In Need
Us
My cell phone ringing woke me from my deep, ambien induced sleep. I felt around on my nightstand, attempting to shield my eyes from the sun spilling through my open curtains. I knocked over what remained of the glass of water I'd retrieved the night before so I could take my pills.
"Shit," I murmured as I heard the glass break on the hardwood flooring, I found my phone and peered at the screen with one half open eye. I didn't recognize the number and assumed it must be a business call, I swiped at the green icon on the screen to answer the call, "Hello?"
"Hi, my name is Katie. Is this Evelyn?" A female voice said on the other end of the line as I forced myself to sit up.
"This is, how are you this morning?"
"I'm doing well, thank you. I'm actually calling to book an event with you. That is, if you're not all booked up." As she spoke I swung my feet over the edge of the bed, carefully avoiding the broken glass and water.
"What day were you looking at?" I questioned, walking through my bedroom and living room to my office.
"This saturday, the 11th," Katie said, "I'm throwing my boyfriend a surprise party."
I flipped through my schedule, "Let me see here," October 11th had a large X marked through it with the word 'cancelled' written in cursive, "I'm free. Did you want me to just come mingle at the party, or would you like me to sing happy birthday to him as well?"
"Actually, yes, and this may sound odd, but would you be opposed to jumping out of a cake?" She laughed nervously and I smiled, catching a glimpse of myself in the oversized mirror hanging on the wall. My hair was disheveled, my makeup from the night before smeared.
"No, no, "I answered, running a hand through my dark hair, "That's completely fine. I've done that a few times. Have you had a chance to look over my fees and everything, or did you need me to e-mail that to you?"
"I haven't looked yet, but I'm sure it won't be a problem. If you wouldn't mind emailing it to me, that would be great." Her voice had lost its nervousness. "Thank you, I know this is short noticed and all."
"Not a problem," I said. I got Katie's e-mail before thanking her for calling. After taking the time to send her the e-mail containing my prices, I headed into my bathroom and got a bath running while I went to work removing what was left of my makeup.
In 1943, my great grandmother - Bernice - learned she had a sister living in southern California; The following year, after exchanging pages and pages of letters, she made the journey from her home in Kentucky across the country to meet her. This was before Norma Jean became Marilyn, she'd done some modeling, been in a few magazines, but she wasn't the blonde bombshell - yet. The two sisters grew ever closer even as Norma transformed into Marilyn and found fame and success in Hollywood.
Then, in August of 1962, the world was stunned when Marilyn Monroe was found dead in her bedroom. My grandma had told me about her mother receiving the phone call to inform her that her beloved sister had died.
"I was 10," My grandmother sat at the kitchen table, her favorite coffee cup in her hands, "And I had just woken up for school, I was pulling my shoes on to start my walk to the bus stop when the phone rang. Mother answered it and a moment later I heard a crash and these great sobs coming from the living room. I found mother on the floor, clutching the phone to her chest, her body shook from crying. Marilyn might have been the country's starlet, but she was mother's big sister. I don't think anyone was more heartbroken that day, maybe Mr. DiMaggio, but my mother," She sighed, "She always said Norma had this kindness in her eyes, she was a loving woman, but someone who trusted her heart to the wrong people," Grandma leaned back and looked around the nicely furnished kitchen, "The money came after the funeral, same with the will reading. Norma had written that her baby sister was to be taken care of, to have a say in her estate and was to be the only family member of hers to be recognized. With that, though, came the reporters and for a little bit, we couldn't leave the house to walk to the candy store without being bothered, so they moved us here." Here was a farm house in the sprawling Georgia countryside, "Been here ever since."
"Why did you give me her middle name?" I would ask, knowing Grammie had been the one responsible for that.
"Family tradition," She would say with an old smile, "And the hope that maybe, that kindness and love would be passed down." There were three generations of women in my family, and all of them with the same middle name: Jean, "You know you look a lot like her," She would say, once I was older and after momma had passed away, She would pull out pictures of Her mother and Norma together to show me, "You could be a star just like her."
