Mary Jane by Jessica Blau (debian ebook reader TXT) 📗

talk,” Sheba said. “I guess I’m a little anxious too. Jimmy and I have been incognito for weeks now and I’m findingthat rather than feeling liberated by it, I sort of miss the reaction people have to me. I mean, I thought I hated it. I don’tunderstand why, but I miss waiters falling all over themselves and giving me the best table and I miss girls crying when theysee me and I miss the gay men who tell me I’ve saved their lives.”

I wanted to ask Sheba how she’d saved gay men’s lives, but I knew it was not the right time.

“You miss your celebrity,” Dr. Cone said.

“Yeah. Isn’t that weird? I complained about it all the time. But I wonder if I’m sort of addicted to that high of being theperson in the room everyone wants to look at or know.”

We all were looking at Sheba. She was so beautiful that even if she wasn’t a star, I would want to stare at her in a room.I’d want to know her too.

Dr. Cone said, “Let’s explore this further. What do you think you gain from being seen? Is it emotional? Is there a childhood interaction that is being recapitulated, or an unfufilled need that is being filledthrough the act of being seen?”

“Oh, Richard.” Sheba shook her head. She pulled on the tips of her bare toes. “You know my mother showed me no love. And sheshamed me for my sexuality.”

“Your mom’s a bitch.” Jimmy spoke through nearly closed lips that allowed a thin sheet of smoke to slip out.

“She was. She shamed me for the very things that the public adores about me: my hair, my tits, my ass, my legs. Even my pussy . . .”

I swallowed hard. I’d never heard anyone use that word, but I did know what it meant. I tried to let my brain move past theidea that Sheba was discussing this part of her body; I tried to be the adult Sheba expected of me.

“You’ve been nominated for an Academy Award,” Dr. Cone said. “You’re always asked to sing on talk shows. I think it’s factualthat you are also adored for your many talents.”

“But, Richard, no one on this Earth would pay five cents to see my talents if I didn’t look the way I do.” Sheba threw herhair forward.

“Do you feel any gratification when you’re rewarded for your talents, or do you only feel gratified when you’re rewarded foryour physical attributes?”

“When I was in Playboy, I got more recognition, more adoration, more praise than I did for anything else I’ve ever done. And you know what?”

“What?” Mrs. Cone asked, too loudly, and then she hiccuped.

Sheba and Dr. Cone both looked at her like she’d just shouted during a silent prayer in church.

Sheba turned her head back to Dr. Cone as if he had asked the question. “It made me feel good. It made me feel like I mattered.Playboy filled the hole my mother carved out of me when she told me I was a whore and a slut and that I’d never be as good as my brothers.”

“Like I said,” Jimmy grumbled, “lady’s a bitch.”

“So you’re defying your mother, in a sense.” Dr. Cone was nodding. He paused for a moment and then said, “Does this defiancefeed you spiritually?”

Sheba thought about this, and I thought about it too. Wearing the crochet bikini Sheba bought me did seem like it filled some spiritual need. When I wore it, it was like I was transforming into the freer, less afraid person I wanted to be. But could I really compare my semi-nudeness in a bathing suit on a private beach to Sheba’s total nudeness in a magazine that just about every man in the world looked at?

“It might. Allowing myself to flaunt what my mother wanted me to hide makes me feel like I exist on my own terms,” Sheba said,and I understood her completely.

“Let’s look at it from another angle,” Dr. Cone said. “Is there anything that’s worth doing without an audience? Is thereany part of you that doesn’t need to be seen?”

“When Jimmy and I make love, I feel whole. Complete. Like everything that’s missing in me is filled.” Sheba reached her armout to Jimmy and they held hands. He leaned in and whispered something to her. Mrs. Cone sighed so loudly, I wondered if shewanted to interrupt them. Dr. Cone looked entirely calm, like he had no problem waiting for the two of them to finish whateverit was they were whispering, lip to lip.

I heard Jimmy say, “Baby, I just love you so much.”

My stomach rumbled again. Sheba had just admitted that her most complete moments in life were when she was making love toJimmy. And mere hours ago, Jimmy was doing exactly that with Beanie Jones.

When they finally stopped whispering, Sheba said, “I think I need to meditate on how I can feel complete and whole withoutcontinuous feedback from exterior sources, including Jimmy. Like, I need to totally chill out and sit with myself, just seewhat it means to be me without the world telling me who I am, or who I’m not, or who I am to them.”

“You have given yourself excellent advice,” Dr. Cone said. I thought it was neat that he didn’t feel like he had to be the one to come up with the advice. And then I wondered if I should see what it felt like to sit with myself without taking into account feedback from exterior sources, even though I usually felt comfortably and quietly invisible, except to my mother, who gave me continuous feedback. Maybe part of my joy in being at the Cones was the joy of not getting feedback from my mother. I wanted to think about this more, but then Jimmy started talking and I didn’t want to miss anything he had to stay.

“But wait. I mean, fuck, man, if Sheba’s not the superstar sucking up all the attention, then everyone’s gonna look more closelyat me.” He knocked his thumb