Simplicity: 1

SIMPLICITY

MARLENA

Alarm goes off at exactly eight o’clock. Why it goes off so early, I never knew. It’s not like we go to bed early like the old coots here that haven’t gotten with the times. Rhys wakes up first, turning it off, kissing me on the cheek, and lighting a cigarette. The mere scent of it makes me rabid. I can imagine the nicotine entering my mouth as I puff on it, the thin stick in between my fingers, breathing smoke out of my nose like the actresses do. Yet I pretend to keep sleeping, sighing, shifting, and wrapping the blankets around me further since he doesn’t need them anymore. He walks down the hall to start the coffee. Footsteps fade into nothingness. I could practically smell his cologne, lingering long after he’s left. He’s wearing a pair of grey boxer briefs. Ever since we got together, when I was only sixteen, he had worn them just for me. From when we first started dating, he’s changed. He still wears the typical 60’s clothing, as is fashion in 1967, the Summer of Love. Luckily he isn’t wearing anything from 1920-something when he was born. A man nearly twice my age does get thinner hair after awhile. A little weight here and there. But I don’t mind it. I prefer it, compared to the pretending muscular men who think they’re straight but are actually looking at the next naked man’s ass in the locker room at the gym. After all, they’re at the gym at two in the morning to work off the feeling of homosexuality creeping up their spines. Once I smell the coffee brewing, I sit up. The Who dances up the hall from the record player in the Lounge. My hair is always in a tangled mess. It had been ever since I was born and I could never change it. It became a trademark of mine—in school, in the modeling business. Of course, I could never compare to Twiggy. The new shade I was wearing was a raven black to compliment my “clear water” (as Rhys called them) eyes.

Rhys comes in on cue. He holds his blue coffee mug, black as night, in one hand. In the other, he holds my gray coffee mug, with a pinch of sugar, creamer and whipped cream, in the other. His cigarette is in his mouth. As he hands me my coffee mug, he places his on the nightstand, replaces it with his cigarette. “Good morning Marlena, love.” He grins, kissing me on the lips, cigarette smoke twirling about my ears. He pulls back. I take the cigarette from him. “What do we have planned for today?” He sits next to me, on his side of the bed. I hand him his coffee mug, taking another drag from the cigarette. Sure, it would cut my modeling career in half. Who cares? Not me. Feeling the silk sheets under my palm made me wonder what he did for a living. I had lived with him for seven years and never bothered to ask. “Whatever you like.” Barely any light made it through the San Francisco fog. If it did, I would be able to see his dirty blonde hair and deep, although always heavy lidded, brown eyes. He smiled. “You know, I did always fancy how insane your hair gets.” “Why thank you.” Every time he complimented me, the same goofy smile appeared on my face. I turned back to the silk sheets, the smile slowly fading from my face. “Love, you know I can’t read your mind.” “I know, I know.” “So tell me.” “What do you do for a living?” Rhys laughed, took another sip of his coffee. “Business, baby, business.” He stroked my face gently. “Nothing you need to worry your pretty little face about at’all.” The coffee mug made it back onto the table after another long sip. His hand took its regular place on the thigh of my porcelain leg. It made me smile. Always. I looked back to the clock, inhaling another drag of nicotine. 8:11. “Why do we get up this early anyway?” It’s not like we did anything special.

