The Other Side of Paradise

OMG, Dos Passos was a major literary critic and influencer. Thus, his nondescript pal must be e. e. cummings. They'd hung out together because they were both ambulance drivers in World War I - which had ended less than seven years earlier. That would make the woman at the table Elaine Orr, who Cummings had just married after she divorced her first husband.

The fact that Cummings was the father of the child Elaine had recently delivered might have had some relevance in the divorce. I also knew that the two of them would divorce within the coming year. But I didn't see fit to share that, since it would look like I could see into the future. Really... after all... I didn't want to come off suspicious - now, did I.

So, Julia and I were whiling away a sunny Long Island summer afternoon with a golden boy novelist, the king of literary influencers and one of the most notable poets of the Twentieth Century... absolutely no pressure there. Dos Passos turned to me and said, "What do you do Frank?" It never dawned on him to ask Julia because - after all - she WAS a woman.

I said casually, "I work in Hollywood." Which was technically true. Julia gasped and stared at me like I had announced that I worked behind the Pearly Gates. Fitzgerald seemed non-plussed. But of course, he had ulterior motives, and the other two looked at me with contempt. It took me a second to figure out their attitude. Both were heavily into communism. Dos Pasos even fought in the Spanish Civil War, eleven years later. So, they must have seen me as a capitalist stooge - writing for The Man.

Fitzgerald said, "Might we have we seen one of your movies?" Well... I couldn't get into detail about my scriptwriting since movie sound wouldn't be invented for another year and talking pictures for another two. So, I just shrugged and said, "How about, The Time Traveler's Wife?" Which was technically true and had the added advantage of still being 90 years in the future. They all looked politely blank.

Then Fitzgerald turned to Julia and said, "Why don't I show you around the estate, while these three discuss writing. I'm sure the conversation would bore you. Which was ridiculous given Julia's already stated interest. It also implied Cumming's wife wouldn't be bored. But she was expected to sit there and listen, with a vacuous smile pasted on her face - because she was married to Cummings. And Fitzgerald - Well... he had other motives, anyhow.

Julia glanced apprehensively at me as Fitzgerald grabbed her hand and led her in the direction of his mansion. It was obvious that the Lord of that manor had doit de seigneur on his mind. Everybody at the table was staring at me like they knew what was about to happen and they pitied me. I sat there awkwardly - trying to be civilized... not make a scene.

It took perhaps to a count of three before the bomb with off in my head and I said to myself, "This is all BULLSHIT... I don't need no stinkin' civilized. I'm not going to give Fitzgerald a free shot at a woman who holds my heartstrings in her dainty little hand.

I said under my breath, "Nope... not gonna happen!! Not with her!!" and I jumped to my feet and bounded up the lawn after them. It was ironic really. I had walked away from my actual wife's infidelities without a second thought. But I would do everything in my power to keep this new woman unsullied and pure - even if she might be a figment of my own utterly fucked up imagination.

Fitzgerald and Julia had gotten enough of a head start that they were already in the house. That's where I found the love of my life plastered against the wall - as I hustled in through the patio doors. Fitzgerald's leg was jammed between Julia's thighs, and he had her in a serious lip lock.

She, in turn, was making distressed noises and trying to push him off. The fact that there was also a few ohs! ahs! and gasps! interspersed among the indignant squawks galvanized me into action. I yelled, "What the FUCK?" stepped forward and pulled Fitzgerald off Julia.

Then, with a hand gripping each shoulder, I walked him backward and slammed him into the opposite wall. We were face to face, separated by the length of my arms - except for the part of Fitzgerald that was sticking out below his waist.

I said, steel in my voice, "Let me make something clear - Shitweasel!! I don't care what sort of literary giant you are. I love Julia and I am going to marry her. And if anybody lays one hand on her besides me... he is going to get it snapped off and shoved up his ass."

Fitzgerald looked shocked. He must have really believed I would be honored to have the horns hung on me by a literary giant. Nonetheless he was a very cool customer. His entire body relaxed, he gave me a jaunty smile, and said, "No problem, old Boy. I didn't know you felt that way about her. So, let's go get a gin fizz and forget that this ever happened."

