Celestina 1986-92
My real name is Celeste but Garbo started calling me Celestina the first time we had coffe. Actually we met a few years earlier but he didn’t remember. But I remembered him. He was the artist in the studio of the woman who let us use her canyon for our sweat lodge. I’m Black Foot (Montana, Nitsitapi Tribe)
We had our feast in his studio after the ‘sweat’. He was always cordial but did not eat with us. Archie told me he was a sober alcoholic. Archie Fire was our chief. Archie had been sober for nine years. He and Garbo used to drink coffee in the afternoon before the sweat and talk about their days as crazy drunks. I knew all about drunks. My ex- husband showed me all I needed to know about alcoholism.
But then in ’86 I was working in “women’s studies” at UCSB and our office happened to be next door to the Art Dept. Garbo was teaching a summer semester and our eyes met a few times as he passed the window to my office. I remembered him and thought I saw some kind of recognition in his eyes. But he never stopped. There was just that flicker…
Finally I asked Janet, a friend of mine, who worked in the Art Dept Office to ask him if he thought he knew the woman in the office next door. She added: she thinks she knows you. He turned and walked over to my door and peeked in.
Do you think you know me?
Yeah, aren’t you Janos from Laura’s studio?
Did I meet you there?
Not really but I knew who you were.
Do you have time for coffee?
We took it so slow I thought nothing was ever going to happen. We talked and had dinner. He met my kids. We walked and had coffee, and talked some more. He asked me and my kids to a beach bar-b-q. He had all his shit together for the fire and buns and all of it. A blanket and kids drinks too. He let Sam my 6-year-old boy cook the burgers. And even though Sam was way to slow and everything was over cooked, Garbo never corrected or meddled in Sam’s effort. I think that was the moment I lost resistance and mentally gave in. That night when we said goodnight Garbo held my head in his gentile hands and kissed me on the forehead.
Still it was a year before we held hands in the worst movie we ever saw. It didn’t matter. We held hands and stroked each other’s arms. Just thinking about it makes the hair on my arms stand up. And the next time he came for dinner, he came for good.
