“A jungle cat seems more like it for Diana,” Lane said. “The feminine qualities combine with strength.”
“I saw a jaguar on
Wild Kingdom
not too long ago,” Chris said. “They’re simply lovely.”
“Jaguar is good,” Lane said.
“I agree with Liz that Chris is a cat,” Madge said.
“I do too,” Diana said, relieved to have their attention diverted from her.
“A nice tabby cat I hope,” Chris said.
“Sure, why not?” Liz smiled at her sister. “What about Lane? What’s her animal?”
“An eagle,” Diana said immediately.
“What an unusual choice!” Chris exclaimed.
Millie flung out her arms. “Eagles are lovely birds, so strong, so noble.”
“They’re independent and free,” Diana said testily, irritated by Millie’s theatrics.
“And lonely,” Madge added. “Lonely up there in their rocks looking out over the world.”
“You make me seem terribly romantic,” Lane said.
“Eagles have talons,” Liz said sharply. “They swoop down and take what they want.”
“No longer so romantic,” Lane said with an easy smile at Liz.
“Let’s do Millie,” Diana suggested, irked now with Liz.
“I think Millie’s a doe. No, a deer,” Madge said.
“She definitely has a vulnerable quality,” Lane said.
“I think deer too,” Liz said. “The elephant wants to get on with another game. What’s next, Madge?”
“Let’s choose a one word description that best sums up and describes each other. Let’s begin with uh, Lane. We’ll move to her right, each one of us in turn. What do you think of Lane overall in one word, Diana?”
After a moment of concentrated thought, Diana said,
“Gentle and sensitive.”
“Hmmph,” Liz said, picking up her drink.
“One word,” Madge said to Diana.
“It’s hard to choose. I guess, sensitive. It suggests gentle.”
“I don’t see that at all,” Liz challenged, her dark eyes fixed on Lane.
Diana said icily. “Well, it’s my—”
“We’ll hear your opinion in a minute, Liz,” Madge said placatingly. “Chris?”
“I’m trying to think of a word that means hard to figure out or get close to,” Chris mused. “Distant? Mysterious? I guess mysterious.”
“Much more like it,” Liz said, nodding and crossing her arms.
Madge cast a reproving glance at Liz. “My turn.” She looked at Lane for some moments, reflecting. “Something in your script is driving you, but I think I’ll choose dedicated for my word.”
Lane smiled at her. “Dedicated sounds much better than driven.”
Madge said with quiet emphasis, “Still, you
are
driven.”
Millie whispered, “I think I’d choose remote to describe Lane.” She sat cross-legged, eyes fixed on her hand as it picked at the material of her sweatsuit.
“And I’ll say cool,” Liz said. “You see, Diana? You see a very different person than the rest of us.”
Diana swallowed a sharp retort, unwilling to pursue this discussion, filled with distaste at the prospect of debating Lane with Liz or any of the women. She said instead, firmly, “I see what I see.”
“I feel like the subject of a soap commercial,” Lane said, her voice expressionless.
Madge said, “For what it’s worth, except for Diana, we’ve described you pretty much as a person who’s… detached.”
Lane leaned back casually, legs stretched out, hands on the carpet behind her to brace herself. She smiled at the women. “I’ll have to work on bringing Diana’s dissenting opinion into line with the rest of yours.”
“Cool. Very cool,” Liz said, raising her glass in a toast.
Madge stared at Liz. “Diana’s next. Give us a one word description, Chris.”
“That’s so easy. Sweet. Diana’s sweet.”
Madge mused, gazing at Diana, “She is sweet, Chris, in a nice old-fashioned sort of way. The kind of woman men like to marry. Pretty, a good figure. A girl just like the girl that married dear old dad. I’ll say nice.”
Startled, disconcerted, awkward under the appraising eyes of the group, Diana laughed nervously.
“I’ll say sweet,” Millie said. “I like Chris’s word.”
“I’d agree with nice,” Liz said, “but to me nice people are boring, and she’s not boring.” She looked at Diana reflectively, through narrowed eyes. “I don’t know her very well, but from what I’ve heard and seen, I’d say honest. I pick up a strong feeling of honesty from her.”
“I agree with all your words, especially honest,” Lane said. She sat with one leg drawn up, a hand dangling over the knee, gazing into the fire. “The word I would choose would be. warm.”
“Diana, you certainly make a good impression,” Madge said, her eyebrows raised.
