Another Life

I used to be Marilyn Monroe

Sitting in a bedroom with white curtains and pale walls that remind me of coffee when you put too much cream in it. Not quite brown but not yet beige. I have been sitting in this concrete cave of coffee for the last 20 years staring at the same rotten, dried landscape all day every day. It gets quite boring but it passes the time. The time always passes. No matter what I do.


On Wednesdays I get to go for a ride to the park. The big grey bus that picks us up smells like rotten potatoes and the driver sometimes forgets his cargo is human. The way he flies over the bumps and potholes in the road is enough to make anyone dizzy Some times we get to feed the savage birds that peck your hand if you don’t give upthe food fast enough. And watch the waves. The waves that rise and fall and look so beautiful. The waves that can swallow you whole and drag you to the depths of the deep if you aren’t careful. The deep blue of the water is calming to me. I lose myself in the deep blue of the peaks and when the crest of the wave turns white and falls, it seems that all my worries fall away with it.
One day in the park we weren’t the only ones there. A group of school children were visiting the same park and we crossed paths. There is a little boy in the group with mousy brown hair and big blue eyes. He smiled at me as he walked by and I smiled back. The smile that I saw suddenly became familiar. It was not so familiar as to say that I knew who he was exactly but the features that he was carrying I had seen in another form. Perhaps in my younger days I palled with a member of his family.
Making eye contact with the child I smiled again and motioned for him to come over to me. Unsure of me, he glanced back over his shoulder to see if anyone was behind him to tell him if he should come to me or not. When he saw that no one was watching out for him he paused briefly, thinking about what he should do I assume, and started towards me. The look on his face was so determined and I could tell that he was pleased with himself for making the decision all by himself to come over to me. The grin on his face alone was enough to make me chuckle out loud, and that chuckle was enough to cause one of the groups caretakers to look up and call out to the boy. ‘Daniel! Time to go.’ Daniel turned towards the voice and then looked at me. Frowning, he shrugged his shoulders and ran back to the group and headed out of the park. I was sad but understood that he needed to go. So once the boy left I began to think….
I was trying hard to remember how I used to be. Lights and music were a large part of the memories I had but above that, nothing was clear. I remember a man, a tall man, with serious eyes and a warm smile. The first time I saw him I was so nervous. I knew he was smarter than me, and older and more sophisticated than I ever was.
I’m not sure if I love him but I know that he protected me and cared for me.
******************************************************
I am standing in front of a crowd and my heart is racing. Taking a deep breath, I am thinking about why I let him talk me into this. All these people staring at me like I am a freak or worse, almost reduces me to tears. I turn to walk off the stage and see him in the wings smiling at me but with blue eyes that pierce right through me. I know what will happen if I leave right now so I walk up to the microphone and open my mouth. The words come out but the shame I feel stays buried within me.

I opened my eyes instantly and tried to remember all of this memory. I have not been able to remember so vividly since I was a young adult, remembering my childhood or lack of. Those images came too easy to me and stayed longer than I cared but this new memory seemed to fleeting even as I thought about it. Where was I and who kept looking at me? The only thing that stayed emblazed in her mind seemed to be the stone gaze he had. It made me uncomfortable then, I am sure, and managed to do the same thing now. And I am sure it had been years since he last looked at me, making me feel like a misbehaved child.
But now I am far from a child. A crippled old lady with a brain like the Scarecrow from The Wizard of Oz. Judy Garland, only a child but still so beautiful.

Feeling uncomfortable I lean over and call for the attendant. I call again but he isn’t listening. He is talking to a young woman with brown eyes and clothes that are far too revealing to be lady like. I don’t want to yell too loudly to cause a scene. Seems to me that people my age are looked upon as if crazy when they do that sort of thing. So I wait for him to be finished and hope that it is soon.

From the corner of my eye I see the man that had been staring at me stand up from the bench he was on and start walking towards me. Although old and somewhat feeble I reach for the wheels on my chair and start to push myself in the opposite direction. I must have hit a root or a rock because as I pushed with what seemed the last bit of my strength, my chair started to teeter and fell over onto its side. Lying on the ground unable to move the only thought in my head seemed to be about not opening my eyes. If I opened them I knew that the man would be staring back. So I lay there and cried, forgetting the pain I felt and remembering why I wanted to be away from here so badly.
I felt someone touch my arm and I flinch. Please don’t be him, I think to myself. And as I open my eyes I see a young man who is not him. I feel relief and at the same time am frightened. I do not know this person. I hate being touched by people I do not know. It makes me feel dirty. But as he holds my arm to help me up I have no choice but to hold back the anxiety I am feeling. After all, he is only trying to help.

As I get to my feet someone pulls over my chair and sits me down gently. People are asking if I am alright, and the young man says that I am fine and I just need to rest. I expected that someone from my home will take the handles of my chair and push me towards the van I came in. That didn’t happen though. The young man took the back of my chair as the staff walked away towards the other residents. I try to call for the staff but nothing comes out. I started to panic and feel my breathing become laboured.

As the young man pushes my chair, a van pulls up and the side door opens. I am being pushed up a ramp quickly, it seems, and the door closes behind me. My chair is swung around and locked into place on the van. I am crying now and look up to see the driver of the van staring back at me. Terrified, I see the familiar face looking back at me smiling. It is not a nice smile. That man in the park earlier is driving this vehicle. This cannot be happening. This familiar man who I cannot remember, is driving faster. My head feels heavy and my mind is scrambled. I feel a pain and then I see nothing but darkness.


I swallow and take a deep breath. I look out into the crowd and see him sitting there. No one else matters but him. I smiled and started to sing, “Happy Birthday to you. Happy Birthday to you. Happy Birthday Mr. President………”

Fade to black.