Photoplay (Jan-Jun 1959)

f “Milk to drink for me,” Debbie reminded the waiter who had arrived with the lunch. “And for the children.” “Yes, Miss Reynolds. Their orders are all ready, too.” “Good.” Turning to me, Debbie said, “I’m famished!” She kicked off her shoes and sat down on the floor beside the table. “Do take off your coat. And sit down.” The waiter reappeared, bringing the grownups salad and New York-cut steaks, each done to succulent perfection, medium rare. Seated on the floor beside us, Carrie bravely tackled a small hamburger and carrots and peas. Marie chose the couch, where she could divide her time between eating her own lunch and keeping Todd from scattering his over the chintz. Luckily, Miss Mayer picked a seat near the telephone, because it rang as soon as we started eating. “. . . I’m sorry,” she said. “She’s having lunch now, and she’s due back on the set at one sharp. I’ll give her the message.” She didn’t give the message then for Debbie was busy listening to some whispered confidence from Carrie while turning around, not to overlook Todd, to compliment him on his progress with lunch. During the afternoon she’d have moments to talk more freely, I knew; so I just watched her and the children and noticed how perfectly all her words and actions fitted the picture of Debbie drawn by her friends. Lita Calhoun had told me: “She’s a very considerate person brought up to appreciate the things that have come to her,” Lita went on. “She’s not accustomed to having things handed to her on a silver platter. She has moral strength and is in fact a real, normal girl. That’s unusual for a person in this business. I must say she is much more level-headed than either of the other two people involved in . . . this thing.” Suddenly, Debbie looked up at me. “Want to go on?” she asked. “Uh-huh,” I answered. “You say you’re going to continue to work, Debbie, but isn’t it going to be tough? I mean isn’t it going to be difficult having to be both a father and a mother to your children?” Her green eyes flashed, though she betrayed no other emotion. Quietly she said, “My children have two parents. Eddie is still the father of his children.” And then she repeated what she had said earlier. “Eddie loves his children very much.” For just the briefest moment she turned away. And I thought back to Lita Calhoun’s remark to me: “I believe Deb bie feels that once Eddie gets Elizabeth Taylor out of his system, there might be a reconciliation. But she is not counting on it too heavily. She had made up her mind to face the future and to work hard at her career.” Then she looked back at me. “There is one thing I should say,” she said. “I suppose I’m the sort of person who trusts everyone. I think you have to be that way to be happy. But when I find that someone whom I have trusted has disappointed me — then — then I guess I just start building all over again. “That’s really all you can do, isn’t it?” I thought of how a child will play at the beach. A child builds a massive sand castle. It becomes a symbol of the happiness in his tiny world. But then a wave, larger than the rest, comes crashing in, and sweeps the castle away. One child might run in fright; another might burst into tears; a third might pout in anger. But Debbie can do none of these things, even though her very real symbol of happiness has crumbled and ebbed away. For Debbie, there is nothing to do but “build all over again.” The phone rang, interrupting my thought. Mary answered it. She listened for a moment, then said, “All right, George. Yes, I’ll tell her.” She hung up. “They want you back on the set, if you’re ready, Debbie. That was George Marshall. He says he’d like to start shooting at 1 o’clock sharp,” she said. “I’m ready,” Debbie said. “But wait. Where’s Rocky?” I had completely forgotten about the little dog. We looked around the room, but he wasn’t in sight. Nor was he in the adjacent room with its makeup table. “Rocky,” Debbie called. There was a growl from beneath the sofa. And there he was, munching on a piece of steak he had filched from one of the plates. “Rocky,” Debbie said. “Come out of there.” And he did. “You know we have to go back to work,” she said. Rocky wagged his tail happily. Debbie snapped the leash onto his collar, then started for the door. At the door, she stopped. Looking at me, she said, “There’s happiness somewhere for everyone, don’t you think?” “Yes, Debbie,” I said. “I guess there is.” She smiled quickly. “Bye,” she said. 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