“I’m just lucky none of you know me very well,” Diana murmured, flushed with embarrassment.
She listened with only part of her mind as the game continued. She had already chosen shy as her word for Chris, would describe Madge as searching, Millie as unaffected, Liz as strong. She watched Lane, turning over in her mind the disparity between the women’s view and her own. Certain of her reading of Lane as a warm and complex woman, she was curious but undisturbed; Lane had arrived at the cabin only two hours before her—not much time for the formation of a more considered opinion by the others. But she was puzzled by Lane’s seeming lack of concern for their judgment. An extension of a demeanor adopted for professional reasons? A mask for aspects of herself she thought might be interpreted as weakness—a deliberately constructed defense? Yet she had revealed herself to Diana from their first meeting before the fire. That could not have been accidental. Perhaps she felt safe with a woman who would soon return to Los Angeles, who she would probably never see again.
“What’s next up your sleeve, Madge?” Liz asked.
“Some strokes. Let’s start with you and move to your left. Tell the group what you like about Millie.”
“Her generosity,” Liz said readily, and took a long swallow of bourbon. “Millie can be a pain, but she’d give you the shirt off her back.”
Millie beamed.
“Toss in her bra too, if you’re a man.”
“Your turn, Millie,” Madge said as Millie stared at Liz, her smile fading. “Is there anything at all about me that you like?”
Millie sighed, looked at Madge. “Sure. Lots of things. You’re so interested in new ideas, and you’re entertaining. You have a dry sense of humor I like.”
“Liz is right, you’re a generous person,” Madge said.
“What I like about Chris is her good heart. She’s a kind person, and it’s her basic nature.”
“Oh what a lovely thing to say, Madge!” Chris turned to Diana and said falteringly, “She’s such a lovely girl, that’s what I like about Diana. So sweet and gentle, someone I’d like to have for a daughter.”
Diana, very moved, looked at Chris, moisture coming to her eyes. Chris was no older than her mid-forties, yet the lonely old woman in her was already visible. Diana took Chris’s hand and squeezed it.
She cleared her throat and looked at Lane. “What I like about Lane is her appreciation of her life, and that she wants her life to have meaning.”
“Very high sounding sentiments,” Liz said. “What does it mean?” She drained the rest of her bourbon.
“Thank you,” Lane said to Diana. “What I like about Liz is her strength and confidence. They’re such rare qualities. Most people are too insecure to really express themselves as individuals.”
Surely this belligerent woman would be disarmed by such a compliment, Diana thought.
“Except you and me, right babe?” Liz sneered.
Lane did not reply. Diana was mystified by Liz’s hostility.
“Anybody besides me want more to drink?” Liz got to her feet with difficulty. “My ass is falling asleep. Somebody toss a log on the fire.”
Liz and Chris went to the kitchen, Madge and Millie to the bathroom.
“Like more wine?” Diana asked as Lane selected a log.
“No, I’ve got plenty, thanks.”
“What’s with her?” Diana inclined her head toward the kitchen.
Lane threw the log on the fire and straightened it with a thrust of the poker. “Bourbon, probably. Don’t worry about it.”
“Anybody want grass?” Madge was rummaging through her purse.
“You’ve got grass?” Liz had returned from the kitchen. “What the hell were you saving it for?”
“I don’t have much. We’re going to be here all week.”
“Tell me,” Liz demanded, sitting down and peering at Lane, “what does our lady barrister have to say about grass?”
“Simple possession of marijuana is a misdemeanor in the state of California.”
“Does that mean we go to the gas chamber?”
Lane smiled. “Only if you kill somebody while you’re smoking it.”
Madge lit a joint and passed it to Chris. To Diana’s surprise, Chris took a deep drag and passed it to her, explaining apologetically, “Everybody I know in San Francisco smokes. I finally tried it and I must confess I like it better than alcohol.”
Diana passed the joint to Lane, who gave it to Liz. Liz said sweetly, “You girls don’t indulge?”
“It makes me stupid and sleepy,” Diana said.
“I like wine,” Lane said.
Liz took a long drag, inhaled deeply. “If you ask me, our dear little barrister doesn’t want to be a lawbreaker, that’s all. She doesn’t smoke, drink, or swear, if you notice. But you’re not too pure to fuck, are you dear.”
“No,” Lane said calmly.
