Complete Unknown Read online

  “Oh.”

  “He knocked me up and now he doesn’t want nothing to do with me,” she said and wiped her eyes. “But isn’t that the way it always happens?”

  I was aghast. I think it showed on my face because Carmen narrowed her eyes at me, then turned away.

  “It ain’t that bad,” she muttered, smoking.

  “God, I’m sorry.”

  “What’s it to you?” she snapped, turning back to me.

  “I just feel bad for you, that’s all,” I said. “What a jerk to do that to you! How terrible for you. I’m sorry, Carmen.”

  “You’re sorry? Why? You want something from me, too?”

  I was taken aback. “No, I don’t. You asked me to drive you here.”

  “Yeah, that I did,” she said and finished off her drink. “I should have stayed home. Married some asshole and died there.”

  “What are you going to do?” I asked, feeling really bad for her.

  She shrugged. “Well I can’t be an actress now, can I? With a big belly and all? No one would want me looking like that. They barely want me now.”

  “I don’t know…” I started but didn’t finish. I just didn’t know what to say to her, how to take her. She was a little abrasive and I was a little taken aback at the way she talked to me. Of course, looking back, I know she was in a lot of pain then and overwhelmed at the prospect of having a baby. Just so you’ll know, women didn’t do things like that back then; there weren’t many never married mothers, even in Hollywood. It just wasn’t proper for women to just to have a baby on their own and care for it. They were ridiculed, called whores, treated very badly for such things. Of course, the men who got them pregnant didn’t get treated like that at all. It is a very good thing that times have changed where this is concerned.

  “Oh, you know,” she said.

  I sat back, not knowing what to say.

  “I got no money; I got no place to live. On top of that, I’m knocked up. I am the most miserable person on earth.”

  “I’m sorry, Carmen,” I said.

  She bit her bottom lip, then yelled at the bartender, “We’re ready for those drinks now!”

  He nodded and in a minute, slid them on the table. I smiled and thanked him. Carmen didn’t. She merely picked up her bourbon and knocked it back. She looked down at her cigarette, which was burnt down to the tip. She flicked it into the ashtray and put her head in her hands. (It’s odd, but back then women didn’t worry about smoking or drinking while pregnant, though now it seems unimaginable.)

  “I didn’t think it was going to be like this,” she said, then her head shot up. “You know, I won a beauty contest. That’s why I came here in the first place. The prize was a Hollywood screen-test. I thought, why not? A free trip and all that? Everyone said I should do it. Everyone said I should be an actress. I think they were just setting me up to fail or something.”

  “Oh, don’t say that,” I said and squeezed her hand. “You’ll make it, Carmen.”

  “They say that to all the girls, don’t they?” she asked and smiled bitterly. “That son of bitch who knocked me up said that exact same thing. Too bad he’s married. And he lied about being a producer, too. Son of a bitch.”

  I cringed.

  “Yeah,” she said. “I didn’t know until I told him he got me pregnant. Then, all of sudden, he’s married and there’s no way he’s leaving his wife. They want you until they do that and then after, they can’t even stand to be near you. Why are they like that?”

  “I don’t know,” I said. “It’s just the way some people are.”

  “It’s the way men are,” she said and got up, walked to the bar and took another cigarette from the bartender. He lit it for her and then she came back over and sat down. “Yeah, men are bastards. And my mama warned me about them, too. She told me to keep my legs closed, she did. She didn’t do anything else for me, but she did tell me about men. Too bad I didn’t listen.”

  “It’ll get better,” I said, hoping to make her feel better.

  “Ha!” she scoffed. “How? I have nothing. Nothing! Maybe I wanted that bastard to knock me up so he’d take care of me or something. God! I wished I’d known he was married. Why didn’t he tell me he was married?”

  “They never do,” I said.

  “I’ve had a lot of men who’ve wanted me,” she said and took a puff off the cigarette. “A lot of men. But I thought he was cute. Didn’t you think he was cute?”

  “No,” I said. “Especially not after I saw the way he treated you.”

