E_Z_Riter

Fare Thee Well

 

by E. Z. Riter

The camera focused on the center of the set: two wing back chairs

upholstered in a camel-colored leather canted toward each other at

forty-five degrees off the parallel with an occasional table between

them. The stage facade behind the chairs appeared to be a wall in a

luxury home, complete with elegant but unobtrusive paintings. A small,

squat lamp with a low-wattage bulb lit the occasional table.

The camera panned in on the two women sitting in the chairs. One was a

nationally known television commentator, about sixty, (and) the other an

internationally known movie star in her late forties. The commentator

was dressed in a navy-blue business suit with matching closed-toed

shoes. The star was dressed in a floor-length skirt in muted blues and

grays, and an off-white blouse with long, puffed sleeves.

The director's voice could be heard. "Three, two, one, live."

"This is Beverly Walker for Celebrity, American's favorite television

news magazine. I'm here this evening with Sandra King, actress, director

and now producer, winner of four Academy Awards and other awards too

numerous to mention - a star of international renown. Good evening, Sandy."

"Good evening, Beverly."

"I must tell our television audience I was quite surprised when you

asked for this interview, and when you didn't want to tell me the

subject until we were on the air, my curiosity was definitely piqued.

You're known for two things, Sandy, quality work and not granting

interviews. What made you decide to talk to me now?"

"I want to talk about David and me."

"Your husband? Good heavens why? You've never talked about him before."

"I know. That was the way we wanted it, but now it's time."

"He died a little over a year ago, didn't he?"

"Yes, on September 18 of last year."

"I know how you must miss him."

"More than I can tell you. I... excuse me." The camera panned away from

Miss King's face as she blotted her eyes with tissue. "I'm sorry,

Beverly. Please go on."

"No apologies are necessary, Sandy. Your husband was never quoted. He

was photographed only when he escorted you. In the few interviews you

gave, you've never discussed him at all. Even though you seemed very

happy with him, that gave rise to a lot of speculation, as you know."

"A lot of that speculation was very unkind, Beverly," Miss King replied

tersely. "That's why I'm doing this interview. I want to set the record

straight."

"All right, Sandy. Twenty-five years ago, you were the bright shooting

comet on the Hollywood scene. The papers called you the new Mae West,

the new Marilyn Monroe. Your escapades were chronicled in the tabloids

and they caused frenzied speculation about your personal life."

"You're being kind," Miss King said with a wry smile. "I was the

industry wild child, a rapid disciple of the adage 'sex, drugs, and rock

'n roll'. In an industry which sells sex, that was a dubious honor."

"Then you disappeared for six months. As I remember, you made only one

public appearance during that time."

"That's right, Beverly. I attended the premiere of a movie I'd made."

"Tell your public what they've wondered for twenty-five years. Tell them

what happened when you disappeared for six months to reappear a changed

woman."

"Love is what happened. Love. Love from a man like I'd never

experienced. Never even imagined. Love like I didn't believe possible."

"Why don't you tell me about it, Sandy."

Sandra King took a deep breath and began.

"I was negotiating to star in a new movie. Honestly, it may have been my

last starring opportunity. I had a well-deserved reputation as an

unreliable, demanding, egotistical bitch. Oh, I guess I shouldn't use

that word on television."

"I don't know that it'll make it past the censors, but don't worry about

that. Just tell the story the way you want to tell it," Miss Walker replied.

"The word applied to me. I flew off the handle at the slightest

provocation, walked off sets, and blew production schedules. I'd done

time at Betty Ford's Rehab Center for drugs and alcohol. So, despite

talent and looks, my name was mud in the industry.

"My manager and agent brought me a offer from a small, new production

company financed by a man named David Sams. They'd never met him and

neither had I. He wasn't from the industry, but that didn't matter.

People in the industry weren't making me offers then. They both told me

to make the deal work because it might be my only shot at a comeback. I

was only twenty-four, much too young to be washed up. I was very

frightened and very alone."