“And fuck a lot, too. Really fuck up a storm.”
“Liz, stop that,” Chris said. “You’re being nasty. Perfectly nasty, and for no reason.”
Liz grinned at her sister. “Far be it from me to be nasty to dear Lane. As in Mar-lane-a,” she continued, drawing out the name, “namesake of another, much older blonde bombshell. What’s next, Madge sweetie?”
Madge was looking cautiously from Lane to Liz. “Well, we repay the strokes we’ve just received with a negative. You talk about the person who just said something nice about you, you mention something about her you’d like to see her change, something you think is a negative. We’ll discuss it as a group, whether we agree or disagree.”
“This should be very interesting,” Liz said, crossing her arms.
“Let’s start with uh, Diana.”
“Well,” Diana said carefully, as Chris’s pale blue eyes searched hers anxiously, “I’d like to see Chris have greater tolerance for other people… more understanding about… life experiences that make people… different from her and what she knows.”
“I agree with that completely,” Madge said, inhaling deeply and passing a joint to Millie. “And very well said, too. Everyone lives by their own script, we should all work at understanding that.”
Millie inhaled and said, “People should have more faith and belief in other people.”
“Bullshit,” Liz said, waving away the offer of the joint and picking up her bourbon. “And I’m not just coming to the defense of my sister, either. For chrissake, you goddam bleeding hearts. Where does understanding leave off and judgment begin? You certainly could use a little judgment, Millie. You believe in other people and all they ever do is fuck you. Front and back, and especially in the ass.”
“Liz!” Chris protested.
“Some people aren’t worthy of trust,” Millie said with dignity. “Some people just take what they want and throw everything else away like a banana peel. That’s their sin, not mine.”
“You’re being intolerant,” Liz said smugly.
“You can be judgmental without condemning,” Diana said with irritation, “that’s all I meant. You have to make judgments about people all the time, but they shouldn’t be so rigid and your mind so closed that you can’t consider adjusting your opinions as you learn and grow.”
“That’s not adjusting, that’s compromising. Compromising your principles.”
“Hardly,” Diana said caustically.
“Times have changed so,” Chris said thickly, “it’s so hard to keep up. People talk about things —people
do
things we didn’t even whisper about when we were growing up.”
Madge said, “You’re just following your own bad script, Chris. You’re not able to break away from it even when you want to. You— and Liz.” She lit another joint.
“Bullshit.” Liz took another deep swallow from her drink. “You and your fucking scripts. I do what I damn please, not what some crackpot psychiatrist says I’m programmed to do. That’s garbage. That’s bullshit.”
“Liz,” Chris said, “please.” She continued in a pleading voice, “Madge—Liz and I couldn’t be more different. We were brought up so strictly, you know. Mother always said we should demand the best in our lives, not settle for anything less. She gave us high standards to live by. But Liz went one way and I went another.”
“You can interpret script instructions differently.” Madge pulled at her hair with tense, nicotine-stained fingers. “It’s still a script.”
Liz glared at Madge, who drew again on a joint passed from Millie. Diana asked Chris gently, “Is there some reason you didn’t marry? You’d have made a wonderful mother.”
“I love children,” Chris whispered. “There just was... never anyone quite right. There were lots of chances but nothing. that was quite the best. quite right.”
“The never-good-enough script,” Madge said, nodding. “Scripty behavior. Scripty language.”
“Fucking bullshit,” Liz snarled.
“Well, I think there’s something in what Diana says,” Chris said. “Maybe I have been too unbending. But it’s too late to really change things now.”
Lane had been sitting quietly, sipping wine. She said, “No it’s not, Chris. Not if you want to badly enough.”
“That’s easy for you to say,” Liz said. “How old are you?”
“Thirty-two.”
“I’m forty-three and Chris is forty-five. We don’t have a face and body like yours to put on display. If I had your body I wouldn’t be giving it away and I wouldn’t be any damn lawyer either.” Gently, Liz took a butt which had burned down to Chris’s fingers, and crushed it in the ashtray. “Shit, I’d be in business for myself. A hundred bucks a night comes out to thirty-six thousand five hundred a year. Plus bonuses.”
The women, including Lane, laughed in escalating peals.
“Of course,” Liz said, staring at Lane, “I like fucking a lot, too.”
Lane stared back at her. “Good for you.”
“Cool,” Liz said, smiling at her. “Very, very cool.”