  “Oh, he didn’t always treat me like that,” she said, her Southern accent coming out strong. “He was real good to me at first. Took me out to nice dinners, bought me a few nice dresses. Even promised to buy me a car.”

  I nodded, not knowing what to say.

  “But all that stopped when I got this little surprise,” she said and smoked her cigarette. “Men are bastards.” She glanced over at the bartender, then back at me.

  “They’re not all bad,” I said, thinking about my father.

  “The ones I’ve met are,” she said. “I guess you got better luck than me.”

  I shrugged. I didn’t know if I did or not.

  “The son of a bitch. He was gonna help me, you know, he was gonna help me get somewhere, do something. Yeah, right. The prick works as a sound man or something. He told me he was a producer. How was I to know he was lying? He’s got some studio stationary in his car, you know? I’ve seen the stuff, it impressed me. I didn’t know he stole it.”

  “Oh,” I said, feeling very uncomfortable.

  She looked at me. “Well, I guess it’s time to go home now.”

  “Don’t do that.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because,” I said. “You’re here. You’ve gotten farther than a lot of other people. You can make it.”

  “Not with a baby I won’t, I can’t,” she said. “And especially not without a place to live, I can’t. I’ll have to go back home to Tennessee and tell my mother I’m knocked up so she can beat the shit out of me the way she always does. God! I don’t want to go home.”

  I felt so bad for her then. Life had beaten her, it had beaten her down. It was so unfair to Carmen and I felt bad about having it so good when she had it so bad. Maybe that’s why I said what I said next. Maybe I said it because I couldn’t stand to see her so miserable. I said, “You can stay with me.”

  “With you?”

  I nodded. “Yeah. I share a house with Herbert McCloud. He’s a director.”

  “Don’t he… Go with men?” she asked, rather coarsely.

  I cringed again and said, “Yeah, so?”

  She shrugged. “What are you doin’ livin’ with a man like that?”

  “He’s my best friend.”

  “Oh, really?” she asked, one eyebrow up. Her personality seemed to change and she became a little hostile.

  “Yes, really,” I said, getting peeved at anyone speaking of Herbert like that. “Look, I was just trying to be nice.”

  “Sure you were,” she said. “You go that way, too?”

  I had to bite my tongue. She was really beginning to infuriate me. “No,” I said evenly. “I do not.”

  She studied me. “I know about you. I asked around. You used to go out with Vic Martin, but he dumped you. At least that’s what I heard.”

  “Yes, that’s true,” I said, wondering where this mean streak of hers was coming from.

  “Why you being so nice to me?” she asked.

  “Look, don’t take me up on my offer, I don’t care,” I said. “I just feel bad for you and I know everyone needs help from time to time. We have a nice, little house with three bedrooms. Herbert uses one for his office but it has a bed in it, too. Take it or leave it. I don’t care. You asked me for help, remember? That’s why we’re here when I should be at work. Tomorrow I’ll get yelled at for leaving early. Because of you.”

  She stared at me, my hars
h words rolling around in her head, then nodded slowly. “I’m sorry. I’m just mean sometimes.”

  “I understand,” I said. “You’re dealing with a lot right now.” Her bad attitude didn’t really bother me at all, as my mother, at one time, had been mad all the time. I was used to it.

  “I’m sorry I’m acting like this,” she said and started to cry quietly. “I just don’t know what to do.”

  I patted her hand. “It’ll be okay.”

  “No! No, it won’t! I’m knocked up!”

  The bartender glanced at us. He looked away.

  “Come on,” I said. “Let’s get out of here.”

  “To where?”

  “I’ll let you stay at my house for a few days,” I said. “If you like. If not, I can get you a room at a nice hotel. Then you can figure it out.”

  “Why are you being so nice?” she asked again.

  “Why are you so suspicious of me?” I asked and sighed. Fine. If this was the way she was going to be, fine. I certainly wasn’t going to beg her to let me help her. To hell with that.

