Marilyn's Ghost Page 2

  The next day, as she had nothing to do, she went to Actor’s Studio to discover a world she could not yet afford. From the sidewalk opposite the studio, she saw some young people speaking enthusiastically and smoking at the entrance. They were all modern-looking and were very well-dressed. Most were extremely handsome. There were young women of twenty spectacular years with angelic faces, slim waists, large breasts and long legs, with a promising future in Hollywood. They were the lucky type discovered by a talent hunter whilst eating a hamburger. When she saw the students enter, she crossed the street and followed them in with the discretion that characterized her. No one asked her any questions, so she went forward though terrified of being discovered, as if she were just one more student who had paid a lot of money to take this course she had walked into. She imitated the others, sitting in one of the chairs. She chose one near the back to not be seen and in silence, listened to the words of the professor who from the stage warned them it would not be an easy course but that it would be enriching for their souls and promising for the future.

  “Focus on what you want and you will see opportunities line up,” he started, taking off his round glasses and cleaning them on his striped shirt.

  But Pam stopped listening to the professor’s words when at his side she saw a woman with a platinum-blond mane, slim in a flattering sheer white dress with a generous décolleté. She laughed at the professor’s words but no one noticed her presence. Except for Pam, who for some strange reason, could see and identify her as the one and only Marilyn Monroe. She rubbed her eyes, thinking she was suffering from some kind of hallucination, surely due to the medicine she was taking to fight the pain of her broken arm… but when she reopened her eyes, Marilyn was still there. Whirling from one side of the stage to the other, she was playful, just as she had seen her in an infinite number of films. Marylin’s ghost lifted her gaze momentarily and saw her. They stared at each other fixedly, for just a second. It was enough for the two of them to know their paths were destined to cross. Marilyn kept laughing at the professor until he, gesturing at Pam who sat frightened in her chair, stood up without knowing what to do. Instead of fleeing towards the exit, she walked down the stairs that led to the stage and stood in front of the professor, trying to avoid Marilyn’s curious gaze.

  “Your name,” the professor ordered.

  “Pam Miller.”

  “Pam? I don’t remember seeing your name on the list.”

  Please let the ground swallow me up, Pam thought, whilst Marilyn continued to observe her earnestly. Again, their gazes crossed and Marilyn threw an enchanting smile. Pam, however, could not return the nice gesture. Her legs were shaking, her arm hurt and her fear was reflected in her big eyes.

  “Oh well, never mind. I want you to improvise the following situation, Imagine you are in your room and your boyfriend just dumped you over WhatsApp. You are a problematic and rebellious girl, a little eccentric with a touch of crazy. I want you to scream. To cry. To be distraught. Can you do it?”

  Pam nodded timidly, looking to the stands and thinking about the absurd and stupid situation the professor had put her in. She stood in the center of the stage and with a sidelong glance to Marilyn, did everything the professor had asked for. She started by ruffling her blond hair, screamed, stamped on the floor and even cried bitterly. After a few minutes that seemed interminable to Pam, the professor applauded with the rest of the students.

  “A little exaggerated, Pam. But that’s a very good start. I didn’t ask anything easy of you, so you passed the test with flying colors. Congratulations,” he said, looking back at the list and frowning.

  Marilyn did not applaud. She crossed her arms and looked at the ground. Pam returned to her seat and tried to keep pace with the class, even though it was impossible for her to concentrate without staring at the divine blonde on the stage. The remainder of the students took turns in going onstage, improvising whatever the professor thought up at that moment. They were unusual situations, rarely seen in real life. Two hours later, the class finished in applause and everyone left to smoke a cigarette outside during the ten minute break. Pam left quickly, without looking back. She was still frightened by the hallucinations she thought she was having of the divine blonde’s ghost onstage. She had laughed at the professor throughout the class, was attentive to every student’s improvisation and more importantly, she had watched Pam fixedly and with curiosity.