That was when Julia stepped in. I heard a voice heavy with sarcasm say, "Seriously? You think we would stay around here after what you just did to me. How pathetic do you think we are?" She was rearranging her blouse. Fitzgerald had ripped it open when he grabbed her delectable left tit - which was still half out of her bra.

That's when I really saw it. Julia might be polite and considerate - even humble and shy. But she wasn't weak, especially if anybody violated her concept of decent behavior. I suppose I should have known it. I mean... the woman had gotten on a bus all by herself, come to the most intimidating city in the U.S. and lived, without any form of a safety net - simply because she wanted to be a writer. Those are the actions of a courageous person.

I DO admit that Julia got sucked into Ziegfield's mind games - she was ultimately a naïve, small-town kid - and maybe the subsequent failure of that relationship knocked her off her game a bit. But Julia was always ready to stand by her ideals concerning right and wrong, no matter the circumstances. Naturally, that got me thinking, "Is she with me because she is rebounding from Ziegfield?" I know... I waste waaaaay too much time thinking. Still, that question got answered in the next hour.

Julia grabbed my hand and dragged me out to the Rolls, which, as usual, was waiting faithfully by the entrance. Fitzgerald followed behind us protesting. I leaned out the window and said placatingly, "No hard feelings - Old Son. You just messed with the wrong woman." Julia made a loud, 'Humph!!" She was still pissed.

We rode for a while without saying a word. Then she turned and her eyes were on fire. She whispered, rock steady, "Did you mean what you said back there? Are you planning to marry me?" Shit!! I was hoping she hadn't heard that. It really was in the heat of the moment. But to mangle an epigram from Pliny the Elder, "In Ira Veritas," "Truth in Anger."

Seriously... I wasn't going to let this woman slip out of my grasp. I really did love her, and I DID want to marry her. You know when you've met the right one - count on it. And I was sure of my feelings, right down to my very bones. Hence, I would be a total pussy if I spent time dithering about trivial concerns like my being from another century.

Still... the reality was that I had no idea whether Julia saw things the same way. So, I said, aiming to preserve my dignity - that is... if she shot me down, "I have known you for exactly four days. In that time, I have come to believe that you are the only person I could EVER love and marry."

Julia gasped and her hazel eyes darkened with emotion. I was still talking, "Our physical attraction is undeniable, and there is a rare connection between us - in terms of interest, temperament, and belief. So, yes... as crazy as it sounds, I would not hesitate to pledge the rest of my days to you."

Alright - I admit it, I was technically already married. But I don't think the laws of bigamy applied to a second wife if she predated the first by ninety-two years. More relevantly, I wasn't going back to the 21st Century again - for better or for worse.

I added, throwing down the challenge, "If all you want is my love and devotion, then I can promise you that." It was clear from Julia's reaction that that statement hit her hard. She was, after all, a small-town girl with all of those splendid small town values.

I continued with, "Still... I am my own person and I respect the fact that you are too. So, tell me honestly - if you think this is too hasty, then I will back off. Because I am confident that we will be together for life once we get to know each other... and I want that to happen."

Julia had burst into tears the last time we'd voyaged down this path. But this time she just sat there looking at me, eyes intensely focused, like she was trying to decide whether I was telling the truth or not. Finally, she seemed to relax and the barriers just tumbled down. She threw herself across the seat and directly into my arms.

That didn't mark the beginning of a wild backseat fuckfest. It was something far, far, better. Julia buried her head in my shoulder, and nuzzled it. Then, she pulled her head back and looked at me with merriment in her eyes and said, "THERE!! I just marked you, like my kitty does to the things that she thinks are hers. You're mine now and nobody else can have you."

It was such a sweet and endearingly touching gesture that all I could think was, "This woman may have a gorgeous face and figure. But she has a gentle and guileless soul." We hung there for a few interminable seconds, staring at each other, faces a foot apart. Then, ever so slowly, like a big rock starting downhill, our lips moved toward each other, and we kissed.

It wasn't a Last Tango in Paris, all-night jungle-fucking kiss. It was the warm and giving kiss of shared essence, sincere, gently caring, and bonding. It was as if we had both discovered a protected haven where we could be safe from the raging storm.