Shrug. “No idea.” He patted my leg softly. “’Scuse me. Gotta use the loo.” He stood, walking off into the direction of the bathroom. “Go ahead and change the time the alarm goes off.” I leaned over to his side of the bed and changed the time from eight o’clock to noon. We didn’t need to wake up this early everyday unless we had to. Smashed out the cherry of the cigarette in the colorful ashtray. Rush of water. Coffee and cigarettes… My dad’s favorite combination. Oh shit. Rhys leaned up against the doorway of the bathroom. I pouted at him as I suddenly remembered what we actually had planned for that day. “Why so sad?” “Do you remember what today is?” Slowly, he came back to lie at my feet on the end of the bed. I opened my mouth as I gaped. Habitually, I put my pointer finger to my cheek to try and give him my dazed look. It was always that pose that made me drool a bit. His cocky grin was on his face. I guess he knew my “I-really-want-you-naked” face too well now. He knew how to manipulate me. “No. Do tell.” “It’s Precious’s birthday party.” “Oh her? She’s such a dip stick.” I laughed as he insulted my aunt Chrystal. She was a miniature of my grandmother—minus the short height, red hair, and overweight attributes to her. I began my measured, sensual, crawl over to Rhys. His smirk grew while his eyes roamed over the paper map that was my body. Covered in blue roads against white snow. Mountains sheathed by a black curtain. A pair of canine teeth bit into my naked, pink lips. I stopped in front of him, lying on my side to face him. The flowery wallpaper behind him made me think we were in a far off meadow instead of our bedroom. I was about to kiss him, “We should smoke a bit.” He grinned. The lights in his eyes flashed brighter. “Before we head down to San Ho?” San Ho was the nickname Rhys had given my hometown, San Jose. I nodded. “Alright, baby, let me blow your mind.”

I rolled onto my stomach, watching him take the intricately designed pipe out from the nightstand, head propped upon daydreaming hand. In his giant, ring-covered hands, he held the instrument that he and I had played so many times. A pipe of deepest purple, streaks of electric blue, lightning yellow, and blood red swirling about the bowl that held the granulated green leaf. Presenting it to me like a Prince presenting a glass slipper to an ashy woman, were the pipe and its counterpart, a psychedelic lighter. “For you, my Queen,” he joked. “Why thank you, my King.” I giggled lightly when picking up the pipe. Putting it in my mouth, the flame of the lighter hesitantly hopped into the bowl, lighting the leaf on fire, giving me the first inhale of the high. I held in the smoke that barely burnt my throat. Rhys was all smiles, even while commencing in the ritual, holding the pipe in delicate fingers. Closed-mouth smiles were shared. It was a game of sorts that we played with each other. Who could exhale first? I won for today. Rhys made a quick calling over hand gesture to me. I leaned over, my smile widening in triumph, eyes closing slowly, as our mouths partially opened and our lips met. Opening my eyes again, I saw something exquisite. The flowers that towered over us were in shades of white, baby pink and pale lavender. We were alone, in our own meadow paradise. He kissed me again, placing a flower crown upon my head. My hair was no longer a tangled mess, but a straight and fashionable curtain of blackest night. The cold metal of his rings brushed against my cheeks as he ran his fingers through my hair. Every touch he gave me was endearing, soft, everything he was towards me. I laid my head back onto his chest to hear his heartbeat when drifting out the window into the fog outside our window.

~ “Okay, hold still.”

“Love, I have been. You just have nasty aim. No wonder you’re not a guy.” He stuck his tongue out at me in a childish playfulness that never grew up. “Shut up! I’m going to make it this time.” I closed an eye shut while aiming a kernel of popcorn to his open mouth. It didn’t matter if I made a mess all over him—he wasn’t dressed yet. He preferred to stay in his towel as long as possible after a shower. Once stepping out and seeing my hair as insane as it was when I woke, a pink flower beret in my hair, me in my gold, floral dress, slightly covered by a navy blue pea-coat and ribbed black stockings, he looked slightly disappointed. The white kernel soared through the air. I could see how perfectly it would fit in his mouth, in between pink tongue and crooked teeth as he chewed it. Rhys knew it was going to make it in; that’s why he moved his head out of the way, that grin spreading across his face as it always was. “Rhys!” I exclaimed, crawling over the bed to shove his shoulder. He laughed, suddenly taking my hand, pressing me to him, rolling us over like an alligator in a death roll, and pushing me down, hard, onto the mattress. The towel hung loose on his hips. I smiled like a pervert. Well. I was being a pervert, but he was the one who stayed in his towel for too long. I stopped laughing, staring up at him with another closed smile. “You cheated.” “I did.” “So to pay me back for cheating, you get dressed and we be on our way.” Rhys pouted. “No pouting you silly Brit!” “Oh, alright then.” Rhys rolled off me and then the bed. I watched him get dressed with endearing eyes. He wasn’t ugly at all. I couldn’t help but stare all the time, in our meadow paradise. Sometimes I wish we could just rush into the bay. In gowns, his pinstripe pants and nice shoes. Or sometimes, wearing nothing at all. Nothing’s more beautiful than the naked body itself. Rhys turned around when fully dressed. He threw up his hands, his lips curled into a sarcastic smirk. “Happy?” “Splendidly.” Rhys began exiting the room. “You know you owe me a shag later.” I laughed, rolling over to face him and see where he was going. “Do I?”

