Dear Diary, it's Marilyn

Chapter 33

I hope this chapter isn't too confusing. If it is, it's only because I don't want to make this story too long. I'd prefer no more than 40 chapters, but we'll see.

Chapter 33

            "I was climbing stairs, so many stairs, leading up to a stage. There must have been thousands of people but I couldn't see their faces. No-that's not right- it wasn't that I couldn't see them, per se…they just didn't have faces. And because they had no faces, they had no mouths…no mouths to yell my name, no mouths to cheer, so it was dead silent. I got up to the stage and took my place by the microphone but no cameras were flashing or anything. And I could see my multiple ex-husbands in the front row. They had faces but they still weren't cheering me on. They all looked angry. And then I began to sing, but my voice was shaking and my exes all looked so disappointed in me, like they had expected so much more."

            I crinkled my nose, trying to recall more of the dream's details. "That's all I can remember. I always wake up after that."

            Dr. Greenson started to speak, "Remember what I said about your reoccurring dreams at our last session, Marilyn?"

            "Yes, yes, I know. All of my dreams seem to be about my fears." I repeated his words of wisdom from our previous appointment.

            "And I think it's clear this particular dream is about your stage fright, don't you?" He prompted.

            "Yes, but-oh! There was something new this time though. Arthur was in it."

            Oh, Arthur. Arthur Miller, to be exact. Arthur Miller, my most recent husband and divorcee. After my painful divorce with Joe, I had promised myself I would avoid relationships until my heart had mended, and I did. It only took my two short years to fall in love again, although I will admit I gave Arthur my love rather hastily. Surprisingly enough, I stayed with Arthur for five agonizingly long years, four of which I was asking for a divorce. Of all my marriages, it must have been my worst, but luckily I had the trusted Dr. Greenson to counsel me. Sometimes I'd see him twice a day, I relied so heavily on his wisdom. Arthur hated Dr. Greenson, which was one of the most common topics of our daily arguments.

            "Arthur was never part of your dream before?" Dr. Greenson sounded surprised, his bushy grey eyebrows raised.

            "No, but that's probably because I was trying so hard not to think of him. I think him being in my dream means I'm over him." I smiled triumphantly.

            "You're a sharp girl, Marilyn." Dr. Greenson praised me. "I guess that means we won't be discussing Arthur any longer. Let's talk about your dream, or what it means, to be exact."

            I nodded.

            "You are incredibly shy, Marilyn. From what I hear, you hide it well, but it is still there."

            I looked at my shoes, embarrassed. "I know." I murmured in a small voice.

            "And I'm sure this insecurity stems from your childhood, so we'll start there. We've talked about your mother and her addictions, but what about your time at the orphanage you said you lived in? Can you tell me about it?" He urged, pulling out his clipboard to take notes.

            I trusted Dr. Greenson, I really did, but my childhood was a touchy subject to put it mildly. Just from it being spoken of, memories I had buried long ago came flooding back, making my eyes fill with hot tears.

            I shook my head quickly as I dabbed at my eyes with a tissue. "I don't want to talk about that right now." I sniffled.

            "Marilyn," Dr. Greenson leaned towards me, "Marilyn, it's ok. We'll get there when we get there. Are those anti-depressants I prescribed working?"

            Again I shook my head. "I guess not."

            "Here," he scribbled something on a piece of paper. "I'll give you a new prescription, a stronger one. Take it to your doctor."

            I thanked him. "I think I'll be going. Tonight's a big night for me; I should prepare."

            Dr. Greenson stood up to walk me to the door. "Good luck then. You'll be wonderful."

            Tonight was my first big performance on stage after my divorce with Arthur. And it wasn't just some random big performance. No, this was for the president, John F. Kennedy, in celebration of his birthday and it was to be in the middle of Madison Square Garden. My dress was ready, my song I was to perform was ready, everything was ready. Except me, that is. This morning, I had to run to the bathroom to be sick and I'd felt…off…ever since. I was suffering from a severe case of nerves and there seemed to be no cure.

            I'd been dreaming of this night for weeks, although my dreams seemed to be pretty nightmarish. People from all over America would be there to see me and to see the president. I should have been used to the attention by now; I mean, I was a celebrity for Christ's sake! Performing on stage was just part of my job, albeit the worst part. But it had to be done. Tonight's performance would be memorable; it had to be. I had to show the world that I was doing fine after my divorce, that I was still the It-girl of America.

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            I primped myself one last time in the mirror backstage at Madison Square. My hair and makeup was perfect, and my dress…well, my dress was sexy to say the least. It was skin tight, literally, emphasizing my hips and derriere. Feeling this attractive did make me feel a little more confident, but not much. I tried meditating, completely clearing my head of all thoughts, which helped a bit.

            "Miss Monroe, are you ready?" A young man stuck his head into my dressing room.

            "Yes." I replied, my eyes not leaving my reflection in the mirror.

            "Good, because you're on." I followed the boy out. People backstage moved out of our way as he led me to the wings of the stage. Peter Lawford was on stage, grinning as the crowd applauded something he had said moments before. A few men were seated on the stage. I recognized the president immediately. His focus was on Peter Lawford, a small smile on his face. He was more handsome than I had expected. He was maybe 9 years older than me, if I remembered correctly, but you could hardly tell. I noticed his wife wasn't with him. Maybe she was backstage…

            "And now, Mr. President, Marilyn Monroe!" Peter Lawford announced. With one last calming breath, I smiled widely as I stepped onto the stage.

            As I approached the microphone, Peter Lawford stepped off to the side of the stage. I waved at the crowd as they cheered. This was nothing like my nightmares. John F. Kennedy nodded at me and I directed my smile at him, giving him all my attention. I was singing him happy birthday, after all. Although my happy birthday wouldn't be traditional…

            My voice didn't shake as it had in my nightmare. In fact, everything went very well. As I sang the crowd continued their cheering, appreciating how sultry my song was. What had they expected from a sex symbol such as myself? By the end their cheers had risen to a deafening roar. As they hollered, the president walked towards me. I could hardly hear past the applause but I did manage to catch his words. "I would love to speak to you later tonight." With one last smile, I retreated offstage.

            Would I meet him? Of course I would.