Winning is Everything (41 page)

“Naw,” said Ellenor. “Just too silly an idea.”

“It’s not!” Kip insisted. “Look! You said you were desperate to get out of Audrey’s, didn’t you? Well, here’s your opportunity. Come on!”

“Tell you what,” said Ellenor. “I think I’d be willing, if it’s okay with you, to move in for … say … a month. That way I’ll get out of Audrey’s hair, you can get some rent money, and we can both have the month to make other arrangements—you to replace me, me to find another place. How’s that?”

“Sister …” Kip put out his hand to shake Ellenor’s. “You got yourself a whole month of roommates.”

And so Ellenor gave in to her vulnerability and packed her quilts, her large casserole dishes, her cookie sheets, her sewing equipment, her knitting needles, and moved in with Gary and Kip.

They all got along beautifully, for a perfectly good reason: they hardly ever saw one another.

Gary was spending most of his time, when he wasn’t at work, down in the Village at Nora’s. Kip was working nights at Joe Allen’s and was busy during the days going to open audition calls, and Ellenor was downtown in her shop.

Whenever Ellenor was in the apartment, she’d be baking sugarless cookies or making homemade granola or macrame flowerpot holders, or sitting in a corner in a lotus position, meditating. And Kip was always kidding her, because he said she’d become a semi-hippie, and she always ribbed him about his pursuit of material success, because if he were a true thespian, he’d be doing something constructive with his time, like acting for free at some place like the experimental Living Theater or the La Mama Company, rather than trying to become the next Paul Newman.

Whenever they were home together, though, they had a good time. They laughed a lot, played cards, or just sat around watching the tube. And they each found themselves enjoying the other’s company more and more all the time.

They were, strange as it seemed, becoming good friends.

As weeks passed, Kip kept wanting to get closer to Ellenor. He knew she had been crazy about him when they were at the World’s Fair, so he was confused as to why, every time he moved in to make a pass or got ready to take her in his arms for a hug or to try to kiss her, she always pulled away or changed the subject. He was mad for this new Ellenor, and in his sleep he dreamed about playing with her terrific tits, and not a day went by when he didn’t curse himself for not having slept with her years ago when he most assuredly had the opportunity.

One Sunday, as Ellenor was leaving for a stop-the-war rally and Kip was off to serve lunch at Joe Allen’s, he asked her, just before she ran out the door, if she perhaps would like to take in a movie that evening.

Ellenor told Kip she thought it sounded like a super idea, said she’d probably see him later, and then, after pinning on her “Make Love, Not War” button, hurried from the apartment.

Kip returned from Joe Allen’s a little before six, sat down in front of the tube with a bottle of Miller’s, and waited for Ellenor to return from her rally. She never showed up.

Where is she? he wondered. Surely she knows we have a date. She’s been hit by a cop, hit by a nightstick, hit by a taxi. Where the hell is she?

Kip spent most of the night staring at the front door, having no idea why he was so concerned as he waited for it to open. He finally fell asleep on the couch in the living room, drifting in and out of semiconsciousness as the all-night movies on Channel 11 went from shoot-’em-up western to thirties musical to detective drama to shoot-’em-up western.

At 10:45 the following morning, the front door opened at last and Ellenor strolled into the living room.

“Where the fuck have you been?” Kip demanded.

“The daffodils are blooming in Washington Square Park,” said Ellenor, walking over to the living-room window.

“Are you all right?” asked Kip.

“’Course I’m all right,” said Ellenor. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Because you’ve been out all night. You had me sick with worry. I thought for sure there was a riot at the rally and that you were smacked over the head with a billy club.”

“Such a vivid imagination!” said Ellenor. “You should apply that to your acting technique.”

“In case you don’t recall”—Kip took a step toward Ellenor—”we had a date!”

“Who, we?”

“We, we,”
said Kip.

“Don’t be silly,” said Ellenor. “We said maybe.”

“Sure seemed definite to me!” said Kip.

“And it sure seemed tentative to me,” said Ellenor. “What are you getting so steamed up about, anyway?”

“What were you doing?” asked Kip. “I want to know just what was so damned important it took precedence over our date. Huh?”

“We didn’t have a date,” Ellenor insisted. “We had a ‘See you later, perhaps.’”

“Fine, then!” said Kip. “Would you mind telling me what was so damned important you couldn’t take the time to make a phone call to tell me you weren’t coming home?”

