Photo by Tomáš Malík @pexels.com
It was mid morning as new ice cubes were being poured over the gin bottles in the bathtub. Prohibition was still in effect, although one would not know it at the parties thrown in this apartment.
The ice cubes were an effort to cool the hooch off as the heatwave continued. By the time her friends arrived it would be suitably cold. The cracked ice gave off a rather calming effect during its initial stage of cooling not only of the gin but the bathroom in general leaving Fenella Driftwood contemplating the idea of moving her easel and model into the bathroom so she could paint in comfort. It was certainly large enough to accommodate both. The continuing sticky situation with Abbot that would be developing in her spacious apartment during the afternoon into the evening was less than her desire for today. It was turning into an annoyance.
“Knock knock,” called out a rather raspy voice which then continued,
“Keeping a girl from her morning gin
Is considered such a mortal sin,”
And with that a body hurled itself through the door.
Fenella moved aside just in time to see a rather rumpled and rough looking Enid Finklestein burst through the door, and grasped a bottle from the tub. With strength unforeseen she ripped away the cork and poured a mighty helping of the liquid silver into her tea cup. When her cup was full she tilted the bottle towards her lips and poured her nectar of the gods down her throat consuming as much as possible without taking a breath.
“Rough morning Enid?” queried Fenella.
Slowly Enid lowered the bottle from her lips and turned quietly towards Fenella. “Ack! Don’t sneak up on me before I put my morning face on,” and with that she exited the room as quickly as she entered, taking the nearly empty bottle with her. Fenella, chuckled and wondered what spurred this moment. She quietly exited the room and headed towards her easel, deciding that being out in the living space was a better place to be for now.
Fenella lived in what some would term a rather spacious apartment, almost 2000 sq feet of living space. The large room had windows along 2 sides with a kitchen and the bathroom hiding her bedroom behind them on the third side. It was bright and airy and suited her needs as an artist who developed magazine covers in various mediums. She was well paid, not only for her artistic magazine covers but for her original works of art that were purchased faster than she could create them. In the corner where the two walls of windows met stood her easel and materials. On the inner wall of the shared hallway stood a tent in the corner and further down the wall a baby grand piano. Tables and furniture pieces covered much of the living space. This made her apartment a natural for her friends to hang out in the afternoons or evenings when they finished working. There was plenty of room and the view of New York was splendid.
Fenella sat down for a minute and picked up the newspaper. She scanned through the news looking for information it had about her friends. The news about them was invariably wrong but as someone said having their names in the paper was good advertising. Cooledge was President seeking reelection or in the case of his critics seeking office for the first time. She stopped scanning long enough to read an article by a critic who labeled her friends “stars.” She guffawed loudly. “They are not stars,” she mused. “They are entertainers. A star places themself above everyone else. An entertainer is a place where one supports others through providing a brief respite from their daily lives.” So intent were her thoughts that she didn't hear the door open and people entering her apartment. When she looked up she realized that there were about 40 people who had arrived while she was lost in her thoughts. Immediately she sprang to her feet.
“Jajcle!” she called out. “You made it.”
Jajcle Hearty looked up from her discussion with Abbot Sondstrom and smiled. “I brought friends.”
Abbot was turning beet red as he struggled to stand up. His great girth didn’t prevent him from enjoying the finer things in life, as long as he thought them up. He still had on his coat and was ineptly removing it. “Just put it in the closet Abbot,” Fenella called out as she headed towards her easel. She needed some distance from Abbot. She wasn’t giving him any time today. His proposals of marriage were becoming too much.
Abbot strode over to the closet door and was about to open it when a hand reached out, grabbed the coat and closed the door quickly. Abbot stood there in shock before laughing in rather large and noisy guffaws. Everyone turned to look at him and when they did he reached out and opened the closet door. Inside the open door stood Jim Horn looking resplendent in a bell boys outfit with his hand out palm up in front of him. Abbot laughed even harder before dropping a five into the open hand. Jim Horn tipped his cap and then slowly closed the door.
Abbot walked over towards the windows near the kitchen, where playwright Jack Hammerschmidt sat with a rather young blonde who looked lovely in every department. He was at least twice her age. As he approached the couple Abbot took a flask out of his pocket and handed it to Jack before turning to the Blonde. Jack immediately rose, dropped the flask on the chair, and rushed off to the bathroom.
