No Lifeguard on Duty: The Accidental Life of the World's First Supermodel (38 page)

I sang her a James Taylor song, fighting the tears. We used to love listening to James Taylor. A nurse entered the room as I finished. She said I had to go, visiting hours were over. I could come back the following morning.

But there was no following morning. The following

morning she was dead.

RETURN OF THE

RAT BASTARD

(((((((((((((((((((((((((((((

I was in a funk for weeks. Paralyzed by depression. At first, Simon didn’t know what to do with me, but suddenly he was too busy to worry about it. He got a green light to produce his first feature:
Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles.
We would be shooting in Wilmington, North Carolina, so he sent someone down to find us a home for the duration.

It was hot in Wilmington. Early summer and already the mosquitoes were out in full force. Simon was stressed and Nathan was a little colicky and we’d bought a little puppy that peed everywhere. You’d look at him and he’d pee. Call his name and he’d pee. “Here boy!” and he’d pee double.

My mother phoned. She wanted to visit. She had never been on a real live movie set. I told her real live movie sets were arguably the most boring places on earth. Nothing happens. People sit around for hours, most of them with their thumbs up their asses, getting ready for a shot. Then they do the shot. And they do it again. And again. From every conceivable angle. And before long you know the lines better than the actors. And you can’t get them out of your head.

“A mutant ninja turtle ate my baby!”

I sent her a ticket and went to the airport to get her. She got off the plane. Ray was with her. My jaw dropped. I

288 J A N I C E D I C K I N S O N

couldn’t believe she’d brought him. I’d only sent one ticket.

“Hi, honey,” she said. She was all excited. She had a new crucifix. It was huge. It reminded me of the nurse at St. Mary’s. The crucifix was like a weapon. I noticed an ugly bruise on her neck, below her ear, but I didn’t say anything. “Say hello to your daddy,” she said.

I looked at the rat bastard, and he looked at me. But there was nothing in his eyes. He was a zombie, a shell of his former self. It was still Ray, of course, but he shuffled along as if he’d been lobotomized. He didn’t know who I was. He didn’t even say hello. There was no one home.

We got to the car. “Give me the keys,” Ray said, the first words out of his mouth. I froze. Even his voice had changed. It was flat, but still venomous and angry. “I want to drive.”

My mother looked at

me and shook her head

no.

Ray looked furious,

like he was going to

come at her, but suddenly he went red in

the face and stumbled

against the car. She

reached into her purse

and pulled out a lit-

MY FATHER WITH

DEBBIE IN THE

BATHROOM OF OUR

CHILDHOOD HOME.

ªªªªªªªªªªª

N O L I F E G UA R D O N D U T Y 289

tle vial of pills and he grabbed for it like a starving man and swallowed one without water. They were for his heart.

Calmer now, frightened, Ray got into the backseat.

Mom got in front with me.

“So how have you been, dear?” she asked me.

“Great,” I said. “You?”

“Wonderful,” she said.

With the scare over, Ray began grumbling and cursing under his breath. I couldn’t make out the words, but he was not a happy camper.

It was late by the time we got to the house. Mom

wanted to see Nathan but he was asleep and I didn’t want to wake him. He’d been having trouble sleeping lately. I told her she’d see him in the morning.

I offered them something to eat, but Mom said they’d had dinner on the plane and thank you but they were fine.

Maybe a glass of milk for Dad’s stomach. “Give me the keys,” Ray croaked. “I want to drive.”

The fucking guy was gone. Mom tried to drag him into the guest room and he punched her right in the face. My mouth fell open. Mom acted like it had never happened and smiled at me and scurried off down the hallway, dragging him along. She shut the guest room door behind them.

Still trying to process what I’d just seen, I went to look in on Nathan. My little towhead was asleep. The nanny had fallen asleep, too. Simon was still on the set. They were on a tight schedule, and it was going later and later every night. I went into the kitchen and poured myself a glass of chardonnay.
The fucking rat bastard was sleeping under
my roof.
I couldn’t believe it. I walked into the living room and the puppy scurried away, peeing itself.

I heard a noise in the corridor. Mom came out. She’d removed her makeup. She was still a beautiful woman, but 290 J A N I C E D I C K I N S O N

I could see the dark circles under her eyes, and bruises on her face and neck.

“I’m sorry about your father,” she said.

“
You’re
sorry?” I said. “How much longer are you going to take this? He should be locked up.”

“He’s just having a bad day.”

The puppy came over and nuzzled my hand. There was

another noise in the corridor. Ray came out in his boxer shorts. “What are you doing out here?” he hissed at Mom.

Then he looked at me. “Who the fuck are you?”

“Ray, dear, please go back to bed,” my mother said.

Ray saw the dog. He kicked it hard and it scampered away, whimpering.

“What the fuck did you do that for?” I shouted.

The nanny came out, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. I told her to please go back to Nathan’s room and to stay with Nathan and not to come out under any circumstances.

“I want the keys to the car and I want them now!” Ray bellowed.

I went to the phone and called the set, but nobody could find Simon.

“Give me the fucking keys or I’ll kill you!” Ray was shouting. “I want to drive.”

I called the police. I told them my father was beating my mother.

“Is he beating her now?” the cop asked.

“No,” I said. I was trying to be honest.

“Then we can’t come,” the officer said.

There was a vase next to the phone. I picked it up and threw it against the wall and it smashed. The cop heard it.

“How’s that?” I said.

“Is he hitting her?” he asked again.

“He’s having a fucking heart attack!” I lied.

N O L I F E G UA R D O N D U T Y 291

An ambulance was there within minutes. They sent two cops along as back up, expecting trouble, I guess. I got the front door for the paramedics, and when Ray saw them he began cursing at the top of his voice. Then one of the cops walked in and he turned into a meek little mouse.

