There is an early snow the second week of November, a force of nature that slows Cat down now that her breasts are heavy with milk and her mind is foggy from sleeplessness. Leaving the gym, she is ill-prepared for this frozen deluge. Wetness seeps through her sneakers and into the loose arms of her coat sleeves. Cold bites at the tops of her ears. Her aching muscles carry her home in what feels like slow motion, slower and stranger for the eerie purple twilight of this unexpected storm. But even in the best of weather, she is not fond of her thrice weekly visits to the gym; she is simply determined to pull her body back into shape. She is deliriously happy. This morning, Lucie looked her straight in the eyes and smiled.
Tonight will represent another first. After five months of being held prisoner by their beloved screaming infant, Cat and Teddy are going out. The event is a book party launching The Rise and Fall of Rocky Love by Rocky Love with John Paglia.
Cat feels excited and nervous about stepping back into that world again. Of all the people involved, she has kept in touch only with John, who has apprised her of each major hurdle as it was vaulted: the successful maneuvering of lawsuits against Rocky by both Charlie Webb and John, the negotiation with Larry Drumm resulting in the removal of the offending material and resulting in the dropping of his lawsuit, Rocky’s surprising move transferring power of attorney to her father, the book auction of John’s final version of the memoirs, a sale for a shocking amount of money, and all the subsequent subsidiary contracts which have convinced John he is now a mini mogul. Recently, pre-publicity for the book has been showing up everywhere — newspapers, magazines, radio, television talk shows, the works.
Notably absent from all the hype has been Rocky, whose deranged withdrawal has spawned a kind of Howard Hughes myth. Ironically, she seems to be missing her own comeback. Cat has actually wondered if Rocky is saner than ever, pretending insanity to enhance her fame, waiting it out in her posh upstate asylum until the time is ripe for a highly public return. In any case, Cat’s theory that celebrity has a life of its own is being proven by this book’s ability to thrive without the involvement of its subject.
When Cat arrives home, she finds Teddy pacing back and forth, holding a restless Lucie in his arms. From birth, their daughter has insisted on being rocked frequently and fast, and if you slow down her face screws up as her personality transforms from angel to gremlin. Her cries have the power to reach into the core of your being. And her smiles can toss you high onto a cloud.
“If she wasn’t so cute, I’d —” Teddy passes Lucie into Cat’s arms before she is out of her coat.
“Don’t say that, Teddy. Here, just give me one minute.” She returns Lucie to him and begins to peel off her wet things.
“I didn’t say it, I almost said it but I didn’t actually say it.”
Teddy sits at his desk, bobbing Lucie on his knee, and gazes blankly at an open book. She instantly protests with a peal of crying. He stands up, paces and rocks, and she simmers down.
“I’ll nurse her now, then I’ll get ready, then I’ll nurse her again right before we go,” Cat says. “I have to decide what to wear; I don’t know if I’ll fit into anything.”
“She just had a bottle so you could get dressed now if you want.” He kisses Lucie’s cheek, and again.
Cat rifles through clothes so squashed into her half of the closet that she can barely tell what they are. She hasn’t worn most of them for over a year and they probably won’t fit, anyway, as her body has shape-shifted along with her life. She wishes she had splurged on a new outfit, but money has been tight and she has yet to receive the first check, meager though it will be, for her contribution to a book of new cartoonists Marshall Korn parlayed out of a series of Exit Ramp shows.
Teddy carries Lucie into the bedroom and lays her down on the bed. As soon as her face begins to screw up, he tickles her. He hovers close enough for her eyes to focus on him and recognize her father, smiling and cooing until she cannot help but smile back. “You love your daddy,” he says. “Yes, I know you do, yes I know.”
These small moments are Cat’s evidence that she did the right thing by Teddy. Slowly, over the days and weeks and months, he has undeniably fallen in love not just with the idea of Lucie but with every bit of her, every smell, every sound, every silence. She is every inch his daughter. He often takes her out on walks, and Cat suspects his motive is not so much to give her fresh air as to be the man behind the stroller in which sits the most beautiful baby alive.
“What about you?” Cat asks. “What’ll you wear?”
“That’s easy. My tweed jacket and my zigzag tie.”
In the end, Cat puts on a black dress, black fishnet tights and leather boots. She wears the dangling crystal earrings Teddy gave her on their first and only wedding anniversary.
By the time Lucie has been fed and Janet has arrived to babysit, it is well past the hour when the party was to begin. They rush out in a hurry, hail a taxi and in fifteen minutes are standing in an elevator traveling thirty floors up to the 57th Street penthouse party space which has been rented for the night.