Just like her.
That part stuck with me. I'd been born in February of 1990 to my Momma who was unmarried and young. My father didn't even stay around long enough to sign my birth certificate, but Momma did her best to make sure I never felt like I was missing anything, she did the absolute best by me. Momma had died when I was nine from cancer, it was something that we'd been informed of, been prepared for, but nothing can steady you for that moment when the heart monitors flat line and your loved one is laying there, unmoving and not breathing. I had been curled up in the chair beside her hospital bed when it happened, my tiny fingers entwined with hers as she slept and slowly slipped away. Then it was a blur of doctors and nurses and Grammie holding me, keeping me close to her.
After Momma passed away, Grammie took custody of me and raised me using the money that rolled in from Marilyn's estate. I never knew how much it was when I was young, but now, I had an idea. I knew it was millions, but my Grandmother was not an extravagant woman. Yes, we had nice things, but not more than we needed or could use. I could remember once, when it was time to go buy a new car, we'd gone to a dealership after stopping by the bank. The salesman showed Grammie a few cars, a few Mini-vans, before she decided on an SUV. It was a few years old, but nice and the bright orange price tag read $12,999. I watched, sitting in that salesman's offices, as Grammie paid him in cash.
Even after I left Georgia, Grammie continued to live in that Farm house. She called me nearly every night to make sure I was alright and was I eating enough? Or to let me know she'd seen a picture of me in a magazine or a commercial on the television. Each time we spoke I could hear how proud she was, thinking I was on my way to being a star.
Just like her
After getting out of the bathtub, I started getting things ready for my performance Saturday. I took my dress to the drycleaners and washed my custom, full lace, blonde wig. I called my favorite limo company to reserve a car to take me to the party and pick me up once my work was done and once that was done I sat down on my couch with my laptop and a cup of coffee to answer a few e-mails.
"Shit," I murmured as I heard the glass break on the hardwood flooring, I found my phone and peered at the screen with one half open eye. I didn't recognize the number and assumed it must be a business call, I swiped at the green icon on the screen to answer the call, "Hello?"
"Hi, my name is Katie. Is this Evelyn?" A female voice said on the other end of the line as I forced myself to sit up.
"This is, how are you this morning?"
"I'm doing well, thank you. I'm actually calling to book an event with you. That is, if you're not all booked up." As she spoke I swung my feet over the edge of the bed, carefully avoiding the broken glass and water.
"What day were you looking at?" I questioned, walking through my bedroom and living room to my office.
"This saturday, the 11th," Katie said, "I'm throwing my boyfriend a surprise party."
I flipped through my schedule, "Let me see here," October 11th had a large X marked through it with the word 'cancelled' written in cursive, "I'm free. Did you want me to just come mingle at the party, or would you like me to sing happy birthday to him as well?"
"Actually, yes, and this may sound odd, but would you be opposed to jumping out of a cake?" She laughed nervously and I smiled, catching a glimpse of myself in the oversized mirror hanging on the wall. My hair was disheveled, my makeup from the night before smeared.
"No, no, "I answered, running a hand through my dark hair, "That's completely fine. I've done that a few times. Have you had a chance to look over my fees and everything, or did you need me to e-mail that to you?"
"I haven't looked yet, but I'm sure it won't be a problem. If you wouldn't mind emailing it to me, that would be great." Her voice had lost its nervousness. "Thank you, I know this is short noticed and all."
"Not a problem," I said. I got Katie's e-mail before thanking her for calling. After taking the time to send her the e-mail containing my prices, I headed into my bathroom and got a bath running while I went to work removing what was left of my makeup.