Abbot turned towards the young woman. “Don’t worry. He will be back after he washes his hands 25 times. I am Abbot Sondstrom. I don’t believe I have had the pleasure…”
“And you never will," replied the blonde, looking at the bathroom door as a commotion arose behind the door. A rather scared looking Jack Hammerschmidt came running out of the bathroom at full tilt with his hands being held in front of him. Right behind him was the ugliest woman Abbot had ever seen. Before the woman had taken a few steps Abbot burst out into laughter once again. “Jim Horn,” he muttered at the back of the blonde who was drifting quickly towards Jack. Turning he said “Jacjle Hearty, how is your mother in law doing these days?” knowing full well that Jacjle had never seen eye to eye with her mother in law from the first time they laid eyes on each other.”
Jajcle gave Abbot a rather stony stare before replying, “she is still trying to get me to change my name. I only have one name, the name I have had for my whole life and I’ll be damned if I am going to change it now just to suit her,” she paused contemplatively, “Abbot, have you trashed a new play lately?” acknowledging that Abbot could demolish the employment of 100’s of people with as few words as he could muster in writing his reviews.
Abbot smiled and looked away.
“What happened this week Jajcle?” asked Enid Finklestein as she sidled up to the queue, gin spilling out of her teacup.
Jacjle smiled knowingly. ”I caught the mail before the butler sent it out to the post office. His mother had filled out a form to have my name changed and signed my name to it.”
“And?” asked Enid.
“She could be busy for a while. That should keep her out of my hair.”
“What did you do?”
“Well,’ she paused for effect. “She had been talking about getting a turkey for Thanksgiving.”
“You didn’t?” came the reply with a bit of nervous laughter.
“I did. And now she will have to make a serious decision that could keep her busy for a couple of weeks.”
“How many?” inquired Abbot.
“It’s not the number, well it sort of is, but it’s what turkeys do regularly that could be the problem. With that many in the house it may take her a while to bring it back to her usual standards.”
Mid laughter Enid retreated to the tent, closed the door and could be heard making notes on the typewriter she appeared to have installed in the tent.
Abbot returned to looking at Jajcle. “Why the tent? And why at Fenella’s?
Jajcle smiled at Abbot. “It is her place to go to while we are here and she needs a moment to compose her thoughts. Much like the rest of us when inspiration strikes she is ready. And why at Fenella’s?” she asked.
Abbot frowned. “She lives right across the hall.”
“What, and miss all the fun?” Jajcle chortled as a scream erupted from the tent followed by a war hoop not heard since the days of the wild west. Enid ran from her tent clutching a handful of papers.
“Oh my,” chortled Jack, who had sauntered over. “He does seem to be getting around today,” as they observed Jim Horn exit the tent in full native regalia and chase Enid around the room. Enid remained at full voice until she stopped dead in her tracks and turned on Jim. “Are you crazy? Are you insane? Scaring me witless?” she cried out.
Jim stood before her looking into her deep blue eyes. Suddenly he reached behind him and whipped out a typed card.
Enid opened the card. It read, ‘crazy is a relative term.’ She looked up but Jim was exiting through a door on the other side of the room. She considered chasing him down and confronting him but realized quickly that he would simply give another response that she may disagree with. She considered their long history of knowing each other before she moved towards her tent, picking up scattered pages from around the room.
The tension eased and the music began once more with Sherman Paris pumping out one of the latest jazz pieces he had learned.
Abbot stood up quickly, well quickly for him before he was pushed back down into the modest sofa by a firm hand.
“We need to talk,” stated the stately Jajcle
“What,” the caught off guard Abbot began to blubber.
“We need to talk,” she stated firmly.
Abbot, recognizing the firm voice reflected back to the last time they had a serious discussion. It had not worked out favourably. “I don’t want to talk to you.” he stammered as he protectively placed his hands strategically covering parts of his anatomy.
“Tough,” Jajcle replied firmly with a smile. She was happy to see he had not forgotten the last time he had been inappropriate. “Someone needs to talk to you. Fenella doesn’t need a husband. Especially you. It would mess up the friendship she has with you and quite frankly would damage your friendship with her. So get over your google eyes and your lusting thoughts. Treat her as the friend she is rather than some toy you want to play with. She is not an object to worship, set on a pedestal or anything else. She is your friend for god sakes. And despite your shortcomings she is far too good to you than she needs to be. Have some respect,“ and with that she stomped away.
