572
THALIA SELZ
David, spilling the secret of all creation from the cornucopia
of your womb! Van der Goes, they say, ended his days as. a
monk in a madhouse--oh mad in that monkeyhouse--of course
I stand and stand to stare and muse, why do I love it? where
does it hurt so? whom have I seen him become before? It isn't
till now, jerking suddenly up on my mattress of geraniums and
cuckoo-clocks that I remember and am ashamed for the cruel,
casual, protective loss of memory that denies us our intensest
experiences so that we can go on living.
There was already some slight, subtle footwork between
my mother and me on the subject of the boxes.
My father only said, "What th'hell! Let her take him as
he is. She's only a woman, isn't she? Good brood mare!"
But we knew better. Their third meeting was a date, so
there wasn't any danger then. He took her to see
The Garden of
Allah,
and I suppose Vasiliki thenceforward incorporated Die–
trich into her rogue's gallery for the composite model: the ironic
queen never really possessed, even in the final close-up caress.
Joshua came home, contemplated the autographed still of
Charles Boyer I had tacked over my own fretted couch, and
said cryptically,
"Wait and see."
Then he said,
"If
you like, Vasiliki will get you all the
photos of stars you want. For free. From the movie where she
works."
Greedy little beast Daphne! It was clear what she was up
to, but I grabbed at my bribe with delight. Pride and personal
autographs to the winds! What I hungered for were pieces of
Hollywood dream-cake to nibble on. I was only twelve and I
didn't hesitate for an instant to toss away the ruby so I could
take the glass chip to dream on.
There followed in quick succession a book for my mother,
a toy watch for Jason (she favored watches), and two packs of
the best Turkish cigarettes for my father. Vasiliki had almost
no extra spending money so she had to buy shrewdly, and she
