The Ohana Part 26

Mary had to sit down. "Your father's going to hit the ceiling. What are we going to say to our friends and family? What will people think?"

"Tell them all the great artists painted nudes. It's the same as posing for Rubens or Michelangelo," Jackie suggested.

"It's not the Louvre. It's a girly magazine. It's for men to ogle and stare." Tears sprung to Mary's eyes. For the first time in a long time, she felt sorry for herself. How would she live down this shame? Everyone in Hawaii would see her daughter naked. What a disgrace. "People will say you weren't raised right."

"Why do you care what people think?" Jackie snapped.

"You should care. Everything you do in life has the ability to affect the rest of your life. To your grandmother respect was everything."

"That was the old days. Besides, I'm making a lot of money and my agent says I'll be famous."

"Money isn't everything." Mary wondered what she was going to tell her husband and Jackie's siblings. "This is disgraceful."

"It's not like I committed a crime or anything," Jackie countered. "Are you going to disown me like Dad always threatens to do to us?"

"No matter what, you're my daughter and I love you," Mary said in a hushed voice.

"But you don't approve." Jackie's voice was scathing.

"Did you expect me to bless a nude photo spread?" Mary put a hand to her head.

"I thought you'd at least understand what a big thing it is to be picked. You could at least be happy for me."

"I'm sorry," Mary sighed. "I don't think I can be happy for you. And you can't expect me to be proud of you doing something like that."

"You've never been proud of anything I've done. It has always been about Susan and the good grades she makes and what a perfect child she is," Jackie complained.

Mary had heard her say, You love Susan more. You think she's perfect., a thousand times before. "That's not true. I've always been proud of you."

"What were you proud of, Mom?" Jackie's voice grew strident.

"You're my beautiful firstborn."

"Thanks, Mom. That's just great. You can't think of anything else to say. No one else has anything else to say about me except I'm beautiful. That's it. Nothing about my personality, my ambition, and never, ever anything about my being smart. Just call me the dumb one in the family."

"Jackie..."

"Forget it, Mom. I'll talk to you some other time."

Any regret Mary might have heard in Jackie's voice ended after she became the Foxy Lady of 1962. Even Mary was surprised at how quickly and dramatically things changed for her eldest daughter. And, Mary had to admit, Jackie finally hit the jackpot. Jackie sent postcards and news clippings as she traveled first cla.s.s all around the world. Evidently the press met Jackie wherever she went, courtesy of Foxy Lady's public relations department. According to Jackie, she was wined, dined, and feted. She was a celebrity living life the way she wanted to live.

That same year she met and fell in love with Stefano De Felice, a playboy from a wealthy Italian family.

"He's handsome and rich," she gushed to her mother.

She sent her mother pictures of herself with the thirty-two-year old playboy in glamorous locales around the world.

Mary didn't say anything. She privately thought all the drinking and constant partying made for a meaningless life. Maybe the rich really were different.

Mary showed Jackie's pictures to the family. Susan was awed, which worried Mary. She hoped Susan wouldn't want to be like Jackie. Susan was sensible and smart. Mary didn't want her head turned by Gucci, Dior, Givenchy, and Chanel. She wanted Susan to find her own center independent of a man.

Jackie was smitten. Her life with the thirty-two year old playboy was extraordinary. They flew in his private jet to the Hotel du Cap in the South of France, to safaris in South Africa, and on shopping expeditions all over the world. They cruised the Greek Isles in his yacht. Stefano's family had homes in New York, London, Paris, St. Moritz, and Marbella. Life was one big party with Stefano. Their friends were elegant, rich, beautiful, and famous.

Stefano showered her with the best of everything. She wore Bulgari with Oscar de la Renta and Cartier with Chanel. She drove Stefano's Ferrari. He bought her a magnificent silver-tipped Barguzin Russian sable to wear to parties at the Palace Hotel in St. Moritz.

He introduced her to nothing but the finest, including the best Colombian cocaine.

At first she was hesitant. "Cara," Stefano coaxed. "It is the best feeling in the world, especially when one is making love. Don't worry, it isn't addicting. It just makes everything seem so much more beautiful. You must do a line before we make love. You won't believe how wonderful it will make you feel."

Desperate to please her man, Jackie snorted the cocaine. All the best people did it and she didn't want to seem old fas.h.i.+oned and provincial.

Everyday was Christmas and Jackie had been a very good girl all year long.

