"love has no uttermost, as the stars have no number and the sea no rest."
-eleanor farjeon
there is a small newsstand outside of my building and every morning, i walk past it as i go to work. every morning there is a new headline about kathleen. she is the papers' - or the 'fence' as she refers to them - poster child and she cannot make a single move without them shining a spotlight on her. so, naturally - i have heard of her; and as i am a regular on the show-business circuit - i have also even met her.
i became acquainted with her at the time during which she was still seeing jimmy kiss, at kathleen's 312 skid row residence. now, from all the things that i knew about the couple - i did not know that jimmy had a baby brother. as a result, it came as a surprise to me when the papers one morning read : THE DOLL GIVES YOUNG KISS A LAPDANCE. i believed it to be a misprint and kept walking; although, as days went on, it soon dawned on me that joey kiss was surely no misprint.
kathleen and joey asked me to meet them at 1999 lisbon drive - their new arcadian love nest, hidden within the easy street hills. when you first walk into the lisbon drive home, there is a table to your right with an egg-shaped old fashioned mirror hanging directly above it. on that table is a vase, holding fresh cherubic-pink roses; behind both lies a crackling, faded-blue wallpaper, which polishes the charming foyer off with a delicate touch.
"every friday," kathleen explains, alluding to the roses, "joey goes out and picks me flowers from all over whatever city we're in. it makes him happy, so i let him do it."
"i thought it made you happy!" joey exclaims, in a hurt voice.
kathleen smiles and responds, "whatever you say, baby." with that, the couple's minor row comes to an end. "i know him too well," she says later, "he can't stay mad at me for long." she begins to describe to me - at length - how the two met, about nine years ago, on the street. "he went to my high school, but i didn't notice him there - i picked him out of all of the faces on the street." joey saw her walk past him only one time and remained in the same spot, hoping she would return. it was not more than a week later when kathleen did. joey saw her walking towards him and hoped that she would say something first.
"she began to go past," joey says, "and so i said, 'hello pretty lady - could i play a song for you?'"
"he wasn't much older than fifteen or sixteen at the time," kathleen adds in ,"i told him, 'okay,' and he started singing woody guthrie's "bad repetation." that was it for me - i knew that i just had to have him." ultimately, it would be years before their paths crossed again. the couple's romance has been doomed from the start; words and phrases like - among many things - 'career-ending,' 'taboo,' and 'filthy' are among the most frequently used in the press. "despite what the fence would have you believe - i have known joey than.....well, how long's a piece of string?"
joey, who is now in the kitchen - preparing a tray of drinks - answers, "too fucking long, that's how long!"
joey returns to the sitting room with a tray of what he calls 'new york lemonades' - "we just got into the house on monday," he says, "so we don't have a lot to work with." a new york lemonade, i come to find out, is a water with a twist of lemon and a sprinkle of sugar.
the deed itself sounds so natural, but the two are actually quite the strangers when it comes to arbitrary chores. kathleen says nothing indicative of this, but it was only recently that the two began preparing their own drinks, sending their own laundry out and pumping their own gas - among other things - for, abbie 'trotsky' bastien, kathleen's beloved young caretaker, passed away a little more than a month ago. she has yet to hire another and now insists on doing most things herself. "the house in cielo has gone to the dogs," joey states at one point, hinting at the untimely loss of trotsky, "the doll's not much of a maid, herself and i am shit at washing dishes - so, together, we do quite the job."
kathleen pipes up, "don't throw stones at me - dishes used to be jimmy's gig."
at the mention of jimmy's name, joey tries to keep his cool defending not only himself and his family, but his girlfriend as well; and addresses the rumors that there is a row is brewing within the kiss family. "when she and jimmy were still together - and i was lucky enough to be begrudgingly invited over - i knew that all i could look forward to was another inept gathering far off in the future and that was it. now, he pitches a fit if we tell our mother and our seventy-six year old grandmother that we will be celebrating hanukkah with her, as i do every year. the only thing is - we're observing the holiday on the last week of the month and not the first, as kathleen and i could not get work off. don't ask me why jimmy picks and chooses which year he wants to participate in the holidays with us; i am in arcadia when my mother asks me to be, come hell or high water."
kathleen admits that although jimmy's comments do not bother her - "it's just jimmy being jimmy," she quips - the simple fact that she has been invited has her nervous from tip to toe. "it's a bigger honor than any award i've won or book i've had published or party i've been able to attend - his family specifically asked for me to be there."
"my grandmother, god bless her heart, is nearing the end of her tour on this world," joey continues, picking up where kathleen left off, "and she wanted to meet kathleen before she passes on."
"i'm so scared that i've been seriously reconsidering every piece of clothing in my wardrobe. like this," she points to her current ensemble - a simple black minidress, cinched at the waist with a plum-colored bow and a pair of purple thigh-high socks - and says, "kinda like a warped cheerleader from the '90's, right?"
"it's like a look from the high school that we all wished we had gone to." joey cracks.
"i can't wear this to in front of his seventy-six year-old grandmother! i'm already a soulless shiksa who broke one brother's heart and has moved onto another brother," kathleen jokes, suggesting her low opinion of the press.
"and, here's the real kicker," joey leans in and whispers, "i'm even younger than jimmy. she must be really sick." he laughs and shakes his head, withdrawing his prior proclamation, "i'm only pulling your leg - she is nothing that they say she is."
this time - this interview - there is no home tour. there is no straying off topic and there certainly is no out and out bad behavior. "our opinion on the fence have changed drastically," says kathleen, a former advocate for independent photographers; at one point this year, she was even phoning in journalists to leak private details that professional reporters would trip over themselves for - but that all changed suddenly after trotsky's death.
"they smeared him," joey comments, "he was nothing but a young, good kid who did his job and did it well." referring mostly to the article, "the million dollar brat," kathleen threatened to quit her newly-found magazine, the pretty people club, if the issue including the piece was not pulled from stands at once. "we watch what we say around the fence now - and even more so what we do."
with that, kathleen gives me a kiss on each side of the cheek and sends me home with a garbage sack full of clothing that she claims, "i would rather slit my wrists than wear anymore," to set out on the curb. as i am coming down lisbon drive, i notice sodapop riding up the hill on his very tough and very loud motorbike - in cielo, neighbors outside scoffed as he rode past and dialed police; in arcadia, neighbors outside smile pleasantly or give a quick wave hello. if it has not been said before, then i will say it now - the doll is at home in arcadia; at home with her first love and at home with herself.
