Chapter 5
"Oh Daddy, Daddy, poor Daddy," Candy was saying at his bedside in the Municipal Hospital a day later. By virtue of one of the most extraordinary wounds ever received or administered in Racine County, Mr. Christian was not dead, but had suffered a partial lobotomy when the trowel had entered his head. Now, he was half sitting in bed, his head swathed in a great hulking bandage, an expression of complete repose on his face.
"Now, don't worry, kitten, he's going to be all right," Candy's Uncle Jack assured the girl, standing close beside her, stroking her shoulder comfortingly, "he's going to be all right."
Candy squeezed his hand in her own, as though it were he who needed comforting, "Oh, yes, Uncle Jack," she agreed softly.
Uncle Jack Christian was her father's twin brother. They looked exactly alike, though Jack somehow seemed much younger, more alive to the feelings and needs of her own generation-at least, that was what Candy had often told herself, and her father, too. Before his marriage, he and Candy had been pals, and they continued to be very close, and when together engaged in a good deal of innocent, pawing affection-rather to the annoyance of Mr. Christian-though they did not see much of each other now, because Candy's father took such strong objection to his brother's vivacious wife, Livia, and considered her a bad influence for Candy.
"Now, why don't we go have some tea with your Aunt Livia?" Uncle Jack suggested, "or perhaps you'd prefer a drink-I know I could use one."
Like Professor Mephesto, Uncle Jack was one of Candy's heroes, too.
"Yes, I could use a drink," she said gravely.
Aunt Livia was waiting for them in the car. She was so lovely and sophisticated that she had always intimidated Candy, whom she treated either like a child of three, or at other times, like a woman of the world, as she talked lightly of adultery, homosexuality and other things which Candy's father would never mention, not in a million years.
"How is he?" she said, twinkling.
"Well, he took a pretty nasty knock, of course," said Uncle Jack seriously, after he had held the door open for Candy and then seated himself beside his wife.
"Knock?" said Aunt Livia, looking all around in surprise, "I though it was a gouge, or something like that. After all, isn't a trowel a-"
Uncle Jack cleared his throat (he was his brother's brother, all right, even so). "Yes, well, he's much better now; he's resting."
"That's nice," said Aunt Livia, quite sincerely. Then she began to laugh. "Knock! You poor idiot! What you don't know about the English language-" and she laughed so hard that she finally began to cough.
"Well, really, Liv," Uncle Jack protested, "I should think that some things-"
"Doesn't matter," said Aunt Livia, waving him to desist, "Doesn't matter. Live and learn. My God, look at that pregnant woman on the corner there-she's going to have that baby before the light changes! Good God, did you ever see anything like that. If I look another moment I shall vomit all over us!"
She turned around to Candy, who was in the back seat.
"How are you, my dear?" she asked, as though she hadn't noticed her before, "you aren't pregnant, I hope?"
"N-O spells no," said Candy with as much dignity as she could muster. She didn't like to be with Aunt Livia when she was in one of her 'clever moods', as Uncle Jack called them. And she felt that Uncle Jack was especially misunderstood at those times. In many ways, Candy regretted the marriage as much as her father did. On the other hand, Aunt Livia could be perfectly charming, and often was.
"Well, I must say, you're certainly looking lovely, Candy," she went on, appraising the girl closely.
"Thank you," said Candy, flushing deeply.
"Have any of the boys gotten into those little white pants of yours yet?" Aunt Livia asked, as though she were speaking of the weather.
"Really, Liv," said Uncle Jack, coughing, "this hardly seems the appro-"
"But, isn't she lovely?" his wife persisted, turning to Jack Christian, "a ripe little piece she's getting to be, I'd say. It seems to me that's the first question that would occur to anyone! Though I suppose you haven't noticed! Well, perhaps you wouldn't!" she added, and began to laugh again, sustaining it for a moment while the other two looked out the window uneasily. "Oh God, haven't we come far enough", she went on then in a change of mood, "let's have a drink."
"Right," said Jack Christian, "I could use one. How about you, Can?"
