(July 24th, 2024 – Midnight)
“Okay. What’s your problem?” says Lem to Usha.
“Let’s say I played the violin. Why is that not like her playing the viola?” asks Usha.
“Because she had to force her parents to let her play.” says Lem. “They were cruel.”
“Yeah. I was encouraged to.” says Usha.
“She wasn’t. It was her idea. …They had other ideas. Like her playing piano. And the flute.” says Lem.
“Why?” asks Usha.
“Because they hated her for loving- They’re vile, Usha.” says Lem.
“So it wasn’t a big deal?” asks Usha.
“They took it seriously. They paid for weekly lessons and bought her an excellent German viola. …And uniforms. And went to her performances. And criticized the other parents for clapping between movements. …But they wanted her to feel poor. They’re mean.” says Lem.
“So what again, if they’d not been mean, would they have been doing?” asks Usha.
“Her father would have been a professor of anthropology at some university. Well-respected. Likely making…$50,000 a year. In 1992. Her mother would have been in HR? Making…$40,000 a year in 1992. How about that?” says Lem. “That’s all possible.”
“So what salary today?” asks a reader.
“$160,000.” says Lem. “When she was 8.” He thinks. “No debt! A savings of $200,000.00.”
“And lived where?” asks Usha.
“In a house worth $700,000.00 today.” says Lem. “In West Bloomington.”
“And what would their net worth be today?” asks Usha.
“$20 million.” says Lem.
“Wow!” says Usha.
“They’re smarter than you think. With money.
…Lacey would be worth $10 million.” says Lem. “They’re vile.”
A reader nods.
“So they actually choose to be poor.” says a reader.
“Yes.” says Lem. “In a way. They’re…not people you’d easily understand. I’m sorry.”
“How much of that $20 million would be inherited?” asks Usha.
“All of it, in a sense!” says Lem. “They’re getting by with never having saved for retirement. Because of inherited money.”
“How much is their land worth?” asks a reader.
“It’s impossible to calculate that. It’s…impossible.” says Lem. “It’s a big deal.”
“So some people did invest in land though.” says a reader.
“Yes! And made millions.” says Lem.
“So you all find New Money billionaires annoying. Because they’re naive and presumptuous.” says the reader.
“Yes.” says Lem. “Now I do. I used to be more optimistic.”
“Why the fuck did you think you were gay!?” she says to Lem.
“Sexual abuse.” says Lem. “In the 1930’s. And my own intelligence combined with my age and my shame. I was ashamed to discuss it. Because it was gross. …But I did my own research. And I…began to identify as gay because I felt it was my duty. …I know that sounds far too high-minded. But that’s how I was. I truly felt it was honorable to act gay. …So I studied it. And made up things that seemed appropriate. …I acted like a woman. I impersonated women. Because I didn’t know what I was doing. I wasn’t gay.”
“Did you think you were a woman?” asks Pete Buttigieg.
“Honestly!? …Yes. At times I wondered if I was just a…freak. A weird freak.” says Lem.
“Like not a non-binary person. Like…a freak.” says Pete.
“Yes.” says Lem. “Not a possible type of gender. A freak.”
“You’re not a woman, dude.” says Pete.
“Well you weren’t there to tell me. And people were different back then.” says Lem. “They weren’t sure what homosexuals were.”
“So you honestly thought you were a frigid woman at times.” says Pink.
“Yes.” says Lem.
She laughs.
“I was kind. And empathetic. And…well-meaning.” says Lem.
“Did you get along with Jackie?” asks a journalist.
“Yes! At times. She’s very different than me actually. We might have both liked good art but we’re actually very different people. Louis Bayard is wrong about that. She isn’t Lacey, you know. …Lacey is soft and tender hearted. Jackie was…very cold at times. And…Lacey is British. Jackie was Irish. …Jackie and Jack were both Irish. …I was not. …You know…they were in love. It just didn’t bother me because I was straight.” says Lem.
“Didn’t you fight with her?” asks a journalist.
“Yeah? …But that wasn’t what you think. …She’d pick fights with me. Because I was there. And she was in bad mood. …And…to be blunt…she could sense I was straight. …Okay? So…you don’t fight with gay men the same way. As a straight woman. …But Jackie fought with me knowing I had a tiny crush on her, at least subconsciously…and so I…would get angry…but not…so angry she’d regret it.” says Lem.
“Because you thought she was cute.” says another journalist.
“Yup.” says Lem.
“When did you straightness show?” says the first journalist.
“At Jack’s wedding.” says Lem. “I was…so excited for him. …I think the thought of having marital sex…sounded…Heavenly to me. You know? Not worrying about getting pregnant. Just…being happy. …And Jack was happy too. He was in love as much as he could be. …But I was…excited. …And of course it wasn’t my wedding. But I could be happy for other people and…I just thought it was going to be so great for him.”
“When else?” asks the journalist.
“At Christmas.” says Lem. “He’d want to open the gifts in a particular way. Very…particular. And I’d just rip open the box and be rather…brutish about it. …I also enjoyed sports in a different way.” says Lem. “They were…particular. I was just looking for fun.”
“So you were…an in your underwear…drinking a can of beer…watching what?” asks a journalist.
“Tennis. Baseball. Golf?” says Lem. “I loved fishing. And I’m not bad at hunting either.”
“Lem you hunted!??” says a journalist.
“Yup. Deer. Turtles. Bear. Ducks.” says Lem.
“You truly thought having a physical reaction to a man’s touch made you gay!?” says a fellow hunter.
“I was about 13. …I didn’t know any better. …I felt guilty. I felt…ashamed. And that was how I made sense of it.” says Lem.
“That you were just gay.” he says.
“Yeah. …And…I might have been saved if I’d never met Jack. …But…he really did feed into my confusion. And…not because I was in love. He was just…very controlling and manipulative. …I was his cover for his own sexual lies about his orientation. He used me as cover. He used my confusion as a cover. …If I wasn’t around him I would’ve figured myself out. …Eventually. …And I might not have married. I might have wondered if I was…still messed-up. But…I’d have realized I was…lonely. Not…tired. Not…just missing my dad. Lonely.” says Lem.
“So he took up a lot of time?” asks a woman.
“Yes! He did. …I wasn’t his friend. I was his boyfriend, at least he experienced it that way. I didn’t. …I really wasn’t in love. …My family wasn’t worried I was obsessed with him, by the way. They were worried I was spending too much time with him. Or basing too much of my life around him. …And I was. But…he expected me to be a good boyfriend. …So it’s not that I…sat around mooning over him. Okay? I didn’t…dream of him. I did talk about him. …But…he was in a closeted homosexual relationship with me and I was trying to be a good boyfriend. And that’s sad.” says Lem.
“So there was never a girl who came between you?” asks a reader.
“No! I rarely dated men either. …I felt like a freak.” says Lem.
“Why didn’t you just kill yourself?” asks a man.
“I thought about it. Often! …But I felt it was wrong.” says Lem.
“So…what happens if you’re Lem…and she’s hearing you correctly? …Is this going to haunt us?” asks Chris Pine.
“Yeah.” says Lem. “I’m mad.”
“You weren’t as mad before?” asks Usha.
“No.” says Lem. “I was hopeful you’d understand. Some at least. But…you’re all so damn determined to dismiss anything she says. Especially if it’s original. And…it’s getting repulsive.
So…we’re going to bed. And she’s cleaning tomorrow. No more writing. Not like this.”
“So you really were straight??” says Chris Pine.
“Yeah.” says Lem. “And now I’m going to bed with her. Goodnight!”
Keen to Cross the Pond 