Where are we? Hal Roach asks. And don’t bullshit me.
– The Mae business is under control. The Ruth business is under control. The Myrtle business is under control. What more can I tell you? The wheels of justice are turning. ‘Though the mills of God grind slowly, yet they grind exceeding small.’
– What the hell is that?
– That’s Longfellow.
– And how many wives did Longfellow have?
– Two, but I believe Longfellow waited until the first one died before marrying the second.
– Then what the hell does Longfellow know?
Hal Roach hangs up.
On the set of Way Out West, he explains to James Horne how it’s going to work. He and Babe have been practicing. The music cues are ready. The routines are clear in his head, and soon they will be reproduced on the screen. James Horne does not argue. James Horne senses that these bits of business, these simple, elegant gags, have some importance for his stars that cannot adequately be explained to another.
Let them sing. Let them dance.
There will be beauty.
When you’re ready, says James Horne, we’ll begin.
So they begin.
And it is beautiful.
Roger Marchetti steps in.
Ruth has retained Myrtle’s attorney to act on her behalf.
Roger Marchetti, Mr Thousand-Dollars-A-Month.
He and Babe are both being persecuted by the same man.
Madelyn steps in.
Ben Shipman believes that Hal Roach may be about to have a stroke.
Another wife? Hal Roach says, although Hal Roach says it very loudly.
Ben Shipman holds the phone away from his ear. Ben Shipman knows a man with only one functioning eardrum. This man regularly falls off the sidewalk, and Ben Shipman does not wish to fall off sidewalks.
Madelyn Saloshin is Babe’s first wife, explains Ben Shipman, once Hal Roach has calmed down. She’s turned up in New York, demanding fifteen years of alimony at thirty dollars a week. She claims to have made Babe the man Babe is.
– Well, she ought to keep that quiet. How does Babe feel about this?
– Aggrieved.
– What are you going to do to rectify the situation?
– I guess we’re going to pay her to go away.
– Then make it fast. And by the way, you promised me: no more wives.
– That was the other fellow. I made no claims for Babe.
– Spoken like a true lawyer. Whatever you’re being paid, it’s not enough.
Funny, says Ben Shipman, that’s what I tell them when it comes to their contracts with you.
Babe has long known about Madelyn. Madelyn drifts through the backdrop of his life. Babe sees Madelyn’s name on gramophone records. Babe swears that the sound of Madelyn’s fingers on piano keys is identifiable to him even when the record label does not credit her.
Once, while in New York, Babe hears Madelyn on the radio, accompanying a tenor named Prince Piotti. Prince Piotti sings songs with titles such as ‘Where’d You Get Those Eyes’, ‘Love Is Just A Little Bit of Heaven’, and ‘If You Can’t Tell The World She’s A Good Little Girl Just Say Nothing At All’. On the Saturday that Charles Lindbergh lands in Paris, Prince Piotti sings ‘Lucky Lindy’ every half hour on WMCA in New York, which Babe regards as tantamount to torture.
Babe cannot stand Prince Piotti.
Madelyn still uses his surname. Madelyn remains Madelyn Hardy.
Babe cannot stand this either.
The twin echoes of his life and Babe’s grow louder. Madelyn is broke, just as Mae is broke. Madelyn uses a name that is no longer hers, just as Mae uses a name to which only he has a legal entitlement. Babe fucks Viola Morse, just as he fucks Alyce Ardell.
These patterns within patterns.
These infinite permutations of pain.
He and Babe meet for a quiet drink in a hotel bar. The manager curtains off a section to ensure their privacy, although only after they consent to a photograph, and sign a menu.
I am starting to believe, Babe says, that your existence and mine are like two balls of string that have become entangled, and now I cannot tell one from the other.
– If we didn’t look so different, we could step into each other’s lives, and give each other a break.
He slurs the words. He is slurring a lot of words lately. If he had the energy, and had not drunk so much, he might have called Alyce Ardell to arrange to fuck her. Instead, he is here with Babe.
It is as it should be.
I spoke to Ben, Babe says.
– Every time I speak to Ben, it costs me money.
– Ben is worried about you.
– And you?
– I’m worried about you as well.
– Well, that makes three of us. Four, including the two versions of you I now see before me. I may have had one glass too many. Maybe more than one.
His life is slipping away from him. His best pictures are behind him. His best marriage is behind him.
And the fury. Jesus, the fury.
He stands.
Where are you going? Babe asks.
– Out. Away.
Babe does not try to stop him. He lays a hand on Babe’s shoulder.
I’m sorry, he says.
145
He wakes beside Alyce Ardell. His mouth tastes sour. He has no memory of how he came to be with her, or of what they might have done together. It cannot have been much, he supposes, because he is still dressed in his underwear.
Alyce Ardell is smoking a cigarette. Alyce Ardell is not looking at him. Alyce Ardell is staring at a patch of moisture on the wall.
You smell bad, says Alyce Ardell.
She passes the cigarette to him. He smokes it, and retches.
You have to stop this, she tells him.
– Stop what? Stop coming to you?
– You know what I mean.
– Maybe I should just have married you.
– Do I look that dumb?
No, he thinks, Alyce Ardell does not look that dumb.
Alyce Ardell climbs from the bed. She is naked.
He reaches for her, but she is already gone.
146
He is a vespertine creature, a being of light and shade. He tilts and rises according to the ailerons of his moods.
His eyes are very blue. The intensity of their color surprises those who meet him for the first time. They know him only as a gray man, a flickering in the dark.
He thinks those eyes are why he can so often pass unrecognized on the street.
He thinks those eyes are why women want to fuck him.
147
Babe calls to wish him a merry Christmas, but he can barely bring himself to speak.
He holds in his hands the interlocutory decree turning another marriage to ash.
He should be with his daughter.
He should be with Lois.
He cannot be alone.
148
Ruth stands before him. Her clothes are haphazardly packed. They spill like afterthoughts from her case. She asks: – Why did you do this to me?
This is what he has done: He has taken Ruth to New York.
He has promised a reconciliation.
He has fucked Ruth, over and over.
And he has cast Ruth aside once more.
Why do you hate me? Ruth asks, just as she asked him once before.
He is dizzied by repetition.