by Packer, Vin
She said, “Do we have until tomorrow morning so I can go into the things that almost turned me off about you?”
“If tonight was anyone’s fault,” he said, “it was her fault.”
“I was waiting for that.”
“It was, Dru!”
“You’d defend Hitler, just because he was male.” “You haven’t heard me defend him yet.” “The whole damn Nazi thing would turn out to be Eva Braun’s fault.” “There were a few pretties like Ilsa Koch.” “See?” Druscilla Gamble said.
• • •
Archie dropped her in front of the apartment building and went to find a parking spot.
The doorman handed Dru a letter; Mrs. Muckermann had delivered it personally. It was addressed to Mr. and Mrs. A. Gamble, written in her almost microscopic script. Graphology was another of Mrs. Muckermann’s enthusiasms. She had once loaned Dru a book on the subject and inside, heavily underlined, was a sentence which insisted that small handwriting was the sign of the deep thinker. Mrs. Muckermann had apparently put her name and address on the fly leaf before reading the book. Her handwriting there was large and florid, with circle i dots and exaggerated lower loops.
Dru made herself a Jack Daniels on the rocks, and changed into shorts and a shirt before reading Mrs. Muckermann’s letter.
Dear Dru and Archie,
As I’ve warned Archie, the moon and Mars are in a square; he can expect arguments and disappointments, and I shy from adding to these bad aspects in his chart, but what must be done must be done regarding our project. I must now speak out, and I choose to do it on paper, hoping to keep the moon-Mars misfortune from flaring up, for violent scenes go with that trend.
On Monday when we lunched, Archie, at one point we were discussing the Mercury-Saturn opposition in your chart, which I politely, purposefully softened for you by saying it would cause distractions, since I see no point in alarming a person who has not come to me for advice. You looked at me, do you recall, and said, “I’m going to be distracted until 1974?” and your mouth bent in a snide smile? Was it merely a skeptical smile, or was it also a mocking one? It doesn’t matter.
Druscilla, you will admit I have tried to protect Archie by not insisting he understand the truths revealed in his chart … and by not stressing the malefic indications there. I agreed with you: it didn’t seem necessary.
However, Druscilla and Archie, it is obvious that much of the unconscious hostility brewing in Archie’s sign is working its way out (inevitably, with these aspects!) and anyone who has any contact with you, Archie, will soon fall its victim.
Again, in the lobby of my hotel as we were engaged in conversation, it became clear to me, Archie, that you had not even bothered to read Astrology by Joseph F. Goodavage! And as I tried to help you compensate for this lack, by explaining to you about Hemmings and King George IV, your answer (so very “saturnine!”) was, “Hum. Impressive.”
I’m afraid I must say “Hum to you,” as well, for if you do not find scientific knowledge worthy of your careful attention, you cannot impress my television viewers with anything you would write! I am not surprised. Your aspects are very self-destructive when they are not aimed against others!
Druscilla, I had hoped Jupiter would see us through, for he is so lucky when one knows how to use him. The point is Archie doesn’t believe in using him, for Archie doesn’t believe in him!
If it were not for you, Druscilla, I would be inclined to say there is no point in continuing; I would simply request another writer, for I have my own bad aspects to cope with, as well as Archie’s (Mercury acting up again!), but I will proceed, if Archie takes these matters under advisement, and if—the big if—he can locate the astro-twins we so desperately need.
Sincerely as the stars guide us,
Anna Muckermann
When Archie walked into the apartment, he was carrying a small blue and white Pan Am bag.
“Where did you get that?” Dru asked. She handed him the cold bourbon highball she had fixed for him as insulation against the Muckermann letter.
“What’s this about?” he said. “I thought you were mad at me?”
“I’ll tell you what it’s about in a minute. Where did you get that?”
He slung the bag into the Boston rocker. “It was in the back of the car. I had to park ‘way over on First Avenue. I locked up, but I was still afraid someone would slit the roof.”
He took a sip of the drink. “I suppose I’m poisoned now.”
