“Julie actually worked at a grocery store when she was inhigh school, and sort of hated it, but sometimes when showbiz was really on her nerves she’d say, ‘Imagine a job where you punch in, you punch out, then leave it all behind, not thinking about it anymore. There’s something great about that.’ Don’t get me wrong, she loved working, she was a born entertainer—but everyone gets aggravated sometimes.”
“Yes, we do,” Jane agreed.
“It’s only human, of course!” Lindsey chimed in.
“Please don’t repeat this, but sometimes, Julie would take the costume home and put it on, because it tickled her so much. When Bob found out—Bob Mackie, he did all the costumes—he insisted on making her a bunch of duplicates. And she was so damn funny doing it, too. People loved it.”
It sounded a bit like hoary schtick to Jane, but she could also see it being a crowd-pleaser. “I bet. It’s fun seeing a beautiful woman frump it up, right?”
“Oh, she looked beautiful no matter what she was wearing, and she still does. And this was right around the time—well, if this is from seventy-seven—that we had our second baby. Julie never slowed down, not for one minute.”
Being around all this memorabilia was precipitating a strange feeling in Jane. Nostalgia. Looking at Julie Robin’s old movie posters and publicity stills reminded Jane that her mother loved movies. In fact, her mother was a fan of Julie Robin—she admired her for the same reasons Jane did. When Jane was in elementary school, her mother took her to all kinds of movies, some rather sophisticated adult movies, movies that her father had no interest in seeing. It was a wonderful respite for her, one that gave her glimpses of worlds she could imagine escaping to when she was old enough to leave home. Jane realized that one of theonly times her mother was ever still was when she was watching a movie. It must have been an escape for her, too.
Jane was enjoying Bert’s reminiscences and didn’t want him to stop, but she was also feeling the imperative to get all this stuff organized.
“I’m afraid we’re not making much progress.”
“I’m sorry,” Bert said. “Memories keep getting jogged. Wonderful memories.”
“And I love hearing about them,” Jane assured him. “I just don’t want you to be disappointed in how much—or how little—we’re able to get done.”
“You don’t need to worry about that. You can always come back. I’ve got nothing but time nowadays.”
After another hour or so passed, they heard noise in the living room and Bert rose to his feet.
“That’ll be Julie. Would you like to meet her?”
“We’d love to,” Jane replied.
As Bert walked out, Lindsey whispered, “Oh my god, it is so cuuute how he adores her! So sweet!”
“Yes. It’s a little heartbreaking.”
“It’s heartwarming, not heartbreaking!” Lindsey replied.
A few minutes later, Bert asked them to come into the living room.
When they entered, Jane saw Julie lying on the couch in a long nightgown, eyes closed. A home health aide, wearing a uniform with a cheerful, brightly colored pattern, stood unobtrusively nearby, one hand on a wheelchair, the other clutching a can of Ensure. Julie’s hair was short and gray, a startling change from her trademark thick auburn tresses, and she wore no makeup.She looked very tired, very frail. Having just seen all those images of Julie in her prime, it was a little shocking.
Was she still beautiful? There was a dignity to the way she was acquiescing to the indignity of aging, and that was beautiful.
“Baby, these are the young ladies who are helping me organize today.”
Simply opening her eyes seemed to require a herculean effort on Julie’s part. Her gaze was placid and vague—Jane could not tell if she was even registering their presence.
“Are you feeling okay today, my sweetheart?”
Julie’s gaze landed on Bert, and she nodded.
“I’m going to say that means you are feeling great, right, baby?”
As Bert knelt by her side and kissed her cheek, Jane thought she saw Julie flush with delight. Something came alive in her eyes, and she said, very softly, almost a whisper, “Baby.”
Bert gently caressed her cheek.
“That’s right, baby, I’m here.” He looked up at Jane and Lindsey. “She’s not very talkative these days.”
Julie’s head rolled to one side and gazed at Bert in a way that Jane thought seemed adoring. She may have been drifting off, but she was moored to him, he was her anchor.
