Dear Diary, it's Marilyn

Chapter 29

Sorry it took me so long to update! I have been so busy with school and theatre and I'm exhausted. Plus my sister's birthday was yesterday.

This chapter is dedicated to Demontia for her comments on the previous chapter. I appreciated them very much :)

Anyway, here's chapter 29. Enjoy!

Chapter 29

"It's nice to see you're actually on time today, Marilyn." Mr. Wilder, the director, commented dryly as I walked up to him. We were on a wide street that had been roped off for filming today. A couple people were scattered around watching the camera crew set up, but other than that it was pretty quiet.

"This scene sounds like too much fun to miss!" I laughed gaily. "And I hope you don't mind but I brought Joe to watch filming. He's still in the car reading the newspaper but he'll show up soon."

Mr. Wilder frowned but didn't complain. "Just go get ready. We'll start in an hour so don't wander off."

Despite the hot September weather, Mr. Wilder insisted Tom wear a thick coat. I on the other hand wore a pretty white dress that billowed when I twirled.

"Marilyn!" A reporter waved wildly at me from behind the ropes blocking the street off. "Come over here!" 

"Yes?" I went to him.

"I'm Walter Winchell; I write a column in the New York Daily Mirror."

I raised my eyebrows. "And I'm Marilyn Monroe. Nice to meet you."

Walter chuckled before moving on. "Mind if I ask a couple questions?"

Glancing  over at Mr. Wilder, who was yelling at a young man, I shrugged. "Sure, but hurry."

"Thanks."  Walter flipped open a little notebook and peered at it. "This filming is for your latest film, The Seven Year Itch, correct?"

"Yes, it is."

"Tell me about your co-star, Tom Ewell. He's quite the experienced actor, I believe."

The reporter's words made me bristle. Tom was hardly more experienced than I. I had appeared in more movies, even if some of those movies weren't as successful as his. Still, showing this had offended me wouldn't be good for my reputation or this movie's publicity. "It's been a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity working with Tom. He's taught me so much and he has such a charming personality. He's always cheerful, even on the days we have to film at five in the morning." Not all that I said was a lie; Tom really was a nice man. I just thought I deserved a little more attention for all my acting experience.

"It sounds like the two of you have a good relationship, unlike some movies where there's lots of tension on the set, whether it's between the actors, directors, or crewmembers. It doesn't sound like you have that problem at all."

"Oh no," I gushed, "there's none of that there."

Mr. Wilder chose that exact moment to yell, "Marilyn, filming is starting! What's taking so long?" Walter raised an eyebrow at me skeptically.

"He's just having a bad day." I made up an excuse as I hurried away. It's not my fault he has no patience and a terrible temper.

It also seemed Mr. Wilder was a bit of a perfectionist. Before we began filming, he lectured Tom and me on how he wanted this scene stunning or we would do it over and over until we got it right.

"And Marilyn, this better be your best work." He growled threateningly.

Today's scene was of Tom and me walking down the street when steam from a subway grate blows my skirt up. Joe came out just in time to see the first take.

"Again, and this time don't act like you've just seen a cockroach, Marilyn!" The director shouted. "You're supposed to be pleasantly surprised."

So we did it again.

And again.

And again.

By now a crowd of people had gathered to watch from behind the ropes. Each time the steam blew my skirt up, they would cheer and Mr. Wilder would shush them angrily. Their support was rather flattering though.

Joe's face darkened each time they cheered though. After a few more takes he went over and tried to speak to Mr. Wilder, but the director dismissed Joe with a wave of his hand.

It took a couple more takes till Mr. Wilder was finally satisfied, and by then it was pretty late in the day. We were dismissed. "You're finished for today. I'll see you tomorrow back in the studio."

"Marilyn, can I speak to you over here?" Joe beckoned me over. I ran over and hugged him. He smelled like gentlemen's cologne and a hint of liquor, unsurprisingly.

"Did you like the scene? Wasn't all that cheering wonderful?" The crowd had loved me!

Joe detached himself from me and stuck his hands in his pockets. "That's what I wanted to talk to you about." He kept his voice down, not wanting to be overheard.

"What do you mean? Was my acting bad?"

"No, no, but-- I mean, you can't do these sort of things, Marilyn." Joe stumbled over his words, his face growing red.

"What things?"

"This...this skirt blowing! It's not appropriate for a married woman! Showing off your legs like that..." he shook his head as if trying to rid himself of the image. "You aren't behaving the way a respectable wife should." I tried to speak but he carried on. "I've allowed you to keep up your acting even though it causes you to shirk your wifely duties, but now you've taken advantage of my leniency. You're embarrassing me!" His voice had risen considerably and a few people were beginning to notice our argument.

"You've allowed me to keep up my acting? You're a retired ballplayer; this acting is our sole source of income! How on earth is making money to provide my husband with all the liquor he consumes embarrassing?"

Joe kept shaking his head. "This is like selling yourself; it's prostitution! And I don't drink any more than my friends. Wait till they see this scene at the theaters. I'll be a laughing stock!"

"Well who cares what all your alcoholic friends think? The scene was hardly inappropriate anyway. Acting is an art. What I just did was art!"

Joe laughed humorlessly. "Sex is an art too, Marilyn. And that's all that scene was; sex." He sneered nastily.

I covered my ears. "Don't you speak that way around me, Joe DiMaggio! I'm a lady, despite what you think!" Joe took a step towards me, scrunching his face up, but I pushed him back. "No, just go away. Leave! I won't be coming home tonight, you can be sure of that."

Joe took a step back, raising his hands up as if surrendering. "No, of course you won't. You'll probably be spending the night at some Tom, Dick, or Harry's house instead."

I didn't care to answer Joe. I just glared at his back as he walked away.

 No, I wouldn't spend the night at any man's house if his name was Tom, Dick, or Harry, but I did happen to know a certain man named Milton Greene who was living in an apartment in the city while the rest of his family stayed in their country house. His place would do just fine for the night.

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This chapter question goes as such:

-What's your opinion on affairs in a marriage? Can they ever be justified?

Don't forget to vote!

Until next time,

Jay