Everyone In Venice Knows - Conclusion


By Carol Fondiller

If you missed the first installment last month, you can read it on-line at <www.venice-beachhead.org>, click on “July 2006,” then click on “Read text files.”


"O.K., Deborah, so swearing 'Death before Deception' in the sacred name of Pandora, Eve psyche and all of Blue Beard's ladies you took your Vorpal sword in hand and proceeded to the Drop inn... said Sheilah. It was dark, and Deborah had turned on the lamp, made fresh coffee and laid out a platter of sliced chicken, apples and cheeses, in an arrangement worthy of a Japanese restaurant, and put it on the straight back chair. Clawswits the Cat supervised the proceedings from his perch on top of the book case.

A low whine of a small engine zipped by on Speedway. Deborah turned and looked out the window down the darkened streets. It wasn't a 350 motorcycle. The windows on the darkened streets glowed as people sat down to dinner.

Deborah thought of all the solitary single people eating TV dinners or milk and cookies as they stood, because it wasn't worth the trouble to set the table for one, or gulped a peanut butter sandwich while reading a romantic novel. Anything to distract them from the fact that they were eating alone. All those people who came to Venice to find themselves. And they did. They found themselves eating alone. Terrific.

"Yeah," said Deborah, as she turned from the window, only it wasn’t a Vorpal sword. It was my handy Labrys. The moon shaped double headed Cretan axe. The weapon sacred to the Goddess. A double edged weapon to deal with double dealing." She smiled. She went over to the desk and found the half smoked joints and lit one and inhaled. Sheilah sighed in satisfaction as she attacked the platter of food. "Oh God, that's good." "Oh yes Blood sugar! Just what's needed.”

Deborah sandwiched a slice of chicken between two apple slices. Her face took an expression of baby-like satisfaction as she tasted the dry delicate chicken flesh between the two juicy tart green apple slices.

"You know," she said as she chewed, "I made those eight blocks from Kevin's to the Drop Inn in two minutes flat. With churning stomach and beating heart. I wanted to turn around. But into the foggy cigarette have I stepped. A Beserker lust- ing after the facts. I pushed past the pool players and the juke box loungers, and scanned the scarred orange vinyl coffee shop booths."

Sheilah took the joint from Deborah's gesticulating hand and inhaled. "Heaven's Woman," she said holding her breath.  You sound like Marshall Dillon. "Right. Wide angle shot of bar. I saw people in there that I knew.
I guess they could sense by my face that I wasn't there to be pleasant, People who knew about me and Kevin Barry Mulcahy lowered their eyes. Pan to back booth known as Lover's Lane. Tight shot of Kevin and Ronnie seated next to one another. He on the outside, holding Ronnie-the-Pooh's hand, gazing into her eyes and she of course gazing into his, smiling sweetly as they kissed. That burned me. He was kissing her with his teeth held on by the dental adhesive that I'd bought. He sure as hell was showing no signs of pain.

I slid in next to Kevin. Keep that J. I'll finish the other one." Deborah drank some coffee and, lit a half smoked joint. She drew a deep breath on the joint. Kevin didn't notice me. As I said, he has fantastic powers of concentration. He was completely absorbed in seeing how far his tongue would go down her throat. Shit.    

Then I said very softly, “Hello Kevin.” Man, he jumped as if I'd goosed him with an ice cube. He was so startled he nearly knocked over his beer. For Kevin that’s panic. “I'd like a glass of wine, Kevin,” I said. I stood up to let him get it. I stood there staring At Ronnie.  She lowered her eyes, then looked up at me, head down. She hunched herself into the back corner of the booth. If I'd had a newspaper, I'd have slapped her with it saying naughty no! no! bad! She smiled at me, her jaw quivering. She finally looked away from me.