The elevator doors scroll open and they are greeted by the face of Rocky Love, a huge photographic blowup of a young woman laughing. The picture, which Cat recognizes as an early Mad Wife publicity shot from the Love Wall, is propped on an easel in a white gallery-like foyer. The same picture fills the cover of the book, which is stacked on a table near the easel. A banner across the top of the book jacket boasts #1 New York Times Bestseller. Cat and Teddy both pick up a copy.
Cat leafs through the book, which in its final form seems so simple — the neat, sharp tip of an iceberg. She turns to the back flap to look at the author photo. There are two. The first, in the top position, is a head shot of Rocky as she looks today, her face made-up, her hair hennaed and teased. Beneath is a more candid photo of John, wearing jeans and a leather jacket, on what must be the Brooklyn Heights Promenade with the dramatic backdrop of Manhattan looming behind him. Cat flips to the front pages until she finds the acknowledgements; she has wondered if her contributions would be noted. The writing style of the acknowledgement page is lively and terse, uniquely John’s. There, in the middle of a long run-on sentence studded with names, is hers. Gratified, she closes the book and replaces it on the table.
They follow the sounds of high spirits through a wide doorway, and enter an enormous room crowded with clusters of people talking, laughing, holding glass tulips of champagne. To the right is a long bar covered in white linen and manned by four servers wearing tuxedos. And to the left are a series of doors which lead to a patio beyond which is a dark vastness sprinkled with stars. The view is grand and mysterious and seductive. Teddy begins to steer her in its direction.
“We should say hi first.” She pulls him away from the view and into the crowd, searching for familiar faces.
The first one they see is recognizable only by association. “Look, that’s Reebah Jameson.” Cat directs Teddy’s attention across the room to a group of people huddled together in a far corner. They are listening to a woman in a gold dress with a swath of colorful African cloth tied around her short hair. Except for a pair of hoop earrings, she wears no jewelry or makeup. She speaks with a seriousness and warmth that seems to emanate naturally from her face and is visible even from afar.
“She’s so beautiful,” Cat says. “She looks better in person than in pictures. I think that’s Rocky’s dad on her left.”
“Want to go say hi?”
“Not yet. I’d love to find Leo, though.”
But on the search for Leo, they find John instead.
He appears uncharacteristically polished and urbane in an expensive suit and tie, an effect that dissipates as soon as he opens his mouth. “You made it!” He envelops Cat in a hug from which he manages to reach out to shake Teddy’s hand. Pulling away, he asks her, “How’s the mommy doing?”
“Great,” she says. “Exhausted, as usual, but we’re having fun.”
“Still running a sleep deprivation experiment in your apartment?”
“You can say that again,” Teddy says.
“So, have you checked out the crowd? Do you have any idea who is in this room at this very moment? Are you aware of the power collected right here? You wouldn’t believe the business cards I’ve got in my pocket, it’s on fire.”
“We saw Reebah Jameson.”
“She’s going to make the toast. Okay, now keep calm, look around the room.”
Cat and Teddy begin to look. Within moments they make sightings of Oprah, Rosie, Diane Sawyer, Barbara Walters, Candace Bergen, and even Jerry Seinfeld. “It’s an entertainment Hall of Fame,” John says.
Teddy laughs. “Look, it’s Geraldo.”
“I talked to him,” John says, “and he’s much more intellectual than you’d think.”
“Amazing,” Cat says. “This whole thing is just incredible.”
“And those are just the faces you recognize,” John says. “The presidents of all three networks are here, all three, the presidents. And there are William Morris and ICM people crawling all over the place. I must have had seven agents come up to me and give me their card. Charlie thinks this celebrity bio is gonna top Iacocca.”
“What’s George Stephanopoulos doing here?” Teddy asks.
“Who knows? But he’s here, and that’s what counts,” John says.
“My God, he’s talking to Leo!” Cat says. “We have to go over there.”
John is first out of the starting gate, cutting a path through the bodies with smiles and nods and hand shakes. Cat and Teddy trail close behind. When they get into earshot, they can hear that George and Leo are chatting amiably about the current Broadway theater season.
John pumps George’s hand a little too hard and a little too long, but George hangs in there like a trooper. “Good to meet you,” John says. “Good to have you here.”
“My pleasure,” George says.
Leo weaves an arm through Cat’s and tugs her close to him. “How are ya?”
“Excellent,” she says. “How are you?”
“Just terrific.”
“And?” He widens his eyes and nods, waiting for news. Despite good intentions to keep in touch, they haven’t spoken at all since the day Cat finished helping him organize Rocky’s stuff in the Libbon basement.
“The baby was born on June 19th, and she’s wonderful.”
“Healthy? Cute? Brilliant?”
“All of the above. This is my husband, Teddy Foster.”