“Oh yes you do you little cock blocker!” He joked, striding down the hall, jingling the keys behind him. “Wait, wait!” I scrambled putting my navy blue half-heels on. A fabric bow was tied near my toes. I always liked the touch of feminism in my clothing. “Rhys, you dip stick, you left the goddamn stereo on!” “Don’t swear!” His voice echoed up the few flights of stairs leading up to our apartment he was already down. How was he so damn fast? I took the needle from the record, switching the button to the “off” half, and rushing down the stairs. I walked as fast as my heels would let me around the hot-rod-red Ford Mustang. Rhys already had the stereo playing in the car, drumming his fingers against the steering wheel. I shut the door, sighing after all the running he made me do. Rhys turned to me, grinning, as always. “So nice of you to join us.” “Shut up and drive.” Rhys laughed again. He pulled the Ford Mustang out from the parking space that was only meant for our car and our car only. And then we were off to San Ho. Laughs were as bountiful as the music. Pulling up to the curb of the cream white house covered in shrubs made me sick to my stomach as it always did whenever I came to this house. The Keaches. Pauline and Donald raised their five children here, including my mom. Rhys killed the engine. He was always the first to help me stand up, weak-kneed, whenever we came to these family functions. Rhys came to the passenger side and opened the door for me. I hesitated getting out. He crouched down to where we were eye-to-eye. “Love, we’re already a bit late.” “I know…” “Everything will be fine. I’m here.” He put his hand on mine. I felt uplifted instantly. “Let’s go inside.” Entering the typical 60’s home, full of bright colored couches and loud wallpapers, each family member made their rounds greeting me and Rhys. I could see the twitches of disapproval lining their counterfeit smiles. Glints in their eyes screamed,

“How could you do this to yourself?” Their mouths asked how we were but their brains couldn’t register the answer since their ears couldn’t give a damn. Aunt Jane already had a glass of wine in her hand. She was talking to mom, making sure to flash the fat diamond ring on her finger that my uncle had proposed to her with years ago. I was the flower girl for that wedding, practically dragging the ring-bearer down the aisle. I wasn’t sure where my four cousins and my little sister, Meadow were. They could have been out back, playing childish games I sometimes wish I were still apart of. Aunt Chrystal was talking with Pauline, (oh yes, Donald is feeling much better!)former grandmother. It seemed all the husbands were in the other room, along with my Uncle Mike, watching football, drinking beers. I was in a room full of people, yet I felt alone. The only uncle I could relate to out of the Keaches was my uncle Jay but he lived in Nebraska. Wise choice. Especially after what happened (take off your pants. You still want to be my friend, don’t you?) when he was little. His girlfriend from high school married him and they had two children of their own. I was the flower girl for that wedding too. Being the eldest of all the grandchildren had its advantages. They always liked to tell me they pretended I was theirs whenever they went out in the beginning of their relationship. Adrianne Keach she was now. I missed them terribly. Pauline finally broke free from Precious and approached me and Rhys as we took a seat on the nearest love seat. She was already shorter than me by a head and a half; compared to Rhys, she was a dwarf. “How’s your luck in the modeling business?” That voice could give me a headache any day. Luckily, I was able to cope. “Not much yet.” “Hm!” That high-pitched noise made my eye twitch angrily. “I’m not one to say I told you so, but didn’t I warn you that you needed a job before being a model?” I wrapped my slender fingers around that wiggly little bird screeching jowl. The gates had been opened and I was the bull rushing straight for her red hair. I had inherited her red hair. Maybe that’s why I dyed it so much. I would shut her up, finally, after all these years, after all the issues she caused me and my family—

