Bruce Bauman - Broken Sleep

“I guess I’m as obsessed as Alchemy. Always was.”

“Look, I’m sorry I talked you into going in, you know, there.”

“Should’ve been prepared when entering Salome’s Fun House without a ticket.”

“Sooo right. What’s with Salome and that guy in the uniform? Hadn’t seen that before.”

“That man was my father.”

“Holy shit. Was he really …”

“Yes. Alchemy never told you?”

“Neither did you, and he said he doesn’t know that much about him. Since he doesn’t know that much about his own father, it made sense.”

“Neither of us know that much.”

“Jay looked so upset for you. She’s cool. So, you guys getting married again or what?”

“Don’t think so. No need. I’m keeping my own place. I think it’s better for now. Mine’s small and a mess, but I like it. She’s okay with that.”

“I got this feeling that you and Alchemy, well, you have the same idea that a house is a place to sleep and take cover, but you kinda live elsewhere.”

“I’ve gotten more like that.”

Laluna took off. While Jay swam in the heated pool, Moses sat beside Persephone in her room and she showed him her drawings. After which Moses sat with her while they ate dinner. They returned to Persephone’s room and Moses read her a bedtime story. When he kissed her good night, she meowed, “I love you, Unc Mose. Come back soon.”

Back at Jay’s condo in a quiet pocket of Century City — Rancho Park, while Jay slept, Moses fretted deep into the night over what he’d seen inside his mother’s studio. Get over her denial. I’m fifty-seven years old. I can’t get over it. I tried. When I saw her studio, I thought I was going to have a heart attack. Why is she treating me like this? Why? Because she is NUTS. What did I ever do to her — except live? Maybe if she knew the truth about Persephone she’d change. Love me. No — she’d hate me more .

Over a breakfast of scrambled egg whites and whole wheat toast, Jay said, “Persephone’s face just lit up when she saw you. You think she has any clue?”

“No. I just spoil her. That’s what uncles do.” He sipped his coffee. “Jay, I’ll be forever sorry for the way I acted. I’ll always blame myself that we never tried for a child. No excuse, well, sort of an excuse, but it’s also true, with me being sick and all, I was afraid I’d pass it on. Or die. I couldn’t handle it.”

“I didn’t handle it so great either. I wanted what I wanted and I couldn’t, I refused to see your side of it. So, yes, and no. I’m sorry and I’m not. Worst thing is listening to people with kids who think I’m a failure as a woman for not having kids. Or they have divine rights because they have kids and I’m some childless witch.” She paused. She remembered that he had a daughter. “Sorry for, ah, just a pet peeve.”

“No, I get it.”

“Moses, I can’t dwell on my regrets. I’m gladdest that we’re back together.” Still, she wondered: Would Moses have agreed to sire Persephone if they had not split up? If they’d had a child? What would have become of Moses if Salome had raised him? What if she had never slept with Alchemy? No, she couldn’t allow herself to venture too far down those roads. She and Moses were together again, Persephone gave him joy, and he and Alchemy were friends and brothers, and that is all that mattered.

“Me, too.” Moses smiled wanly and took her hand in his. Almost as if he read her thoughts — that looking forward was essential to Jay’s Livability Quotient.

Louise Vulter: So, why do you want to get involved in electoral politics?

Alchemy: When I lived in Berlin in the ’80s with my mom—

Vulter: You speak German?

Alchemy: Badly. Living abroad helped me gain a wider perspective on the world. From our apartment, my mom and I watched a woman on the east side of the Berlin Wall attempting to escape to freedom — the tower guards shot her.

Vulter: That must have been traumatizing.

Alchemy: It left an indelible impression. When Gorbachev allowed the wall to come down, it was an act of great political courage that changed the course of history.

Vulter: Aren’t you forgetting someone?

Alchemy: If you mean Reagan, I will concede that point for now, for the sake of my larger argument. Politicians achieved it. You can influence the ways of the world from outside standard power structures, but it must be from inside that you institute a vision for the future.

Vulter: And one of your visions is downsizing our nuclear arsenal by eighty to ninety percent. That is worrisome. It is not a vision shared by patriotic Americans.

Alchemy: As a patriotic American, I am worried, too. But our worries need to change, as do our visions. We are almost twenty years into a new century and we are still behaving like it’s 1989. There are hundreds of better ways to use our power to keep America safe and strong. When I served in the army—

Vulter: Yes, yes, you volunteered to serve, only to quit early when family connections—

Alchemy: Louise, I’m not sure where you’re getting your information, but my mother’s health was in danger and as her only living relative—

Vulter: By danger, I know this may be hard, but you mean her hospitalization for mental illness?

Alchemy: Yes. I enlisted so I could serve my country in Iraq. Unfortunately, for many reasons, my mom’s doctors urged, no, demanded I come home. I love my country, but I love my mother more.

Vulter: As well you should.

Alchemy: I want to return the focus to my vision of a future for America, and I’ll be happy to come back to speak about mental illness and its effects on a family, but first, I’ll say this. My mother’s problems should not be equated with my seeking the counsel of a therapist, which helped me immensely in understanding and coping with her illness.

I’m not sure what most disturbed me, Vulter’s discursive nuance-free style or my son’s “my mother, the nutcase albatross” insinuations.

Laluna and I watched the cable news broadcast in the main house, another of our attempts at filial piety. Things went sour when I quipped, “At least he didn’t bring up my ‘troubles’ after the woman was shot.” Laluna picked up Persephone from her blanket on the floor where she’d been tapping on a tiny computer screen like a modern Etch A Sketch. “Time for bed. Kiss Granmamma good night.” Laluna didn’t like Persephone to hear a word of my vacation history, as if it would contaminate her. Only in my studio would she allow me to be alone with Perse. She wouldn’t let me babysit at night without a nanny in range. When Perse got older, she damn well was going to hear all about it from me. (I’d tell her now, if Parnell Palmer would allow me to see her.)

I didn’t demean myself by offering to take Persephone upstairs and sing her to sleep, only to be rebuffed. I watched alone as Vulter zinged Alchemy about his “Socialist dogma” and desire to close the stock market. He parried the attacks with aplomb. “Don’t misquote me — I said I’d shed no tears if we could do away with traders and bankers who prey on the middle class. I made a fortune by taking risks on ideas I believe in, not companies that cut workers’ salaries or fire people to aid the bottom line. I am all about creativity in all forms and profiting from it and using that money to do good.” Nathaniel would have been proud.

Laluna returned during the audience Q&A. A jealous prig was asking Alchemy an insipid question about why he lived with a woman twenty years his junior. Next to him I glimpsed a familiar face.