Broken Marilyns

THE MARILYNS

THE MARILYNS

Nose to the grindstone, I had to dig myself out of this Geez Louise hole before I got too complacent.

I turned the TV on for background noise while I sat down at my computer to work.  Rubbing my eyes, I cradled my head in my hands and watched the blinking cursor on my screen.  My head was void of all thought and I just clicked from one work in progress to another, re-reading, re-wording, but not getting anywhere.

"The body of Julia Eisner was found during the early hours of this morning.  Tom Fisher, a local bartender, reported finding Eisner's body underneath an overpass while walking home.  The cause of Eisner's death is unknown at this time and Police are asking that any witnesses who may have seen Eisner please step forward."  The reporter's words surrounded me like a disembodied voice.  I was a deadly Midas - killing everyone I touched.

This can't be real - I tried to convince myself while pulling up the news station's website, but there it was front and center, a picture of Julia.  I scrutinized every fact in the article, exhausted each word I read in an attempt to make this not true.  

We are all holding onto a merry-go-round spinning way too fast, never knowing when it will be our turn to slip.

At the bottom of the page people were already leaving comments.  Some offered their condolences and some who knew Julia's profession kicked her while she was down, calling her a whore and saying she deserved it.  One woman’s post piqued my interest: “She still lived here?  I thought she was another one of those ‘Marilyns.’   Beneath the post a person replied, “Her, a Marilyn?  She got the bein’ a druggy slut part down but not the aspiring actress bit unless you count low-budget pornos.”  Whatever a Marilyn was, I’d never heard of one, but I knew exactly who to call to find out.

"Why do you wanna know about the Marimums?" Maddie asked while inhaling her sub sandwich.

"Someone said Julia was one."

"Julia?" Maddie narrowed an eye at me.

"Julia Eisner, the prostitute I helped a couple months ago.  They found her dead this morning."  Maddie stared at me, frozen with her sandwich lifted next to her mouth.

"Oh my God, I didn't know!"

"You work for a newspaper.  How do you not know these things?"

"It's Saturday."  Maddie whipped her hands out defensively, flinging lettuce onto the ground.

"Anyway, what does it mean?  A Marilyn?" Maddie rolled her eyes while she hurried to chew another bite.  "Jesus, have you not eaten for days or something?"

"I went out last night, easy, Killer!" Maddie wiped mustard from the corner of her mouth before continuing, “Marilyns: It used to mean pretty, ditzy little blondes who disappeared supposedly to Hollywood to become famous but now people call any blonde haired girl that goes missing a Marilyn.  They’re just runaways, Jenna."

"Has anyone ever checked up on any of them?  What if they're dead?"

"I've never heard of anyone becoming a celebrity but then again I hardly heard of the girls when they lived here."

"Do you know the names of some of the girls who 'left'?" I prodded.

"Probably not all of 'em.  They're a dime a dozen, Jenna.  Well, probably more like fifty bucks a pop."  I raised my eyebrows, unamused.  "Bad joke, bad joke.  Let me look up some stuff when I get home and I'll text you a list.  Is my interrogation over now?  I'd like to finish my damn sandwich."

"Yes, thank you.  Enjoy your damn sandwich," I smiled and got up.

"What, you're not paying?  What a lousy date this is.  Are you at least gonna put out later?" Maddie hollered behind me.

Maddie texted me five names that night.  Scouring the Internet, I found out that the first two on the list had actually moved on to become models, nothing big by the looks of it but they were alive.  Continuing down the list, I discovered that the third passed away five years ago in a car accident.  The fourth and fifth I couldn't find any traces of besides their dated Missing Persons reports.

I went to the bridge Julia either jumped off of or was pushed.  I needed to understand.  The bridge was decaying, its metal rails rusted and broken in some parts.  I looked over the side to the area her body lied crumpled up just a week ago; now there was nothing to indicate she was ever here.

At the opposite end of the bridge I noticed someone walking up wearing a sweatshirt with the hood pulled forward.  Suddenly the person stopped, turned around and began a brisk walk back the way they'd come.  I ran as fast as I could to catch up to them.  Grasping the person's shoulder, they spun around and I gasped.  It was Julia.

"Julia!?" I shouted in disbelief.  Her eyes looked heavy and she was acting strange.  Licking at her gums from inside her mouth, Julia looked around confused.  Her movements were twitchy and when she opened her mouth to talk, I could see decay on her teeth.  "Who are you?" the woman asked.  Decay like that doesn't happen quickly, she was not Julia.

"I'm Jenna.  I helped Julia out a few weeks ago."  The woman reared her lips up in a humored smirk. 

"Yeah?  Well, some help you were," she pushed out a bemused laugh.

"Are you her twin?"  I examined the woman's features which seemed to be making her uncomfortable; she shifted and crossed her arms.

"Just sisters.  I saw her on some man's newspaper...wanted to come look.  Hadn't seen her in three years," she looked down with a scowl.

"I'm sorry."

"Yeah, me too."  Julia's sister sniffed and then turned away, disappearing behind some buildings downtown.  I would have gone after her but she obviously didn’t know much about her sister.  No one in this town seemed to know much.