Kevin came back with my wine and a beer for him. He started to sit next to Ronnie. But I pulled on his jacket and forced him to sit next to me, opposite Ronnie. “What the fuck is going on here?” I asked. I couldn't control my voice. It came out very low. My hand was trembling as I held the wine. The juke box was blaring. The bass reverberating in the booth and in my head. People were making out, talking, and shooting pool. “Let's talk lovingly and gently” said Kevin in a low soothing voice. '”I do not feel loving or gentle, Kevin. Don't play rational with me.” Ronnie reached across the table and held his hand and looked at him as I spoke. “I want to know, Kevin, let me in on this. I have a right to know.” Kevin turned his attention to me at last. “What do you want, Deborah?” I grabbed his hand away from her. Tears started running down my face. I was shaking. I held on to him tightly. 'I want to sleep with you tonight. I want to feel you next to me. I don't want. to sleep with her damn dog again. Please, Kevin. Please. Please. ..

Someone came by that I knew and said hello. I said hello back. Jesus, Sheilah, it was grotesque.'  It was Iike a British drawing room drama, where the hostess keeps pouring tea and asking one lump or two?' After she's found out her husband's given the family jewels to the maid. One must uphold the social amenities. Kevin held me. I could feel his warmth through his leather jacket. “Alright Deborah" he said, stroking my neck, “I'll sleep with you tonight.” He was humoring me.  “I'll ride Ronnie home and I'll be back.”

“Let the bitch take a fuckin' bus home. I'm tired of being the one that's always waiting.” Then Ronnie-the-Pooh opened her sweet mouth.  “You must have been around a lot,” she said softly, looking at Kevin. “Everyone’s been around after the first three times after you've popped your cherry,” I snapped, “so don't pull that.” Ronnie sighed, a we-must-humor-this-crazy-delasse-e-lady sigh.

“You bet I've been around.” But they weren't listening to me. They were gazing into each other's eyes. Kevin turned away from her and said, "I love this lady. We spent two years together. She wasn’t just another broad I fucked.”  “Oh, and I was just another broad you fucked.”

Ronnie turned to me and said earnestly, protesting too much, “oh no! No. No. Oh no, Debbie that’s not so!” Kevin,said reassuringly, “no Deborah, that's not so. I love you--” “Yes! He does!" interrupted Ronnie. “He really told me! 'I love you'.” He bent his head on my throat. “But each morning she'd wake me with a sweet sensual kiss.”

I pulled away from him and snickered, “Well gollee, Kevin, I thought you liked it when I woke you every morning by jumping on your chest with my golf cleats." No one laughed. Kevin was jabbing his finger at me. “Do you understand? I must proceed. I can go back to the garage without all this emotional garbage.”

“Let's talk sanely, Deborah” said Ronnie in her soft voice, smiling at me as she stroked Kevin's arm. I let go of Kevin's other arm and watched her. He leaned towards her and blew a kiss at her. “Thank you,” he murmured.

I couldn't believe it, hours ago it was him and me together. A couple. Exclusivity. Insane! Deborah re-lit the joint.

"You don't have to go yet do you Sheila?" "A Dear Friend is coming over at 11:30 to relieve my bodily tensions. It is now 8 pm. Besides, this is interesting." "Glad to spread a little joy, who is it, the Ph.D. bartender?" asked Deborah. "No it’s Santa Cruz Sam. He finished his business in L.A. and I'm giving him a going away present. On with the story."

"I mean it was surreal! There we were, two women, one man, the two women all but saying, "dump her, take me." Cushioning every emotion for this man, so the results of his actions wouldn't hurt him. And I was playing the scene! I was saying things like oh yes, Kevin I understand, just love me, oh yes, Kevin go on with your ART! Terrific, I was selling my soul and no one was bidding.

Then Ronnie looked at me deeply--you know, the "this-is-going-to-hurt-me- more-than-it-is-you look. Infuriating tears of sympathy, unshed of course, so much more appealing. Ronnie said, “Kevin tell her we re going to be married. Kevin looked down at his beer.  “Tell her, Kevin,” pressed Ronnie urgently. He said nothing else. But he nodded his head avoiding my glance. He spoke. “But now, Deborah, it doesn't change the feelings I have for you. I love you...” Things began to come apart before my eyes. Everything became disjointed and super clear with hard edges. People’s faces floated by, disconnected from their bodies. The air became thick, heavy and still. It smelt hot and sour. Voices were distorted as if a 33 RPM. record were being played at 45 RPM. The click of the billiard balls sounded like thunder claps. I felt lighter than air. I jumped up on the table. 