Leo and Teddy shake hands. “Congratulations on everything,” Leo says. “I won’t hold it against you that you didn’t invite me to the wedding.”
“Hey, they didn’t invite me, either,” John says.
“We eloped,” Cat says. “City Hall for fifteen dollars, then we went out to dinner with my brother and his wife.”
“I saw the cartoon show last winter,” Leo says. “I liked your stuff a lot.”
“You did? Really?”
“Rich and I both did. So, are there cartoons in your future?”
“Probably just Saturday morning cartoons.”
“Insecurity is ugly,” John says. “Projecting success is half the battle.”
“Thanks for the tip.” Cat screws her face into a sarcastic smile; but he’s right and she knows it. “Actually, one of my comic strips is going into a book of new cartoonists. I’m pretty excited about it.”
“She’s in good company, too,” Teddy says. “It’s going to be an important collection of established and emerging animation artists.”
“Important.” Cat laughs. “You sound like a critic.”
“I am a critic.”
Though she is hopeful and excited about her cartooning prospects, she doesn’t want to talk about it tonight. “Leo,” she asks, “is Annie here?”
“No, couldn’t make it. She’s in Florida.”
“I don’t suppose Parker’s here.”
“He’s home with Mom.”
“Your mother didn’t come?”
Leo shakes his head. “Mom was never the greatest supporter of Rocky’s career. Dad came alone.”
“Well, the book looks pretty snazzy,” Cat says. “Do we rate a complimentary copy?”
“No need to ask,” John says. “Just steal one on your way out.”
“Here’s something I’ve always wondered,” Teddy says. “How can a book that hasn’t even been published yet become a bestseller?”
“Charlie fixed it,” John says. “He got the distributor to push advance sales, and he got the number one slot at the Book of the Month Club. The first printing sold out last week, it’s already in its second printing, every bookstore on earth has copies, we’ve got displays in all the big stores. Rocky’s dad gave permission for me to go on a national book tour on her behalf. I think I’ll be a good salesman, don’t you?”
“Definitely,” Cat says. “But don’t you wonder why Rocky gave up so much power? It’s totally uncharacteristic.”
“She couldn’t make the decisions that were coming up,” Leo says. “The family had to talk it over. We all felt she couldn’t, well, concentrate, and there have been a lot of legal decisions to make. Dad would try to talk to her and she’d start throwing fits. Finally he asked for power of attorney and she gave it to him, just like that. We needed the money to pay for her hospital and Parker’s going to need an education.” He shrugs his shoulders. “Do you know, she’s still writing her own version of the memoirs? We’ve kept her totally up to date on the book, every step of the way, but she just keeps on writing her own. Dad didn’t think it was a good idea to give her a copy of the real book.”
“Yet,” John says
“Yet,” Leo echoes. “Eventually we will, I suppose.”
“It’s her story,” John says. “She’s got top billing.”
Suddenly the room is filled with an amplified patter. Attention swivels to a podium at the back of the room, where Charlie Webb stands, tapping on a microphone.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” he says. “May I have your attention, please?” He waits for silence, and continues. “Thank you. I’m Charlie Webb of Webb Associates, and I’ve had the honor of representing Rocky Love for the last fifteen years.” A murmur and a splatter of applause. “Before I introduce our keynote speaker, Reebah Jameson, I want to thank everyone in this room who made Rocky’s book possible, and to say how sorry we all are that she isn’t here to join us.” He looks down to address a video camera pointed at the podium, and lifts a glass of champagne. “Rocky, babe, this one’s for you!” Cheers erupt throughout the room. The camera swerves to record a communal raising of glasses. When the roar has died down, Charlie continues. “We love you, Rocky Love!” More cheers. “Now, to introduce Reebah Jameson, the co-author of The Rise and Fall of Rocky Love... John Paglia.”
John weaves through the crowd and stands at the podium. “Thank you, thank you. Let me briefly say what an honor and pleasure it was to work with the infamous Rocky Love, a woman who is anything if not unique.” Cheers and laughter. “Who is Rocky Love? What drove her? What inspired her? What troubled her? It’s all in the book. Rocky and I worked closely together to make her book the most accurate record it could be. In fact, the last time we met, she told me how pleased she was that the book had captured her voice. She really feels as if she wrote this book herself, which tells me that I did my job. After you read her story, I promise you, you will never forget the inimitable woman who is... Rocky Love!” Applause. “Reebah Jameson has known Rocky Love since college, and has herself gone on to become one of the most celebrated writers and activists of our time. If anyone understands Rocky Love, it is Reebah Jameson. And so, I am proud to introduce... Reebah Jameson!” He steps away from the podium.
Reebah moves behind the podium with queenlike confidence. She smiles and surveys the crowd a moment. Cat feels a chill of excitement and takes Teddy’s hand.