Paris-1964 Jackie had a hard landing the day she had tea with Stefano's mother. A Countess in her own right, she sat like a rare stone in a magnificent setting in the De Felice's exquisite home in Paris near the Hotel de Crillon.

Jackie was stunned when she first saw the jewel box Stefano grew up in. The butler led Jackie down the elegant hallway to a white and gold rococo drawing room. The ceiling was painted with clouds and cherubs drifting along a blue sky.

Senora De Felice stood when Jackie entered the room. She tilted her head and looked Jackie up and down. Then she put her hands on either side of Jackie's face and smiled. "You are lovelier than I expected."

Jackie was delighted as well as surprised. Senora De Felice was quite different from what she expected. "I'm honored to meet you," Jackie told her.

The Senora sat and bid her do the same.

A maid poured them both a cup of tea and offered pastries from a silver tray. Jackie took one of the sugary confections.

"You may leave, Celeste," the Senora nodded.

As the Senora sipped her tea, she continued to a.s.sess Jackie.

"This home is fabulous." Jackie wondered what it was like to live in a place like this. She wanted to find out. The thought literally left her breathless. She was just a step away from living her fairy tale.

"It has been in my family for generations. It was part of my dowry."

"Oh." Jackie took a bite of her pastry. It, too, was delicious.

Senora de Felice put down her Limoge cup. "It's such a pity you can never marry Stefano. You would make such beautiful babies together."

Jackie almost choked. "We've never discussed marriage."

"But of course you dream of marrying him. What woman wouldn't?"

Jackie put the half-eaten pastry on the dessert plate before her. "Is it because I was a centerfold or because I'm Eurasian?"

"Everything matters, of course. But surely you must know ... Stefano can only marry someone of his own cla.s.s." The Senora took a skinny, brown Gauloise out of a gold cigarette case, tapped it on the cover and lit it. All the while, the Senora's unblinking eyes stayed on Jackie.

"He's the oldest and heir to everything," she continued after she took a quick puff. "He must produce heirs with the proper background. Things are different in Europe. We are not as egalitarian as Americans."

Jackie didn't want to admit she didn't know what egalitarian meant, especially since English was her first language and not the Senora's. "Why didn't Stefano tell me himself?"

"Because, my dear," Senora tapped ashes from her Gauloise on a crystal ashtray. "Stefano never does. He's like a child in a candy store. He's so busy gorging himself on candy he fails to think about what happens later. I'm sorry. But someone has to tell you the truth." She waved her thin, brown cigarette in the air. "He should have told you himself, but I'm afraid my son breaks hearts rather carelessly."

Chapter Thirty-seven.

New York: 1965 Stefano told Jackie he was leaving right after Christmas. He gave her a Mercedes and $150,000. Jackie was speechless. She lamented her life was over. For almost three years she had led a fairytale existence, and now, just like that, it was over.

"But, cara," Stefano said to her as if she were a child. "You knew I couldn't marry you."

"But what am I to do?" She felt scared. He'd introduced her to a lifestyle she only dreamed of. Now he was releasing her to an uncertain future. She was accustomed to being taken care of in royal style by Stefano. How could she to go back to her former life? She was paralyzed with fear at the thought of taking care of herself.

"My solicitor rented an apartment for you in New York for a year. It will give you time to decide what you want to do. You are young and beautiful, the possibilities are endless." He nuzzled her cheek. "You have your entire life to look forward to."

Jackie wept. "You said you loved me."

"Of course I love you. You've been with me three years, which is a very long time, for me."

"It's not so long." Jackie sniffed, wiping away her tears.

"Ah, but cara, my father is very angry with me. He insists I settle down. He's even picked a bride for me. I have no choice, you see? Either I do this thing, or he takes away my money."

Jackie was numb. Her life fell apart. For months, she sequestered herself in the apartment Stefano rented for her and did lines of c.o.ke at night. When the money began running out, she sold her Mercedes.

Six months in, she read about Stefano's marriage in the gossip columns. His wife was lovely, she admitted, and also very young.

Jackie's beauty was all she had left. But fear drove her to lie in bed every night staring at the ceiling wondering how she was supposed to go on after having been tossed aside. What would happen to her when the year was up? What would happen to her when all her possessions were sold and the money spent?

Panic now owned her. She ran to Valentino's, Gucci, and Yves St. Laurent and blew thousands of dollars on clothes. Sometimes she lay awake all night, high on c.o.ke, mentally counting the rest of her money and fretting about the possibility of being completely broke. She promised herself she would stop spending money and find a job. But her vows were forgotten as soon as she woke up the next morning.