"Can?" echoed his wife, laughing wildly again, "that isn't all she could use either-is it, 'Can'?"
"Now, Liv," objected Uncle Jack, "I'm sure we don't know what you mean by that, and-well, here we are at Halfway House," he turned in then at a large broad drive leading up to a luxury roadhouse, "and now for a drink, eh girls?" he added cheerfully.
"Right," said Liv, "out of these wet pants and into a dry martini! Eh 'Can'?"
"Liv's in one of her moods," Uncle Jack explained to Candy as he helped her out of the car.
"I'll say!" said Candy.
"I'm in the mood for cock and plenty of it!" cried Liv gayly. "About ten pounds, please, thick and fast!"
"Now, Liv, this won't do," said Uncle Jack firmly, as, with a gracious sweep, he bade them through the wide portals of Halfway House.
They were a handsome threesome, and, to all appearances, as wholesome a representation of middle-class innocence as had ever been in Halfway House; the maŒtre d'h"tel came forward with a flourish and secured them a choice table.
"What about a bit to eat, as well, girls?" asked Uncle Jack, genially looking over the menu, while the waiter hovered at hand.
"Yes, a bit of giant Male Organ-piping hot!" quipped Liv, scrutinizing the menu with a frown.
"Now, Liv," said Uncle Jack, laying down his menu gently, "you will go too far."
"Who's talking about 'go'?" demanded Liv, "the girls want to come! Don't we, Can?"
Candy blushed crimson, and Uncle Jack sighed and shrugged a look of bemused patience at the waiter, who, though fidgeting about, managed to smile uneasily.
"Oh bother," said Liv, flinging down her menu, "I'll just have a drink. Drink now, organ later!"
"Right," said Jack, "three martinis, please. Rather dry."
"Well," he continued, when the waiter had left, looking casually about the crowded room, "nice gathering today at Halfway House. Have you been here before, Candy? Rather cleverly appointed, I think, for this sort of thing, eh? Do you like it at all?"
"Oh yes," the girl began. "I think it's-"
"Sometimes I think I can almost come by just looking at something!" exclaimed Liv in sudden good spirits, "that knife and spoon, for instance. Why, I've only to give my clit a tiny flick right now and I'd be sopping!"
"I wish you wouldn't, Liv," said Uncle Jack, speaking plainly.
"Well, it isn't too likely, is it?" asked his wife, looking at him in wonder, "I mean, how on earth could I? Oh, I suppose I could pretend to drop something in my lap, and then-"
"I mean to say," said Uncle Jack deliberately, "that I wish you wouldn't talk in that way-"
"I am going to keep a little clothespin on my clit and then I can pinch it if I want!" said Liv, and she burst out laughing, "did you ever think of doing that, Candy?"
"N-O," said Candy, "spells no!" It annoyed and confused her for Aunt Livia to talk this way, and she sympathized greatly with her Uncle Jack for having to endure it. Fortunately the awkward tension was broken at that moment by the appearance of a well-dressed elderly couple entering the door.
"I say," said Uncle Jack, brightening suddenly, "isn't that Mr. and Mrs. Edward Kingsley who've just come in-yes, of course it is! I wonder if they wouldn't join us for a drink," and so saying he rose and caught the matronly lady's eye, and they exchanged hearty salutations.
"Jack Christian!" said Mrs. Kingsley, coming over to him, "how delicious to see you!" and she allowed herself to be seated. "And Livia, too! How are you, my dear!"
Mr. and Mrs. Kingsley were extremely proper, if one may judge by appearances and deportment, and while Mr. Christian and Mr. Kingsley remained standing for the moment, waiting for additional chairs to be brought, they were introduced to Candy, and Mr. Christian was able to caution his wife in a whisper: "Best behavior, dear. You know what this contract means to us!" But it would seem, for the moment at least, that Uncle Jack's apprehensions on this point were unfounded, because Liv's mood had changed quite abruptly; and after the two gentlemen were seated, and all had fresh drinks, conversation became pleasant and general, finally turning to art, and at last to drama of the stage and cinema.