"David Sams is the man who became your husband," Miss Walker said.

"Yes, he was. David was fifty-two. He'd made his millions and said he

wanted to do something new and different, something to express his

creativity. I first met him at a meeting to negotiate my starring in the

film. I was on the edge of an explosion, but I always was on the edge in

those days.

"He was calm, serene, totally in control of himself, very gentle and

polished. Courtly may be the right word. Yes, courtly. I wondered how

this man could be a captain of industry and a war hero. In Hollywood, if

men don't posture and strut like baboons in mating season, they're ignored.

"It was a good deal for me. I still don't know why I balked, but I did.

I demanded another million dollars for my fee, which embarrassed my

agent and manager. As the group talked in heated flurries, I started to

panic because I felt the deal unraveling.

"David had watched me throughout the meeting. Truthfully, I don't think

he looked at anyone else. But the way he looked at me was different than

men usually look at me. His expression was caring, gentle, maybe even

loving. It was certainly not threatening, but it made me more anxious.

Why, I don't know. Quietly, he asked to see me alone.

"That day I'd dressed sexily, a short skirt and tight, open blouse. When

he and I met in a small conference room away from the main meeting, I

crossed my legs and made sure my skirt rode up my thighs. I mean, these

were perfect legs and he was a man, an older and unmarried man. I was

ready to do anything to put this deal back together."

"Are you saying that you would've had sex with him to cement the

agreement?" Miss Walker asked, trying to act surprised.

"Rumors of casting couches have a foundation in fact, Beverly," Miss

King replied with a twinkle in her eye.

"But the industry..." Miss Walker began.

"Doesn't like to talk about it, but it's true. Not always. Sometimes,"

Miss King interrupted.

"Yes, I suspect it is. Please continue, Sandy," Miss Walker said.

"In the meeting, he'd seemed benign, not sending me any signals. But in

that small private room, his signals bombarded me. I really looked at

him for the first time. He was taller than I realized and his body was

thicker. He'd moved lithely, like a big cat. When he stared at me with a

raw sexual power that made me tingle, I wondered how badly I'd misjudged

him. Suddenly, the signals stopped and he was benign again.

/"Sandy, have you ever heard of 'Fare the Well'?"/ he asked/./

/"'No',"/ I replied/./

/"'She's the most magnificent thoroughbred filly ever to race, the most

beautiful horse ever: powerful, sensual, perfect lines, ideal breeding

with the aura of an empress. But she was demanding and arrogant. Very

difficult to handle. She took pride in being difficult. She knew she was

the best. I guess she felt her surroundings were not equal to her so she

relentlessly persecuted her owners and trainers. When I bought her, she

had a reputation of not winning because of her temperament.'/

"I shifted and readjusted my skirt to draw attention to my legs. I

thought I saw a twinkle in his eyes but, if I did, it was quickly gone.

/"'Interesting, '"/ I told him/. "'Please, go on, '"/ I said/./ What a

phony I was and his smile told me he knew and understood.

/"'I worked with her. She and I love each other now. Through that love,

she learned to focus and to give. Then, on race day, she was always

ready, prancing, powerful, eager to enter the gate. She had heart and

would win, no matter who was her jockey or who ran against her. She

always won her races. Her pride demanded it. Now, she's retired, living

at peace with herself and her world./

/"'That's really wonderful, David, but what is your point?'"/ I said

sardonically.

"He suddenly leaned right over me, his mouth inches away. His blue eyes

were no longer placid, but deep, compelling pools that held me. I felt

his hands on my dress hem. I quivered wondering what he was going to do.

He tugged my dress, pulling it down demurely.

/"'You remind me of her, '"/ he said quietly. He kissed me on my

forehead and walked out of the room.

"I sat there dazed, my heart palpitating. My mind whirled like a child's

top gone mad. Then I exploded with anger. Who did he think he was

comparing me to a horse? I charged into the meeting to give him a piece

of my mind, but he was gone.

