"who can find a virtuous wife? for her price is far above rubies...give her the fruit of her hands; and let her own works praise her in the gates"
- proverbs 31:10-31
the gates outside of kathleen and joey's 1999 lisbon drive home and typically strewn with fanmail, flowers, pictures - but not for the holidays. kathleen takes the holidays very seriously, beginning with halloween, and demands that headlock go around hourly to remove any unwanted graffiti. instead of fanmail, hangs a wreath of cinnamon pine cones; instead of flowers, a string of gourds and pumpkins; instead of photographs, small decorations, like a scary witch on a broom, a black cat with an arched back and a spooky ghost.
as you cross the threshold, you don't feel as if you are in the home of a multi-millionaire celebrity and tabloid darling; you feel like you are in the home of someone you have known a very long time.
"please, darling," kathleen says in a low breathy whisper, "could you please take off your shoes? we just got this brand new flooring and the handyman recommended just stocking feet." after a second, she cocks her head, "but you can always wear joey's house slippers if you don't feel comfortable in socks."
it is nearing eleven on a chilly october night in arcadia. always the night owl, kathleen motions for me to follow her to the kitchen for hot apple cider. she puts her her finger to her lips and shushes me as ludo, her housekeeper, snores away on the sofa.
the twilight zone plays on in the background, rod serling's voice obviously having lulled him to sleep. she grabs a blanket off of a nearby love seat and covers him, then shuts off the TV with the remote, and sets the remote down on a nearby coffee table.
and on this coffee table are only a small collection of trinkets, but nonetheless the perfect selection to describe the kisses: a set of car keys to kathleen's black rolls royce, nicknamed 'the gravedigger'; a citation for marijuana possession made out to lost boy rocko j. nasty, a small bouquet of fresh wildflowers, picked by joey; a large amethyst crystal; a check past dated to 2010 for well over £10,000 from hep parade; a set of tarot cards and a stack of books from the local library including this year's farmers' almanac, the ramayana and bram stoker's dracula. .
joey is dressed in his pajamas - a silk striped set, complete with nearly matching blue argyle socks and a navy blue bathrobe. in his hand is a cup of cider, dressed with a cinnamon stick.
"what an outfit!" kathleen jokes, as joey lifts up his pant leg to reveal that the socks are emblazoned with a playboy bunny. "how boss!" she giggles.
in the background, the wind howls and then the house telephone rings, causing ludo to stir in his sleep. kathleen takes a phone call in another room and joey offers up a tour while i wait. as he breezes past an otherwise unoccupied room, i realize that it would have been the room for their baby, lux zarathustra. the walls, splashed a pretty, pastel pink, now cast dark from the shadows of the house. baby goods, still in their packaging, are piled up in the corners of the room. the crib has a flowered sheet over it. it's as if the two have pressed pause, and are waiting to resume at moment's notice.
when we return to the kitchen, ludo is awake and drinking a cup of hot cider. another familiar noise from the 1960s is recognized - the wolfman jack show. there is a draft in the room, so she puts on a vintage-looking floor-length kimono with a large screen print of king tut on the back. when that doesn't do the trick, she sends joey to light a fire in the next room.
as joey blows out the flame on the lengthy fireplace match, kathleen strikes another off the box to light candles on the mantle. adding to the spooky, halloween adornment, she placed taper candles in old, decorative wine bottles - the wax dripping down for added effect; mini gourds and pumpkins dot the room and atop her bookcase, a human skull. "it's a very eerie feeling to be on a hot, humid, sunny isle one day, feeling like you are on a permanent summer; and then to be back home, lighting fires in your fireplace." she laughs and shakes her head. "i mean, they have trees there - but the leaves never change."
"wasn't it bat masterson's last words something about how everybody gets the same amount of ice - the poor get it in the winter and the rich get it in the summer..." joey trails off, reminiscing.
"but now, these days, i am feeling older and wanting to withdraw more and more from a city centered around partying. i grew up in arcadia, joey grew up in arcadia; our babies will grow up in arcadia."
she goes a little sullen at the mere mention of children and joey fishes in his bath robe pockets for a minute, then produces a lighter and a doobie.
"some things will never change, though," he smiles, "even when we have children.
"you will still be you, i will still be me," he lights up the joint, "and i'm sure the wolfman's voice will still be echoing throughout the halls!"
at this point he stops, holds a finger up to his lips and after a second of silence, the wolfman's shrieking laughter carries in from another room.
kathleen's eyes twinkle in the candlelight and she pats her belly, "and it's been a long time coming."