"How very interesting!" Liv was saying after Mr. Kingsley had expressed his serious regret that so little of 'real worth' was being done in the new medium of television. "For, as a matter of fact," she continued, "a friend of mine is toying with a thing which could develop into something really top-drawer-if he can find the capital to back it. Perhaps you'd be interested in hearing a little about it, Mr. Kingsley." She paused then to delve in her purse and extract a couple of folded sheets.
"Yes, certainly," said Mr. Kingsley, clearing his throat, "I'm always happy to invest in a... a really good thing."
"Yes," said Liv, unfolding her papers, "well, I'll just read a bit of this outline-it might be exactly what you're looking for." And so she proceeded to read from the paper, maintaining a very serious expression, and only raising her voice to make points of emphasis, or when it seemed that Uncle Jack wished to interrupt her:
"It's called, They Met in the Park, and it's the parallel stories of two young minds damaged by war. We fade in on a slow sweep-shot over the expansive grounds of the Los Angeles V.A. Hospital. As the camera moves forward in a wide-angle pan of the estate, the music is up in a montage-medley of service tunes-the 'Marine Hymn', 'Caissons Go Rolling Along', the 'Air Corps Song', etc.-a sort of mosaic musicale which builds to a rousing crescendo of 'Anchors Away' sung by a choir of 200 eleven-year-old boys. As we approach the hospital, the dedication is narrated in a fine voice (perhaps Senator Dirksen's); something about sacrifice, endeavor, etc., on the part of the nurses and doctors of the Veterans' Hospitals 'throughout this great land of ours... this America.' As the music fades to a muted and distant 'taps', the camera zeroes into a private ward (one of countless thousands-that's the feeling here-but still a little something special about this 'typical' case). An air of solemnity prevails in the room. Two doctors are standing by the single bed. The senior doctor is looking at the patient's chart, very thoughtfully. His younger colleague stands by, watching the other's face with reverence and restrained anticipation. Finally, the senior doctor speaks, decisively: 'Yes, Doctor, we'll begin shock therapy today!'
"The patient is suffering from battle fatigue and has lost every faculty except the sense of smell. Each time he regains consciousness, he begins frantically running his fingers between his toes and then smelling them, trying to force them up his nose, etc. They always have to give him a sedative to keep him from disfiguring himself. By way of making it clear as to the momentous task involved in one of these thankless jobs, the beginning treatments are shown to fail, and the first half of the play (it runs for an hour-I had in mind the U.S. Steel Hour) is comprised of successive scenes in which the two doctors are standing by the patient's bed, waiting to see how he will act when he again regains consciousness. Each time, one of them turns to the other and says, not without a touch of quiet anxiety, 'He's coming around, Doctor!' The camera pans from the senior doctor's face, to the younger's, back to the senior's, then down to the patient as he comes around, opening his eyes, staring blankly for a moment before giving a savage grunt and starting wildly for his toes-whereupon, the elder doctor frowns darkly and says, 'Doctor, give the patient a sedative!' This two-minute scene is repeated fifteen times. Finally, the patient is pronounced well. (The pronouncement comes during the halfway commercial break and is not actually known to anyone who hasn't read the script.)
"The opening scene, after the break, is in a smart rest clinic in the French Alps. For the furnishings of this act no expense should be spared, no detail overlooked, to authenticate the desired mood-gracious living. The room is light and airy, the furnishings exquisitely delicate. A very large picture-window affords a mountain panorama, a vista of rose-white snow, and sky the color of blue smoke.
"On the bed, clad in a peignoir of topaz Chantilly, lies a girl patient. As the scene opens, her physician has just entered:
DR. HERSHOLT: (pleasantly)
'Well, Bambi! And how do we feel this morning, eh?'
BAMBI: (frowning)
'What?'
DR. HERSHOLT: (tentatively)
'Well, I mean... uh... you know... how... do...'
BAMBI: (interrupting)
'Doctor, I had a dream last night-it's been puzzling me ever since (she looks puzzled, cute). I mean, dreams do have secret meanings... don't they?'