  “Wait!” Pam was paralyzed on hearing that someone was trying to stop her.

  She spun around and was surprised to see that one of the young men had noticed her. He was tall, thin and his face had no reason to be jealous of the best-looking actors in Hollywood.

  Long brown hair covered his forehead, he had honey-colored, almond-shaped eyes and a strong, masculine lower jaw. He was aware of his attractiveness and was sporting a three-day old beard to make himself look older than he was and to seem more interesting to the female public.

  “My name is Brad,” he said.

  “You don’t say…” Pam smiled, thinking of Angelina Jolie’s husband. “I’m Pam.”

  “I know. I loved your improv. Are you coming to the next class?”

  “No,” Pam answered in a whisper.

  “Why not?”

  “Well, the truth is, I haven’t paid for the course. I crept into the class of Professor…”

  “Professor Thomas,” said Brad seriously.

  “But I’m leaving now.”

  “Slow down! I did the same at first. It’s easy to sneak into this academy if you’re careful.” Brad winked at her. “What happened to your arm?”

  “A stupid fall.”

  “But are you okay?”

  “Yes, obviously.”

  “So… Will you go out to dinner with me?”

  “I can’t today,” Pam lied.

  “Tomorrow?”

  “I’ll think about it…”

  “Great. Give me your phone number,” said Brad, taking out his cellphone.

  Pam gladly gave him her number. It was the first time in the two years she had been living in Los Angeles that anyone had shown any interest in her.

  “Tomorrow at midnight I’m playing a gig with my band in the Piano Bar, on Selma Avenue. You’ll come after dinner, no?”

  “Sure. You play in a band?”

  “Yeah, pop music. I’m the singer,” he answered proudly. “We’ll have a good time, I’ll send you a WhatsApp and we’ll set a time, okay?”

  Pam agreed with a smile, but seeing how Marilyn’s ghost was coming out of the academy and was approaching the young students smoking a cigarette who were not taking notice of the blonde’s presence, her face changed.

  “Are you okay?” asked Brad, putting his hand on Pam’s shoulder.

  “Yes, yes… but I have to go. See you tomorrow!”

  Leaving the young man mid-sentence, Pam ran away quickly, wishing that in case what seemed to be ghost was not a hallucination caused by the medication, that it would not follow her. She reached home, cursing whomever was responsible for her stupid fall for the itching and discomfort the plaster fitting was causing her arm and fell onto the sofa, worn-out. She closed her eyes and exhausted, she fell asleep.

  CHAPTER 4

  Marilyn’s Ghost

  The clock read eight in the evening when Pam had the greatest fright of her life. When she opened her eyes, she saw Marilyn Monroe herself stood in front of her, watching her with a smile and wearing her flattering sheer white dress.

  “What is this?” the young and failed actress shouted, scatterbrained. “What did that doctor give me? I was saying… just graduated from med school, he couldn’t have given me anything good,” she continued hastily, more for herself than for Marilyn’s ghost who was watching her, amused.

  She stood up quickly to go find the pills the doctor had prescribed her. She threw everything inside in the kitchen trash can, even the container. She read it attentively whilst Marilyn peeped over her shoulder laughing, just as she had done hours be
fore at the professor of Actor’s Studio.

  “It seems normal… it doesn’t have any weed or anything…” Pam whispered. “But let’s see! Who are you? What are you doing here?”

  “You’re called Pam, right?”

  Pam squinted her eyes. Still with fear showing on her face, she looked the ghost up and down. There was no doubt it was Marilyn; she would have recognized her silhouette from a mere shadow on the wall. But what was she doing here? Did she not have better things to do than to visit an unlucky actress? Marilyn’s droopy blue eyes were watching Pam with curiosity. Her face was just as Pam had seen hundreds of times in her films: snub nose, full lips painted a carmine red that despite being a ghost, continued to show off her perfect white teeth below. Her platinum blond hair and voluptuous form underneath that gorgeous white dress made her the prettiest ghost on the face of the earth. Pam still could not believe the dead diva would be curious about her, enough to leave Actor’s Studio and follow her to her austere and tiny apartment.

