The Complete Collection. William Wharton
Leboyer method; that’s the Birth Without Violence Frenchman. What would the world be like if people could all be born with a minimum of trauma; come into this world feeling wanted and holding on to some memory of the pre-birth state? Maybe people wouldn’t be so afraid of dying if they remembered what it was not to be born yet. I’m convinced a good part of the world’s troubles are built around death fears.
We use my folks’ car; it’s more comfortable than Marty’s old Toyota. We roll down Wilshire to Santa Monica, then south toward Venice. We tour around looking for ‘FOR RENT’ signs. We’d like to avoid an agent if possible. Marty’s paying two hundred where she’s living and they can go up to two fifty or even three hundred for the right kind of place.
After asking at a few houses where the renters are still living, then telephoning some other numbers which turn out to be agents, we’re beginning to get discouraged. Everything is either too small, has no yard or won’t take children.
About three o’clock, I suggest we have a glass of wine and some cheese at Suzanne’s restaurant on the boardwalk; Marty’s never been there. Suzanne comes to our table. Suzanne remembers me from painting and sits with us. She won’t drink any wine but has a cup of herb tea. I tell her our problem. She’s all turned on about Marty being pregnant.
Suzanne asks Pap, the transvestite dishwasher, if Gerry Lynn has rented her place yet. Pap doesn’t know but has the phone number. Suzanne says she’ll phone.
Marty turns to me.
‘She’s so nice, Dad. Why is she being so nice when she doesn’t even know us?’
It brings back what Dad said; almost the same words.
I’m still in a daze. I can’t put together the timid, shy man who came down here on the motorcycle, the life-defying vegetable in the hospital, and now Jake, out there building himself a one-man, one-hole miniature golf course.
Suzanne comes back. She has fine, brown, lithe arms and legs, softly covered by a thin cotton blouse, no bra, wrap-around skirt and sandals. She also has thin feet and long toes. Some of these natural children-people can be a reminder of how humans are meant to be.
‘Gerry says she hasn’t promised the place and knows the landlord wants to rent again soon. The rent’s two thirty. The trouble is she won’t be moving out for another month. She’s there now if you want to go over. Here’s the address.’
She hands Marty a small card.
The house is five blocks in from the beach, and we can’t believe it. This is an old-fashioned, wooden, one-story place with overhanging roofs and gables. Most houses around here are stucco.
Even more impressive, there’s a sequoia redwood in the front yard. It completely dwarfs everything, so the house looks like something from a fairy tale.
We’re trying to figure the unlocking mechanism on the gate when a woman comes to the door. She has a baby on her hip and a three-year-old hanging on to her jeans.
‘Wait a minute; I’ll get that.’
She skips down the two steps on the porch and untangles the hook and chain.
‘You must be the people Suzanne called about.’
Marty’s staring at the house.
‘I love your place; it’s like a house in Germany, not Californian at all.’
‘Well, come on in and look around.’
She turns and walks back up the steps; nice firm ass tightly held in by jeans. Having women take up jeans must be one of the main events of the twentieth century.
The door opens directly into a living room with two big windows. There’s a wide arch separating living and dining room. In back is a large kitchen leading onto a service porch and a backyard. The right side is two bedrooms in line going back, with a bathroom between. The backyard’s small, enclosed by bushes and a wall. Marty’s entranced.
‘What a wonderful house you have here, Gerry.’
‘If you like it, it’s yours. I’m leaving next month. The rent’s paid up.’
She shows us around outside. I do some checking for termites, foundation sag or roof leaks, the real problems a house can have. Gerry serves us apple juice and honey cake. Marty calls Gary at work; he’s coming right over.
When Gary comes, he and Marty check everything again. It’s fun watching them. They seem like such babes compared to Gerry. Gerry and I sit in the living room; she asks if I’m still married. I tell about Vron, Billy, Jacky and living in Paris. While we’re talking, she puts the baby on her breast.
I’m torn between watching the baby nurse and embarrassing Gerry. I love seeing a baby’s rosy face when it’s sucking on a warm, turgid tit.
‘It’s all right; you can look; I don’t mind.’
Marty and Gary come back. They’ve decided to take the place. Gary calls the owner and makes an appointment. Gerry takes the baby off her breast. A pearl of thin milk forms on top her nipple before she drops her T-shirt over it.
‘You can move your stuff into the garage whenever you want. Let me know if I can help.’
We say goodbye and walk to where we’ve parked. Gary gets in his car and goes back to work.
Marty and I drive to my parents’.
They’re on the patio sunning. Marty hasn’t seen Dad since his resurrection and I’ve tried to prepare her. The beard is the part she can’t believe but I keep telling her that’s the least of it. Marty kisses Mom and goes over to Dad. He puckers up and kisses her on the lips.
‘My goodness, Martha, you’ve certainly grown into a lovely woman, a blonde version of your mother.’
Marty leans back, pleased, confused by this kind of talk from a normally quiet, timid man.
‘Thanks, Grandpa. That’s the way I’d like to be, like Mom.’
Mother pushes up on one elbow to turn her face out of the sun.
‘That’s certainly a pretty dress you’re wearing, Martha, those colors are perfect for you.’
Dad peers and smiles his pirate smile.
‘But what are you hiding under that dress, Martha? A football?’
Mom giggles nervously.
‘Don’t mind him, Martha. He’s awful these days.’
Dad pushes himself to his feet, goes over and kisses Marty again. He puts his hand on her stomach.
‘Just think what’s in there, Bette, another member of our family, somebody we don’t even know yet, a blend of you and me, Gary and his parents, Johnny and Vron, Vron’s parents. We’re all in there, another new layer being formed.’
He kisses Marty again.
‘Thank you, little granddaughter, it’s the best present in the world.’
Marty breaks out crying. She’s a tender, emotional person and isn’t accustomed to such open expression, such clear feelings; none of us are. Mom has tears in her eyes
‘Don’t be afraid, Martha; it’s the biggest experience a woman can ever have and I’m sure you’ll make a wonderful mother.’
Marty leans over Mom and shares a soft kiss and hug.
‘OK, everybody, it’s time to break out the champagne. Is there beer in the refrigerator?’
We all try getting the conversation running at a less charged level. We tell about the new house in Venice. Marty mentions how she wants to have the baby by natural birth, mentions Birth Without Violence. Mother’s convinced it’s all nonsense and dangerous.
‘You’ll see, Martha. When you start having hard labor pains, you’ll want a shot. I can tell you.’