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  She studied me and nodded slightly. “Okay. I’ll think about it.”

  I stared at her, considering her sincerity. She was lying, I could tell, but there wasn’t anything I could do about it.

  “I’ll wait and see,” she said. “Geez! You’re too serious, Caddy!”

  But, of course, she did what she wanted to do and, in the end, she ended up having the abortion. I did try to talk her out of it, giving her as many options as I could think of. But even as I talked, I knew none of the options were very appealing to her. Carmen knew that, too. It was a harsh reality for both of us and I sometimes wondered what I would have done if I were in her shoes. I never approved of her actions and told her so. But she wouldn’t be swayed. Her mind was made up and one morning she left early in a cab and came home late that night in another. I still wouldn’t talk to her. I was letting her live with us, as Herbert now wouldn’t let me kick her out, but I didn’t look at her if I didn’t have to.

  I don’t know where she got the money, nor do I know where she went to get the procedure done. Back then, abortions were illegal and very brutal. I can only imagine what they did to her. I try not to think about it at all.

  The night she did it, I had trouble sleeping and tossed and turned into early morning. I was tired from overworking and needed a day off. I wanted a day at the beach, just to myself. I just needed to get away from it all. I needed some time alone. The next day, I thought I’d call in sick and just relax.

  I got up and went to the bathroom, pushed the door open and, my God, the scene was horrific. The floor was covered in blood and Carmen was passed out cold. She was pale, almost gray. I feared she was dead.

  “Herbert!” I screamed. “Herbert!”

  He came running, then stopped short when he saw her. “Oh, God! What happened?”

  I wanted to hit him. I hissed, “You know what happened! She’s been butchered, that’s what!”

  “Like I can’t see that! I didn’t want her to do this either! I begged her not to do this!” he exclaimed and bent down and took her head in his hands. “Carmen? Carmen?”

  She didn’t stir.

  “Come on,” I said. “We have to get her to a hospital!”

  He shook his head. “No, we can’t.”

  “What?!”

  “If we take her to a hospital, they’ll ask what happened! Use your head!”

  Unfortunately, he was right. If we took her, we risked nosey cops and a big mess. It would affect all of our reputations. Things like that were always kept quiet and if they ever got out, the people involved paid dearly, even if they didn’t have anything to do with it.

  “Go call Marty,” Herbert said. “He’s a doctor.”

  “He’s a podiatrist!” I said, shaking my head.

  “He’s the only doctor I know! Go call him!”

  I called Marty, a friend of ours, who said, sleepily, that he’d be over shortly. I hung up and rushed back into the bathroom, staring at Carmen and wondering how I could have let this happen. I should have tied her to a chair so she couldn’t have left or something. I should have done something to help her. I should have stopped her. But you don’t stop someone like Carmen. You just get out of their way.

  “Did you call him?” Herbert asked.

  I nodded. “What do we do now?”

  “Go into her room, strip the bed and lay down a bunch of towels. We’ll take her in there and wait for him.”

  I did as I was told and by the time I was finished, Marty had arrived, wearing pajamas and carrying a black doctor’s bag.

  “Thanks for coming,” I said at the front door. “She’s in here.”

  He followed me into the bedroom. She was in the middle of the bed, passed out and still covered in blood.

  “Is she—” he started, then turned on his heel, raced out of the room and I heard him throw up. He came back in a matter of seconds, then froze, staring at me. “Caddy, I don’t know what to do.”

  “Do something!” I screamed.

  He stared at Carmen and approached the bed apprehensively. “I’ve seen worse, you know, as an intern, but… Well, I was never by myself like this.”

  I nodded.

  “Caddy,” he said. “Help me…uncover her.”

  We pulled off her blood-soaked night gown and she lay there naked. I so wanted to cover her. Herbert stepped over and laid a towel across her chest.

  “Okay,” he said. “She had an abortion, right? So, that means she’s probably got some internal bleeding.” He glanced at us. “I’ll have to examine her.”

  Herbert and I started out the room.

  “No, don’t leave,” he said. “I might need you.”

  We turned back around and while he examined her, we stared at the wall.

  “I’d be willing to bet that they didn’t use any anesthesia,” he said. “So that’s probably why she’s passed out, due to the pain. It also looks like there’s…” He stopped talking and looked like he was about to throw up.

  “What?” I asked.

  “It looks like they didn’t finish the job!” he snapped. “They probably gave her something to drink, to induce the labor, then sent her home, without actually performing the abortion. Some of them do that.”

  “But she was gone all day,” Herbert said.

  “I don’t know! It doesn’t start automatically, I don’t think.”

  “So, is she in labor now?” Herbert asked.

  “I think so,” he said, looking paler by the moment. “What we have to do is… We’ll have to do a procedure to… You know, fix the problem.”

  “What sort of procedure?” I asked.

  “To put it in layman’s terms, we have to scrape her out.”

  It sounded very painful, and still does. At hearing that, I almost threw up myself.

  “If we don’t, an infection could set up and poison her entire system,” he said.

  “Then let’s do it,” I said, surprising myself.

  “I don’t have the proper tools.”

  “You can use what you have.”

