Marilyn

Lights. Click click. Blonde.

‘Smile this way, please, beautiful.’

I shouldn’t feel this way, she deserves better.

Flash. Click click.

Her white skirt graciously fluttered and puckered from the biggest fan in the studio.

‘Just fabulous, now this way.’

Not a person, an actual fan just to be clear. I know it’s not her, but her fame, and her fame were enough to create this tribute for the classic edition of the magazine. Great opportunity for us to be picked for this, right? For me to be closer to her, right?

Click click.

A woman rushed to her with something that appeared like an artists’s palette with the multiple colours of nude and red on that bit of board. The woman took a small brush and gently brushed a coat of a bold red lipstick (I assume) on her lips. She smacked them together, the sound a kiss could make. The thoughts of someone opening the camera cupboard, finding us two with that very lipstick smudged around my lips with patches on my cheeks. How many fan-boys would have felt like this?

She turned to me again and smiled, more out of sympathy as a camera-guy rather than being really sincere. I was only aware then of the small mole drawn on her face. Such a small thing to contrast the silvery blonde sheen of her wig which glowed under the lights, thanks to the light guy (his name I have not yet learnt). God, somebody’s made a mistake picking me to be here, with her here. I stood there during the shoot thinking, ‘Remember, she is a star, you aren’t.’ And yet there she was, glowing under the lights.

I unfocused the light guy and everything was a blur. She was just laughing. Everything I was thinking was verging on stalker-like creepy. Verging? It is creepy… Who is ever like this! It’s just a cover shoot. I am feeling so much over a face. I don’t need to fantasise. I could move pass this, I deserve better, someone else, who loves me, who marries, who I’ll love forever. I could, but…you know, I never thought I would see someone illuminate the room so brightly with the flashes reflecting off her porcelain skin. It’s stupid, daydreaming, fantasy, but perfection in a shot.

There was suddenly silence, no laughing. She was walking towards my way. Like earlier this morning, I thought she was going to say hello, but she saw someone behind me and her coat slightly rustled against my arm. I winched slightly, thinking in my head she turned around hearing that and wondered about the weird sound the camera guy made. I wanted to punch myself, I didn’t need to feel like that. It could have been nothing. I could have imagined it. But I embarrassed myself enough to feel the blood rush through to my cheeks, shuttering from the worse-case senario possible…Over an arm brush(?) So, I turned around and this time and no one was behind me. She was walking- towards me. They said in their murmurs she was single.

Listen here, you need to get this right. There is a lot of things you could say. But you can do this. This is your chance, do it now. Do it.

‘Sir, are you alright?’

Just say it.

‘The light guy said you might want to ask me something.’

So, I’m not the only one who calls him that. Wait, how does he know? Does he even know?

‘Sir, are you okay?’

Say. It.

‘It’s nothing, head’s in the clouds.’

Idiot.

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