Julia made a little, "Oh!" and then drew her head back, studying me. I looked in her big hazel eyes with a cute little wrinkled frown plastered between them, and a spray of freckles across her faultless cheeks. I said, "You feel it too, don't you? That's our future together, until death, do we part."

She got a serious look on her face, like she was about to make a solemn pledge and said, "All I've ever wanted was someone I could love, and who would love me in return. I know that you are that man. You will never have a reason to doubt my loyalty."

Now some of you might think I was a total douchebag for committing myself like that when I already had a wife. But Ashley had proven herself to be utterly unworthy of my fidelity and more relevantly... Ashley wouldn't be born in this lifetime... even if Julia and I lived a long and happy life together.

I took Julia's dainty little right hand in mine. She looked confused. I gave it a melodramatic shake and said, "It's a deal." Then I chuckled and added, "I know how lucky I am."

We rode back to the city in companionable silence. Julia lay crosswise, face nestled against my chest, while I held her. Once in a while, she would raise her head and look in my eyes, like she was trying to reassure herself. Then she would go back to snuggling. If a woman could purr, Julia was doing it.

Me? I was desperately trying to find my equilibrium. And that's why I was glad that neither of us were talking. The disconnect between my old comfortable life and the challenges of this brave new world would rile anybody's sensibilities. So, I was suffering from a severe case of cultural dislocation - sociologists call it culture shock.

I mean, it's one thing to get caught up in the romance. But I'd been a resident of the 20th Century for roughly four days now, and I didn't have the slightest practical idea of how to live there. Think about it... last week, I was 3,000 miles from this place and a hundred years in the future. I might've been unhappy in my marriage and hated my job, but I'd mastered all of the ins and outs of life there.

Now I was alone in an alien time. Nothing in 1925, its attitudes, or even the sights, sounds, and smells, was like my era. I'm adaptable. But that was stretching things. I had survived so far because the basics of American society were the same - at least, in the big picture. Meaning that the common elements of the political and social systems were similar. However, there were a confounding number of nuances in daily life in 1925 - and I was most assuredly NOT plugged into the minutia of that.

Seriously, this was still an era when chamber pots and outhouses were in vogue and the U.S. was mostly agricultural. Emerging radio networks—Sarnoff's NBC and Paley's CBS—were the only mass media, and there was no TV or internet. People could drive coast to coast on the new Route 66. But it would be a rough couple of weeks. And if you wanted to visit Europe, it was at least five days by boat.

But the hardest thing to get my mind around was the social attitudes. Back then... the U.S. was totally segregated. Irish, Italian, and Polish immigrants were viewed as day labor or the help; a woman's place was in the kitchen - and society had no problem whatsoever with any of that. So, tell me... how does a guy with 21st-century sensibilities make a living commenting about THAT and not get himself lynched by an angry mob of white guys?

Nonetheless, the real mystery was... why was I so fucking ecstatic. The answer was simple. Julia had wrapped me in her cheerful worldview, and I was certain that I would prevail - no matter what life threw my way. A good woman will do that for a man.

Honestly, though... a lot of my confidence was based on my financial plans. I was going to invest in a few new startups like Chrysler and a little company in Bethpage called Grumman. So, I knew that I would eventually be wealthy. I also knew that I would be filthy rich when I sold short in late October of '29. It isn't insider trading if Black Tuesday is in all the history books. Hence, money wasn't a problem and money insulates you from a lot of those other things.

I dropped Julia at her rooming house after a romantic dinner under the skylights in the Garden Room at Luchow's. I know that sounds rather anticlimactic given what had just transpired between the two of us. But this was 1925 and I was observing an important social convention.

I gave Julia a chaste kiss when we parted. She clearly appreciated that. I mean... I was pretty sure that she would have come back to my room if I'd asked. But in 1925, a good girl didn't get down and dirty with a beau on a first date - no matter how much she liked the guy. All of the social bases had to be touched first, and so, at a minimum... there had to be a courtship. We both knew that.

I hear you saying, "But she fucked Ziegfield on the first date." Yes, indeed, Ziegfield took advantage of Julia's vulnerability. But she was just a conquest to him... nothing more. I wanted Julia for the long haul. So, she had to understand that she was much more than a trophy to me. The sex would come later and it would be better because her heart would be in it.

