The book is moribund. Sales are in the hundreds, not thousands. Leon is off at the Cairo International Bookfair (God only knows why. He’s not selling my book there.) so we’re not in communication. Whenever Leon is overseas he acts like it’s 1850 and there’s no way to reach me. Wants me to believe he’s staying in a hotel without telephones. Thinking about Leon wears me out.

My ex-longtime girlfriend Elizabeth has gotten hold of A Gentle Death and discovered that some of the chapters feature a character reminiscent of her (Carin). So she e-mails me daily, insinuating a lawsuit. After the last e-mail, I answered her, filling her in on my recent cardiac surgery. I concluded by saying I would be in touch as soon as I felt better. I owe her that much. I loved this woman. And with the knowledge that I did indeed love her, she held me hostage for fifteen years.

We woke every morning in the same bed. We read the paper together, shopped for antiques together. We drank wine from bottles carried up from our own cellar. We drove long distances in the Lexus, sat face-to-face across starched tablecloths, and at the movies, picked popcorn from the same box. We held hands. I always loved her. Just because I gave in to temptation, should I be condemned? Because I didn’t conform to her idea of the way things should be, I had to be punished?

Of course, living with a former acclaimed actress means you never know where you stand. Elizabeth would argue the term “former,” but once we moved to Connecticut, she retired from the Hollywood shuffle. Nonetheless, every time we entered a supermarket or a shopping mall, we were always reminded of “who” she was. I would stand idly by while she signed autographs. Toward the end, I simply walked away and let her do what she had to. She resented me for this too.

Her favorite weapon was accusing me of selfishness. There wasn’t a move I could make without thinking about her resistance to it. If I couldn’t add to her happiness, she wanted me guilty. She claimed I was “stunted” emotionally and spiritually. (Elizabeth was a New-Ager long before it came into vogue. Always seeking “answers” and “personal growth.” “Personal growth” in our society means greater and greater congruence to the expectations and needs of others.

My love for her wasn’t enough. She wanted slavery. As soon as I stopped worshipping her ass, she began a self-improvement course which demanded total obedience and very little sex. We could never reach stasis. Not possible for either of us. What did I ever do to her? “Cheat” on her? Yes, I did cheat on her, what else could I do? She had lost interest in me. God help the man who marries a beautiful actress. At least I avoided that! “For sweetest things turn sourest by their deeds: Lilies that fester smell far worse than weeds.”

January 21, 2006