"'/Where the hell is he/?'" I screamed. "'/I'll walk away from this deal

if he didn't agree to my extra million!'"/ I saw the glances around the

room.

"My manager replied, '/He gave you two million, but with completion

conditions/.' I stood with my mouth open.

"I didn't see David again until about a week into the filming. From day

one, the director and I disagreed over my character and everything else.

One day it came to a head. David called a meeting for seven in the

morning to iron out the problems. The three lead characters, the

director, and several others attended. I was hell on wheels: screaming,

cursing, demanding. Acting like I'd always acted. The meeting had

degenerated with me being nasty and every one else quiet and non-responsive.

"When David asked me to join him in the business trailer, I stormed in

with steam coming out of my ears. He said very gently, '/Sandy, you're

correct as to the character. Your work's excellent, your acting sublime,

but I need you to help me. We must keep on schedule. And we must allow

the others artistic freedom, too. With all your professional powers,

your great acting skills and your wonderful natural beauty, you

intimidate them. You need to be more gentle with them. Can you help me?/'

/"'(Bleep) you and them, /' I said."

"I don't think that'll make it past the censors," Miss Walker

interrupted with a wry smile.

"Well, I said it. Let them censor it. He grabbed my chin and shook my

head. One of his arms went around my waist, trapping my arms beside me.

He crushed me against him as he lifted me in the air. His other hand was

behind my neck holding my head still so he could whisper in my ear.

"'/Sandy/, ' he said. '/You're their queen. Don't be the Red Queen,

screaming off with their heads. You need to be firm, but loving, with

your subjects. You can afford to be lenient. I'll support you in the

changes you want, but you must be gracious in your victory./'

"He sat me down and his eyes twinkled as I looked up at him. He stroked

my face with a velvet touch. '/And queens do not curse, Sandy. It's

unbecoming./'

"Again he kissed my forehead. Confused and unfocused, I let him gently

tug me to the meeting. I watched in awe as he quickly drew consensus for

his own ideas, always speaking in his quiet, assured voice. When he was

through, he had what he wanted and everyone was happy about it.

"From then on, he was in attendance during filming. I always felt he was

watching me. I would see him, feel his eyes on me. It wasn't unpleasant.

Far from it. I enjoy a man watching me, but this was something

different, although I didn't know what.

"The second time I exploded was only a few days later. David stopped

filming for the day, even though it was shortly after lunch. Again, we

met in the business trailer. His expression was neutral and unreadable

as he listened to my incoherent tirade for half an hour. I screamed

myself out before plopping in a chair, depleted and physically exhausted

by my outburst.

"He looked sad as he squatted to be on my eye level. I felt his hand

gentle on my knee, his eyes penetrating me. I felt he was looking into

my soul. Softly, he brushed my hair back from my face, his fingers

lingering for a moment on my cheek.

"'/I was unfair to Fare the Well to compare you to her. She had more

focus, more pride and heart. She knew when it was race day, and she was

going to win, no matter what/.' I sat, unable to move, as if I had been

anthesticized. Then he said, '/This is your race, Sandy. You need to win

it for yourself if no one else/.'

"He smiled gently and leaned towards me, kissing my forehead before he

left me with my thoughts.

"Three more times he intervened during shooting. Three times he and I

met alone. Each time, he was firm, but gentle, and ended by kissing my

forehead.

"That last time, when I had just blown up a little, the director

teasingly accused me of intentionally being belligerent just to be with

David. It was a revelation to me. First, it revealed how my attitude had

softened and changed, allowing the director to feel free to joke with

me. No one had ever joked with me on the set before. And it revealed how

I was feeling about David. The director was right. My blow-up came

directly from my wanting to see him.

"We finished ahead of schedule. By the end of shooting, my nature and my

reputation as a malcontent were both ameliorated. I'd never felt better

about a project.

"A week after filming ended, I called and asked to see him. I dressed

sexily and my adrenaline flowed. While he'd rejuvenated my career, I was

angry that he was a man seemingly immune to me. I meant to seduce him. I

wasn't in touch enough with my own feelings to understand why his

response to me was so important.