  “You know why,” she said. “I ain’t met many nice people out here. The ones who are nice are usually the ones who want something from you and usually that something ain’t nice. I can’t apologize for feeling that way because that’s all I’ve known out here.”

  I nodded that I understood. Even so, I was getting really fed up with her.

  “I won’t come home with you,” she said. “But I wouldn’t mind you buying me some supper.”

  “Fine,” I said. “Let’s go.”

  We went to a diner a few blocks away. Carmen didn’t say much but she did order an enormous plate of food. I just had coffee as I wasn’t all that hungry.

  When her food arrived, she began to devour it in a way only people who are very hungry do. She didn’t stop until she was about half-finished, only then to take a drink of soda. She kept eating. I could tell she hadn’t had a decent meal in a while and that made me feel even worse. Here I was a semi-spoiled brat and here she was a lonely, deprived poor young woman. I knew I’d have to help her. I couldn’t turn my back on her then. Not after the way I saw her eat that food. The thought of her going hungry, along with the baby inside her, nearly killed me.

  She glanced up at me. “What are you looking at?”

  I looked away quickly. “Nothing.”

  “Ain’t you ever seen nobody eat before?”

  “Of course I have,” I said and tried to smile at her. She was being very confrontational again; it was very off-putting. Even so, I tried to be kind. I just kept thinking about her baby. That’s probably the reason I was trying to help her, to be honest.

  “Oh?”

  “Look, I’ve been hungry, too, you know?” I said. “I know what it feels like.”

  “You?” she scoffed. “Please.”

  I just stared at her and she went back to eating.

  “Yeah, you might have been hungry, but it’s been a while, ain’t it?” she said and took a long sip of her drink.

  I remembered my childhood, just before my mother met Randolph Peterson. Those were bleak days. We’d get up, Mother would fix us a fried cornmeal pie and we’d each have a tiny glass of milk. Then we’d go to school. By lunchtime, my stomach would be in knots it was so empty. There were a lot of days Mother couldn’t pack us a lunch and we’d go hungry, all while watching the other children eat. On those days, when we’d get home, she’d smile at us sadly and ask how school was. The other kids would make fun of us, called us poor white trash. The teachers pitied us and a few even brought us an apple or a piece of cheese from time to time. But most days, we went without. So, therefore, I very much resented her comment. I knew what hunger felt like.

  “Listen, you can sit there and be judgmental of me all you like,” I said. “But I have been hungry and I know back then I would have loved to have what you’re eating there. So, don’t sit there and treat me like I’m some prissy rich bitch.”

  She sat up taller and said, “I’m sorry. You should know yourself that being hungry makes you mean.”

  I nodded. “I do.”

  She smiled. “I’m sorry, Cadence. I didn’t mean to make you mad at me.”

  “I’m not mad,” I said. “You just have to learn that sometimes you have to trust people. This is one of those times, Carmen. You can trust me if you like and if you don’t want to, it’s no skin off my nose.”

  She nodded and finished eating. Then she motioned for the waitress and asked her for a cigarette. The waitress told her they had a machine in the back. She said thanks. I fished into my purse and pulled out some change. She stared at the money, then at me.

  “Go on,” I said. “Take it.”

  “God, I hate this,” she said. “One day, I’ll pay you back, Cadence. I just hate handouts, you know?”

  I knew. It was pride, that foolish emotion. Pride gets in the way of many things. I knew it was standing in her way. It wouldn’t let her rest or be who she was. Pride, it seems, is the one thing that many poor people have in abundance.

  “Stop being so prideful,” I said. “And start calling me Caddy.”

  She smiled at me and took the money and went for her cigarettes. She came back with a pack and some matches. She handed me the change.

  “Keep it,” I said.

  “Okay,” she said and slid into the booth. “Caddy.”

  I smiled at her. She lit a cigarette, pushed the pack over to me. “Here,” she said. “Let me be a bad influence on you.”

  We cracked up and I lit a cigarette and we sat there smiling to ourselves as we smoked.

