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it’s 1994, and missy phoenix is sitting in the kitt-deans’ kitchen and bouncing her two-month-old son on her knees. the goth woman smiles down at baby skylar and thinks of her son’s father, the man she loves so much she feels like her heart could burst. missy happens to look up at a picture on her friends’ wall that she had never noticed before. in the black-and-white picture, a young eartha is holding baby sapphire and grinning. another pale, dark-haired woman is smiling and holding two striking baby boys. missy squints at the old photograph. “eartha, is that elizabeth taylor in this picture?”
eartha smiles at her. “yes, liz and monty and the twins are dear friends of ours! do you want to hear the story, darling?”
it’s 1954, and elizabeth taylor knows that montgomery clift, a beautiful boy and her dear, dear friend, is positively off limits. she does catch him looking at her sometimes, staring with something in his sad blue eyes loyal as a dog. but she’s seen monty with boys, and she knows she can’t have him.
she’s also seen james dean with eartha kitt, seen the way the handsome young daredevil will jump out in front of a car until eartha stops him with one soft glance. elizabeth has watched james dean, the famous supposed rebel, trail after eartha and look at her as if she’s all he can see. liz asks eartha about it once, and she’s mostly expecting a dirty joke, a little cat’s purr of a comment in response. but eartha looks at her seriously, painfully, and says, softer than liz has ever heard her talk before, “i love jamie. i’m really in love with him, and i’m scared he’s gonna hurt himself someday.”
liz has never heard james dean called “jamie” before. she thinks of what she wishes she could have with monty, and she swallows painfully. “i’m sorry,” she says to eartha, her voice quiet and strained. she feels eartha’s eyes on her as she walks away.
everything changes when monty tells liz he loves her. it’s wonderful, the sincerity she sees in his eyes and the way she feels, but she pauses. “monty, don’t you like boys?” he nods, tilting his head at a slight angle. “i like girls and boys,” he explains softly, “and i love you.” (it won’t be until the 80s that liz will hear the word “bisexual,” and she’ll tell it to her husband excitedly.)
it’s 1955, and life is lovely, with the only catch being that liz gets pregnant out of wedlock (she just can’t wait, not when she loves him and he loves her,) but she wants to marry him anyway, so she doesn’t mind.
liz is hugely pregnant with the twins when she and monty get the news of james dean’s car accident. vocal cords cut, leg torn from his body, deep cuts all over. the nurses aren’t sure yet if he’s going to live. liz remembers eartha, and she feels so overcome with grief that she goes into labor.
in 1994, eartha chuckles. “well, you know what happened with me and my jamie. but do you know my daughter serenity’s husband?” missy nods; she’s met serenity, the calm, pastel-loving one of eartha and jamie’s children, once or twice, and that includes meeting her and her husband’s adorable kids and her husband, arnie, a pretty boy type with dark hair, pale skin, and blue eyes that are almost lavender. “oh! arnie is one of the clift twins?” eartha nods. “and the other twin, archie — he’s gay — has done some amazing gay rights activist work, and his dad helps him sometimes. and lizzie and monty are lovely, of course. you and your rivvie should meet the clifts sometime.” eartha pauses meaningfully; river, who’s currently out with jamie picking up some groceries, is still heroin-thin and just coming completely off withdrawals. missy has confided in eartha that she still worries that river might get worse again.
“you know,” eartha says slowly, “jamie’s okay, and monty’s okay.” the younger woman, catching eartha’s implication, melts into a smile.