Dear Diary, it's Marilyn

Chapter 22

I'm back from my vacation! I really owed you guys an update too. I hope you enjoy this chapter; it may seem a bit boring but it's important to help you get to know more about Marilyn and understand her better.

This chapter is dedicated to a fan and reader of mine, TheSecretGarden. If you have the time, you should check out her stories, especially "The Wild One".

And don't forget that I love it when people send me pictures/covers/trailers/anything else that they've made for this story. It makes my day and anyone who does will always get a chapter dedicated to them :)

Chapter 22

            The sun was shining brightly, everyone was dressed in bathing suits, and Jean and I were having a wonderful day at the beach.

            Well, we would have been if it wasn’t the middle of December.

            So instead of having fun lying in the sand and playing in the waves, Jean and I were shopping in a dress store. I had seen Jean regularly this past year, but I hadn’t seen Bebe since our fight last year. I missed her, but I was too proud to call on her and see how she was doing.

 Reporters were outside the glass windows of the store watching us, snapping pictures of us. Maybe they thought they would be lucky enough to get a picture of us in lingerie, but the store owner was good enough to put up screens for our privacy.

            “Anything for you!” She gushed. “I saw Niagra and you were my favorite character, Miss Monroe. My husband is a big fan of yours too. So is my son.”

            We thanked the owner and sat down to begin paging through books full of designs, trying to decide which ones we could wear to this year’s Photoplay awards. Photoplay was a popular film magazine that gave one movie an award every year. I didn’t expect any of my movies to win, but I still wanted to look nice for the cameras.

            “Do you remember filming Niagra?” Jean asked out of the blue.

            “Of course I do.” I responded, shrugging my shoulders.

            “Do you remember how nervous you became each time before filming?”

            I narrowed my eyes and looked away. How could I forget my severe stage fright, something I had suffered from my whole life? I hadn’t let it affect my career, but it was very tough every time I had to go in front of a camera. It wasn’t as bad when I was live in front of a crowd. It’s odd how some things work.

            I never told anyone about my stage fright; somehow I thought that if nobody knew of it, it would go away. I had considered telling Bebe but she was always so confident; what if she had laughed at me?

            “I was very tired. I just wanted to do my best.” I replied shortly. Jean raised her eyebrows dubiously.

            “I cry when I forget my lines, Marilyn. Actors always have something they have to get over; it’s ok to have stage fright.” Her voice was soft, almost weak. Jean is weak, but you’re not! I reminded myself. Stage fright is a weakness.

            “I said I was just tired, Jean.” I snapped at her. Her face fell but she didn’t say anything more.

            A few minutes were spent paging through the design booklets. “What about this dress? Does it suit me?” Jean pointed to one, a black and white polka-dot dress with thin straps.