment, I wasn’t sure that I did. His sudden need for propriety perturbed me. I had never cared much about the right way to do things, and hadn’t expected him to care, either. Why had I said yes? The notion of having someone I could belong to was a lure I’d always both fought against and gravitated to. I did not like the idea of being owned, but in turn I wanted to feel safe. With everything around me seeming to fall apart, marriage to Rudi beckoned like an island. Together we could accomplish so much more than apart; he could help me advance my career, at least in theory, and I’d have him with me, a man to love and care for, a family of my own. But for how long? Could we truly be content or would the daily obligations, the chore of it, and the passage of time that inevitably dampened passion end up stifling us both?

  “Marlene?” Alarm crept into his voice. “If you’re having second thoughts, you must tell me. I love you. I want to marry you more than anything, but not out of obligation.”

  I regarded him, his eyes troubled as he met my gaze. He must love me to break his engagement and lose his job. And if I failed as an actress, as I’d failed as a musician, what would I do? At least with him, I’d have a husband. I would never again teeter on the edge of a precipice, because he would be there. And surely, I loved him, too. I had never felt like this. If he wanted us to marry, it was only because that was what people in love did.

  “Is it really that important to you?” I said softly.

  “Yes. Of course it is. I want a wife and children. Don’t you?”

  “I suppose. But I also want a husband who earns a living. Mutti will want it, too.”

  “I’ll provide everything you need. It’s going to work out. Move in with your mother, go to the academy, and keep doing plays until we wed. By then, I’ll have an offer from the UFA and can recommend you for parts. The important thing is that you keep gaining experience. Forget those music halls and chorus revues; they aren’t worth the effort.”

  “I’ll have to forget my voice lessons, too,” I said glumly.

  “You don’t need voice lessons.” He wrapped his arms around me, bringing me beside him. “You sing like an angel.” He started kissing me. “My beautiful wife, my angel,” he said, and I closed my eyes, surrendering to him.

  Marriage still felt like a whim to me, almost a gamble. I might regret it.

  But I had never run away from risk.

  MUTTI DIDN’T SAY A WORD when I showed up at her door with my suitcase and bundle of books under my arm, having bid good-bye to Trude, who kept telling me I could stay as long as I liked. When I told her I was leaving to get married, her sorrow turned to delight and an unexpected, “Gott sei Dank. This is no life for such a lovely girl like you. You should be a wife and have babies—and with such a nice young man, too.”

  She practically shoved me out the door. The room would be rented again within the week; like me, there were other lovely girls in Berlin and Trude ran a decent establishment.

  I installed myself in my old bedroom. I had it to myself, as Liesel lived with her cabaret manager, also engaged to be wed. My sister came to visit soon after, a diamond ring on her finger, color in her cheeks, and undeniable satisfaction exuding from every pore.

  “Imagine the coincidence,” she said as we sat in the parlor, sipping tea. “Both of us engaged at the same time. What are the odds?”

  “Not in your favor,” remarked Mutti. “Your future husbands are in the entertainment business, which is run by Jews. Forget kitchen, children, and church. Jews make the money from those who work for them. You’ll both have to earn your keep.”

  “Georg doesn’t work for Jews. He’s a theater manager,” said Liesel. “He earns a very good salary. He’s assured me I only need to keep teaching if I want to. And Lena’s fiancé—what’s his name again?” she said, looking at me.

  “Rudi Sieber,” I replied through my teeth, wondering why I had let myself agree to live again under Mutti’s thumb and Liesel’s insufferable superiority. She kept flashing that ring on her finger at me like a weapon.

  “Sieber?” She pouted. “That’s not a German name. Is he Jewish?”

  I glared at her. “Czechoslovakian. And he’s a Catholic.”

  “Oh.” She shrugged. “In any event, I’m sure he also earns a salary, even if he does work for Jews.” She didn’t take her eyes from me, as if her surety required my confirmation.

  “He worked for the producer Joe May,” I said, as I wasn’t about to let her get away with exalting her fiancé over mine. “He’s between jobs at the moment, but has applied for an executive position at the UFA, which, as far as I know, is not run by Jews. He’s very experienced. Every studio in Berlin wants him. He’s already had several offers,” I lied.

  Mutti made a skeptical sound. Liesel smirked. “Well, I hope he accepts one of those offers soon,” she said, and the rest of our visit was tense, my silence turning her into a chatterbox, going on and on about her fiancé’s excellent position until she abruptly said to me, “If your Herr Sieber doesn’t take an offer, you must let me introduce him to my Georg. I’m certain he can find something. You, too, Lena. Georg knows everyone at the UFA. He can refer you to their casting department, if you like.”