Deborah did a classic Errol Flynn leap from the bed.  Drew out my trusty Cretan axe from my bag and said in a voice louder than my usual “IN THE NAME OF THE GODDESS, STOP THE BULLSHIT! Do not give that male who is cowering behind his mug a modicum of comfort! 'In the name of HER who goes about at night, alone along the Urban Wilds and hears the wails of her lost and lonely daughters, in the name of her who sees the despairing daughters in the bars! Take my Sacred Weapon. 

In the name of She-Who-Can-Change-Her-Mind, use the flat of the blade and spank him with it, in the name of the mother-- freak out Daughter!”  A long-high whistle came from my lips, and all the men who didn't cover their ears imme- diately started corn holing one another with pool cues, pipes, wrenches and other phallic do-dads. The others hid under the tables and covered their genitals.

The nodding smiling women in the place got out golden lariats from hidden places and lassoed the crazy bucks and paraphrasing the Red Queen, they shouted “Up with their heads.” Then lo, the juke box played ‘ain’t no way to treat a lady' with a martial beat--plenty of hot clear brass and heavy drums. It played 'Put a Spell on You' and 'Big Daddy you got a lot to learn'. Sung by Mae West, Lotte Lenya and Nina Simone." Sheila raised her eyes and said, "Geez I miss all the fun, did you spank him hard?"

"No my dear." said Deborah in fair imitation of W.C. Fields, tripped on my Labrys.

So I did the next best thing. I whimpered. “Kevin I’m wearing your clothes,” I don't have a thing on me that belongs to myself. I feel so naked. Kevin I Iove you. I'm not creative. i know that  I'm not deep, I'm shallow--I can only have an idea for a short time before it dies of loneliness, the only thought I have right now is that I love you...”

Ronnie looked straight at me, an historical event in itself. “You have quite a mouth, you know that? Do you think you're better for him?" she shrilled. I didn't know what she was talking about. Better for him than what? Than who? According to who's program? I came, I saw, I bested, I was bested, busted, beat. I knew that I was better for no one.  Bitter, bitter beat, I took another sip of wine. I had no answer. I just loved him. I whimpered and carried on some more. Ronnie suffered nobly through it, being supportive of Kevin's delicate emotions, stroking him. I finally asked him to take me home. I didn't specify my place or his, or as he put it, ours.

Kevin and I left, leaving Ronnie-the-Pooh smiling sadly. We stood by his motorcycle underneath a relentless cold street light--the urban moon. He looked haggard. I was still crying:  “Kevin, I love you. I know every line in that face of yours. I see through that mask you wear and I see your bare and shining bones! You carry your ivory magician's tower within you. I see the white and shining skeleton of your soul.”

Sheilah shook her head. "You just broke Rule #22A.  Telling a man you love him." Deborah sighed, I know, but I’d do it again." She shrugged her shoulders and looked shamefaced. Sheilah took a hit of a joint and gave it to Deborah. "When we turned off West Washington Blvd., my heart sang. We were going to his-our place! My island. We went inside. He parked the bike outside. He switched on the light and turned on the giant antique electric heater shaped like a sunflower on a stalk. He held me. “The wheel turns, lady, be patient!”

“Look,” I said, “you’re going to marry Ronnie.” “The wheel turns. It won't happen for at least a month.” I stumbled back. I looked at him. “What do you mean?” I asked. “Honey, I don’t know. I'm so confused. Be patient. You're going to decide who to award the apple to, is that it?” He took me in his arms and held me close. I could feel his heart beating. Oh yes, to be held like that--but painful thoughts splintered through my brain like broken glass. I murmured into his red turtleneck sweater, “You love me now, Kevin, does that mean you'll love me for a whole month? Till you marry her?” “Yes,” he replied, holding me tightly, swaying back and forth and kissing my hair. I peeked up at him. He was looking down at me adoringly. My irony seemed to have escaped him.