“Right,” she said. “What’s in the bag?”
“I didn’t look.”
“Maybe he’ll need whatever it is.”
“I think it’s her car, not his,” Archie said. “I think the Falcon’s his.”
“The Falcon’s hers,” said Dru. “Brace yourself, Arch, there’s a letter from Mrs. Muckermann on the coffee table.” “Oh? Why should I brace myself?”
“You’ll see.”
“And why is the Falcon hers?” he said, going across the room to get the letter.
“Because there’s a penny on the door. I noticed it while you were talking to him, when we first got there. That’s more like a woman, to stick a penny on the door.” She walked over and picked up the canvas bag, unzipping it.
Archie said, “I gather you’ve read this, hmmm?” He sat down on the Queen Anne sofa with the letter in his hand.
“Yes, I did.”
“Nice,” he said sourly. “ ‘With what a dreadful curiosity, Does she launch out into the sea of vast eternity.’ Christ, Dru, when are you going to knock it off!”
“The letter’s addressed to both of us, Arch.”
“I’m sorry.”
“It doesn’t matter.” She felt a flip of surprise and vague excitement as she looked at what was beneath the female clothing in the flight bag. Letters bound with a rubber band, and a small black book with a gold inscription: DIARY.
Archie had come across and put his arms around her. “That was unfair of me. I’m sorry.”
“Oh, go drink your poison,” she smiled. “I’ll put this in the hall closet.”
“Anything in it?”
“Just clothes. It’s hers, I guess.”
“You’re right, though,” Archie said appeasingly, “it isn’t like a man to put a penny on his car door.”
She carried the bag as carefully as if she were sneaking off with found money.
In the bathroom she removed the letters and the diary and dropped them into the hamper. She was due for a long, hot bubble bath.
She heard Archie groan, “Oh my God! The moon and Mars are in a square; he can expect arguments and disappointment! Oh, crap!”
He was a slow reader.
She could not resist one quick peek at the diary, and she fished it out from the towels and Archie’s shirts, opening it to a random page.
“… but can I go on humiliating myself this way, without any semblance of character or integrity? Why can’t I face what I’ve become? This isn’t love! It’s a cheap affair!”
It seemed like Christmas, like getting three lemons in a row on a one-armed bandit, like shouting “Bingo!” or saying “I have a full house.”
She threw the diary back into the hamper; it would keep.
But her face was as flushed as Archie’s, whose cool was now on simmer as he turned to the last page of Mrs. Muckermann’s letter.
CHAPTER 8
They planned that on Saturday Dru would follow Archie in a rented car while he drove the Volkswagen back to Grandview-on-Hudson. Their own car would not be ready for three more weeks.
When Archie phoned to tell Neal Dana that the Pan Am bag was safe in their apartment, Dana knew nothing about the bag; he thanked Archie anyway, saying it was undoubtedly his wife’s. He added that she was visiting out of town and wouldn’t be there for their arrival.
Thursday and Friday, like a fat woman sneaking secret snacks from the refrigerator, Dru Gamble fed on the diary and letters every time Archie was away from the apartment. He was still depressed
about Mrs. Muckermann’s letter and convinced he would not be able to come up with a usable pair of “astro-twins.” He had given up on Neal Dana. He moped around the house more than usual, reading all the books Mrs. Muckermann had loaned him and listening to Don Giovanni, Un Ballo in Maschera, La Boheme and Faust on his tape recorder.
But when he would walk across to Pete’s Restaurant for a beer, or go out for cigarettes and magazines, Dru would run into the bathroom and retrieve the booty from the hamper, examining and re-examining it. Archie’s rigidity on the subject of her “curiosity” and the individual’s right to privacy stifled all her impulses to share the information with him.
The lover of Margaret Dana was unidentified except by a nickname. Most of his letters were written in pencil; his writing had a heavy pressure with very long t-bars and finals with hook ends. It was a large script which leaned to the right.
December. Wensday.