In 1943, my great grandmother - Bernice - learned she had a sister living in southern California; The following year, after exchanging pages and pages of letters, she made the journey from her home in Kentucky across the country to meet her. This was before Norma Jean became Marilyn, she'd done some modeling, been in a few magazines, but she wasn't the blonde bombshell - yet. The two sisters grew ever closer even as Norma transformed into Marilyn and found fame and success in Hollywood.
Then, in August of 1962, the world was stunned when Marilyn Monroe was found dead in her bedroom. My grandma had told me about her mother receiving the phone call to inform her that her beloved sister had died.
"I was 10," My grandmother sat at the kitchen table, her favorite coffee cup in her hands, "And I had just woken up for school, I was pulling my shoes on to start my walk to the bus stop when the phone rang. Mother answered it and a moment later I heard a crash and these great sobs coming from the living room. I found mother on the floor, clutching the phone to her chest, her body shook from crying. Marilyn might have been the country's starlet, but she was mother's big sister. I don't think anyone was more heartbroken that day, maybe Mr. DiMaggio, but my mother," She sighed, "She always said Norma had this kindness in her eyes, she was a loving woman, but someone who trusted her heart to the wrong people," Grandma leaned back and looked around the nicely furnished kitchen, "The money came after the funeral, same with the will reading. Norma had written that her baby sister was to be taken care of, to have a say in her estate and was to be the only family member of hers to be recognized. With that, though, came the reporters and for a little bit, we couldn't leave the house to walk to the candy store without being bothered, so they moved us here." Here was a farm house in the sprawling Georgia countryside, "Been here ever since."
"Why did you give me her middle name?" I would ask, knowing Grammie had been the one responsible for that.
"Family tradition," She would say with an old smile, "And the hope that maybe, that kindness and love would be passed down." There were three generations of women in my family, and all of them with the same middle name: Jean, "You know you look a lot like her," She would say, once I was older and after momma had passed away, She would pull out pictures of Her mother and Norma together to show me, "You could be a star just like her."
Just like her.
That part stuck with me. I'd been born in February of 1990 to my Momma who was unmarried and young. My father didn't even stay around long enough to sign my birth certificate, but Momma did her best to make sure I never felt like I was missing anything, she did the absolute best by me. Momma had died when I was nine from cancer, it was something that we'd been informed of, been prepared for, but nothing can steady you for that moment when the heart monitors flat line and your loved one is laying there, unmoving and not breathing. I had been curled up in the chair beside her hospital bed when it happened, my tiny fingers entwined with hers as she slept and slowly slipped away. Then it was a blur of doctors and nurses and Grammie holding me, keeping me close to her.
After Momma passed away, Grammie took custody of me and raised me using the money that rolled in from Marilyn's estate. I never knew how much it was when I was young, but now, I had an idea. I knew it was millions, but my Grandmother was not an extravagant woman. Yes, we had nice things, but not more than we needed or could use. I could remember once, when it was time to go buy a new car, we'd gone to a dealership after stopping by the bank. The salesman showed Grammie a few cars, a few Mini-vans, before she decided on an SUV. It was a few years old, but nice and the bright orange price tag read $12,999. I watched, sitting in that salesman's offices, as Grammie paid him in cash.
Even after I left Georgia, Grammie continued to live in that Farm house. She called me nearly every night to make sure I was alright and was I eating enough? Or to let me know she'd seen a picture of me in a magazine or a commercial on the television. Each time we spoke I could hear how proud she was, thinking I was on my way to being a star.
Just like her
After getting out of the bathtub, I started getting things ready for my performance Saturday. I took my dress to the drycleaners and washed my custom, full lace, blonde wig. I called my favorite limo company to reserve a car to take me to the party and pick me up once my work was done and once that was done I sat down on my couch with my laptop and a cup of coffee to answer a few e-mails.
♠ ♠ ♠
*waves* i know this one was just backstory, but i promise it's going to be good! this an idea i've been tossing around for a little bit. if you read & liked it please go ahead and drop me a comment. :Dxo,
D.