Hollywood, 1933
Shattering Glass
It wasn’t the first time I’d visited Lola at her husband’s avant-garde monstrosity, but it was the first time since her marriage that we’d had a chance to sit down and really talk. Sometimes I’d stop by to drop off a hair ornament or trim her bob, but I’d never stay long. I really didn’t feel comfortable in her house, especially when Cedric was home. He seemed so... I don’t know...cold and aloof. But she’d called me and said she needed to talk, so I gathered up the kids and jumped on the trolley.
Lolly and Gabi were scampering through the kitchen, playing with wooden toys Gabe had made for them. A giraffe on wheels, and a miniature vacuum cleaner. Gabe hadn’t wanted me to bring the girls to Lola’s. We’d seen photos in Life of the iron lung—a huge ventilator that seemed to swallow people alive—and the thought of one of our children stuck in that thing... It was just so awful. We’d heard that researchers were working on a polio vaccine, but for the moment, there was no protection. According to the newspapers, the disease was spread through contact with infected people, and contagion was worse in the summer.
“Please don’t take them,” Gabe pleaded. “It’s nearly June, and it’s warm. If anything happened...” He was almost in tears.
Gabe wanted the girls isolated at home or at his mother’s house, but that day, Doña Lupe had a doctor’s appointment. I promised to keep them away from everyone—no playing with the gardener’s children, no kissing Lola—and to come home right after the visit. No park. No pool. No market.
Lola’s kitchen was pure white with a bowl of fruit in the center of the table for color. Cedric had rented a yacht to take her to Hawaii for a long vacation, she was saying. She’d loved filming Bird of Paradise there. She adored the calm, silver waters to the southwest of the Big Island, the feel of sea spray on her skin, and the salty, briny smell of the sand.
“It’s magical,” she gushed. “Jets of water seem to shoot from mouths of invisible fish, then hover over the surface, iridescent and dazzling, as though flash frozen!”
I thought: Iridescent and dazzling? Flash frozen? Where’d she get that nonsense?
She went on and on. The prickle of sunrays on her skin! The flowers!
“You just can’t imagine, Mara! Everywhere riots of hibiscus—red, pink, yellow, white. Orange heliconia, its fingerlike petals stretching toward the sky. Shell ginger, like tight white braided sugar dipped in raspberry jam.”
“‘Fingerlike petals stretching toward the sky’?” I teased. “Really, Lola? Did you memorize a travel brochure?”
She ignored me.
“The sharp, sweet scent of rosewood and the tickle of wild grass under your feet!”
All of a sudden, she turned to face me. “I suppose that means I’ll have to sleep with him,” she blurted out.
Ah, I said to myself. So that’s it.
Lola bowed her head. “I’m sorry, Mara.” Her voice quivered. “I didn’t mean that.”
I looked away. “Yes, you did,” I said under my breath.
“I’ve pushed the question out of my mind for months. But now there’s just no way to avoid asking myself. Why does the thought of sleeping with Cedric repulse me?”
She’d insisted on separate bedrooms from the start, pleading exhaustion and illness. Her health issues—kidney infections, mostly—had been in all the papers.
“Why did you marry him, if you find him revolting? You knew you’d have to have sex.”
“At first, I thought it’d be okay. But then... I couldn’t tell anyone, Mara, not even Mami. But I had to tell you. There’s no one else I can trust. There’s something about Cedric...something strange. Oh, he’s always the perfect gentleman. He never pressures me.” She put down the toast she was nibbling. “But...” She hesitated. “He doesn’t seem that interested in me. He says all the right things and touches me in all the right places, but it’s like...it’s as though he were an actor performing a role.”
“Why did you marry him, Lola?” I asked again.
She shook her head and forced a smile. “I don’t know what’s the matter with me,” she whispered.
“You should be happy, Lola. You’re the most beautiful woman in the world, you have a new film coming out, and you’re not yet thirty!”
She winced, and I realized that I’d said the wrong thing. I shouldn’t have mentioned her age. Almost thirty. Thirty was the crisis age, the career-killing age for any Hollywood celebrity. Ramón was in his thirties, and he was clearly on shaky ground. And Lola’s career was beginning to teeter, too. Bird of Paradise had certainly raised eyebrows, but so far, it hadn’t made much money, in spite of the hype over the swimming scene.
Dimitri bounded in and began to romp around with the children. I felt a knot in the pit of my stomach.
“Lola,” I said firmly. “Could we get Dimitri out of here? I promised Gabe I’d keep the children away from everyone.”
“He’s a dog, for God’s sake, Mara.” She was clearly irritated. “They can’t contract polio from him.”
“It’s just that...he could have been around someone who...what I mean is, he could be a carrier. I can’t let anything happen to the girls.” I felt my eyes well up. “Gabe would...”
“Gabe would what?”
“Gabe would die.”
She looked at me as though I were an amateur actress who was botching her lines. She didn’t shoo Dimitri out the door. Instead, she picked up the script of Viva Villa!
“Look,” she said. “They just sent me this new script. I’d play Teresa, the beautiful sister of Don Felipe, who introduces Pancho Villa to the ideals of the Mexican Revolution.”
“Could we please put the dog in the garden, Lola?”
“Listen to this, Dimitri,” she said, turning to the dog. She began reading. “I once thought Pancho Villa was a hero, a great man!”
Dimitri looked up at her and yawned.
“That’s what I thought,” she laughed. “It’s a stupid script. But listen, what if I say it this way?” She took a deep breath and put on her thickest Mexican accent: “I once t’ought Pancho Villa was a eero, a grret mahn!”
Dimitri flopped down on the floor, rolled over, and closed his eyes.
“You’re right, Dimitri. This script is an insult to Mexico. I’m not going to do it. From now on, you’ll be my script adviser, okay, Dimitri?”
Dimitri sprang up and went to look for his ball.
“Goodbye, Lola,” I said, scooping Gabi up into my arms, while Lolly scampered along beside me. “I hope you work out your problems.”
Lola blinked as though awakening from a dream. “I’m sorry, Mara,” she breathed. “Of course, I’ll put Dimitri outside.”
She reached for the dog, knocking over a glass of orange juice. It crashed to the floor, spraying glass in every direction. Gabi started to wail.
“Oh, Mara, I’m sorry! I’m so sorry!”
That’s how these movie people are, I thought. They offend you, then think they can make it all better with an apology.
But Lola was sobbing. She really was sorry. She was checking Lolly’s bare little legs for splinters of glass.
“Don’t touch her, please,” I said dryly. “Gabe doesn’t want the girls to come into contact with anyone.”
“Of course.” She yanked away her hand. “I understand.” She pulled herself up. “I really am sorry, Mara. It’s just that I’ve been so upset...”
“It’s time for us to go,” I said, this time more gently. “The girls need to nap.” And then I added: “Go ahead and take that trip to Hawaii with Cedric. Try to relax and have a good time. And as far as that goes...the sex thing...it will take care of itself.”