Julia was clearly very sexual. You could sense it in every move she made. And she could give you a yearning look, that would set your socks on fire. But she thought of herself as a "good girl," and that perception mattered to her. Accordingly, she kept her passionate nature under lock and key - like any person would do who had a modicum of self-respect.

Julia lost her virginity back in Toledo. She had given herself to a man she'd expected to marry. But the Spanish Flu took him just before the wedding. Julia told me he was hale and hearty on Monday and dead on Friday. The first flu pandemic was virulent and sudden.

History tends to forget about unique events like the Spanish Flu, because they are so transient and personal. But it killed ten times the number of Americans in one year, than the number of our soldiers lost in all of World War One. And yes, it was the H1N1 strain, the one we are so familiar with today.

Julia's fiancé's death crushed her, and it was the reason she decided to make the big move to New York. She told me sadly, "Life's transitory. So, you have to live in the here and now, not wait for the indeterminant future. One week, I was going to be a farmer's wife. And a week later, I had no future at all. There was nothing left back home. So, I went somewhere else... to reinvent myself."

Now that was a sensible view... so typical of the woman Julia was. We all drift. And none of us, even the most enlightened of us, see all of the rocks. So, you have to be ready to steer around life's challenges when they appear. Julia had the courage, strength, and adaptability to do that."

I saw Julia every day after that. Each day was a new experience with the world's most interesting best friend. I would pick her up, and we would do cultural things like nights at the Philharmonic or roaming around the Met. The reality of my wife, Ashley, ditching me in that exact same spot was merely ten days in my past. But it was ninety-nine years removed from my consciousness. Julia made it so.

Still, Julia wasn't just artsy. She was also a baseball nut. Hence, we would drive out to East 161st in the Bronx and watch Ruth, Gehrig, Lazzeri and the rest of the legendary murder's row play ball. And... my modest and shy, woman would morph into a beer-swilling maniac - whose loudly expressed opinion of umpires was downright slanderous. And yes... I was aware of how special that was.

Julia's remarkable beauty attracted attention wherever we went. She even drew Ziegfield's notice on the night we attended his latest Follies. During intermission. he came sliming over, all smiles, ignoring me in the process, and put his arm around Julia's waist. I don't know what Ziegfield expected. But what he got was a frosty voice telling him to, "Take your paws off me or I'll report you to the police."

We finally consummated our love in Atlantic City. That place was Vegas in the 1920s... the spot where you went to lose your inhibitions and cut loose. Monopoly wasn't invented yet. But Atlantic City was the place that the game was based on. It featured a boardwalk - yes THAT boardwalk - and 400 other tourist attractions. The trip down from Penn Station took three hours.

We checked in at the Traymore on a beautiful summer day. The Traymore was an impressive piece of architecture, well worth the exorbitant price. I'd thought of Atlantic City in the 21st century as a sad, timeworn place. But almost a hundred years earlier, the vast marble-clad lobby of that huge hotel was as good, or better than, anything in New York.

The view of the Atlantic from our room - across the boardwalk and sandy beach - was spectacular. As soon as we entered the room, Julia began to stow the few contents of her cheap little suitcase. What is it with women and their need to nest? Then, it hit me that this was the exact same scene I'd endured two months earlier with Ashley. The contrast between my wife and my new love couldn't have been more profound.

Julia gave me a mischievous grin and disappeared into the ensuite, which was a deluxe innovation in hotels of that era. She reappeared wearing a ratty old robe. I was about to ask her what was going on, when she made a shushing gesture and stood in front of me, her hazel eyes radiating fire. I was puzzled.

Then Julia reached up, grabbed the back of my head, and pulled my face down to hers for a scorching open-mouthed kiss. Her lips were alive working frantically, not just pressed against mine, as they always had before. I broke the kiss and looked into her deep intelligent eyes. She was gazing back with an intense stare. It told me she'd decided. And I hate to tell you guys, but it's always the woman who decides.

So, I dove back in for another incredible kiss. Julia was an expert kisser—her mouth, tongue, and lips constantly moved, pulled, probed, and nipped. It might have required a courtship to get to this point. But if the rest of Julia's performance was as animated as her kisses... then I was in for a wild ride indeed.