Exeunt

Mama. I don’t know why you have to make everything so difficult. I look at having this baby as the opportunity of a lifetime. Sure, there may be some risk involved. That’s true for anybody. But you get through it and life goes on. And when it’s all said and done there’ll be a piece of immortality with Jackson’s looks and my sense of style…I hope. Mama, please. I need your support. I would rather have thirty minutes of wonderful than a lifetime of nothing special.

That was my thirty minutes of wonderful. For the first, and probably only, time in my life I was a heroine. Yes, there was teased hair and awful high wasted 80's jeans and a horrid wig. But for once I wasn't a chorus girl, and when I died, people cried. I spent my whole life wanting that, and I will probably spend my whole live reliving those few moments. As time goes by I will forget the nights that we did our lines in circles, the nights we wanted to kill our fellow cast members, the nights we caused the director to want to go into early retirement. I will remember the smell of fancy face paint and hairspray, how hot that vest was under the lights, how that one night everything just slipped perfectly into place.
I have spent seven years now learning that I am not an actress, and I will spend fifty more at this rate. But, as the years pass me, so will the roles. Too late for Juliet now, and soon too late for Shelby too. Desdemona, my favorite, has maybe two years left. I am getting too old for the heroine, people get dried up faster in this business then in any other one in the world. So, through high school college, a job...somehow I still read these lines, hug my pillow, and cry.

What can I say. The stage is a fickle mistress.

Middle Plantation and Romance

I never thought I would give up an accurately recreated pair of stays for one hot sticky day at the beach in a 21st century bathing suit. All of a sudden, I can't even get excited about bustles anymore. Pleats and under-petticoats and hoops are all worthless in comparison to brown eyes and a jeep that perpetually smells a little like fast food.

What's happened to me, a year and a half ago I wouldn't have recognized myself today.

I used to be in love with fashion, with history, with hopeless romance and intrigue.

Now I'm in love with a man.

One man.

What's more, I think he's worth it.

Birthdays

This morning I will have apple pie for breakfast. I don't care, it's the last day that I'm twenty so I'm going to act childish. I should probably be more excited for tomorrow. I should be texting friends and planning drinks and bars and outfits. But here, there are no friends, so I sigh and wait as the minutes tick by.
Instead of thinking about the relentlessness of time, I'm going to have apple pie.
Bring it, time.

An Understanding

"Try Burnt Sienna. Hi, sorry. You're Anna, right?"
"Yeah, hey thanks. I'm always so chicken when I dye my hair; I always end up either a tiny bit redder or a tiny bit darker, but I think I'm the only one who even really notices the difference. Sorry, I didn't catch you're name...?
"Emma... Boudreau."
"Oh. So I guess you already kinda knew who I was then. I didn't think you were back yet."
"I just got in. I'm just getting some things before heading back to campus."
"Look, I'm really sorry. I mean, if I was you I would hate me. I didn't know, I mean I did know but he didn't really tell me-"
"No. It's ok. We had an understanding and I went away and here we are now. Just, I'm glad it was only you and not a whole bunch of random girls. You seem nice."
"Only me...yeah. Well- I should probably go. I have a paper to write and a meeting later-"
"There doesn't have to be any problem you know. I mean, as long as you don't try to keep on- I don't hate you for what you did."
"Yeah. I won't try anything. It's not my place. You won't even know I'm around, I promise."
"Don't you live down the hall?"
"Yeah, but I don't get out much. I'm sorry, but I really have to go. It was nice meeting you."
"You too. See you around."
"Yeah, I'll see you."
"Anna? I know how it feels when he lies to you. I mean, if you ever need to talk about all of this..."
"You want to talk to me about it? You don't think that's weird? You don't want to hear what I have to say anyway. You don't want to hear what he told me."
"I can only imagine. But I don't hate you."
"Well thank you. It's more then I deserve."
"It's probably not. But anyway. Good luck with the hair dye.”

Fear

Let me make a list of things that scare me. At least then they'll all be neatly gathered in one place.

~Heights. Not the "I can't climb that ladder, I'm scared of heights," indeed I spent much of my childhood clambering on catwalks 20 feet in the air. But one time I was at the top of the Statue of Liberty, we had climbed hundreds of stairs in a line that streachted on for hours. When we got to the top there was one tired security guard (this was before planes started flying into buildings) and he hustled me onto a thin plywood platform. My hand pressed against the tiny window, I could see the whole New York skyline streatched below and before me. In that second I knew two things: There is something about that city that I will always love, and I couldn't have my feet on firm ground soon enough.
~Suspense. When I was eight or nine I went through a phase of not being able to watch any new movies. My little five year old brother scoffed at me, but when my dad would bring home two or three movies I would beg to watch only five minutes of each at a time so that I could find out which one was the least scary. Blood and gore didn't bother me, it grossed me out but I could always make some sarcastic comment about make up artists or special effects. It was that shot from behind that always killed me, the one where you could just see the character and had to wonder if something was about to jump out at them and from where. Now I challenge myself to try to outdo my fear; grabbing my pillow, turning on the light, but forcing myself to watch.
~Cars. Or rather, car accidents. Ever since I woke up in that ambulance, sharp turns and hard brakes have made me forget to breath. Sometimes I think remembering everything would help...but most of the time I'm just grateful that I don't have to.
~Failing. No one really wants to fail, but I seem to have a real talent for screwing things up. Somehow, just when things get good I manage to make one huge mistake and that's it. I know I'm not the sort to really make people proud, but for once I want to not be part of the problem.
~Losing him. My little brother I mean. Because no matter what, he's all I have in the world, the only person who's not allowed to leave me. He doesn't get mad when I tell him I love him, we can go for weeks without talking and then have things be just like normal. I know he doesn't need me to protect him anymore, but somehow I have to try. In the end, he's really the one protecting me. I know there is nothing in the world I wouldn't do for him.

Through the cracks

Tomorrow I'm just going to be a memory, I think.
I'll slip away, into that dark part of the brain that is reserved for the things no one wants to think about. I've lost, I suppose. Some people win and then there are other people too. If one person, any person would notice me drowning that would be something at least. But I won't burden you or anyone else. Especially not you. You told me yourself, you don't know how to deal with this. You shut down. So maybe it's better I don't make you think about it anymore. You can be free of all of this, easily.
And tomorrow, I'll be a memory.

Year One

Nights like these make me beg for punishment. Let me pull out old snapshots, let me read the old conversations that are intrinsically bad for me. Let my pull my hair down and let the tears roll awkwardly around my nose to my lips. The salty taste reminds me of those nights, one year ago. Those horribly wonderful nights, delicious sin promising me a world of pain and love.
I wonder if he's thinking about me, sometimes.
Wonder if he ever remembers what happened, wonder if he ever imagines things differently. He wouldn't, it's not his style. Live in the moment, forget regrets. That's what he told everyone anyway. I knew differently.
I can't answer when you call now, can't pretend to be happy anymore. You won't believe me anyway.
So here I am. Punishing myself.
Picture after picture.
Make it hurt.