Dearest Virgo,
It’s still a miricle about you’re coming up to me that day saying would I help you that your car was stuck, and how all the fellas razzed me about the classy dame who drove me into work after my lunch hour was up, that day.
Marg, I’d like to dream the impossible dream as the song says because of you, and I know I’m no brain in your eyes like a psycollegist and what your used to, but Marg, I am a hard worker when I have a reason and strong. Marg, I am a good man and maybe I have made my mistakes in this life, but I have payed my debt to society and more than ever want to be straight for your sake, to show my appreciation for the trust you put in me.
Marg, I got an Xmas gift for you today and it is not much but Sweetheart I hope it will always remind you of yours truly—you will see why I say that soon (ha! ha!).
I miss you more than I did yesterday and less than I will tomorrow as they say but knowing your at my side is all I need to get thru life. I’ll only sign this with all the love in my heart, Marg.
Her handwriting in the diary was small and vertical, but the t-bars flew high off the stems and the i’s went undotted; it was an impulsive, emotional hand with long lower loops which touched the lines below.
15 December
Today Tuto (my all! He is my all!) presented me with the most delightful gift I have ever received. It is my Christmas gift, a funny, saucy, dear little black-feathered creature who is too human to be a parrot.
I have named him Sinister, since in astrology all left-handed aspects are so called, and Tuto is left-handed.
I am happy. I never wrote those three words nor spoke them with more conviction. I am happy! How incredibly easy-sounding that is, how simple it seems, and yet how alien this feeling was to me until that lazy Saturday afternoon in autumn when I strolled through Piermont and saw this Golden God with his golden hair and his strong shoulders, and that surefooted gait.
Those dark eyes commanding my attention!
No, there is nothing easy or simple about finding happiness. It seems it was always there, but whenever I looked it in the eye, I would be frightened of its compelling brilliance, as ancient mortals feared to see the faces of their gods.
I do not mean to compare Tuto with “Diable” here. Three years ago I felt I wasn’t good for anything because of my relationship with “Diable.” But because of the love Tuto and I share, I feel unafraid and whole. “There is no fear in love; but perfect love casteth out fear.”
“What’s with you and these long baths?” Archie said on Thursday night.
“I’ve taken exactly three long baths. One last night, one this afternoon, and one just now.”
“I know,” he said. “What’s it all about, Lady Macbeth?”
“ ‘What, will these hands ne’er be clean?’ “ Dru said.
He put his arm around her and pulled her over to his side of the bed. “Look, honey, there’s no point in two of us sweating over this thing. I placed fifteen more ads today, at my own expense; maybe we’ll get a bite yet.”
“Did you phone Mrs. Muckermann, Arch?”
“I wrote her. Don’t worry. It was a very docile note.”
“Of apology?”
He thought it over. “Yeah. There wasn’t anything kiss-ass about it, though.” “Did you tell her you believe in Jupiter?”
“Yeah. Right.” He laughed. “And Saturn and Mars and Mercury and Pluto. Oh, and Uranus.” “Don’t be vulgar.” “I think it’ll work out, honey.”
She took his hand. “If there was only some way,” she said, “of making Neal Dana cooperate.”
January. Thursday.
Hi there Sweetheart,
Marg, this has been a busy day and I have not had all my shut-eye since last night I read a book called Hunza health secrets, about these people who live in the Hymalayas and live to be a hundred. Marg, you would enjoy this book for it is right up your ally. I am going to buy Yogert on my lunch hour for that is one of the secrets. They also exersise and practise Yoga. Marg, you should read this book and I will save it for you, since it is only a paperback and wasn’t too expencive.
How are you, hon? I go to sleep dreaming of you and like my Italian name. I know a lot of Italians and they are all nice guys all though they like theyre wine. Marg, we will realise our dreams to run off to Rome and those places yet, for I am a pretty sharp poker player. You should ask the fellas I work with how much I rake in.