Abbot gazed around the room until his eyes stopped on Fenella. She was standing at her easel, paints in hand working on her latest magazine cover. Her model sat demurely in her practiced pose and Fenella quickly added depth and perspective to the piece of art. Abbot was about to get up when he heard some noise from the piano where George Smallowitz was sitting. George would play a note but the note was not reflective of the true value of the note. It was driving George crazy when note after note was off. He played variations on a melody he had been practicing for the last week. What came out was a whole register lower than he was playing. He tried it again at a higher register. It came out at an even lower register. He stopped and sat there for a moment. Suddenly he played what should have been the highest note on the keyboard. Out came the lowest note. He jumped up quickly and with both hands lifted the massive lid to the grand piano. All of a sudden up jumped Jim Horn, who leapt down and scampered through the bedroom door. A raging George followed him and when he opened the door a massive scream erupted from within. George stepped back when a naked Jim Horn appeared and said “What can a guy do to get some privacy around here.” before slamming the door in George’s face.
Jack smiled at the latest gambit from Jim Horn. He was quite familiar with Jim’s stage antics with his brothers and at the moment was working up new ideas for their next play. In Jim Horn’s world everything was fair game for comedy.
“She certainly is a beauty,” stated Jack as he looked across the room.
Abbot looked from Jim to Jack and then to Fenella. “She certainly is,” he replied.
Jack continued, “How old do you think she is?”
Abbot clued in to who Jack was talking about. “She could be your daughter,” he replied.
“Youth is wasted on youth. Why were the girls not as beautiful when I was that age?”
Abbot smirked at this. “Jack, women have always been this lovely. It is you who did not notice, or care to notice them before.”
“She certainly is such a beauty,” he repeated.
“And subservient. If you were not who you are she would not spend a minute of time thinking about you.” Jack looked at Abbot for a minute before Abbot continued. “You have a perfectly fine wife yet you keep looking for younger, more physically beautiful women. There is more to life than fulfilling your childhood fantasies.” and with that Abbot wandered off to listen to the new Jazz piece that was being play on the piano
Jack spent a few minutes giving some thought towards what Abbot had said before he moved towards Fenella to check out her latest artistic endeavour.
Fenella looked up as Jack approached. She said to her model, “Why don’t you take a break? I will need you again in about 30 minutes.” and with that she turned towards Jack. “How is your new play coming along? Does it have a title yet?”
Jack smiled a goofy smile. “It is called Cracked Ice.”
Fenella laughed out loud at this. “Perfect,” she said drolly. “It would fit in around here rather well. Is it a stand alone or is it for Jim and his brothers?”
“I would say it is a little old fashioned and a little bit insane so it would fit perfectly with Jim and his brothers. Like most of their work so far it is both a dense and light play on many levels so it is bound to be misinterpreted, although with the gags he is working up it should be interesting.”
“His creativity certainly knows no bounds,” replied Fenella. “It must be difficult to write for him since generally he is mute on stage.”
“It is always better just to write, ‘Jim Horn gags’ and then continue on unless something specific and topical comes up.”
“It really is much like painting isn’t it? You add a little here and then a little there and then all of a sudden something interesting pops up and puts it all into perspective.” replied Fenella.
“I am not sure about art but yes, writing is often like that. You listen and are aware and then ideas that you need present themselves. It is almost like you pluck them out of thin air sometimes. I am positive that all ideas are simply your mind taking in all the things you see or have ever seen or heard and then organizing them in a way to fit the situation you find yourself in for you to apply them.”
Fenella reflected, “There are no good or bad ideas or thoughts. Simply ideas that won’t work right now for whatever reason.”
Jack nodded, “That hits it right on the head….” he started.
“The Mail is here. The mail is here,” yelled Jim Horn who was now dressed as a mailman. I’ve got a special delivery for Jajcle Hearty. Jajcle Hearty.
“Over here you fool,” yelled Jajcle waving her arms in the air.
“You have to sign for this special delivery ma’am,” Jim replied as he got closer to Jajcle. “It’s a registered letter.
“You’ll be registered if you don’t hand it over, buster.” she replied to gales of laughter.
