By Myself and Then Some (68 page)

Kennedy Center Honors – with Charlton Heston, Edward Villella, Bob Dylan, President Clinton and Jessye Norman, 1997

Kirk Douglas crushing me at the Deauville Film Festival – Diamonds, 1999

With Alexander Cohen on the opening night of
Waiting in the Wings
, December 1999

With Lars Von Trier on the
Doguille
set, 2002

With my son Steve at the
Birth
premiere, 2004

Nicole Kidman et moi at the New York premiere of
Birth
, 2004

The three endless days went by and Jason left. He hadn’t had a drink. I enjoyed him like that – I mean I really liked him. But I couldn’t live with him anymore. I reviewed much of our life together. It was clear that I had always wanted it more than he had; that I had taken on something I didn’t understand; that many of the times had been good, many rotten; that I was sadder for Sam more than for me; and that if I’d listened to Katie, I would have had five more years in the sun. I was relieved when Jason went. I could do as I pleased, go where I pleased, no excuses to make.

I called home before leaving the Coast to make certain that Jason had moved out. He had not – couldn’t find a place. I said he had to be out when we arrived, I couldn’t go through that with Sam. Again I was fierce about it. Once the step had been taken, it had to be followed through. I should have been prepared for the fact that Jason wouldn’t be prepared for the final step.

Sam was used to not being with Jason on a regular basis, but the fact of his not living at home even part-time would be a high hurdle. I told him on the trip back that Daddy would probably not be at home. That Daddy loved him very much, but sometimes grown-ups have to stop living together. That Daddy and I had decided to try living in different apartments. That he would still see his father, that he could talk to him whenever he wanted to – like Jady, David, and Sarah. I wanted so much for Sam never to have a sad or insecure day. Jason and I agreed on that – that he was the only one of our children who was not screwed up due to childhood traumas, and we wanted to keep him that way. He was an open, loving child – it was marvelous to have a child who was not afraid to show love or talk about it.

Sam heard what I said, of course, but he didn’t accept it.

I turned the key in the lock – opened the front door to what I thought was an empty apartment – only to find Jason walking toward me. I was furious, but couldn’t say anything with Sam there. Sam rushed to his daddy, joyous at the sight of him.

The last few weeks of Jason’s being at home were most peculiar. Here we had decided to end our marriage, but he still hadn’t moved out, so we were sharing the same bedroom. All very civilized. I went out on my own – not with men, but with friends. He came home every night. The contradictory quality of our life was spellbinding. When I’d wanted him home, he wasn’t; now that I was going out, not caring what he did, he was there. I wasn’t thrilled with having to insist, but I was not willing to have this limbo go on and on. Jason did try to explain to Sam, much as I had, why the decision had been made. He would be in a play on Broadway, so within easy reach.

I had to prepare Sam’s school for possible erratic behavior, and I talked to Sam’s pediatrician (a wise, understanding man) about it. He felt it would be a good thing for Sam, if he had difficulty, to talk to a doctor. ‘Better now than when he’s seventeen.’

Mother’s reaction to the separation was full of understanding. She was fond of Jason, in spite of her awareness of my unhappiness. One day she would say, ‘It’s all for the best.’ The next, ‘Sam will miss him,’ and ‘I’d think twice if I were you, Betty, he’s very attractive, you know, there aren’t many as attractive as he is.’ Like her, I knew the pluses and the minuses. But so many times I’d been left alone to make our decisions, I might as well be single. Was it pattern or destiny having to bring up three children alone? And the constant pull between work and home – it is simple for some, but not for this kid!

Sam was happy at Collegiate, but he began to show signs of rebellious behavior. I tried talking him into going to the doctor, just to talk about anything he chose. He was remarkable for his seven years – very decisive. He couldn’t be forced to do anything. Threats didn’t work, deprivation of pleasure didn’t work. He was his own person, and I admired him for it. He finally consented to go to the doctor. Fascinating to see a child psychiatrist at work, as I was allowed to do on the first visit. The child was turned loose in a room full of toys, and as he played, the doctor would casually ask questions that were not casual.