When Stefano called her from Italy two months after his wedding, she was still floundering.

"Ah, cara, I have good news," he said. "Remember Carlos? The one with the fabulous home in Marbella? He asked about you. He will be in New York in three days and is anxious to see you. You should see him, cara. He is very rich and very generous."

Jackie felt as if she had been slapped. He is very rich. Did he think she was a wh.o.r.e? A wh.o.r.e who could be bought and sold?

Then she remembered Carlos. He looked older than her father. But he owned the grandest house in Marbella.

She told herself she was going out with him to spite Stefano. The truth was Stefano didn't care.

The night of her date, she wore an elegant Galanos sheath accessorized with aquamarines the color of the sea dangling from her ears and neck. Her dark, chestnut hair fell in thick waves. No one had to tell her she looked stunning.

After dinner and dancing, Jackie went to bed with Carlos. When it was finally over, she lay beside him like a rag doll listening to him snore. She couldn't sleep.

When the birds began chirping and the street traffic grew louder, she watched the luminous numbers on the clock go from six, to seven, and finally eight. As the room grew lighter, Carlos looked older. Sticking out of his balding head were tufts of thin white hair. His chin was rough with white stubble and his big-pored, saggy skin was threaded with veins close to the surface. The reddish-purple veins in his nose and his bloated face betrayed his alcoholism. Stefano would probably look like him someday. And, like Carlos, he would probably sleep with a girl young enough to be his daughter.

She slid out of bed and tiptoed to the lavishly appointed bathroom and looked in the mirror. There was make-up smudged under her eyes and her cheeks looked hollow. The disheveled girl staring back at her looked like a cheap hooker. She began to cry.

Carlos didn't wake until twelve. She had already ordered orange juice, coffee, fruit, and croissants with marmalade. Everything was cold, but Carlos didn't seem to mind. He poured himself a cup of lukewarm coffee and popped a strawberry in his mouth.

"I'm a generous man. We will draw up contracts so there will be no misunderstanding." He sipped orange juice. "You must hire your own attorney. Everything is negotiable except one thing. You cannot have other lovers. You will belong to me exclusively."

Jackie looked out the window at Central Park feeling like a wh.o.r.e.

Three weeks later, Mary arrived in New York and went straight to the hospital.

"I'm here to see my daughter, Jackie Han," Mary said to the receptionist. "Could you tell me what room she's in?"

"Is that H-A-N? Oh yes, the attempted suicide." The receptionist pushed up her gla.s.ses on her nose. "310. The doctor wants to see you first. Let me page him."

Mary paced in the reception area while fumbling in her purse for breath mints. She was very tired from the red-eye she'd taken. It was a long trip from Honolulu to New York.

"Mrs. Han?" The resident sat down next to her with his clipboard in one hand and a pencil in the other. Despite his tired, red eyes, he looked very young. "Your daughter tried to commit suicide two nights ago. Has she done anything like this before?"

"Never. Can I see her now?" Mary gripped her purse.

"She's asleep." The doctor put his pencil in his pocket. "Mrs. Han, are you aware of your daughter's drug problem?"

Mary's mouth dropped. "What are you talking about?"

"Your daughter overdosed on cocaine and prescription drugs."

Mary cried. "No, no, no," she whispered. "How could this have happened?"

The doctor shook his head. "I see more and more of it in the emergency room. People say cocaine is non-addictive. I wish some of them would spend a week in ER and see how harmless cocaine really is."

Mary put her hand on her throat. "What can I do?"

"I recommend treatment. This habit doesn't miraculously go away. The hospital can steer you to a number of programs."

Mary struggled to comprehend the enormity of what he said. Her daughter was a drug addict. "Can I see her, please? Even if she is asleep; I promise not to wake her."

"Sure." The doctor stood and led her to Jackie's room. He closed the door behind them to give them privacy.

Feeling helpless and guilty, Mary gazed at Jackie. She looked like an angel. Sitting down in the chair next to her bed, Mary put one hand on her daughter's and leaned over and kissed her.

Jackie opened her eyes, "Mom?"

Mary squeezed Jackie's hand.

"I'm sorry to be so much trouble, Mom." Jackie turned her head to the wall. "I just wanted to end the pain. Have you ever wanted to die?"

"Yes."