Jim Horn held out a piece of paper and a pen for her to sign but instead she grabbed the letter and opened the envelope.
“Hey, you are tampering with the Mail Service. We take things like this seriously. I will have to report you.” he stated.
“Abbot, give him a nickel and send him on his way.” she replied while reading the letter. Her face reddened before she crumpled the letter. Slowly she composed herself and then turned to look at Jim Horn. “Nice try,” she stated as Abbot turned over the nickel.
“When did you figure it out?” he inquired.
“About the point where there was a smudged fingerprint.”
“Ah,” he said before turning and exiting the room.
“That was interesting,” said Enid.
“I didn’t have the heart to tell him that his lack of knowledge of basic spelling gave it away”
“Ah,” said Abbot. “Being literary on a grade two education is a deficit.”
“Yet he has done so well for himself otherwise.” replied Enid.
Fenella looked over at Jack and asked, “Any thoughts on your invitation to go to California?”
Everyone turned and looked at Jack with rather large eyes.
“Holding out, were you,” inquired Abbot.
“Not holding out,” replied Jack as he was wringing his sweaty hands.”I was weighing all my options before discussing it with most of my friends.”
“So what is the story here,” inquired Jajcle.
“Some of the new studios in Los Angeles have invited me to write scripts for their movies. The work is similar to what I am doing now but the pay is incredibly good, so much so that it is hard to turn it down.”
“Good money, great working conditions, good weather. So what’s making it tough to decide?”
“I am trying to think of a way in which I could both work on their scripts as well as continue working in the theatre here. Working for someone else means I do not have final say. Working here does. My scripts, my production, my direction. The money is too good to pass up out there but I like it here too much.
Jajcle sighed. “Look at it as an adventure. You can do both.”
“But what if I fail,” Jack replied.
“Really,” Jajcle came back with. “Fail? You? A successful Boardway writer, producer and director.”
“I won’t have control of the finished scripts if I go west.”
Jajcle smiled. “It is easy money for a guy like you. You can still save up your ideas for your plays and be successful here no matter what happens.” she paused. “Let go of your insecurities and enjoy life.”
He looked over at the starlet he was talking to before. “Good advice,” he replied as he wiped his hands on his handkerchief and wandered off for a new discussion.
Jajcle stood there motionless.
“Close your mouth dear, you will be catching flies.” stated End.
“Giving him advice is like talking to a cat.”
“Most people here only listen if they can use an idea. Otherwise..” she indicated, pointing to Jack and Abbot, “this is what you get.”
“Fenella tells me that you had a rough night last night.”
“It is like it has always been. I drink, possibly too much. I make bad decisions about a man. I regret it immediately and I move on.” she paused, “I find something about a guy irresistible and then I want to fix it. By then it is too late and not really my problem.”
Jajcle smiled, “That seems to happen when you feel lonely.”
“Between hanging out with this crowd and my writing, how could I ever be lonely?”
“You know what I mean.”
“I do , I do, “ replied Enid as she took another gulp from her teacup. “That’s why I help out at the soup kitchen when I can. I need to be needed.”
“Don’t we all,” replied Jajcle.
“Although,” she contemplated, “I am baffled by all the admiration and adoration afforded me by my writing. I simply write what I see and feel. People like it but why?”
Jajcle blew the strands of hair away from her face. “Enid, we have had this conversation before. If you think about it when you are a bit more sober perhaps we could discuss it again.”
“Okay,” replied Enid before she moved off towards her tent.
Suddenly a loud voice called out. “Hot dogs! Get your hot dogs here. Red hot hot dogs. Thank you ma’am,” he stated as he accepted a dollar for a hot dog. Jim Horn worked his way around the room selling hot dogs to everyone he passed.
“Jim, what are you going to do with the money you are making selling hot dogs?”
“At first I thought I would buy Enid a new tent,” he quipped, “but then I got the idea of purchasing you a new set of suspenders.” he replied, looking at Abbot. “Those things are looking quite ratty.” Howls of laughter erupted as he headed for the door.
Fenella turned to Jajcle, “did you read the piece in the Times this morning?”
“I read the Times,” she replied. “Which piece were you referring to?”
“The piece that referred to us as stars.” Fenella replied with some indignation.