At our first Christmas without Jason, I had arranged with him to come up during the day to see Sam. Jason made the appearance, but
emptyhanded. Sam had a gift for his father, so did Leslie, but Father had nothing. I’ll never forget how one Sunday Jason joined Sam and me at a Chinese restaurant and Sam said, ‘Why, Daddy? Why didn’t you bring a present on Christmas Day?’ Jason gave some feeble answer, but Sam wouldn’t let him off the hook. He really cornered him. He couldn’t understand it, and he wanted an answer. I’d never seen a child so openly put a parent on the spot, and I thought it terrific that he could do it, that he so clearly had the upper hand, and in a way was more mature than his father.

Mother and Lee became regular Sunday visitors and often came to dinner during the week. Sam would unfailingly say, ‘Don’t go home, Granny – why can’t you stay? Are you staying for dinner?’ He really made her feel wanted – ‘He has heart,’ she would say. He did and does – had and has always been an open person – he hadn’t learned to protect himself at an early age as his brother and sister had had to do.

I started the New Year looking for a divorce lawyer. It was unknown territory to me – I had never thought I would be in that position. I was planning to make no unreasonable demands on Jason, I wanted it handled simply and undramatically. My friend, Joan Axelrod, found me a lawyer, and Jason had his, but he was doing nothing about it. Finally I got up the nerve to call him about it – not easy, but he was very nice on the phone, sensible, agreeable. If we’d been able to communicate that well from the beginning, we would have stayed together forever. After this conversation I was filled with doubt – almost considered not going through with it – though in my deepest heart I was certain it would be the best solution for us all. With my tendency to romanticize, I even thought that the divorce might bring us closer together. It was harder to let go, even being the instigator of the split, than I had thought it would be. And painful. There’s no way to forget the good things – the promise of a life shared. And no way not to feel some sense of your own failure.

At least I felt that it was honorably done – that Jason would have a chance at a free life for the first time. The lesson of Bogie I had finally put into practice: in the face of inevitable, terrible happenings, how much better to hold on to one’s character and hurt others as little as possible. The straight road. My only prayer was that, somehow, Sam could benefit. If we remained honest with him, he might be better able to cope with his life in the long haul.

The year would be a tough one. Jason was going to Rome after some work in Nevada. He hadn’t spoken to Sam for months, and I was running out of excuses, but kept assuring Sam that when his father returned to New York he would surely see him. Sam always accepted the fact that separations from his father due to work were enforced rather than deliberate. Then I learned, after the fact, that Jason had been in New York without calling Sam. I was livid – called my lawyer, who in turn called Jason’s, who’d also been unaware of Jason’s visit. But Jason had told his accountant to go ahead with the divorce settlement. Sam had been fairly calm, but the impact had not yet fully reached him. I desperately hoped for Sam’s sake that his father would break his pattern and not rush into another marriage – a pipe dream on my part, and I knew it, but I was still a great one for hoping. Damn careful I would be before leaping into another relationship. I’d done it once before for the wrong reasons – never again, I vowed. But the amazing thing about life, I’ve finally discovered, is that you really don’t learn from past mistakes. You do logically, reasonably, but emotionally not for a second. Whether through stupidity, or my old habit of romanticizing and dreaming, I kept thinking, ‘You never know what’s just around the corner. It’s been there once – twice – it has to be there again!’ I was always ready for a bright, fresh start, and I didn’t mean to waste one more minute. Patience was still not my strong suit.

M
other went into the hospital
for pulmonary edema – she had been hospitalized for this before. Three weeks after she was released, she went in again. Each time it happened in the middle of the night. She would be so frightened – thank God the doctor was always available, and the hospital only five minutes away. She was advised as an extra precaution to keep a portable oxygen tank in the apartment. Oxygen was security. I spent a lot of time driving back and forth to be with her. Mother, the children, the divorce – a lot to occupy me, but, alas, none of it work.

Then, out of nowhere, I was approached about a musical version of
All About Eve
, to be produced by Joe Kipness and Lawrence Kasha, with a score by Charles Strouse and Lee Adams. The book was being written; nothing else was set.