“After the month, what? Shall I gather up my stuff? Is this an eviction notice?” I held him close to me inhaling the scent of him. Leah the dog was whining for a pet. “No, Deborah, I love you. Stay.” And he went on about the absurdity of monogamy. Then I said, “maybe we could have two garages, and you could travel between them. Ronnie- cins and I could draw up a chart--”

“Stop lady I have to decide. Help me."  “I can't Kevin--I don't know what I'm doing, I feel as if I'm competing in a game that I didn't know I was in. I don't know the rules and I don't want to play. The stakes might be too high.”

“Deborah, I love you, I want to stay here with you--” I returned to reality. “Kevin,” I said holding his face in my hands, “Take Ronnie home. Don't let her wait at the bar. Then come back here to me soon.”

It was 9 pm.  He started on his bike. He looked at me: “I'll be back in an hour - in less than an hour. Oh, lady, lady, I love you lady.”     He revved up his motorcycle. “That's what you say now, but what will you say when you're with her,” I murmured.  "What did you say, love?”  He asked. "I love you too, dude.” He smiled, kissed me and chugged off. I slammed the garage door shut. It was heavy quiet - Leah the beery-brown and foam- white dog nuzzled me. I petted her. “Well, here we are again, kiddo!”    

I wandered around the garage. Images like flash cards flipped before my eyes. Kevin asleep in the early morning, free from the lines that time had clawed into his face getting us coffee on that hot plate.  “Coffee in bed,” I said as I sat up for it. “Now that's rich. Kevin, you make me feel so opulent!” His cheerfulness. The Morning Kevin, as one of his friends expressed it.    

I picked up the cigarette butts that littered the urine yellow carpet. While he was painting Kevin would aim at the various ash trays. Sometimes he'd miss. I picked up the butts one by one. I'm not creative, so I couldn't concentrate on reading - every few minutes I'd think I'd hear the fart-fart-whine of his engine. I turned on the TV. The picture snowed. I could have gotten interested in Barretta except for the sea-rich feeling that flip flops gave me. It was 9:15 by the digital clock on the wall. I was surprised. I felt as if I'd spent all year at the Drop Inn. Only an hour? I rumpled through my stuff for sewing.  I’d brought needles but no thread. Grand. 
Sheilah shook her head. "I'm surprised that you didn't crawl after him clutching at his pant leg." "I didn't think of that."

The sound of a small engine whined by. Deborah looked out the window. Sheilah laughed. Deborah shrugged and smiled. "Gonna be a hard habit to kick." Clawswits jumped--into Sheilah' s lap and bumped her hands with his hard round head. Sheilah stroked him. Deborah sighed. The digital clock was ticking away ... slowly, 9:45. I lay down on our bed. One time he said to me, “let me worship at your shrine where all life comes from...”

“What?" said Sheilah. “Worship at my shrine!" "Oh." "Yeah," said Deborah. "You don't like that?" Deborah looked straight ahead, not seeing. "I do. But I didn’t want to lose myself. He took out his teeth.” "Oh God,” groaned Sheilah.  Don’t knock it ‘till you’ve tried it,” she sighed.

Oh yes. I remember lying there, trying to hold on to my self. I would not move.  I concentrated on the cigarette butts on the floor, the empty beer cans, my pimples and flab. Then his lips gentle as flower petals falling from a great distance onto my stomach, my thighs, his tongue gently along my cunt and thrusting deep in me. His hands forcing my pelvis to him as if I were a great cup from which he drank--merge. You bet I merged. I melted. Then he put his lips to my mouth and I tasted me on him and that penis seeking my shelter in me. I was a Beethoven symphony, an atom waiting to be split. Floating free.

Deborah came out of her memories and smiled at Sheilah.  Sheilah laughed. "Well I always say, never trust a man who doesn't eat pussy--and never trust a man who does-- only for different reasons." Deborah lay back on the bed. “Love should be a difficult word to pronounce when you're straight and impossible when you’re stoned."