I have given it a lot of thought, Sweetheart, and I hate the idea he sleeps in the same bed with you. I know it is plain selfish since he is your husband and aparently such an o.k. guy, but what can you do about the green-eyed monster? I hope you don’t like him as good as you like me that way, for I think that would kill me, and I would never be able to trust God or anyone again. I would be cureous to know some of the things he does to you that way, if you would ever care to tell me. (Only pulling your leg about that.) You are always in my thoughts, and I pretend my pillow is you and hold it as I dream sweet dreams. Your guy, Tuto, the wop. (Ha! ha!)
5 February
Miss Nickerson may suspect something. Today I was supervising the installation of the new storm windows when she came trudging up the hill in her arctics to ask me if I’ve noticed a prowler.
I said, “Oh, Minnie, it must be your imagination.”
“Mother’s seen him, too, on several occasions,” she said.
“Well, I haven’t seen any strangers,” I answered.
“Then would you know who it is takes a walk up the side of the hill some afternoons, and cuts through the woods until he’s out of sight?” she asked. “He goes toward your house, Margaret.”
I said I knew of no such person; if there were such a person, I said, I would surely know.
She said, “That’s why I came up to ask you about him. I figured you would know.”
Yet the only safe way for him to come here is the back way!
I’ll be glad when spring comes and the trees fill out and the foliage grows; it’ll be easier.
I don’t dare ask myself if there’s any future in all of this. I feel so protective of Tuto, and so needed! I don’t know what he’d do without me, and that’s a beautiful feeling!
Friday morning Archie called CBS to find out about the possibility of getting an extension.
He hung up the phone and gave Dru a dark look. “No dice,” he said.
“Why can’t they shift their damn specials around?”
“Because,” he said, “they’re afraid this astrology craze is going to blow over.”
“Oh, Arch, that’s the most asinine thing I’ve ever heard! The newspapers have been carrying astrology columns for years and years!”
“And for years and years the newspapers have been dying out one by one,” he said.
“Not because of the astrology columns! Are you on CBS’s side or your own side?”
“I’m just telling you what they’d answer if I told them that,” he said.
“People don’t even have time to answer the ads you placed.”
“I know,” he groaned. “Some network vice-president sent aroun
d a memo pointing out how quickly the Maharishi Yoga fad went out the window, and they’re all uptight now. Jesus!”
“Archie? Why don’t you go for a walk, get some fresh air? You’ve been cooped up in this apartment too long!”
March. Sunday.
It’s yours truly writing again, Sweetheart.
Well, Marg, I did a lot of research on Scorpio and learned all about myself last night and it seems I am in pretty good company, as they say, for some pretty sexy lovers have been Scorpios including Richard Burton, Rock Hudson, the late Senetor Robert Kennedy, and for women Princess Grace and Katharine Hepburn and that French singer Rita Piaff.
So watch out Marg, the women will be chasing me and what will you do if one of them ever catches me? Marg, I am only pulling your leg as I could never love another woman no matter how much she might have to ofer me. I am not a man who can be bought, even though the saying is every man has his price. Marg, this man doesn’t and I want to tell you that right now, since you don’t have that to worry about.
There is a girl who bowls out at the ally my team practises at, and she would like nothing better then to get my attention but I only laugh at her face, for in my heart I have my one and only.
Yesterday when I was leaving your place that nosy neighbur of yours watched me again. I thought you ought to know this information. Yours till hell freezes over, Tuto.
10 April
I can hardly blame Tuto, can I? He’s a young man, and it isn’t fair of me to expect him to sit home nights and pine over me. He didn’t have to tell me, either. I would have had no way of knowing he was taking her to an occasional movie. Why shouldn’t he? I would rather have him do that, than go drinking with the gang after bowling. If there were anything even slightly intimate about those “dates,” I don’t think he would have mentioned her to me.
Neal never goes out evenings. It’s hard!
Friday night Liddy phoned, and Dru called in to Archie to pick it up in his study. Then she listened outside the door.
Archie said, “Oh, hi! I heard you were back in town.”