DR. HERSHOLT: (seriously)
'Yes, child, very often they do. (Then in genuine interest:) Now, why don't you tell us about it?'
BAMBI: (after a sigh) 'Well, I dreamed I was in a big place-it reminded me somehow of my house... at home, in Glendale. And my father was there with me... always... we were together... alone. And I... I kept sucking him off. (She looks puzzled.) What does the dream mean, Doctor?'
"There is another commercial break here which blots out the doctor's reply. The next scene opens in a crowded elevator of a New York office building in Columbus Circle. The camera pans down from above during the elevator's descent, then cuts to the foyer where an elevator (a different one) is opening and a crowd of people issue forth. Among them is Bambi. She leaves the building and starts walking across Central Park. Near the lake she is attacked by a husky chap. He throws her to the ground, has her securely pinioned, and (it is the patient) begins grappling wildly at her feet, smelling them, trying to force them up his nose, etc. A passing policeman (played by Edmond Lowe) sees the tomfoolery and rushes them with his stick. He drives the patient away with blows to the head and shoulders. He chases him for some distance, into the lake (there is an underwater fight scene, etc). When the policeman gets back to Bambi, he finds she is furious-writhing around on the ground, seething with rage, frothing, grovelling, etc. 'I wanted a piece of that husky chap!' she cries. 'Suck! Fuck! Shit! Piss! Cunt! Cock! Crap!' She is very cross. The policeman starts hitting at her with his stick-as he would a snake. 'Your stick!' she cries, ignoring the blows. 'GIVE ME YOUR STICK!'
"Camera fades out slowly and into a Bellevue ward. It is months later. Bambi sits in a wheelchair, stricken with paralysis. Ever since the attack, she has not been able to walk. Her
doctor (played by Huntz Hall) believes it is psychosomatic. In one of his lines to his assistant (played by George Arliss) he says, 'The girl has apparently lost the will-to-walk.' Arliss replies, 'I don't get you at all, Doc,' which gives rise to some smart banter and repartee, a nifty five- minute jeu-de-mots between Hall and Arliss on words like 'walk', 'work', 'wouk', etc. Actually, we may expand that scene so it will come across as a sort of leitmotif of the whole, or else use it in bits, as filler, in the scenes that have profanity in them-which is about the knottiest problem we're up against with this getting this piece on the boards, as they say.
"To conclude briefly, there are seven scenes which show Hall trying to coax Bambi out of her wheelchair. There is no dialogue in these scenes; they simply show Hall standing on one side of the room and beckoning to Bambi. The background music for these scenes is 'Lover Man', played as though under water, by Lee Konitz. The curtain scene is not too bad. It shows Hall leaning against the window, trying to shoot some dope into the vein of his temple. There is a scuffling noise in the background; he drops his hypo and turns. It's Bambi, holding out her arms and walking slowly towards him. There is a smile on her face as she says, 'Look, Doctor, I can COME!'"
Aunt Livia sat quietly when she had finished her reading, frowning down at the paper as though it were something not wholly satisfactory. "Of course, it wants more work," she said, "a few wrinkles to be ironed out, etcetera, but the first question is capital-how about it, Eddie, can I put you down for a few thousand?"
"I think we had better be going," said Mrs. Kingsley in a grand manner. She seemed quite offended by the whole thing. Mr. Kingsley was more ambivalent. He did not seem to think much of the project's chances, and was quick to say so, in so many words, but on the other hand he was somewhat excited by the beauty of the girls-Aunt Livia and Candy-and the fact that one of them was involved in the arts in any way at all did intrigue him.
"There's a question here," he said, fumbling a bit for the right word, "... of... of taste, and I find myself wondering if... if..."
Mrs. Kingsley rose to her feet abruptly.