"We met at his ranch where the maid admitted me. In the entry hall, I

saw a picture of a giant horse standing with him. A brass nameplate on

the bottom of the frame said 'Fare the Well, ' and the race date and

name. The winner's garland was around her neck. He was kissing her forehead.

"He greeted me warmly, and he was pleasant and gracious during lunch on

the patio. I came on strong, using every technique I knew to get him

interested in me. He seemed aloof and slightly amused at my feminine

wiles. If I'd paid attention, I'd have seen his interest in me. Instead,

I became angry."

Miss King was sitting on the edge of her chair now, leaning forward. Her

eyes glowed as she related her story.

"He asked me to walk with him after lunch. The day was warm, but not

hot, as we walked down a bridal path past the corrals. The brown hills

surrounded and protected us. The wind softly whispered in the tall pines

on either side of the path. It was a romantic spot, but I wasn't

romantic. For no reason, I stopped and faced him. He had that same

gentle, amused expression. I slapped him.

"He smiled at me but the twinkle in his eyes was gone. '/Don't do that

again, Sandy/, ' he said in a very firm, soft voice.

"I started to slap him again. Quickly, he spun me around and slapped me

hard on the rear."

"He hit you?" Miss Walker asked.

"No. He swatted my bottom with the flat of his hand, which I richly

deserved. It didn't hurt, but it made me mad. When I swung to hit him,

he grabbed my wrists and crossed them, holding them in one giant hand,

as he fended me off with the other. I squealed and jumped and cursed and

kicked. He had that funny smile and an iron grip on my wrists I couldn't

break. I exhausted myself. Gasping for air, I glared at him. He gently

pushed my hair back.

"'/What a beautiful, glorious, delightful creature you are/, ' he said

softly but with deep feeling. His expression was sad and serious. '/I

know you came here to seduce me, but I've been seduced from the first

time I saw you. We were at a party. You don't even remember me, do

you?/' I shook my head. '/I financed the movie for you to help restart

your career. You were the only actress considered. You always reached

me, Sandy. You're the most desirable woman in the world and I ache from

wanting you.'/

"He released my wrists. Somehow, they stayed crossed as I silently

watched him as he said, '/I wish you were a horse. I'd buy you and bring

you here. With time, you'd realize how special you are and how much I

love you. I'd give you my love and help you be at peace./' He turned to

walk away.

"'/Wait, David! How about my kiss?/' I called after him.

"I couldn't believe I'd said it. I blushed for the first time in ten

years and I waited, waited for him to come to me. When he walked toward

me, I lowered my head so he could kiss my forehead as he always did. He

gently tilted my face upwards.

"'/I think you should be kissed here/, ' he said as his lips touched

mine. It was a long, deep, powerful kiss.

"He left me there alone as he walked back to the house. Dazed, confused,

still reeling from his kiss, I watched him go. Then I wandered

aimlessly, trying to pull my thoughts together."

Miss King sighed and leaned back in the chair, her hands dangling off

the ends of the chair's arms. She continued in a soft, loving tone.

"When I returned to the ranch house area, he was in the corral

exercising Fare the Well. I could see his gentleness with her and the

affection between them. She was a giant horse, spirited and powerful

even in her later years, playful in a loving way, but docile with him.

You could see the unfettered joy in both of them as they worked and

played together. When the trainer entered to begin her rubdown, David

walked towards the gate. Fare Thee Well whinnied at him, telling him she

cared and she'd miss him.

"I was jealous of her. Not jealous that she had his love; I knew he

loved me. I was jealous of her gracious and genuine reception of that

love and her joyful giving of it in return.

"I followed him toward the barn. He didn't know I was there, standing a

few feet behind him as he removed his work gloves and washed up. When he

turned and saw me, he smiled at me with that loving, gentle smile of

his. My skin felt prickly and my eyes teared.