“Do you want a drink, love?” Rhys patted my thigh lightly. I was brought back from the imagination. Pauline had left. Slowly, I nodded. “Yes please.” Rhys left for the garage. I was alone in the living room now. It was only a matter of time before the wolves came to eat me alive. Turns out, seconds later. All the Keach women crowded in the seats around me. Pauline started the banter with, “Rhys is too old for you, Marlena. You know that’ll never last.” Jane said, “I mean, it’s fun for awhile, but all this time? You need to leave him.” Chrystal, “He seems so strung out all the time. Do you know if he does drugs?” (I know you do. Calling the goddamn kettle black.) Jane, “Why hasn’t he proposed if you two have been together for so damn long?” Pauline again, (why won’t you ever just SHUT UP?) “Why can’t you be like your uncle Mike, who’s finally found the right kind of girl for him? They’re madly in love! Why can’t you find that for yourself?” “What gives you the idea that Rhys isn’t the right kind of love for me?” Jane, “I’m positive he does hard drugs.” Chrystal, “He’s too old for you.” Jane, “I mean, Christ, you’re beautiful! Him? Not so much.” Pauline, “How did you two even meet?” Lunch break. A fall breeze toyed around with the innocent leaves. It was 1958 and I was sixteen years old in my junior year of high school. I just finished taking a U.S. History exam. Sipping on water, listening to Kathie complain about how hard it was. It wasn’t that bad. She was good at taking tests anyway, unlike me who studied for hours and couldn’t even suffice a C. But then again, (even though it’s getting colder, you guys can stay in the hot tub while mommy and daddy think things out in the hotel room) life was more important than school. Her twin, Doreen, was stopping to talk to people all along the way while we roamed the school. English did not sound fun at the moment, even if Mr. Warner was the focus of all my daydreams. We had stopped for the umpteenth time but we stopped in front of the new maintenance man fixing the recently broken water fountain. He completely mesmerized

me, even in his tan jumpsuit with the red hankie hanging out of his back pocket. His work wasn’t glamorous, yet he still wore large rings on his long fingers, nicely polished shoes on his feet despite what kind of muck he might have been forced to get into. Blonde hair was hanging down over the handles of red-tinted aviator sunglasses that hung on his ears. Suddenly, he looked up. He smiled. “You know sweetheart, I can’t do anything with school girls such as yourself.” His accent was thick, like he had just come off the boat from England a few moments before. I felt my face burn. To make less of a fool of myself, I turned on my heel and began striding in the other direction. Luckily Doreen and Kathie followed. “What the hell was all that about?” “I…” I hesitated. Last time I told them about Mr. Warner, they nearly pissed their pants laughing. “I thought he was charming.” As expected, they laughed. I didn’t bring it up again. “We met at a concert.” Chrystal, “Oh, you know what that says.” “Just as much as saying anything when meeting a guy in a bar, right?” I spat back at her. She was speechless. Pauline began the band again, the ever so loyal conductor to the symphony of insults. All their talking blended together. I simply stared ahead, clenching my jaw until the tears stung as hard as bees. I couldn’t stand it any longer. Rising quickly, I didn’t even bother to excuse myself. I even pushed past Rhys, who was holding a beer in each hand. I was sure to not lock the bathroom door. I knew Rhys would come, when it wasn’t suspicious to judging (God is the only judge) onlookers. The bathroom was the only private place for us right now, until we went home… “I have an announcement to make,” I said, as loud as I could muster. There was a lump in my throat. My heart was running a mile. Everybody staring at me made me nervous instantly. I could see some of them holding their breath. Did they think I was pregnant? Paranoia, in thick waves, lapping over me once, twice, three times, over and over. Caught under the current, I was being pulled out to sea, drowning. Severe stage