“I don’t know if anyone really understands Rocky,” Reebah begins. “When I first knew her, at Bennington, there was no Rocky Love. There was just this smart, confident, full-of-life young woman named Rochelle Libbon. I mean, she was proud, she spoke out, she fought, she did what she wanted to. She was one of the first active feminists of our generation. She came to life in those times, and she brought those times to life. The sexual revolution. The rebirth of the feminist movement. The Vietnam War. The times were manifested in her and she also helped to manifest those times. I never knew anyone quite like Rocky. I never saw a woman take such magnificent flight in a revolution that was partly of her own making. Every movement needs a voice, a symbol. And at a time when we needed one, it was Rocky. She came to being at my side, on the radio. She invented herself on the air. She never knew what she was gonna say, oh no, but when she said it, it was thrilling. She didn’t study or take notes or draft programs. She just up and shouted and got the message out. The girl I knew, Rochelle, she was a force, no doubt about it. Rocky Love got born on the radio. And Rocky Love got born some more on television. She is one of the lucky few of us who manage to find our perfect venue. She was television. She moved us, didn’t she? Didn’t she?” Applause and cheers. “Yes, she did. But in her heyday, she was more than a television personality. More than she even realized, she gave us courage. She dared us to confront ourselves. She infused America with an infectious spirit that never would have reached so far into the heartland of our country without her. She was brilliant. And her courage and her brilliance and even, later, her psychosis were all rolled up into one person, one voice, who was bigger than life and more than anything else was there when we needed her. Our horizon is brighter for having known her. She’s not here now because she’s had a fall. We all take falls, and then we get back up. And so will Rocky Love. We will see her again, to be sure.” Loud applause. “And in the meantime, let’s keep looking out beyond ourselves and remember that the red edge of the sunshine we’re basking in tonight is the blood of Rocky Love.”
There is a rupture of applause and a sea of tiny match flames rise above the heads. Someone turns off the overhead lights and a hush falls, and in the dark and silent room the dancing flames seem to burn so much more brightly.
The reverent mood evaporates as soon as the lights consume the candlelit darkness. Speeches over, the party is back in swing.
“Let’s check out the view,” Teddy says.
They navigate through the bodies until they reach one of the doors leading onto the patio. Stepping into the chilly air, they stand in awe of the night sky, dark and vast, speckled with stars. Among the other people who have drifted outside, they see Leo and Norman Libbon leaning against the railing. It is time at last to meet the father, in person.
Arms linked, Teddy and Cat approach. Leo turns around and smiles. “Is this gorgeous or is this gorgeous?”
“It’s gorgeous,” Cat says. “Dr. Libbon? I’m Cat. I was Rocky’s assistant. This is my husband, Teddy.”
“Good to meet you.” They all shake hands. “Isn’t this phenomenal?” Norman glances toward the party. “She isn’t even here and, well, look at it.”
“She’ll be back in action before you know it,” Cat says.
“I almost wish she wouldn’t.” Norman shakes his head. “What I mean is, I wish she would have a nice life and be happy.”
“That’s not Rock,” Leo says.
“No, it’s not, is it?” Norman takes a deep breath of the chilly air. “All this time, Cat, I’ve been wondering.... Did you know Nathan was with her at the beach house that day?”
Against the open night sky, Norman looks vulnerable, uncertain, as if he could take one step backward and tumble down. But she has to tell him the truth.
“Yes.”
“So you knew I would find them together?”
“I thought if you got there sooner, there might be time for Nathan.”
Leo puts his arm around his father’s shoulder. “Dad, you couldn’t have gotten there soon enough.”
“That’s right, I can see that now.” Cat anchors herself by holding Teddy’s hand. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s not your fault, dear.” Norman reaches out a hand and squeezes her forearm. “I can only blame myself.” He smiles, and the lines on his face reveal a map of experience. For an instant she sees a shadow of Grandpa Ben in the folds around the eyes, and affection rises in her heart.
“My grandparents have been married for sixty-three years,” Cat says, “and they can’t be held responsible for everything that happened in our family.”
“That’s right.” Leo pats his father’s shoulder. “Chalk it up to the mysteries.”
“It’s cold out here,” Teddy says.
“Go on inside and warm up,” Leo says. “We’ll say goodbye later.”
As they walk to the nearest door, Cat turns and glances over her shoulder to see that Norman is watching her. He tries to smile but instead his mask drops off and his face gives way to sorrow. His eyes sparkle with tears. For a moment Cat stops; she is staggered by this lovely man’s pain. Only when Leo nods and waves does she muster the courage to follow Teddy back into the party.
She finds him standing next to a pyramid of cheese cubes, skimming the book, and peeks over his shoulder to read with him.