Within those four walls, we were unashamed.
Sub Rosa
December 30, 1959
ADLER AND HUGO KAPUT!
Don Adler, Hollywood’s Most Eligible Bachelor?
Don and Evelyn are calling it quits! After two years of marriage, Don has filed for divorce from Evelyn Hugo.
We are sad to see the lovebirds part ways, but we’d be lying if we said we were surprised. We’ve heard rumblings that Don’s star is set to rise even higher, and Evelyn was getting jealous and catty.
Luckily for Don, he’s renewed his contract with Sunset Studios—which must have head honcho Ari Sullivan smiling wide—and has three films slated for release this year. That Don never misses a beat!
Meanwhile, while Evelyn’s newest movie, Little Women, showed boffo B.O. numbers and great critical reception, Sunset has pulled her out of the upcoming Jokers Wild and replaced her with Ruby Reilly.
Has the sun set on Evelyn’s time with Sunset?
HOW DID YOU REMAIN SO confident? So steadfast in your resolve?” I ask Evelyn.
“When Don left me? Or when my career went down the tubes?”
“Both, I guess,” I say. “I mean, you had Celia, so it’s a little different, but still.”
Evelyn cocks her head slightly. “Different from what?”
“Hm?” I say, lost in my own thoughts.
“You said I had Celia, so it was a little different,” Evelyn clarifies. “Different from what?”
“Sorry,” I say. “I was . . . in my own head.” I have momentarily let my own relationship problems seep into what should be a one-way conversation.
Evelyn shakes her head. “No need to be sorry. Just tell me different from what.”
I look at her and realize that I’ve opened a door that can’t really be shut. “From my own impending divorce.”
Evelyn smiles, almost like the Cheshire Cat. “Now things are getting interesting,” she says.
It b
others me, her cavalier attitude toward my own vulnerability. It’s my fault for bringing it up. I know that. But she could treat it with more kindness. I’ve exposed myself. I’ve exposed a wound.
“Have you signed the papers?” Evelyn asks. “Perhaps with a tiny heart above the i in Monique? That’s what I would do.”
“I guess I don’t take divorce as lightly as you,” I say. It comes out flatly. I consider softening, but . . . I don’t.
“No, of course not,” Evelyn says kindly. “If you did, at your age, you’d be a cynic.”
“But at your age?” I ask.
“With my experience? A realist.”
“That, in and of itself, is awfully cynical, don’t you think? Divorce is loss.”
Evelyn shakes her head. “Heartbreak is loss. Divorce is a piece of paper.”
I look down to see that I have been doodling a cube over and over with my blue pen. It is starting to tear through the page. I neither pick up my pen nor push harder. I merely keep running the ink over the lines of the cube
