Bruce Wagner - Memorial

A yard for their Lionel to crawl around in, and the cousins to throw parties. Maybe they’d even get married there.

GHULPA got ornery and wanted to leave Sisters of Mercy against medical advice. Even the Artesians couldn’t influence her; they were having a hell of a time. The doctors finally said she could go home, but made BG sign a release. The family was worried she wouldn’t stay in bed. Ray was afraid she’d miscarry. He was scared as hell but there wasn’t a thing he could do about it. She was a hardhead.

He wasn’t going to mention that his daughter had come to see him. The timing wasn’t right. Anyhow, he hadn’t wrapped his head around it himself — his Joanie! — not at all. Such a strange, strange deal. So beautiful, so educated. She dressed carefully, fastidiously, fashionably, like her mother. Since the visit, he’d been flooded with memories. He and Marj officially met in 1960 on a dance date. They went to the same church and he’d had an eye on her. Ray was on the rebound, still getting over a stormy shackjob with a redheaded waitress. A trumpeter friend, Bill Peterson — Jesus, the names from 50 years ago were really coming back, isn’t that how it was with old age? — said he knew just the gal to cheer him up. Marjorie Donovan was an assistant to a mid-Wilshire bookkeeper. She was younger than him, on the brink of 23, a religious gal, not too stuffy. Ray wasn’t even sure she’d say yes, he probably had Bill to thank. They wound up downtown. She was shy but quickly dazzled; he could tell she thought dancing at the Biltmore was the height of sophistication. (It came pretty close. Ray Rausch was a 30 year old man and knew a few tricks. He earned money as a part-time bartender but was a free spender and had to tap the trumpeter for the big night.) They swang and sashayed to the golden oldies, and the silver and brass ones too—“Save the Last Dance for Me.” He could hear that in his head, note for note, clear as day. Marj was living with her father, a widower, and had the queer idea she wanted to go to India for missionary work. Ray remembered picking her up in his 52 Ford. Her dad would greet him, pipe in hand, very debonair. He’d been in the clothing business, fabric and knickknacks, a friendly man now retired.

The couple went horseback riding in Griffith Park. Ray couldn’t believe he’d actually climbed on a horse — laughing at the memory — he got thrown and there was something about the way she dusted him off, a sly grin reminiscent of Claudette Colbert and Myrna Loy wrapped in one, and that’s when he knew they were going to have some kind of life together. That night he proposed and was befuddled to watch a diamond teardrop make a plumb line to her smile. (Soaked it right up.) Her father wasn’t too thrilled, which surprised Ray at 1st before it didn’t, and they eloped to Bakersfield of all places, couldn’t remember why, he borrowed money from his friend again (Bill was making good in the studios) and they moved to Culver City and had 2 beautiful babies. Had wonderful times and a picket fence and then the times weren’t so wonderful and on a sunny nameless day he just walked, like in a country song. Might even have said he was going for cigarettes; it was like that. The old man quaked at the thought. He told himself all these years that’s what being married did, some kind of allergy, never would have guessed it — but that just didn’t wash. Leaving the kids behind nearly killed him. Like the Twilight Zone and the reluctant rocketeer: by the time he ran toward the ship, everything was finished. The children were aloft. By then he was almost 40 and hated himself. He hated himself a long, long while.

Now this old dog was gonna be a new daddy and God in His merciful omnipotence had orchestrated that his daughter appear at the door like a ghost in a play. He knew Marjorie had done the job for which he wasn’t man enough; she’d raised those kids alone. He could never give her enough credit. She had mothered and fathered them — how could he thank her, or express his profound remorse, his regret? Suddenly, he focused on the boy. I should have asked Joanie about him. Why didn’t I? I should have asked about Chester. Joan probably thought: The heartless old coot, he didn’t even ask about his son! But that wasn’t it, and he hoped she understood. He didn’t have it in him. It was enough just to look at her. Almost too much having her there, it sucked the air from his lungs, from the room. He was glad she had cried so much, not glad, that wasn’t the word, but it had been a good distraction for Ray to comfort her, easier than falling apart. No, he would have time, now he would, they would, all of them, it seemed God wanted them all to have time, that was His plan, time to learn everything they needed to know about one another and just about anything else. Like one of those reunion stories he devoured in People or Reader’s Digest. He would take his grown children to the Dining Car and knit everyone back together.

How amazing! All the while he’d been having funny dreams about Chester, but look who shows up at his door.

STANIEL Lake phoned to congratulate him on the settlement and Ray said, “Well, esteemed sir, you beat me to the punch. I was just going to call you.” He could tell from the detective’s tone that he was all right with it. Ray said to “keep it under your hat” because nothing had been “signed and sealed.” Mr Lake laughed and said that might be difficult. Meaning, somehow everyone already knew.

The old man explained about Ghulpa and the pregnancy — Staniel was genuinely surprised and thrilled for them — and how he didn’t hold anything against “the boys.” He let the lawyers be lawyers because he wanted protection for his new family. The detective said he had absolutely no hard feelings, that no one did. Hell, he said he’d have done the same thing and that meant a lot to Ray. That was big of him.

He extended the Pacific Dining Car invitation and the detective said his colleagues would be honored to break bread. Ray wanted to make sure Staniel invited everyone who’d busted into the house, including the rookies. Staniel laughed and said he would but that Ray might have “quite a bill.” The old man said not to worry, and began feeling upbeat for the 1st time in a while. Clean. He wasn’t a user, and prided himself on doing the right thing. It particularly gave him pleasure to express gratitude when least expected — something which seemed to have gone out of style. Ray liked to think of it as one of his better traits, his faith in the essential goodness of people, he was an optimist about the human condition, he respected good intentions and longed to do kindnesses in return, except that he’d failed when it came to Marj and the kids, utterly and abysmally, and he knew it, but had to believe it was God’s plan to teach him the hard lessons that made him what he was today. Truly, man learns through adversity.

His thoughts drifted back to the Biltmore, and how Marjorie felt in his arms, fevered and new, her glittery eyes reflecting the festively lit runway of life as they taxied toward its mysteries. He recalled his fears that night as well, compulsively checking his wallet to make sure the trumpeter’s borrowed bills were still in place.

He’d really had a crush on that girl.

But Ghulpa, save the last dance for me.

HIS mom had been home a few weeks, her jaw sealed shut. What an intense bummer. It freaked him out to see her like that but he grew accustomed. Wirecutters were kept in the bedroom and kitchen in case she spit up and they needed to clear an airway. That was standard. Otherwise, people in her situation could choke on their own vomit.