  “I would not like,” I said, biting back the retort that I’d rather sell myself on the street than go begging to Liesel and her Georg.

  When Rudi came to fetch me for one of our Saturday outings in the Tiergarten, I exploded. “I can’t abide it another second. Mutti doesn’t say what she thinks, but she shows it: ‘Lena, is that your towel on the bathroom floor?’ ‘Lena, must you leave lipstick on your pillowcase? There is no laundry service in this house.’ ‘Lena, do you recognize this? It’s a broom.’ Lena, Lena, Lena. I’m so sick of hearing her say my name, I could scream.”

  He chuckled at my uncanny imitation of my mother, and instead of another afternoon of beer, he mollified me by taking me to the Felsing store, where we met Uncle Willi and he purchased a gorgeous diamond ring for me, at a family discount—but, Willi assured us, a real diamond, nonetheless. Afterward, Willi invited us to the house, where Jolie, delighted to see me after so much time and clearly impressed by Rudi, served us strudel and coffee while Rudi charmed her with conversation and looked about at our family heirlooms with obvious interest.

  “He’s very handsome,” Jolie said after she admired my ring and Willi took Rudi off into the library to smoke a cigar. “And so intelligent. However did you meet him, darling?”

  “At a cabaret.” I was so disgusted by having to pretend with my mother and my sister, I didn’t care to mince my words. “I was wearing a tuxedo. He thought I was a lesbian.”

  Jolie’s eyes widened. “Is he . . . ?”

  I laughed. “No. But at first, I thought he might be.”

  She gave me an odd look. “Are you quite sure? These days, one never knows.”

  Her words took me aback. I suddenly had the disturbing thought that she’d discovered something about my uncle. I had wondered about him before, and he, too, seemed rather taken with Rudi. Jolie was also not herself; she looked tired, though impeccably turned out in her turban and jewelry, but with a strange wariness in her gaze. She’d been flirtatious with Rudi, fluttering about him, refilling his cup and plate before he’d finished what he had. I wanted to ask her what was wrong, but Willi strode back into the room with Rudi at that moment, both stinking of cigar, his hand on Rudi’s shoulder as he declared, “You’re very lucky, Lena. I think he’s going to be a fine husband.”

  As we returned to Mutti’s flat, I glanced at Rudi. “Did you like them?”

  He squeezed my hand. “Delightful. I had no idea your family was so distinguished. The store and the house: You come from very good blood. Your uncle Willi made me promise I’d take excellent care of you.”

  Before I could probe further, he went on, “Even more reason for us to be respectable. I see now why your mother is so difficult to impress. Old families are like that.”

  And he set out to do just that, on Sundays bringing Mutti fresh-cut
roses that I had no idea how he could afford after the price of my ring, and tins of Lyons tea biscuits, the kind she loved, never mind that only the expensive emporiums sold them and he still didn’t have a job.

  “Do you intend to squander on her every mark you’ve saved?” I grumbled. “She won’t approve. I could marry the kaiser himself and she’d find some fault in it. Even Liesel’s Herr Wills isn’t up to her standards. He runs a playhouse, she says. What kind of honest man makes a living hiring mimes and actors?”

  “I’m not running a playhouse,” replied Rudi. “Give me time.”

  He had a way about him, an even-tempered approach that could set my nerves on edge even as his attentiveness wormed its way into Mutti’s exacting heart, until one evening as I prepared to go with him to my performance at the academy, I heard her laughing—actually laughing—in the parlor and emerged to find her with a rare smile on her face.

  “Your Rudi is most amusing,” she said. “He tells me he’s accepted a job at the UFA but they made him do a screen test first, though he’s not an actor. He had to jump around a fence for hours. Can you imagine it? A grown man leaping about like a sheepherder.”

  I turned to him. “They did?” I said suspiciously, for it sounded to me as if he had cited my very experience at the Tempelhof Studio.

  “It was a joke,” he said after we bid Mutti good night, promising to have me back after curtain call. “She isn’t so terrible. She has a certain wit, when she cares to.”

  “And the job? Was that a joke, too?”

  He smiled. “I have a second interview tomorrow. Don’t worry.”

  I didn’t appreciate the way he now expected me to accept whatever he said at face value, but I had to concede that he’d gone above and beyond his duty to please my mother. And he was right about the job: The UFA hired him as a production assistant, a lower position than the one he’d held with Joe May, but much better paid. I pounced on his first paycheck, demanding he rent us a room somewhere. He found an apartment on the top floor of a building at 54 Kaiserallee, not far from Mutti. I had hoped to move farther away, only he again cajoled me into doing the right thing. “If we must live together before the wedding, Josephine must be able to visit us whenever she likes. We want her blessing. Once she gives it, she cannot find fault later.”