fright. Once, I was sure I was going to faint. (But it’s just family, right? Family that just judges the hell out of you…) “I’m moving in with Rhys.” The silence was unnerving. Obvious disappointment, obvious disapproval. They weren’t hiding behind their masks now, were they? Rhys squeezed my hand to show his support. Finally my mom said, “C-Congratulations!” She wasn’t pleased either. I knew she wouldn’t. I knew none of them would be, but it was better than trying to lie to them. It was always Pauline’s talent, not mine. An array of pushed congratulations began to sing back to me. “I would help with the moving, but my back…” Mom had five herniated discs in her back. Not to mention a heart condition. Without her meds, she wouldn’t be able to survive. I looked to dad. He actually seemed happy. His approval was all I needed. It was always when Rhys conveniently left that I was massacred by their dagger words. Jane, “He’s as old as I am!” (Yet much wiser.) Pauline, “I doubt he can handle his finances. Did you see that jacket?” (Hypocrite.) Chrystal, “Aren’t you mad your daughter is dating and now living with a man twice her age, Bella?” My mom, being put on the spot, frowned slightly. I knew where I got my speechlessness from when caught off guard by family members. We both wished we could stand up for ourselves. “I…” “We support Marlena for everything she does. She’s old enough to make decisions for herself now. You should too,” dad said. I smiled at him. A smile of thanks. When Rhys came back, everybody congratulated the two of us as a joint effort. The masks were back on, the smiles dripping with acid. The family function continued and ended. I couldn’t remember what we were there for as I spent most of the time in my head, enduring the same punch of the words that they said about my Rhys. Rhys walked me out to his VW van, opening my door for me, sitting me inside, starting the car, and cranking up the volume on the stereo. The repetition of their voices ate me alive and reduced me to tears.

Rhys was one to notice everything the second it happened. He turned to me, lowering the stereo, placing a hand on my shoulder. “Love! Why are you crying?” “They’ve ne-ne-never appreciated me for wh-who I am!” I hid my face in my hands. Tears fell in between the crevices, staining my dress. “And I’m s-so goddamn sick of them treating m-m-me like this! When it m-matters most, (I’ll teach you to not do what I tell you!) they’re the m-m-most crude!” “Shh, love, shh.” His hand rubbed across my shoulders as he left me in silence to cry. While I should have been appreciating the contact he was giving me, the affection he was showing me, I was lost in the depths of a cold, messy, odd-smelling room. Sitting at the end of a bed, looking up to a previous boyfriend as he asked me to do something I didn’t want to do. Refusal came with a first of many slaps lying ahead of me in the future to the face. I saw black spots when opening my eyes again. Too shocked to say or do anything. Too scared to leave him. Yet, they were nicer to him than they were to Rhys… I thought after all these years, they would have gotten over me being with Rhys. The tears came freely then as I remembered. I hid my head in my hands, as if in shame that I was showing emotion. Hearing the door open, I didn’t even bother to look up. I knew it was Rhys. The familiar scent of cigarettes and his cologne came to me. It wrapped its arms around my nose in comfort. Soon, his arms would wrap around my body to console. I stood, not caring to wipe the tears from my eyes. We were past me ever being embarrassed in front of him ever again. He was past ever feeling the need to impress me. We were a married couple, but without the rings or the gaudy receptions with the gawking relatives. Feeling his strong arms around me made the tears flow in thicker ravines down snowy hills. He always let me cry, simply stroking my head, and making shushing noises to help calm my shaking. The door opened again. Quickly, I looked up, sucking in my sadness for just a second. Instead of letting me go, Rhys held onto me tighter. It was as if he were ready to protect me if a family member decided to attack. Luckily, it was only dad and not one of those other beady-eyed hellhounds. I didn’t feel the need to hide any more. “Oh. Um. Sorry.”

Dad backed out, shutting the door behind him. Rhys stroked my head once more. “Love…” “I can’t go back out there. You can’t go back out there.” Rhys wiped my tears away. His brown eyes were warm and full of endearment. I couldn’t help but stop crying at all the affection his body warmth was spreading through me. Simple contact, something nobody thought would be as appreciated as much as I, was just the thing I needed. A kiss on my cheek. A kiss to my lips. His hands found mine, warm fingers soothing my cold ones. “Do you really want to get rid of your nerves?” I nodded. He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out the purple scepter along with a small bag full of tiny squares. “What do you say?” I nodded again. Anything to numb the pain, ease the nerves. I trusted Rhys with everything. “Okay, baby, we’re going to do this…” He pulled the small bag open. “First.” He took out a small square. “Open wiiiiiide.” As I opened my mouth, he leaned his head up, opening his own mouth, smiling slightly in that expecting way. He was suddenly a doctor, pressing my tongue down with a wooden Popsicle stick, a giant reflective orb atop his head. Then he was my Rhys again. Giant rings and all. On the closing, (saliva slowly eating away at the drug, how can I see in such colors?) I was sure to brush my tongue against his pointer finger. I raised a brow in a silent question. Rhys laughed under his breath, that seductive and eloquent laugh. Flick of the lighter. Inhale. Held in. Kiss. I lost. So high…Flying through the sky. Rhys pushed me up against the wall, unable to contain himself any longer. Hands, smooth yet rough, touching, lifting. Tongue, invited yet violating, against my own, on my neck. Belt buckle, jingling yet ringing, fading into a chime as it fell limp. Slowly, opening my eyes but really closing them. Gasping, yet really breathing heavier. The smoke from the candles becomes a white rabbit. I follow it and begin tumbling. Fast. Hard. Alice, falling, falling, falling. Hair blonde, like when I had first met him. Dress blue, stockings white, shoes black. Various living room items floated past me in their dream-like daze. The chimney twisted and turned up the rabbit’s hole. I was falling down