  “I can’t,” he said. “Let me call my friend Dr. Byron. He’s a gynecologist. He can help us.”

  He left the room. Herbert and I leaned on each other, staring over at her. She looked so pitiful. I got a blanket and covered her with it.

  Marty came back in. “We’re going to meet him at his office. He’ll do the procedure there.”

  I breathed a sigh of relief. We prepared her by cleaning her up then wrapping her in the blanket. Herbert and Marty gently carried her to the car and put her in the backseat. All three of us got into the front seat and Herbert drove like a bat out of hell all the way to Dr. Byron’s office.

  The doctor was waiting on us. He ran out to assist us, then he and Marty went inside one of his rooms and they didn’t come out for a long time.

  Marty finally came out and told us she was going to be fine. Dr. Byron had successfully performed the procedure and in a little while, we could put her back in the car and take her home.

  “She can’t move for a few days,” he said. “And she’ll need some medication as well. Caddy, can I count on you to watch over her? Make sure she gets her medicine?”

  I nodded. I had no intention otherwise.

  Well, dear that does it for now. I will write more later. I hope this did not upset you as such. It was a terrible event, but she pulled through with speed and vigor. She was very resilient.

  With warmest regards and kindest wishes,

  Ms. C.V. Weeks

  * * * * *

  August 12th

  Dearest Marabel,

  So, where were we?

  After the abortion, I took some time off work to help Carmen get better. She was very weak at first and very sick.

  I’ve noticed that something happens to you when you take care of someone. Something happens to that person you’re taking care of, too. You become close, so very close. There are no words to describe it, really. Bu
t true compassion and true loyalty come into play.

  It was during this time that I realized how special Carmen was. Though she was weak, she wanted to be up and about. Though she was sick, she insisted on listening to loud music. I would sit by her bed and she’d drill me for hours about all things in my life from the number of lovers I’d had, to how often I went out to clubs, to what were my favorite foods. She wanted to know everything about me and then she’d tell me everything about herself. She was very open and honest, too, never leaving out a detail.

  It took her about a month before she was better. She complained constantly about being “kept up” and wanted more than anything to go out.

  “When I’m better, can we go someplace nice to eat?” she’d ask.

  “Of course we can.”

  “Great! I want to go someplace where all the movie stars go, like Chasen’s.”

  “That sounds good.”

  She grinned. “I’ve never been to a place like that. Is it nice?”

  I had to smile at her because she pronounced “nice” like “nahce” and that reminded me so much of back home that I felt a pang in my heart from it, from missing my old home. I said, “It’s okay.”

  “I bet it’s better than okay.”

  “Yeah,” I said. I really didn’t much care for those types of restaurants. I preferred to go to little Italian places where candles burned on the tables and opera music played. I wasn’t one of those people who liked to see and be seen.

  “Can I wear your blue dress?” she asked.

  “Sure.”

  “God, you are so nice to me, Caddy,” she said and stared into my eyes. “Why are you being so nice to me? What did I do to deserve it?”

  She would always ask this from time to time, I think just to test me, and I was getting a little tired of it, so, I said, “Because you almost died on my bathroom floor.”

  She studied me. “I’m sorry about that. I knew I shouldn’t have done it and if I did, I’d have to pay for it. I paid for it, didn’t I? I paid for doing that to my baby. It serves me right, I know. I’m going to hell.”

  “Shut up!” I yelled, getting so frustrated at her. “Stop saying that! You made a mistake! You slept with the wrong man, he got you pregnant and you did what you had to do. It’s over now. Let’s move on!”

  “You told me not to do it, you warned me,” she said and stared at the wall. “I was too stupid to listen to you.”

  “Well, you can’t go back in time and change that,” I told her.

  “I wish I could, Caddy,” she said with sincerity. “I’m an awful person.”

  “Stop it and stop it now,” I said. “You did the right thing. For you, I mean. You did the right thing.” Even though I wasn’t really so sure of this, I said it to make her feel better about herself.

  “I hate myself over it.”

  “Don’t.”

  “How can I not?” she asked, her eyes tearing. “I killed my own baby. I should have died, too.”

  She began to sob. I don’t know if it was so much the thought of the abortion that scared her, or that she might have to pay for it in the afterlife, as she would say. Her mother had put these ideas of religion and fire and brimstone so strongly into her head that she could never get over. If you did something bad or wrong, you would pay for it—over and over again.

  I held her and said, “Listen, you’ve already paid for it. God let you pull through for a reason, didn’t He? He loves you.”

  She stared up at me, her eyes so bright and innocent. “But He won’t forgive me.”

  “Maybe He already has.”

  “What makes you say that?”

  “You’re here, aren’t you?”

  She nearly smiled. “I guess I am. If I ever forget to thank you, Caddy, please remind me.”

  I smiled at her. “Anyone would have done it.”

  She shook her head. “On the way back to the house, in the cab, I started bleeding and the cabbie pulled over and tried to push me out. He said he didn’t want any trouble. I wouldn’t get out. I wasn’t about to walk here because I was in too much pain. He cussed me real good about that. Son of a bitch.”

