Chapter 67

My answer to Kirk wasn’t immediate. But he patiently waited, not forcing a decision from me. He asked me to think about Mr. and Mrs. Russo. About the failures in my marriage with Paul. About what turned me on. About the difference between love and sex. I grappled through it all. My upbringing told me one thing, my body something else.

And then I gave him the only honest answer I could.

“Yes,” I said, “I would find it exciting to have sex with other men.” And then a moment of fear entered my mind. “Are you disappointed in me?”

“Not at all. It’s the answer I expected. That is, if you were being honest with me ... and yourself.”

“But I love you. And I love having sex with you. I don’t want you to think I need more than that.”

“But you do. If our relationship is going to survive, you need to admit that.”

“Why?”

“I hate to constantly bring up my librarian, but she taught me more than sex. She taught me about life. She told me that if her husband had found out about her cheating, she would have done everything she could to save their marriage. Which included giving up sex with me and other men. She loved him that much. But she confessed to me that if that happened, she knew their marriage would be doomed.”

“Why?” I asked. “She loved him.”

“Because she needed more than love. She told me she would fight that need, but knew deep down that it would drive a wedge between her and her husband. She would blame him even though she knew he wasn’t doing anything wrong. She would blame him anyway. Resent him for what she was missing. And that strain would end their marriage.”

“So me having sex with other men will save our relationship?”

“Sounds crazy, doesn’t it?”

“It sounds insane.”

“If it wasn’t for my librarian, I would have thought so too.”

“Why do you call her ‘my librarian’? Why don’t you use her name?”

“That’s a secret I will keep to the grave. I promised her.”

“What if I don’t want you to have sex with other women?”

“Then I won’t.”

“Do you think that’s fair?”

“Until you moved in, I’ve always had sex with other women. I enjoyed it. I would still enjoy it, but not need it. You need it.”

“Because I’m a nymphomaniac.”

“If you insist on using that word then, yes, because you’re a nymphomaniac.”

A tear rolled down one cheek. “Why did God have to make me like this?”

Kirk wrapped me in his arms. “I’m glad He did.”

I leaned back from him, but didn’t break away. “How can you say that? I want to love only you, and God is—”

“I hope you will love only me. I will do whatever I can to earn that love.”

I laid the side of my face on Kirk’s chest and sobbed. He patted my back.

When my crying subsided and I was able to speak, I said, “I want you to have sex with other women.”

“Then I have one more thing to ask you,” Kirk said.

Kirk released me and jumped off the bed. He rushed to his dresser and dropped to both knees. I rolled onto my hip to watch him, wondering what was so important that he left me alone in bed. I was hoping to make love again. I wanted to show him how much I loved him. Kirk opened the bottom drawer. It was filled with sweaters. He rummaged through them and then stood up and spun around with his hand behind his back. He walked up to the bed, but didn’t get on it. He dropped to a knee, this time at the side of the bed, and whipped his hand out from behind his back. He held a square, black box on the palm of his hand and flipped the lid open. The diamond ring glinted.

“Julie, will you marry me?” Kirk asked.

I jumped up onto my knees. “Yes! Yes!”

I crawled to where Kirk was and cupped his face in my hands and kissed him on the mouth. But then I pulled away.

“I can’t,” I said, “I’m married.”

“You’re getting a divorce, right?”

“Yes.”

“I found a good divorce attorney. He’s the brother of an actor I know.”

Kirk and I made love. It should have been great. Kirk had proposed to me. But, to be honest, it wasn’t the best sex for me. My mind was filled with thoughts about divorce and me having sex with other men—and Kirk having sex with other women. I couldn’t push them out of my mind.

Kirk and I met with the divorce attorney who said he would get everything going. He said there was nothing for Paul to contest. I wasn’t asking for anything other than the clothes I had already taken. I had left my rings on the dinette table with the note. Paul owned the car. We didn’t have children. And the small savings account was Paul’s. I had never worked.

Then Kirk surprised me again. He took me to meet his parents. Since Kirk was performing in a play, we made it for an early dinner on Monday. That was the day Broadway was closed and the actors were off, even Off-Broadway ones. I wore a dress and even nylons. When Kirk watched me put on the garter belt and nylons, I had to fight him off or else we would have been late for the dinner. He didn’t know I wore them because my mother’s influence was rooted in me.

Kirk drove east on the Belt Parkway toward Long Island. When we passed Canarsie Pier, I couldn’t help but think back to my experiences there. I had been nothing more than a little girl fumbling through sex back then. We continued on to East Hampton. I had never been there and was enamored with the huge houses on the beach. When we pulled up to one of them, I turned to Kirk.

“You didn’t tell me your parents were rich,” I said.

“My father’s a surgeon. Is that a problem?”

“No. I, um, I should have worn something nicer.”

“You look great. They’re going to love you. And don’t worry, they’re not snobs.”

As soon as the car engine was turned off, I jumped out and ran toward the sound of crashing waves. It was high tide and the waves were large. I stood at the side of the house, clutching my coat around my neck as I looked at the beach and ocean. It was chilly at the end of September, but I looked forward to coming back in the summer. The beaches in Brooklyn and Queens I had gone to were always packed with people. This would be great. I rushed back to the front of the house and joined Kirk on the porch just as the door swung open. A short, heavyset woman stood there.

“Mom, this is Julie,” Kirk said.

“Hello, my dear, Kirk told us so much about you. We’re so happy to finally meet you.”

His mother wrapped her chubby arms around me and gave me a quick hug.

“It’s nice to meet you too, Mrs. Stinger.”

“It’s Mrs. Douglas,” his mother said.

I was stunned and didn’t know what to say. I looked back and forth between Kirk and his mother.

Kirk chuckled. “We have Issur Dannielovitch to thank for that confusion,” he said.

“What’s that?” I asked.

“Not what. Who. You know him as Kirk Douglas. Douglas is my birth name, but Issur Dannielovitch changed his name to Kirk Douglas before I got into acting so I had to change my name for the stage. I ended up legally changing it. I can see why he changed it, but I wish he hadn’t chosen my name.”

I was aghast. “How’d you pick Stinger?” I asked.

Mrs. Douglas snickered. “That’s what we want to know. Something about being stung by a bee. Kirk could have chosen something better than Stinger.”

A tall man with gray hair combed straight back, wearing slacks and an open-collared shirt, walked up to us.

“I’m Ben Douglas,” he said and gave me a quick hug. “Welcome to our home. Think of it as yours. You’re part of the family now.”