the hole head first without any parachute. Why couldn’t my dress turn into one, like the real Alice? I was going to fall to my death. At the bottom was my Mad Hatter. My Rhys, my love. Hands, gloved. Hat oversized, eyes blinded by red aviator sunglasses, body covered by a red coat. His molded arms were simply out in expectance of the body that fit so well there. He smiled up to me… And I landed on the same love seat amongst the wolf family. Suddenly Little Red, swallowing silently as their eyes bore into my soul. I stared ahead of me in the safe hood of my red cape. Red pupils, mouths open a-gap, thick strings of saliva dripping from their foul-breathed mouths. Covered in coarse fur, snarling their comments. But my Mad Hatter simply squeezed my hand and I was at ease. Everybody passed us by fast, as if on fast forward. Colorful. Reds, blues, greens, all acidic, all blending, all ignoring the black sheep sitting on the love seat. I giggled at Rhys touching my leg. He pressed his head against mine, staring straight into my eyes, and lips barely making contact with mine in slow motion while everybody talked in highpitched voices in their quick-paced world. They were too fast for me. I couldn’t keep up… Pauline the gnome was whispering in Chrystal the harpy’s ear. They both looked at me at the same time. The floor was breathing. The walls were hyperventilating on my neck in hysterical laughter, making me giggle more while the couch tickled me. Mom the fairy pulled me up from the couch and aside into the hallway by the bathroom that still smelled of our two types of fun (and purple) and asked what was wrong with me in her chipmunk voice. Her fingers had tiny teeth that bit into my shoulders. I laughed more, shoving her hands off me. “So…” Mom’s mouth was moving, yet the words that came from her mouth were too fast and high for me to understand. I put my hands up to tell her to slow down but she only talked faster. Why wouldn’t she listen? “What’s wrong, Bella?” A slow, droll voice. It sounded like a giant ogre. Mike the faceless man in navy blue. He was a paramedic, flashing a light in my eyes. It only made me mad.

“I’m out of here. You guys are so…” I could never get past “so.” Mike tried keeping me there in the hallway longer to further examine me with his faceless head. How could he do anything to save lives when he was blind? I struggled, weak. But I heard Rhys’s voice. A light through the darkness. More chipmunk voices. I shook my head, all the colors fading to gray, everybody blurring together with their shining eyes. My head ached. His arms were around me to keep me standing. If I took a step back I would fall off the floorboards and into the lion’s den below. (No, no, no, no, nooooo!) I clung onto Rhys’s arm harder, terrified. “Rhys…You have to help me.” Everybody was talking again, much louder than before, louder, louder, louder. They wouldn’t stop and I couldn’t breathe. Shaky breaths. Heaving. Hands trembling. Sweating. The colors blended together, spinning like I was on a merry-go-round on speed. Palm pressed to chest to keep the constricting body of the snake from snapping my bones in half. “Stop, stop, stop, stop, stop, STOP!” Another flash of lights. A siren? Darkness. Down the rabbit’s hole again. I couldn’t see Rhys at the bottom. Falling, falling, falling… Then I was in Rhys’s arms in bed. Soft, warm. Safe and sound. “Shh, love, go back to sleep…” Heavy lidded eyes were blinds on the sight of my eyes. Cradled back to sleep, back to our meadow paradise.