"'/David, how much time do you need?/' I asked. He looked puzzled. '/For

you to show how much you care for me/.'

"What a look of love he gave me!

"'/It doesn't work that way, Sandy. If you give me two weeks, you'll

want to stay with me forever/.

"'/I have two weeks. And I have forever/, ' I said.

"Blinded by my tears, I stumbled into his arms. I was so secure there as

he held me against him. He let me cry until I cried no more. He kissed

me. Then he picked me up and carried me into the house. He lay me down

on his bed..."

"Sandy, this is national television," Miss Walker interrupted.

"I know, Beverly," Miss King said. "But you must know about this, and

your audience must know, too. I knew what sex was. I'd known too much

and for far too long. But this was different. So very different. It was

love. Making love to a man I loved. I felt like a virgin that day with

David for he was the first man I loved. Don't you see, Beverly? Love

made it real."

The camera panned away as Miss King sat back with her eyes seeing things

far away. Miss Walker waited a few moments before saying, "That story's

very different than what the tabloids reported, Sandy."

"Yes, it is, but that's the truth. That's how I fell in love for the

first and last time in my life."

"What happened then?"

"For six months, we hid away at his ranch, leaving only for the premiere

of our movie. It was the two of us together. I learned so much from

David during that time. He taught me to love and to laugh, to give and

to take. More importantly, he taught me to do them with humility and

caring. That's when I became a woman, not a hot bodied girl seeking her

own pleasures, but a woman loving a man and being loved in return."

Miss King sat back. The camera panned in for a close up. Her face

radiated a deep and abiding love, and emotional honesty.

"I learned to be at peace and in love with my world," she said.

"You were pregnant with your first child when you surfaced on the

Hollywood scene again, as I remember," Miss Walker said.

Anger flickered across Miss King's face. She sat erect again and her

face was intense.

"The tabloids were wrong there, too. My pregnancy was intentional and

the result of my love for him, not some mistake. I was so full of love I

wanted to give him a child and I wanted a child to shower with my love."

Miss King took a deep breath and relaxed against the chair back.

"We were in the study when I asked him if I could have his child. His

eyes twinkled.

"'/Only if we're married, Sandy. I think children should have siblings

and homes and loving parents/.'

"'/David, are you proposing to me?/' I asked.

He walked to the desk, removed a jewelry box, and returned, kneeling

before me. He opened the box, showing me a beautiful ring. '/Will you

marry me, Sandy? Please. I love you. I want to spend the rest of my life

with you./'

"I can't tell you how I cried honest tears of joy. You know the rest:

the large, media covered marriage; the long career interrupted by my

four pregnancies; my move into directing and now, producing; the awards

and accolades.

"Funny, isn't it? I was the wild woman who was unemployable and on the

edge of self destruction, the woman no director or producer wanted to

confront. Now every actor wants to work with me because I bring out the

best in them; every producer wants me to direct because my work is high

quality and I finish on budget."

"There was a distinct change in you," Miss Walker said.

Miss King's face was shining. "Even as David lay dying, he was helping

me, giving me his love and his peace. He said, '/Gnash your teeth and

wail my loss for thirty days, Sandy. Then let it go and return to your

life. You have so much to give and so many people depend on you to give

it. Relish your life here. Don't hurry to me on the other side. I'll

wait for you there and we'll have eternity together/.'

"Thirty days after I buried him, my grief floated away from me. I

returned to my life, to my children and my work. I know I'll be with him

again when it's time."

The camera panned away. Miss King's hands could be seen clenching and

unfolding, and her face was red.

"Normally, I'm at peace, a peace within me that comes from his love.

That's David's gift to me, the greatest gift anyone could ever have.

I'll love him forever for it."

Miss King's face crumbled and tears flowed unabated.

"But sometimes... oh, God, I miss him so."

She buried her face in her hands and wept uncontrollably.

"This is Beverly Walker for Celebrity. Goodnight, ladies and gentlemen."

The camera faded to black.

The End
E. Z. Riter