“Oh that piece. I am sure Abbot will give it a suitable response,” she replied as Abbot wandered over to join the conversation.
“Stars? We are entertainers,” he said as he started pontificating. “We are constantly looking for ways to touch people's lives, that make them laugh, make them feel good about themselves. We can be a lead in a theatre production, sing a song to perfection, and cut the perfect joke. But in the end we bring some satisfaction to people’s lives. We understand and accept ourselves as participants in a larger world.”
“Here , Here,” called out Jack. “When are you writing a response?”
“I may have to borrow Enid’s typewriter,” he replied as he wandered off. “Knock, Knock,” he said when he got to the tent.
Jack, whose eyes had followed Abbot across the room, stated, “This could be interesting.”
Fenella stated, “It may well be if the readers understood what he was talking about.”
Jack looked over at Fenella, “Fenella, why have we never hooked up?” he questioned.
Fenella looked at him and laughed a small laugh. “ I know you too well to know that there would never be a commitment and,” she paused, “I know and respect your wife.”
Jack did not feel embarrassed by this statement. He simply looked confused and wandered away.
“I have been avoiding Abbot all night,” Fenella said, turning to Jacjle.
“I’m not sure he noticed,” was her reply. “He has been staring at you all night from wherever he is standing.”
“That was too obvious, even for him. What did you say to him?”
Jajcle looked at her friend carefully. “Whatever do you mean?”
“Jajcle, I know you too well. It did not escape my attention that you had a private conversation with Abbot.”
“I simply pointed out that it would end your friendship to begin a relationship.”
“And,” asked Fenella with an amused look on her face.
“That he wasn’t good enough for you.”
“Ah.” she paused, “Thank you. But I think you had better find somewhere else to be since he is looking and now coming over this way.”
Jajcle looked over at Abbot. “Are you sure?”
Fenella smiled. “Oh yes, I am sure,” and with that Jajcle rose from where she was seated and walked past Abbot over to join a conversation Enid was having.
“Fenella,” called out Abbot as he approached, his face reddening with each step. “May I have a seat?”
“Of course,” replied Fenella. “You need to sit down. You look uncomfortable.”
Abbot removed his handkerchief from his pocket as he sat down and began mopping his face. “Fenella.”
“Yes, Abbot.”
“It has been brought to my attention that I may be over compensating in declaring my love for you.”
“Abbot, I love you dearly. You are a sweet, open, honest and caring man. In this regard you are a tremendous person.”
“But you don’t love me the way I love you.”
“I suppose that would be true. But it doesn’t mean I don’t love you or respect you. I do. I value who you are in my life. It is the best I can do.”
Abbot looked a bit crestfallen at this statement. Reluctantly he said, “I can accept that.”
Fenella brightened with a smile. “So that means no more longing looks, no more distant stares, no more puppy dog faces. Simply be you. I enjoy your company, your wit and wisdom.”
“Thank you for being you,” he murmured as he rose from the chair.
As he wandered away Fenella mused ‘we are individuals with individual goals. Together, as friends, we make each other better.’ and with that she wandered back to her easel ready to tackle her next assignment appreciating the honest relationships she had with her friends.
Much later, with morning quickly approaching, the party was winding down:
Jim Horn was in the bathtub. All the gin was gone and the water was much warmer.
Enid was snuggled up in her tent with someone she just met. She made sure the flaps were all closed tonight. Later she would sneak across the hall to her apartment, abandoning her latest conquest who would blearily let himself out of the studio with a great deal of confusion.
Abbot was singing heartbroken songs by the piano before Jacjle and George escorted him to the door. As he got to the door he stopped as Fenella approached. He looked at her. She tippy toed and kissed his cheek. His hand rose to touch the spot before he related rather drunkenly “there is always tomorrow” and with that George accompanied him on his way down the hall both crooning while maintaining their voices in tune despite their drunken state.
Jacjle sighed as she headed home to a household full of turkeys.
Jack had left early with the blonde bombshell.
Fenella was finished with her model who left with Jack and his date. “An interesting trio,” she thought.
Fenella reflected, “There is something about being with my friends. They each bring such warmth to my life” She paused and turned her thoughts to Abbot. “I wonder if Abbot will remember tonight or will I have to deal with it all again tomorrow. I love the guy but maybe I need to distance myself from him. And with that she closed the door on another evening in her studio.