  “My mother didn’t want me to come here,” she said and took a drag of the cigarette.

  “Why?”

  “When I told her I was coming out here, she beat the living hell out of me. She told me this was the devil’s town, that it was bad. Trouble is, she was one hundred percent right.”

  “You think it’s bad?” I asked.

  “Yeah, I do.”

  “Why?”

  “They’ll eat you alive, then spit you out,” she said and sighed. “I’m a hick, I know that. I had these… What do they call them? Delusions of grandeur. Someone told me that one day and I had to ask what it meant. I felt so stupid. First step off the bus and some guy wants to take pictures of me. That makes me real happy, you know. Sure, why not? It’s just when we get back to his apartment that I realize these aren’t the kind of pictures you can send back home.”

  I didn’t know what to say, so I just said, “You’re not a hick.”

  She nodded. “Yeah, I am. So what? At least I’m not heartless, though I wouldn’t mind beating the hell out of that son of a bitch who knocked me up.”

  “Oh?”

  “The bastard,” she said, shaking her head.

  “Who is he?”

  “His name’s Evan Sanders.”

  “He won’t help you?” I asked.

  “Are you kidding? When I told him, he called me a fucking whore. You know, it’s okay when they’re doing it to you if you’re a whore or a slut, but when they have to stand up and be a man, it’s not.”

  “I know what you mean.”

  She nodded and lit another cigarette with the one she was still smoking. “I mean, fine. Fuck me and toss me to the side. Fine. But don’t make out like you weren’t even in the room when the baby was conceived. He could at least own up to it.”

  “But he won’t,” I said. “That might entail him taking some responsibility.”

  “Ain’t that the truth?” she said and grumbled. “Bastard. How could I have been so stupid?”

  I shrugged. “Men can be very convincing when they want something and they’ll do what they have to do to get it. My mother told me that. She was right. She always warned me about men, always told me that I, as a woman, really had the power. Men pretend they do, but they don’t. That’s why they always try to take it from us and manipulate us. They get us so turned around
we start to believe it, too. That’s why we have to aware of it. When you’re aware, you won’t fall victim to it.”

  She eyed me. “I wish I knew your mother before all of this,” she said. “Jesus, she’s a smart woman, ain’t she?”

  I smiled and thought about my mother, who lived in Beverly Hills with her new husband, a producer named Carl Clinton. She and Carl had recently taken up traveling and had been all over the world, even to India. I said, “Yes, and she can make any man do anything she wants.”

  She smiled a little. “I get it. I get that. But, yeah, I know that now about men,” she said. “I had to get a little beat up before I would believe it, but I know it now. I won’t ever let another one do something like this to me again.”

  I nodded.

  “And you know what? There’s this guy back home who told me he’d take care of me, said he’d give me anything I wanted if I’d just marry him. And you know what? I would have been smart to do that. I’d been bored my whole life, but I’d be on easy street. Ain’t nothing in this world for women anyway except for dicks and pricks.”

  I burst out laughing. She was a bit too much.

  “What is it?” she asked.

  “Listen to you,” I said. “I could write a whole script about you! Oh, good Lord! I know I shouldn’t laugh but if I didn’t laugh, Carmen, I’d cry.”

  She stared at me and cracked up. “I know! It’s like I’m making it all up, ain’t it? It’s that bad!”

  We laughed, wiping at her eyes.

  “But, I wanted more and look where it got me.” She pointed at the empty plate. “That’s the first real meal I’ve had in weeks. Weeks! I’ve been living off candy bars. Put that in your script, baby!”

  “Where have you been sleeping?”

  “I was staying at a hotel, but I couldn’t pay the bill so they kicked me out yesterday.”

  “Where did you sleep last night?”

  She looked away and her face went red with embarrassment. “I’d rather not discuss it, Caddy, if that’s alright.”

  I stared at her, at her flushed face and said, “You’re coming home with me and I don’t care what you say.”

  She turned to me. “I just said that because I thought you really didn’t want to do it, but felt like you had to or something.”