I love Kevin Blarney Malarkey. Because he paints the people around here in Venice with all the respect and reverence and technique that the old masters used to paint tyrants, popes, kings and mistresses. I mean he doesn’t indulge with the picturesque old winos and junkies, making them quaint. He paints people. He spends himself on them the way he squeezes paint out of the tube. Extravagantly. Rich, deep. Hours and hours painting someone who no one knows. But they're special. They're human. They matter.  Shit. Anyway it was 10 o'clock. No Kevin. Well I thought, he always had a bad sense of time -- no, that’s not so -- when he wants to be, he’s punctual. I'd wait one more hour. I would smoke no grass." Here she lit another joint, inhaled and smoked her cigarette.

"I only had a quarter of a glass of wine. I would not get stoned. I wanted to be straight for the alternatives.  I took off his clothes and folded them neatly and put them away. I put on my baggy pants--don’t you dare say anything about the obvious symbolism of baggy pants, Sheilah.  That damn digital clock kept clicking, Fate’s tongue sucking time through her teeth."

She handed the joint to Sheilah. "Click 10:15 click, 10:30 click. 10:31 click. I put on my turtleneck sweater. I was very cold.  A voice in me was shouting. OK, Eve’s daughter, you have 23 minutes to leave Eden.  Then my other voice--the still small.

“You carry quite a crowd in you, don't you?" queried Sheilah.

"I ain't a borderline schizo for nothing." said Deborah proudly.

I gathered all MY stuff that was lying around -- underwear, face cream -- and put them into the shopping bags. I put on another heavy sweater.

I wrote a note. “11 PM Kevin my darling. As I said, I cannot sleep with your dog again. Thanks for helping me to experience a new peak in masochism. I couldn't have done it without your help. I'll be back for the rest of my stuff. Leah needs more dog food. I'm unplugging the heater. If you re-plug it, turn it off before you go to bed.  I love you. I love you. Deborah.”

10:56.  I Put on my cape, stuffed odds and ends into my bag, apologized to Leah for not dancing with her, and turned off the light. That old heater on its -Art Nouveau-Deco stalk glowed like some crazy red sun that just lit up its immediate area. The garage receded into brawny darkness. The skylight looked like a loony oblong-shaped aluminum-colored moon, It was like another world under world scape.    

His paintings glowed and shimmered in the lights like strange jewels. 10:58. Click. I left the note on a painting of a child he was working on. Serious child. Clear solemn eyes. I unplugged the heater, hoisted up the garage door. I stood there, hoping he would ride up. 11 PM. Click. I slammed the garage door shut. I walked out.  I turned and walked back every time I heard or thought I heard a motorcycle. I gave that up and marched down West Washington Boulevard, chin trembling, but up. Eyes swollen but tearless. Nose reddened but dripless. I walked erect. No Pitiful Pearl act for me. I know I did the right thing. I could have stayed and waited, but I know I did the right thing. Why do I feel so awful? Anyway as you can see here I am--psychically shook but safe." Deborah squished out her cigarette somewhere on the desk, 'Jesus Deborah, didn't you do anything like spray paint his garage with 'This is offensive to women,"

"No, I can't hurt him." "Don't you--aren't you thinking of anything? Like giving ol' Leah some Ex-Lax?" "Ain't the dog’s fault, that would be like taking your hostility out on someone’s kid." "Nothing?" said Sheilah thrusting her head forward, her eyes skeptical behind her granny glasses. "Well ... something," smirked Deborah. “You put a time bomb on his six-packs Pop top pow!" Deborah sniggered nastily.

"I took the goddam dental adhesive that I paid for!” she shouted.  "Let him hurt his fuckin' sensitive gums on her chapped lips. Let her ante up for her pleasure. Oh I can see it now. “Oh Ronnie- kins my succulent little succubus let me kiss you--whoops” Deborah pulled her lips over her teeth. She looked like an old granny. "Oh well, nebber mind my dear, I'll hum you and bum you and blow you away.”

"Hey, you're a good friend. I know I'll live. That's what's so awful."

Sheilah patted Deborah on the cheek. "Look kiddo, I'm counting on you." She ran down the stairs. Deborah watched her from the window. She heard the low whining sound of a small motor. She leaned forward. No, right cycle--wrong driver. Damm! It was going to be a hard habit to kick.

Posted: Tue - August 1, 2006 at 10:32 AM          

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