Sweet Marilyn

a less secure time. a rebellious youth story. a bit of bio.

His first love messed with his mind and nearly broke his spirit with a cold-hearted rejection.  He threw himself into his studies.  It was therapy and escape.  His studies suffered.

 

Six weeks passed with his nose in the books before he was ready to reach out again.  A weekend with little homework and promised warmer weather approached and he made a plan.

 

An brief acquaintance from Kansas City of several years before, named Marilyn, attended Washington University in St. Louis.  He would go to see her.  He thumbed a ride to St. Louis with his small backpack,  Then he turned north toward Wash U along Big Bend.  His first ride dropped him in Ladue, a rich, uppity little burg.  Ladue Police pulled up quickly.  His pony tail and backpack had brought out the prejudice in Barney Fife.

 

He emptied pockets.  A spread eagle search revealed no drugs (who could afford them?) and 75 cents cash.  He was handcuffed in the back-seat and booked for vagrancy

He was to spend one night behind bars if one local phone call didn’t bring help.  Barney wasn’t buying the Wash U story.  

 

They gave him a dime for the wall phone, Barney

stood behind the glass with a cheshire grin, tossing keys from one hand to the other.  He fumbled with the white pages to discover there are two dorms!

 

He flipped the dime and dialed the first number, sweat beading above his headband.  Five very long rings,

“Rubelmann dorm”

“Marilyn Anderson please”

“What room?”

His heart stopped, “I don’t know.”

“Wait” with irritation... a long wait.

“It’s 322” click-click-ring.

He glanced at Barney, now standing with fists on hips, and an evil eye throwing darts.  His calm and confident act was deteriorating as he counted .. ring 7..... ring 8.... ring 9

“Hello” Finally!

“Marilyn?”

“She’s not here.” The emotional roller coaster dove again!

With as few words and as fast as possible, he told his story.

“I don’t have a car!”  she said.  “Just a minute.” 

A long minute, and another long minute passed before the phone picked up.

“I’ll be your Marilyn.  What do you look like?” A new voice!... a smile crept across his face.

“I’ve got a long blond ponytail, blue eyes, scraggly beard

and I’m the only person in the holding cell.”

She laughed, said “On my way,” and hung up.

 

Only then did he think to ask what she looked like.  Barney was visibly upset and left during the interminable waiting.  

 

The door finally burst open and the biggest black dandelion 

afro framing a beautiful black smiling face ran towards him.  His eyes caught on her breasts as she threw her arms around him and role played that she’d missed him and was sorry he’d got in trouble.  After several long moments he could speak “You look great hon.”

 

At seventeen, he’d never seen a mixed race couple.  His rebel soul was near bursting with pleasure.  His next shock was in the lot when she led the way to her dark gold 4.2 liter e-type Jaguar.  Her high school graduation present was the prettiest car he’d ever seen.

 

He figured out why she laughed on the phone.  

 

The question debated into the night was about Barney.  Was he more upset about losing his hippie?... or more upset that his lover was black?

 

The facts shook out like this:  She’d had to show her drivers license to sign him out.  She’d told Barney that she’d lied to him about her name.  He couldn’t arrest her for lying.  Her Michigan parents were both Architects.  She had a serious boyfriend in Michigan.  Her friends helped him sneak into the dorm for the night.

 

They brought him food.  They played cards and he didn’t get much sleep.  He called her sweet Marilyn.  They kept in touch for years.

 

He never saw the real Marilyn.

Reviews

[My Name is Brenda and I..]

I remember it as though it were yesterday. Thanks for reminding me of the days when it was okay to hitchhike from Williamsburg to Roanoke with empty pockets. It is going to be fun reading your writes. You tell a good story and you have lived an interesting life. Well done.