Where to start? I know, they always say that you should start at the beginning, but I can't find it. Everything seems connected, and that makes beginnings and endings lost in time. Probably it's me. I'm having some trouble with what's really going on. Most of the time I'm sure, and then something happens to make me wonder. Here's a silly example; I know I paid the phone and cable bills, but I got a letter this morning saying they were cutting them off. I'll have to look into that.
I understand the thing with Marilyn much better now. Dr. Lowe says that I got carried away because of what she meant to me as a boy. I can see that. She was more than a sister to me and I remember all the little things she did for me. She hardly ever called me Richard. It was usually Baby Boy, Ike, or Ikes, mostly because I loved ice cream. Anytime I asked her for it, she would give it to me. So I would only have to say, 'Ikee' which was my kid language name for it, and she would get it for me. That was my Marilyn, my Mal. But that was long ago and it might as well have been in the storied galaxy that's far away, because my world has changed. Up to that point, everything in my universe had been because of Mal.
The short story about my father is that he left us when I was two and Mal was almost ten, I think. I got different stories along the way, but it seems that he left to be with someone who used to work for him. We didn't talk about him in the house, and I'd only seen the few pictures of him that Mal and I had hidden from my mother. Mom had torn every other one up in the rage that followed his exit from our lives. I could see that he was handsome as he stood by my mother. She was all dressed up and made up. She looked beautiful. To me, Mal is a dirty blonde version of the busty dark haired woman in the photograph. Mal got the body too.
I guess I was angry with my mother when she was away so much for those years. I was such a momma's boy. I wanted to be with her all the time. When I complained to Marilyn, she always reminded me how hard mom worked and that she loved us. I knew that she worked two jobs to keep our family afloat, but as a kid I was beyond understanding why my mother wasn't there for me. My consolation was that I had Mal, who was more than a mother to me.
I never knew a time when she wasn't there, in my room, with her arm around me or walking with me to school, or listening to me when my little life was in turmoil. Dr. Lowe said that I needed Mal to get through a very difficult time. He was right about that. No matter how many kids I hung out with, I never had a better friend than Mal. So it isn't unexpected that I loved her. I don't even think it's unexpected that I had a crush on her. But as I got older, it became more. I was pretty confused. Dr. Lowe said it was okay to have feelings about Mal.
I did go out a lot in high school and it was really because of Marilyn that I got so many dates. She had taught me what it is that women like and don't like, physically and emotionally. I learned how to act, how to talk, and how to listen. It was all matter of fact with her. She always said that people make too big a commotion about sex, "Just do it and have fun," she said. I remember when she first developed, and I told her how great she looked. She said, "They're just tits." But they weren't.
Not satisfied with the girls I was seeing, at nineteen, I went out with a woman that was twenty five. I liked that better, and I learned even more. It didn't work out though because after a few months she said, "I have fun with you Richard, but you're just too strange. I wasn't sure why, but I couldn't argue with her. I never fell in love with any of those women and I never felt the excitement I felt when I thought about Marilyn.
Besides ice cream, my sister and I shared a love of the blues. We got it from listening to all of mom's records. I probably learned to play blues guitar to impress her and mom. When they listened to me, they acted as if Clapton was playing, but I was only good enough to fool people who don't know the difference between good and great.
When I started getting hung up on Mal, I often thought of the Al Jackson song called, "Drowning on Dry Land." It tells the story of a dog that was crossing a railroad track when a train came by and cut off part of his tail. He stopped to look back, and then lost his head over that tail. I wondered if that was what I was doing, or if there was more to my feelings than a 'Piece of tail.'
I decided that it had to be deeper than that because I'd had other women, but they weren't enough. I didn't have to fake the blues, I had them. One song says that the blues are nothing but having your lover on your mind. And Mal was always on my mind. When I thought about her legs in a skirt, my imagination took over where my eyes had to stop. I could almost feel the tender skin of her thighs that would lead to her bare pussy. She would be wet and I would taste her and lick her, and ...oh fuck. That's how I got myself whacked out. One night at a bar, I actually ordered one bourbon, one scotch, and one beer.
It seemed hopeless, that is, until I got this strange thought in the middle of the night, 'Maybe it wasn't hopeless.' It was more a revelation than a thought. I laughed at myself. Of course I loved Marilyn. It was her all along, and things like that happen in families. I'd read enough stories about guys getting hung up on their sisters and their mothers. I was sure it really happened to other people. So why couldn't it happen to me? Dr. Lowe said that it's okay to make up fantasies, so I imagined how it would happen. I wanted it to be right so I was very sweet to her and told her how beautiful she was.
That's when it happened. I told Marilyn what I was feeling. When I finished she said, "Wow, I guess I sort of felt that something was going on with you, but I didn't think it was me. I'm not sure what to think about all this."
I said, "Do you think I'm terrible for feeling this way?"
She said, "Of course not baby; I guess I'm kind of flattered that you want me."
I said, "Do I turn you off Marilyn?"
She said, "No Richie...it kind of makes me excited. That's probably not the best reaction I could have in this situation."
I said, "I can't imagine anything better." I moved slowly to kiss her, waiting to see her reaction. She closed her eyes as I approached and parted her lips...sweet soft lips that allowed mine to caress hers. She threaded her fingers through the hair and held the back of my head as our tongues met and gently played, as if they were well acquainted friends.
She stopped the kiss and said, "Wow..." She caught he breath and said, "Richie, give me some time to think about this...then maybe we can talk...okay baby?"
I wanted her so badly, right then, right there, but all I could say was, "Sure." I waited for the talk, but it never came. As each day passed I could see her looking at me differently. I wasn't sure what it all meant, but she smiled at me differently. The waiting and uncertainty got to me, so one night I went to her and said, "I need you Marilyn. You said, we would talk about it."