“I don’t believe this!” said Ellenor, and she turned on her heel and headed for the kitchen to make some coffee. “I never even got this kind of grilling from my
mother!”

“Well, maybe you should have!” said Kip, following her. “Maybe you could have profited from a little thoughtfulness!”

“Thoughtfulness?” Ellenor whirled on Kip. “Who are you to tell me about thoughtfulness? I’m a grown woman. I make my own living. I pay my own share of the rent. I go and do as I please, and I do not expect this kind of third degree whenever I choose not to come home.” Ellenor lifted the canister of coffee and began measuring out large spoonfuls.

“You got a lot of nerve!” Kip said as he removed two coffee mugs from the cupboard. “You’re not even grateful someone spent some time worrying about you!”

“I didn’t say I wasn’t grateful for the attention,” claimed Ellenor. “I said I didn’t care for the scrutiny!”

“Scrutiny?”
Kip raised his voice. “Screw you, sister! I was goddamn worried, that’s all!”

“Well, don’t be!” Ellenor raised her voice in return. “I can take care of myself!”

“Really?” Kip tapped impatient fingers against the kitchen counter. “Well, then, just where the hell were you? I think I have a right to know.”

“Fair enough,” said Ellenor. “I ran into Warren at the rally and he wanted to talk about some unfinished business, so we left for a local tavern and had a few drinks.”

“Warren?” Kip asked with disdain. “Who the hell is Warren?”

“Don’t you ever pay attention?” asked Ellenor. “Warren was my boyfriend, remember?—the fellow I was living with the past three years until we broke up last month.”

“Warren!” Kip raised his voice again. “What kind of name is that for a boyfriend?”

“I’m afraid it was the only one he had,” said Ellenor.

“You mean you just walked out of the rally?” asked Kip.

“Yes,” said Ellenor. “It was almost over anyway.”

“Well, Miss Stop-the-War, so much for
your
political commitment! You walk out on an antiwar rally, probably at the very moment CBS was counting heads!”

“Kip, you’re getting a little bananas, you know that?” said Ellenor. “I ran into Warren. He felt there were some loose ends still untied about our relationship, and he wanted to talk. Period.”

“Until eleven o’clock the following morning?” asked Kip.

“I really don’t believe this!”

“Neither do I,” said Kip. “Maybe I am a little crazy. But I was worried. You think you can just walk out of the apartment and galavant around town, screwing the night away with a has-been lover, and not let me know you’re okay? I think that’s downright rude!”

“Wait a minute, wait a minute!” Ellenor pounded the top of the kitchen counter. “I moved in here with the understanding that it would be for a month, right? One month while I looked for another place and you guys looked for another roommate. This is not a dormitory. I do not have to sign in and sign out. I can go and do as I damn well please, and sleep where and with whom I wish! Do I make myself clear?”

Kip took another step toward Ellenor and there was suddenly such intense fury in his eyes, she was actually frightened.

“Forgive me,” she said, moving backward until her body was flush against the kitchen sink. “You are the—”

Ellenor didn’t get a chance to finish what she was about to say, because Kip suddenly reached forward and, without another word, took Ellenor in his arms and kissed her right in the center of her mouth.

Ellenor couldn’t figure out what was going on. It had taken her all these years to get over Kip, and yet here she was once again being set up to be let down.

“I’m going to have to move out,” she said quietly when at last their lips parted.

“You’re not going anywhere,” said Kip, as again he brought his lips down to meet hers.

They stood in the kitchen for a long, long while.

“Hey,” Ellenor finally whispered. “The coffee’s ready.”

“Good,” said Kip. “So am I.”

He took her hand and led her into his bedroom.

Ellenor realized the moment of truth had finally arrived, and so she closed her eyes, wished herself luck, and opened her heart to all the feelings Kip might be capable of transmitting. Slowly she unbuttoned the buttons along the front of his shirt. Then she placed her hands against his chest, eased herself away from him and lifted her T-shirt over her head, and stood there in the flesh-colored Gernreich bra that was holding up her ample well-formed breasts.

Slowly she placed her hands behind her back and undid the snap. Then she slipped her shoulders out of the bra and let it fall to the floor.

Kip looked at her in the full light of the morning sun. “You’re beautiful,” he said softly as he looked at her standing there, lovely and enticing.

