Dear Cary - Dyan Cannon [57]
Cary cracked the door open and beckoned for Stanley to come in. Over the months I’d learned that Stanley was the person Cary trusted more than anyone else in the universe. He looked like a rabbi, not a lawyer, an agent, or a confidante, all of which he was to Cary. In fact, Cary was unusual among actors in that he relied on a single person—Stanley—to manage all of his affairs.
“Dyan,” Stanley said, “I’m so sorry about your injury. You look great. I’m sure you’ll be back in business in no time.”
Cary looked at his watch. “Well, we’d better be off,” he said.
“To where?” I asked.
“Oh, we’re going to the Dodger game,” Cary said a little sheepishly. “I didn’t want to disappoint Stanley.” He kissed me on the cheek and the two of them left.
We haven’t seen each other in weeks, I’m in the hospital, and you’re worried about “disappointing” Stanley?
You’re a big girl, Dyan! I told myself. No need to have a pity party about this . . .
But I did anyway.
So I called Mary and she came and held my hand for the rest of the night. Thank God for girlfriends.
After three more days in the hospital, I went to stay with Addie again until I could find my own place. Two weeks later, I rented a spacious one-bedroom apartment on Havenhurst, in West Hollywood. After about a month, my hand was finally healed, but my release from the theater contract stipulated that I couldn’t appear in anything else for three months. There wasn’t much to do but take it easy. As it happened, at about this time my parents were making their annual trip to Desert Hot Springs, where their friends Honey and Sam Dorf owned a rustic but comfortable spa motel. It was a homey, no-frills kind of place. The little apartments had kitchens, so you didn’t have to go out to eat, and there were several thermal pools, a cold plunge pool, and a sauna. It was really the perfect place for a family vacation.
Cary, of course, had already met my mom, but not my dad. I wasn’t sure this was the best time, since we’d be two hours from Los Angeles in a fairly isolated place. If it didn’t go well, we’d kind of be stuck. Since he was busy with meetings, though, I was sure he wouldn’t be able to come. I felt completely safe inviting him.
“I really want to meet your father,” Cary said when I told him, “but I’m locked in.” I was slightly relieved. It wasn’t that I expected any trouble; Dad was a very tolerant person and Cary was the consummate gentleman, so the worst case would be a slightly chilly encounter. But it could wait.
So I drove down to the desert alone to stay with my parents.
The morning after I arrived, Honey gave us a knock and gave me a slip of paper. “Irving wants you to call him,” she said. “Irving,” of course, was Cary. For absolutely no reason, I called him “Irving” and he called me “Matilda.” It was just a part of the secret vocabulary that couples invent as they grow together.
I went to Honey’s office and called Cary collect.
“Dear girl! Bob Arthur’s down with the flu and we’ve had to postpone for a day. I’m getting in the car in just a few minutes.”
“That’s great! I can’t wait for you to meet Dad.” Let the chips fall where they will, I thought. It had to happen sooner or later.
“Are there many people at the motel?” he asked.
“It’s pretty quiet,” I said.
“Good. I won’t be there ’til after dark, so hopefully I can slip in without people noticing.”
“Mom, how would you feel about Cary coming down for a night?”
“Oh, I would feel fine. Your father, though. Not sure he’s ready for that.”
“Can you help me get him ready? Cary’s on his way.”
“This is gonna be interesting,” Mom said.
Dad, though, was completely sanguine about it. “Sure, I’d like to shake hands with the man,” he said. “I’ve been seeing him in movies since I was a young man.”
“What were your favorites, Dad?”
“They’re all good. The one with the monkey. No, I think it was a leopard. Bringing Up Baby, that was it . . . do you know you were one year old when that movie came out?”
“What are you trying to tell me, Dad?”
He smiled. “Nothing really. It just makes me realize how fast time