Dear Cora

-- I'm putting together monologues for a young adult piece, and as I'm sure anyone who reads stuff I've written knows, I'm not terribly good at leaving out swears, sexuality, and screaming. But there's a first time for everything. This is mine. --

"Dear Cora"

Dear Cora

You gorgeous vixen
I adore you
Last night
Mother and I
Went to see
Your latest picture

'Blue Ocean'

I didn't entirely
Understand the title
As there was no ocean
And the entire picture
Took place
In the Sahara Desert

But then I realized
That it was a metaphor
That the 'Blue Ocean'
Was really the heart
Of your character
The wide expanse of love
For the camel-breeder
That could never never love another woman
After his first wife got lost in the dunes
Never to be heard from again

I was looking at the reviews
The New York Times said

'It's Rebecca meets Lawrence of Arabia'

Who would have ever thought
That those two could mix?

I just knew
It was going to be a fantastic film
When you uttered the line--

'How many humps can I get on one camel?'

Then you did your trademark laugh
Followed by your trademark cigarette puff
And I just about died
Mother and I swooned in our seats
And wished we were in the Sahara
Rather than in Booth, Massachusetts

I told everyone at school
That my aunt Cora
Is the famous
Cora Le Moore
The motion picture star
Who slapped Cary Grant
And then married him
After recovering her lost memories
That she lost in a tragic car accident

In 'It's All So Familiar'

Nobody believes me
But Mother says that's because they're jealous
The only thing Mary Wadsworth's famous for her
Are her enormous eyebrows
Someone's been leaving photos of Groucho Marx
At her desk
And making her cry
I don't claim responsibility
But I won't say I feel bad for her either

Yesterday
After the picture
Mother drove us
To the hillside
Where we ate potato salad
And talked about boys

She's been seeing a man
Named Jack
Who she says is just too much
But in a good way
Of course

He took her to dinner
And put a bib around his neck
Then held his fork and knife
In each hand
With closed fists
The utensils pointed to the ceiling
Like he was ready to ingest
An entire cow

Mother said
She nearly lost it
But she knew he would pay for dinner
Which he did
And so she controlled herself

'Men are hopeless'

That's what she tells me
But I don't think George Peppard is hopeless
I've seen 'Breakfast at Tiffany's' so many times
When they get to the scene where Audrey Hepburn
Who I know you're very good friends with
Is on the fire escape
Singing 'Moon River'
I sing along
And pretend it's me that George is looking lovingly at

Mother say
That in that movie
George Peppard is a prostitute
Who Patricia Neal keeps on a short leash
But I prefer to imagine
That she's blackmailing him
Because he did something scandalously noble
At least
That's the backstory I came up
Mother is an actress
And she tells me backstory
Is very important

The last play Mother was in
Was a divine piece

Called 'Elegant Mercy'

In it
She played a maid
With a deep dark secret

She didn't have any lines
But Mother told me
That whenever she walked onstage
To alert the main character
That someone was at the door
She thought of her dark secret
And as an audience member
You could absolutely tell

It elevated her performance
In ways you'd never imagine

Oh
Of course
You could imagine
You're an actress after all

She won't tell me what her dark secret is
But I've narrowed it down in my head
After seeing every single showing of the play
All three performances before it closed
And I think her secret was
That she either had an evil twin
Who killed someone while pretending to be her

OR

She's really thirty
But she tells everyone she's twenty-seven

Mother won't say if I'm right
When I tell her my theories
But the way she grimaces
When I suggest the latter
I'd bet that's the winner

. . . . .

Now the reason for my letter
Mother has informed me
That Jack
Does not like children

She's tried to tell him
That I am not a child
But rather a mature young lady
Merely a year away
From eighth grade

Not bothersome in any way
Capable of adult conversation
And an early taste
For fine wine

But he won't hear of it

He says he'll marry her
But only if she can find
A solution to the 'me' problem

She can't afford to send me away to school
And Jack won't pay for it
Even if he is her husband
Which leaves very little options

She's considering sending me to my grandparents
Who live in Pennsylvania
While she and Jack move to Hollywood
So she can pursue her acting career
As you have

I'd rather not live in Pennsylvania
With people I barely know
And Mother says you and her were so close in school
Practically best friends
That means you're my aunt
For all intents and purposes
And that means you could have me come live with you

I wouldn't be any trouble at all
And I'd be happy to refill drinks
At all your fancy parties
Like I do at Mother's

Please consider this
As I feel I have nowhere else to go
Especially if Grandpa and Grandma
Don't respond to Mother's letters
By the time her wedding comes around

Lately
She's been taking me places
Asking me if I remember how to get home
And when I say 'Yes'
She seems displeased
And when I say 'No'
She grins a little and nods her head
She did it last night at the movie theater
Then again at the hillside
After the movie

I'm afraid she's just going to leave me
Like you left her
Not that she harbors any resentment towards you
You had to get out of Pennsylvania
And I don't blame you
I'm sure I'll feel the same way
If I wind up there

But I'd rather not
So if you could save me
And send me an autographed photo
Of yourself with George Peppard
I'd be most grateful

Sincerely
Abigail Winston

P.S. Stay away from William Holden. He's trouble.