Ellenor went to him and he kissed her again. He brought her to him and rubbed the small of her back. Then he eased her down on the bed, hardly able to contain his passion, and slowly, carefully, moved a hand down from her neck to her breast.

She hugged him close to her with all the passion from all the years she’d fantasized doing just that, and he continued kissing her, fondling her, arousing her, and soon they were making love, and Ellenor was praying that this man, whom she’d loved for so very long, would still be interested in her once his passion had peaked.

It seemed he would. For the rest of the day they stayed in bed and Kip acted as if he couldn’t get enough of her body or her mind. He kept asking why she had finally gotten thin.

“I was always overweight,” she told him. “Always falling for attractive boys who wouldn’t give me the time of day. Then, when I got to the World’s Fair, I fell in love with a fellow I hardly knew named Kip Bramer and was ready to do anything at all to attract him.”

“You got thin just because of me?”

“Not entirely,” said Ellenor. “I thought perhaps if the next time Mr. Right came along, if I were thin I might at least have a chance of attracting him before subjecting myself to another broken heart.

“It was then I decided to bid farewell to all my baby fat. I had my hair cut by a pro up at Kenneth’s. I sat in on a ‘How to Make Up Your Face’ session at Bloomingdale’s. As you see, I was determined to look like a real New Yorker.”

“The difference is incredible.” Kip smiled and again took Ellenor in his arms.

“You’re terrific!” Ellenor whispered in his ear. “I’ve always thought so.”

Kip squeezed Ellenor tightly. “Let me tell you something, Ellenor Robinson. I think you’re pretty terrific, too.”

83 

The first month of Ellenor’s stay in the apartment was over before she or Kip realized, and he had to practically beg her not to take down her quilts and move out. He had done nothing about finding a new roommate to replace her, and she had no ideas about another apartment to which she might move.

So the quilts remained on the wall and Kip and Ellenor remained in bed. His career was going nowhere anyway, and Audrey was being kind enough to watch the quilt shop whenever Ellenor called in to say she couldn’t come in to work.

The next six weeks seemed like a honeymoon to Ellenor. She had never been so much in love, never been so happy, never had spent so much time doing nothing but making love.

One morning, however, as they sat around the kitchen table, Ellenor decided enough was enough.

“Hell!” She slapped the table with an open hand. “I can’t monopolize you anymore!” she announced. “You’re just too good not to share. I’ve decided we’ve been poor long enough, and you’ve gone unnoticed too long. I’m going to get your career started.”

“My career,” Kip contended, “is at a standstill. John Wilkes Booth would have a better crack at nailing down a part than me.”

“It’s not going to be handed to you, you know,” said Ellenor. “You don’t get a Tony just for showing up at the ceremony. The thing that separates those who make it from those who don’t is, those who make it keep trying even when they get discouraged.”

“I’ll try to remember that next time I’m one of six thousand actors auditioning for a toilet-paper commercial.”

“Damn right!” said Ellenor. “We’re going to get you there, buster. You haven’t seen me in action yet.” She grinned and took Kip’s hand under the table.

An hour and a half later, after they’d made love again, Ellenor sat down at the telephone and started calling friends and acquaintances, asking them what
their
actor friends were doing and wondering what
her
actor friend might do to get his career going.

Kip told Ellenor he thought she was being very sweet, but it was obvious no good could come from such scattered telephone brain-picking.

Undaunted, Ellenor placed call after call, and sure enough, after several wild-goose chases, she finally spoke to a friend of a friend of a relative who told her how to go about arranging for an interview with the Wynn Handman workshop, which was part of the prestigious American Place Theater.

Kip was one of several hundred prospective hopefuls who met with Wynn Handman personally to ask if he could join the popular drama coach’s scene-study class.

Handman took an immediate liking to Kip, thought he had something special to offer in his physical magnetism, and although Kip was far less experienced, had far fewer credits than other actors who were seeking entry, gave him a place in the class.

Handman was an accomplished teacher who emphasized the positive in everyone’s performance. He sought out the best that was within his students and made them get rid of their bad habits.

Class consisted of actors being assigned scenes from plays, having them rehearse on their own, and then, when ready, having them perform for the rest of the class. Once the scene was completed, Handman would make comments and then ask for suggestions from the class. Taking the comments into consideration, the actors would then spend a few more days re-rehearsing before coming back and performing the scene all over again.

