Dear Diary, it's Marilyn

Chapter 27

Hey! I updated after a week as promised. I was going to update this weekend but I decided to stay up late last night and finish this.

This chapter is dedicated to iamthecookievulture for her comment about school on chapter 26.

Chapter 27

            A man bumped my hip as he rushed past me on the street but I hardly noticed. Amid the cold grey buildings shadowing Hollywood and the people too busy to smile, birds were singing. Well, ok, maybe they weren’t--the only sound that slightly resembled that of a bird call was my cheerful whistling—but I wouldn’t let something that trivial get me down. So what if the city was rather unattractive in this last month of spring; so what if it lacked any plant or animal life? I was far too happy to care.

            “Marilyn”, Jean nudged my side, “stop that whistling! It’s inappropriate!” I raised my eyebrows in her direction. “Or at least wait until we’re somewhere a little more private.”

            “You can’t possibly understand how happy I am, Jean. My life these past few months have been wonderful, and all thanks to darling Joe!” I closed my eyes and sighed at my husband’s name.

            Our honeymoon had been simply terrific; we traveled to Japan and Korea. It had been relaxing for the most past (although I did perform for some soldiers, which was nerve-wracking) and the nights were pure bliss. All those years I was married to Jim, I never realized how much I was really missing.

            “I know what you’re thinking about.” Jean chuckled, winking. “It’s obvious; you’re nearly drooling.”

            I stuck tongue out at her childishly. “So what? You’d think about it too if you were me.”

            Jean glanced away to check for any eavesdroppers. “Is he really that good of a…” she lowered her voice, “lover?”

            “The real lover is the man who can thrill you by kissing your forehead or smiling into your eyes or just staring into space. So yes, he definitely is.”

            Jean laughed merrily. “Gosh, you’re so poetic. Perhaps one day I’ll write down everything you’ve said to me over the years and put it all into a book. It could be called Marilyn’s Voice.”

            I nodded whole-heartedly. “I like that! The title sounds so dramatic.”

            “Just like you.” She added.

            “Just like me.”

            We walked along the side of the road in silence for a little while, but it wasn’t an uncomfortable silence. I think that’s how you know you’re really friends with someone; you don’t have to be constantly speaking to enjoy their company.

            “Filming for a movie I’m in is starting soon.” I commented, not sure if I was looking forward to the prospect.

            “Oh?” Jean seemed mildly interested. “What’s it called?”

            “The Seven Year Itch. It’s about a man who fantasizes about cheating on his wife with me.” I thought for a moment. “I don’t understand how anyone could possibly cheat on their spouse. I don’t think I could ever.”

            “Well of course not!” Jean shook her head at me. “You’re a good person, Marilyn. Good people don’t have affairs.”

            We arrived at Joe’s apartment—no, I had to start calling it my apartment, Joe and I shared it—and I unlocked the door. Instantly, the smell of cigar smoke hit us; Joe must be smoking in the living room with Stuart.

            Jean and Stuart were still happy together, I supposed. I mean, they rarely left each other’s sides. That had to be good, right?

            I could hear Joe’s unmistakable laughter as we entered the living room. He and Stuart were sitting across from each other, both puffing on cigars and sinking back into their seats.

            “The women are back.” Joe announced once he noticed us standing in the doorway. “How was your stroll?” He addressed me, sitting up.

            “Relaxing.”

            Joe leaned back against the couch. “Good, good.” His hand reached out to pick up the brandy glass sitting on the coffee table, but he found it empty. “Marilyn, could you refill this please?” He held it out towards me.

            “Of course, dear.” I smiled and took the glass out of his hand. “Stuart, would you like more to drink?”

            “No, I’m fine, thank you.” Stuart declined politely. “I don’t think it would be wise for me to be intoxicated this early in the afternoon. I have a business meeting later.”

            “Ah, that’s what makes retirement so great.” Joe enthused. “I get to sleep in, breakfast is waiting for me when I get out of bed, and then I get to relax with a drink all afternoon. It’s the life.”

            Jean went to sit down beside Stuart, leaving me to be the only one left standing. “I’ll just go pour you another drink then.” I excused myself.

            “Actually I think we had best be going.” Stuart stood up and Jean followed. “Thank you for a wonderful afternoon.” Joe saw them to the door while I went to the kitchen.

            I headed to the liquor cabinet to get the bottle of brandy. It felt lighter than usual, and when I tipped it over to pour it into the glass, not a drop came out.

            “Joe, honey!” I called, staring at the empty bottle. “Did you finish the brandy?”

            “I suppose I did,” was his reply from the other room.

            “But didn’t I just purchase it yesterday when I went grocery shopping?”

            “Yes. When are you going shopping again, by the way dear? I’d like some more brandy.”

            I didn’t answer. I was too busy resisting the urge to hurl the empty bottle at the wall just to feel the satisfaction of seeing it break into a million pieces.

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And now...

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Jay