"You may remain here and be made a fool of, if you wish, Edward," she said, "that is your affair. For my part, I am leaving immediately!" But before she left, she indicated Candy with a nod, and said to Aunt Livia, with genuine feeling:
"That your remarks may be a distasteful annoyance to adults is unfortunate, but that this lovely child should be exposed... to the eruptions of a... a sick mind... is not simply distasteful-it is criminal!" Whereupon Aunt Livia stuck out her tongue at the lady, and said: "Not so distasteful, I daresay, as your fat clit!" And Mrs. Kingsley shuddered visibly and strode away.
"I'm afraid you'll have to excuse me," said her husband, scrambling to his feet, making a quick bow to those at the table and hurrying out the door after Mrs. Kingsley.
Uncle Jack sighed deeply, shaking his head.
"Well, I can't help but feel that was a mistake, Liv," he said gloomily, "after all, they aren't in arts, you can hardly expect them to know what-"
"Perhaps," said his wife, putting her papers away, "perhaps not. It may have quite excited Mrs. Kinglsey though, you see. It's very hard to know exactly what is taking place in her mind. Certain images may remain, and-oh, I don't think old Kingsley will sink any money into it, if that's what you mean. No, if my guess is any good, he's more interested in getting into my pants, or our little niece's here, because-"
"That is not my meaning at all, Liv!" said Uncle Jack tersely. "Must you always mistake my meaning? What I mean to say is, quite simply, that you most probably have spoiled my chance with the Kingsleys for renewal of the Allerton contract! As I've told you time and time again, Mr. Kingsley is their representative in the matter, and the question has come up recently about-"
"Oh dear, really!" protested Aunt Liv, "must you talk shop twenty-four hours a day! Good Lord!" She looked away haughtily, and it was quite clear that she was annoyed. "If you've no concern for me, you might at least think of our guest-spare her the boredom of such affairs!"
"Yes, of course," said Uncle Jack, turning his attention to Candy, "I'm afraid we've been neglecting you, my dear." He gave her slender hand a little pat. "What about another drink?"
"Oh no," said Candy, a bit dazed by it all, "I simply couldn't. I think I'd better get back to the hospital and see if Daddy needs anything."
"Right," said Uncle Jack, "well, one for the raod, and we're off."
In the car, it was decided that they would drop Aunt Livia at home and then Uncle Jack would drive Candy back to the hospital.
When they reached the hospital, Jack said:
"I'll just come up with you for a minute to see how he's getting along."
"What about Aunt Livia?" asked Candy, rather petulantly, "I mean, won't she be waiting for you at home?"
Uncle Jack didn't answer at once.
"I imagine you find Liv rather trying at times, don't you, my dear?" he said then instead.
"Well, I don't know how you can bear it sometimes," admitted Candy, "she doesn't seem to understand you at all... your needs, and... and..."
"Quite right," said Jack, reaching into the glove compartment and taking out a flask; "I could do with a bracer before seeing your father," he said. "Here, you'd better have one yourself."
"Oh no," said Candy. "I couldn't."
"Right," said Uncle Jack, having another. "Good girl!" He gave her a little kiss on the cheek. This pleased Candy, for they had not been very affectionate together since his marriage to Livia. And, in fact, Candy was a little jealous. "Well, I'll just take this flask along in case," he added, "better safe than sorry, I've always said."
It was quite dark when they reached Mr. Christian's room, but they found him just as they had left him, half sitting up, staring straight ahead.
There was only one chair in the room, so Candy sat on that and her Uncle Jack sat on the floor, leaning on one elbow, taking occasional sips from his flask.
They sat without speaking for a long time, but finally Uncle Jack put his head down on the floor and dozed off. When Candy noticed, she came down beside him and tried to wake him up, gently, saying:
"Uncle Jack! Uncle Jack! You mustn't go to sleep here, on the floor, you'll take cold."
He stirred, reaching out to her with one arm.
"Oh, let me just be here a moment," he said, "Liv never lets me sleep."
"Be here with me, sweetheart," he said. It was the first time he had used the old name he had always called her before his marriage, and it almost brought tears to Candy's eyes.
"Oh you poor darling," she murmured, pressing close to him.
"Yes, give me your warmth," he said mournfully, "how I need your warmth! Liv is so cold."