It was a slow process, and at first Kip, as usual, could not get over his stage fright. But Handman was patient and supportive, and as Kip got to know the other students, he also began to grow less nervous when he performed.

In several months’ time, Kip could actually get through a scene without a squeaky voice, and with control, and soon, even command.

Sure enough, as Ellenor found out when she went over lines with him, helping him rehearse, Kip was—finally—learning how to act.

“How would you like to go to a party?” Ellenor asked Kip as she walked into the apartment carrying the mail one evening.

“What kind of party?” asked Kip, looking up from the
Times.

“An April Fool party a customer of mine is throwing,” answered Ellenor as she handed Kip the invitation she’d just received.

Kip shrugged his ambivalence.

“I think we should go,” Ellenor stated. “The hostess is one of my better customers. She recently bought a dozen quilts for each bed in her summer home on Nantucket. I think it would be good for business, and who knows, it just might be fun.”

“Fine with me,” said Kip, grabbing hold of Ellenor’s left hand and pulling her onto his lap.

“Look,” she said. “It says ‘Dress: Anything Goes!’ You think maybe we should go dressed as Easter bunnies or something?”

“I don’t think so,” said Kip, looking at the address on the invitation. “These people live in Gramercy Park. Very ritzy. If we walk in sporting bunny ears and tails and everyone is sitting around in their stockbroker tweeds, it could be awfully embarrassing. Better to play it safe.”

Kip and Ellenor looked very attractive indeed as they walked into the plush lobby at 20 Gramercy Park. “Is my hair okay?” asked Ellenor, even as she checked herself in the elevator mirror.

“You’ look fine,” Kip told her.

“You don’t think we’ll be dressed wrong?”

“Stop worrying,” said Kip. “No one will care.”

“Whatever you say.” Ellenor sighed. “But I do believe we might have been more adventurous.”

“Relax,” said Kip. “These people may be good customers, but they’re not the last word.”

“It’s not the customers I’m worried about,” said Ellenor. “It’s you.”

“Me?”
Kip raised his voice. “What the hell for?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” claimed Ellenor. “It just struck me that you have very little sense of improvisation. You never do anything impulsive. Maybe we’d be further along in your career by now if you were just a little more spur-of-the-moment.”

“Spur-of-the-moment!” Kip couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

“You’re just not crazy enough to be a real artist,” said Ellenor.

“Not crazy enough! As it happens, there are more bananas in my family tree than in all of Central America!”

“Ha!” cried Ellenor as the elevator door opened and she stepped directly into the hallway of a huge apartment.

They were greeted by a butler.

Ellenor began to remove her coat while Kip took two steps forward and saw, around the bend in the living room, a lively group of more than fifty people—all of whom were in costume! Monsters and ballerinas and prizefighters and flappers, one costume more lavish than the next.

“Omigod!” Kip muttered under his breath.

“What is it, dear?” Ellenor asked from the door.

Kip spun around, walked over to the doorway, where he forcefully stopped Ellenor from taking off her coat. “Come with me!” he insisted, taking a firm hold of her hand.

“We’ll be right back!” Kip told the man standing at the doorway waiting for their coats, as he pulled Ellenor into the first guest bedroom, where he locked the door behind him.

“Just what are you—?”

“Take off your clothes!” Kip demanded.

“I beg your pardon!”

“You heard me! Take off your clothes. Hurry!”

“I don’t understand,” said Ellenor, clearly confused.

“Will you just do as I say, please? We haven’t got time for a question-and-answer period!” Kip unstrung his necktie, began removing his sport jacket.

“But I don’t—”

“Turn around!” Kip insisted, even as he grabbed Ellenor’s shoulders and turned her in place. He practically yanked her coat off and then slid down the zipper of her dress.

Three minutes later, Kip and Ellenor entered the party. She was wearing his size-twelve shoes, his charcoal-gray woolen trousers, his light blue button-down shirt, his colorful tie, and his tweed sport jacket.

Kip, on the other hand, was looking slightly less than lovely, wearing no shoes, dark hose, Ellenor’s basic black dress (the zipper of which was completely unzipped to facilitate his wide shoulders), and Ellenor’s earrings.

The hostess, herself humorously dressed as a crocodile, came from the other side of the living room to greet them.

“Are you sure we should—?” Ellenor started to say.

“Don’t you
ever”
Kip interrupted her, “talk to me about craziness!”