  “I’m Marilyn, Marilyn Monroe,” she continued with a whispery and velvety voice. It was sweet and enchanting.

  “Am I dreaming? What’s annoying about this if it is a dream, is that I didn’t really meet Brad,” Pam sighed.

  “It’s not a dream, it’s real. And about Brad…” Marilyn rolled her eyes, “Trust me, honey, he’s not right for you.”

  “How?”

  “Tell me, what are your dreams?”

  “Is this happening? Marilyn Monroe is asking me about my dreams?” Pam laughed, on the edge of crazy.

  “Exactly, we all have a dream in life. I did too.”

  “Miss Marilyn, I don’t know what to say…”

  “I don’t like that tone very much, young lady.”

  “Marilyn, I’m going for a walk. It has been a pleasure, but this apartment is too small to share.”

  Pam ran to the door and with a quick look at Marilyn’s ghost, she disappeared. Before going on her walk, she checked that no other banana skin was in her way and headed to a nearby diner to cheer herself up by people watching for a while. She sat next to the window in silence with a cup of tea, discreetly listening to the conversations held on nearby tables. The first woman she saw was an elderly lady with a walking stick, dragging a shopping bag with a sad look. At the table next to her, a pair of lovebirds were talking about their plans for the weekend. Two tables across, an executive was talking on the phone, overwhelmed by the meeting he had the following day. And sat across from Pam, a man of around thirty was staring at his coffee. The paths of all these people had crossed hers for a brief moment. She knew something about them without them noticing her presence. Without suspecting that this young blonde with huge blue eyes had Marilyn Monroe’s ghost at home. How would they have reacted? With fear? Joy? Wonder? Anyone would like to meet the spirits of Marilyn, Audrey Hepburn, John Lennon or even Albert Einstein to ask a thousand questions that the average human mind could not solve. At half past nine, she returned home with her stomach growling, hoping to not see the ghost that had suddenly appeared in her disastrous life with no warning.When she saw that Marilyn was on the sofa waiting for her, Pam put her hands to her head and tried to put an end to this insane situation. Just as she thought anyone who wanted a normal life would do.

  “Before, you asked me about my dreams,” said Pam, getting closer to Marilyn, who was smiling once again. “If I tell you, will you go?”

  “I’m not promising anything, but tell me. What are your dreams? I’m very curious.”

  “Ghosts can be curious?”

  “More than the living.”

  “Okay. I’m from a small town in Pennsylvania called Gettysburg”

  “That doesn’t sound nice,” Marilyn interrupted, pursing her lips.

  “I came to Los Angeles two years ago to be an actress, but the only thing I’ve managed is to star in a sanitary pad advert that ruined my image. I’ve done some disastrous auditions and little more. Well, actually yesterday I was fired from my job as a waitress for breaking my arm, but the day wasn’t all bad. I love photography and through a website I sold a reasonably good amount of photos that earned me 300 dollars.”

  “That’s great, although I haven’t understood some of the words you said. And your dream is…?”

  “To be a star,” Pam answered, finally smiling.

  “That’s nice. That was also my dream many years ago.”

  “And you made it.”

  “Yes, but not all stars shine, Pam.”

  “You shone. We common mortals still remember and idolize you.”

  “Maybe I shine for many, but the light of my soul turned off at many points,” the ghost explained dramatically. “My dream became a nightmare, Pam. You know how I ended?”

  “Yes…”

  “I’m here for something. And you are the only person that has been able to see me over all these years. That’s why I came. I want to help you achieve your dreams. But before anything, you must promise me something.”

  “I thought you were leaving? This is crazy!” Pam cried, letting herself fall on the sofa next to Marilyn.