"Oh my poor darling," said Candy as he nestled his head between her breasts and pressed her closer.
"Give me your true warmth," he said, raising her sweater and her brassiere and taking her breast in his mouth.
In the lamplight her Uncle Jack's face was exactly like that of her father's, a fact which could hardly have escaped Candy as she watched him, nursing, stroking his head and sighing, "Oh my poor darling, oh my poor baby."
Meanwhile Uncle Jack's hands were not idle, but had found their way beneath her skirt and along her legs into the damp.
"Give me all your true warmth," he said, one hand fondling her tiny clitoris, the other pulling down her sweet little pants.
"All my true warmth," breathed Candy, "oh how you need my warmth, my baby," and she lay very still while he undressed her and them himself; but when he thrust himself into her, forgetting her taut hymen, the girl cried out, and apparently this was overheard by the nurse in the corridor-because she rushed in at that moment, flinging the door open wide and shrieking in horror at the sight of these two, stark naked, hunching wildly half beneath the sick bed.
"Good God!" she screamed. "Have you no shame! Have you no shame!"
A husky woman, quite six feet tall and heavily built, the nurse threw herself against the pair who were writhing in oblivion.
"Good God!" she kept shouting, "Good God!" And through her raging strength and the tumultuous abandon of the lovers, the bed overturned, and all four-the fourth being Mr. Christian himself-were sprawling together in a heap.
"Good Grief!" cried Candy, in genuine alarm, "It's Daddy! IT'S DADDY!"
The confusion was compounded by the fact that the bedclothes and mattress had tumbled on top of the group-all, that is, except Mr. Christian, who had scrambled clear at the last instant.
He stood now, smiling benevolently, and regarded the mattress as it heaved and bumped about wildly, with now a foot, now a muffled exclamation escaping from beneath...
It would have been difficult to determine what he thought of this unusual spectacle; but surely some idea formed in his disabled mind for, after a few seconds, he went and gathered up the clothes of Uncle Jack, which lay strewn about the room, and then opened the door and disappeared into the corridor.
A moment later Candy herself emerged, panting, and pink with humiliation. She had but one idea-to run, to fly from this ignonimous situation before it continued a second longer.
She had her skirt and sweater on in a jiffy. 'Never!' she thought, slipping out the doorway. 'No, never!... It couldn't... it simply never could have happened!'
The mattress went on plunging up and down for a time and then, propelled by a particularly severe jolt, flew off to the side. Beneath the sheets and blankets though, the struggle continued as furiously as ever. The reason for this was that Uncle Jack, half-buried in the bedding, had somehow fastened on to the nurse, thinking she was Candy.
"Your WARMTH!" he cried, unaware of his fatal error. "GIVE ME YOUR WARMTH!" Gripped tightly between his legs he held the nurse's upper arm which, because of its corpulence, he took to be Candy's thigh. "NOW! NOW GIVE ME ALL YOUR WARMTH!" he gasped as he strove through the final ineffable seconds of his ecstasy.
Powerful as she was, the big woman could not dislodge her arm from that viselike clamp. She did, however, manage to catch hold of a metallic object which was on the floor (a bedpan) with her free arm and, by dint of crashing it repeatedly and hysterically on the head of her ravisher she finally succeeded-the straining muscles of Uncle Jack's legs suddenly went slack and let her go.
Once she had gotten to her feet the nurse quickly regained her professional efficiency. She righted the bed, replaced the mattress and bedding, and then, with a lusty heave, she lifted Uncle Jack-not doubting for a moment that he was Mr. Christian-set him in it and put his nightgown back on.
Having tidied up and satisfied her sense of order, she paused and looked about the room. She was not at all sure what had happened... surely there had been a girl fornicating with-with the patient... but where was she?
One thing was certain: the patient's head was bleeding and would have to be dressed immediately. She sighed heavily and gave a last, brief glance to her assailant before going to get the gauze and antiseptic.
Though unconscious, his smile-the same sweet smile as before-fashioned his mouth and illumined his face angelically.