“How’re you feeling, sir?” one of the paramedics asked.

Fear got the better of him. “Leave me alone! There’s nothing wrong with me!”

They could see they weren’t dealing with a well man.

They tried to talk him into going to the hospital with them, but eventually had to remove him bodily. When they got him into the ambulance, they had to use restraints to keep him in place.

I called Simon and left word that there was an emergency, and that we were on our way to the hospital. I told Mom to stay in the house; I would deal with this. She gave me his pills and told me not to forget them—his life depended on them.

I followed the ambulance in the car. I remember looking down at the vial of pills . . . then suddenly found myself rolling down the window and tossing them onto the highway. We got to the hospital in Wilmington, but there was no sign of Simon. They wheeled my father in, strapped to the gurney. His eyes were wide and frightened. I loved it.

The doctor asked me what was wrong with him. “He’s

insane,” I said.

“What do you want me to do with him?” he asked.

“Ice him,” I said. I was out of my head by this time. It was all coming back. All the years of pain and abuse.

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me. I want this motherfucker dead. Finish him off.”

Simon arrived. I didn’t see him come in. I leaned over 292 J A N I C E D I C K I N S O N

the gurney and looked into Ray’s eyes. And here’s what I said: “Die, motherfucker! Die, you fucking pig! I hate you!”

Two orderlies restrained me. A third wheeled the gurney out of sight. “I hate you, you motherfucker! Do the world a favor and die!”

Simon was at my side now. I’ve never seen him more

alarmed. One of the orderlies gave me a tranquilizer, which I took without protest. I calmed down a bit. Simon held both my hands in his, then another nurse came over.

“Does your father have any medical condition we

should know about?” she asked.

I looked her in the eye. “Well, you know, he’s

demented.” I said. “And not just from the Alzheimer’s.”

“He has Alzheimer’s?” she asked.

“That’s what I’ve been told,” I said. The tranquilizer was beginning to kick in.

“Anything else?”

“No,” I lied. “He’s healthy as a horse.”

Simon drove me back to the house. I was asleep before we got back. He carried me to bed.

It was almost noon when I woke up. My mother was in the kitchen with Simon. They were having coffee. I said good morning and poured myself a cup. We just sat there, not knowing what to say. Then the phone rang. Simon reached for it. It was the hospital. He listened. He said,

“Uh huh, uh huh” a few times, followed by “I understand, certainly,” then “Thank you. I’ll call you right back.” He hung up and had trouble meeting my eyes.

“What?” I said.

“I have some bad news,” he said. “Ray passed away a few minutes ago. He had a heart attack.”

I thought I would feel like cheering, but I didn’t. I didn’t N O L I F E G UA R D O N D U T Y 293

cheer. I didn’t say anything. Mom buried her face in her hands and wept.

Debbie and Alexis flew down. We had him cremated

right there in Wilmington; it was easier than shipping him back to Florida. I didn’t go to the service. Debbie and Alexis and Mom hired a small boat and scattered his ashes at sea.

“It’s what your father always wanted,” Mom told me

when they got back. They were all sitting around looking bereaved. I thought I was in the middle of a nightmare.

“Are you guys out of your fucking minds?” I said. “We should be celebrating. I can’t believe you’re acting like he was this great guy, like we had this great normal life or something.”

Debbie got really pissed. She thought I was way out of line. Then I realized she didn’t really know what had gone on in that house of horrors. Alexis knew, but she was a new person now. She had been transformed by self-help. She had worked through it. She’d met a wonderful new man who taught grade school in Long Island, and they were talking about having children. She was moving on with her life.

“I’ve forgiven him,” she said.

“Well, good for you,” I said. I stormed out of the house and walked around till long after everyone had gone to bed.

I kept hoping a wave of relief would wash over me, but there was no relief. I began to wonder if there ever would be.

BETTER

LIVING THROUGH

CHEMISTRY

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When we got back to L.A., I decided to get serious about therapy. I went to see a shrink in Los Angeles. He told me I’d never processed what had happened to me as a child, and that until I did so I’d just keep looking for men with whom I could reenact the early abuse.

I told him he was crazy. “Why would I want to be

abused?” I said. “I want to be loved.”

“But you don’t think you’re lovable,” he said.

“I don’t?”

“No,” he said. “You see yourself as your father saw you.

You see yourself as hateful and worthless.”

“But these men love me!” I protested. “Simon loves

me.”

“That may well be,” he said. “But you don’t believe it.

Not deep down. So you test their love. You misbehave. You push and push until they explode at you, the same way your father did.”

“Why would I want to make them do a thing like that?”

I asked.

“Because it’s what you know. It’s
familiar.
”

“I don’t understand this at all.”

N O L I F E G UA R D O N D U T Y 295

“It’s really quite simple,” he went on. “Once you’ve turned Simon into your father, you try to win him back. In winning him back, you think you’re undoing the damage that was done to you as a child. You’re saying, ‘See, Dad?

You were wrong! I’m
not
worthless. I’m good and wonderful and lovable.’ Only Simon and these other men aren’t your father. The damage you suffered has nothing to do with them. The damage is inside you. Only you can fix it.

Not them.”

My head was spinning. I left his office with a brutal migraine and a prescription for Ativan, some kind of antianxiety medication. I drove home and tried to think about what he had told me, but it made me anxious. I’d been a lot happier in denial.

Then I got the prescription filled, and I instantly was less anxious. It was great. I didn’t feel like thinking anymore.

I went back for a few more sessions, but I wasn’t there to explore my sordid history. I was there for the drugs. I asked for stronger drugs, and he gave them to me. He even threw a little Lithium in for good measure.