  “No, I’m going to stay with you until you fulfill your dream.”

  “And what do I have to promise you?”

  “That you won’t end up like me. A dead body, face-down on the bed aged thirty-six. And with a different look than I had when I shone with that light you’re talking about.”

  Pam was speechless. She had no answers. She looked at Marilyn with sadness and accepted her promise. What could she do? This ghost seemed to be insistent and stubborn and would not leave just like that. It could have been worse, she could have run into the spirit of a decrepit old man or of a killer that wanted to continue tormenting the living. Marilyn was a good spirit, full of light. And certainly, although Pam’s tastes did not include women, having Marilyn by her side like a shadow was a treat for the eyes.

  “Do you want to watch a film?” Pam suggested. The idea of watching one of Marilyn’s films with Marilyn herself excited her. It seemed like a dream.

  “No, I don’t like cinema.”

  “Seriously?”

  “I prefer the theater, the stage, although it never turned our well for me. I used to get nervous and always vomited before going onstage. For example, when on May 19, 1962 I sang happy birthday to President Kennedy,” she explained, looking at the ceiling. “I puked the delicious burger I had eaten down the toilet.”

  “My God, Marilyn, what are you telling me?” said Pam, holding back the urge to ask her about John Fitzgerald Kennedy. Was there really anything between them? She would ask another time, when she trusted her more, she thought. “Can I put Breakfast at Tiffany’s on? It’s my favorite film.”

  “But I’m not in that one.”

  “So? I thought you didn’t like cinema.”

  “Yes, but at least put on something I’m in.”

  Pam laughed and decided to watch Gentlemen Prefer Blondes. Marilyn did not take her gaze away from the screen for a single second and when her beautiful face appeared on screen, she smiled complacently and at the same time, could not help but judge herself.

  “Jane Russell,” said Marilyn when the film ended. “I adored her and loved that she called me blondie. She said it with such affection. What happened to her?”

  Pam googled information on Jane to find answers for her new friend.

  “She died at the age of 89… two years ago.”

  “Good, she reached old age.” Marilyn smiled happily.

  “Would you have liked to have gotten older?”

  “I never liked getting older, but the alternative ended up being much worse. I went crazy every time a new wrinkle appeared on my face or that a gray hair showed up. I had to dye it constantly to keep this color and although I know I didn’t leave behind a pretty corpse, I’d like to be remembered this way. If I had gotten older, people would surely have lost interest in me.”

  “Why were you at the academy?”

  “I like observing new ta
lent. Although I studied in the Actor’s Studio of New York, I’ve always felt more at home in Los Angeles. I’m like a fish in water here. I’ve also wandered through the Roosevelt Hotel, my favorite hotel. I have so many memories there! I loved swimming in its pool at night… although I’ve proven that as a spirit that’s impossible.”

  “And over the course of fifty-one years, no one has seen you? Only me?”

  “In the hotel a client screamed when I was looking at myself in a mirror that I had bought. I imagine they saw me. But no one has caught my attention like you have. Did you know, John Lennon has helped out many singers as a ghost that have gotten very far thanks to him.”

  “Seriously?” Pam asked, surprised. “Well, I don’t know about you, but I’m tired.”

  “Spirits don’t sleep. There’s nothing I liked more! I loved sleeping in late.”

  “Goodnight, Marilyn,” Pam said, thinking that when she woke up, Marilyn would have disappeared.

  “Sleep tight, Pam.”

  Pam watched Marilyn sit back on the sofa, lost in her thoughts, as if she was a robot that had been disconnected. Already in bed, she glanced at her cellphone and realized Brad had sent her a WhatsApp two hours ago.

  “Hi Pam! I liked meeting you today. Let’s have dinner tomorrow? How about we see each other at 7, at Saint Felix Hollywood. The food is good and it’s close to the Piano Bar where my band is playing at 12. My treat! See you tomorrow, beautiful.”