  “You poor thing!”

  “No, I got what I deserved.”

  “Then stop acting like you have to pay for it,” I said. “You’ve already been through hell so stop putting yourself through more.”

  She nodded slightly. “I know.”

  I don’t think she ever fully got over it, though. Guilt would constantly eat at her, but nevertheless, she would always come back and ask for more. She made many bad decisions.

  When she was better, we took her out. She wore my blue dress she so liked. She looked stunning. When we entered the restaurant, all eyes were on her.

  I can still hear them whispering, “Who’s that?” I can still see everyone in there turning towards her, their mouths open. It’s like they knew someone special had entered the restaurant, someone new was getting ready to happen. And they wanted to witness the birth of a superstar.

  I smile at the memory because she so loved to be the center of attention in any setting. She strutted over to the table, sat down and, once the waiter appeared, asked him for some sweet tea.

  “I don’t believe we have that,” he told her.

  “What?” she asked.

  “I don’t even really know what that is,” he said. “We have normal tea and I could give you some sugar to sweeten it up.”

  She just stared at him, then waved her hand. “Oh, forget it. Just get me a Coke.”

  He nodded and turned to Herbert and I. “And what would the two of you like?”

  “I’ll have a scotch and water,” Herbert said.

  “Martini with an olive,” I said and smiled at him.

  Carmen perked up. “Scratch my order. I want a martini with an olive, too.”

  I smiled at her. The waiter left.

  “Never had it,” she said. “Well, I have, but I’m trying to be good but what’s the fun in that?”

  Herbert and I laughed.

  We had just been served dinner when a producer came over to our table and sat down. They were always doing stuff like that, table hopping. I knew him. His name was Duncan Avery. I’d worked with him on A Better Life.

  “Good evening,” he said as he sat. “How is everyone?”

  Carmen didn’t give him a second look. She was digging into her steak. I could tell she wanted to say something to Duncan but she was trying to be “good” and get her life straight. But inside, I knew it was eating her up to stay quiet.

  “Fine, and how are you, Duncan?” I asked.

  “Wonderful,” he said and stared over at Carmen. “I don’t think we’ve met.”

  She glanced up at him, her eyes blinking a little. “No, I don’t think so.”

  He chuckled nervously. “I’m Duncan Avery.”

  “Carmen Clayton.”

  He extended his hand, which was ignored. He put it into his pocket quickly. “So, Herbert, how’s your latest project going?”

  “Really good,” Herbert said.

  “That’s good to hear,” he said. “I’ve heard good things about it.”

  “Oh?”

  He nodded, but didn’t venture to go any farther with the conversation. Instead, he kept glancing at Carmen shyly. She had proclaimed that she was over men, even so-called powerful men such as Duncan Avery. But she wasn’t. She was playing it cool, that’s all. I didn’t understand what she was doing at the time, but now, as I’ve aged, I certainly do. She was hooking him by pretending to ignore him.

  Herbert sighed and said, “For God’s sake, Duncan, why don’t you just ask her what she’s done? You’re interested in putting her in a movie, right?”

  Duncan blushed. It didn’t do him any good as Carmen was still ignoring him. “It’s not that, it’s just…” He stopped and addressed her, “Have you been in anything?”

  “Who? Me?” she asked. “Oh, no,
nothing. I tried, it didn’t work out. Caddy said she might be able to get me a job at the studio doing props or something.”

  We had talked about it, but she hadn’t fully committed to the idea.

  “Props!” he said, as if disgusted. “You’re much too pretty for props.”

  “Is that so?” she said and sipped her drink. “Sounds like a nice job to me.”

  He stared at her, the lust shining in his eyes. He shook himself a little then took out his business card and slid it across the table to her. “Why don’t you give me a call?”

  She took the card and studied it. “For what?”

  “Well, I might be able to…help your career.”

  She nodded and bit her lip a little. “I don’t have a career.”

  “Well, keep it anyway,” he said. “You never know when you might need someone to…talk to.”

  She smiled a little and he excused himself. As soon as he was out of sight, she tore the card in half and gave us an indignant look. “Do I have whore tacked on my forehead or something?”

  I smiled at her. “Very smart. He has quite a reputation.”

  “Yeah, I’ve heard,” she said. “I’ve already tried sleeping my way into this business and we all know where it got me.”

  Herbert said, “For your own good, just remember that he’s Andrew Millsap’s brother-in-law.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Andrew Millsap is the chief of the studio,” I told her.

  “I know that,” she said. “But what does it mean?”

  “That means, if you see him out, just be polite and keep your distance. You have to watch a guy like that. He can ruin you if he wants to. Nothing can touch him in this town.”

  “Nothing but a kick in the balls,” she said.

  Herbert said, “Just keep your distance, Carmen. He’ll probably give you a call or something. Tell him you’re busy. Tell him anything, but stay away from him.”

  “Eventually he’ll lose interest,” I told her.

  “Okay,” she said happily. “What’s for dessert?”

  Well, that will be all for now, Marabel. The more I think about this, this is quite a potboiler, isn’t it? I do hope you are enjoying these stories of old Hollywood and if not, my apologies.