Melaney Joy

Home is not a house. I've lived in many houses, none of them were home. You said you wanted to hear my story? Well then, follow me, I'm expected around the walk of fame. If I don't show, my friends will worry. Let's see, I was eighteen when I first landed in the land of Hollywood. It is destiny that I am here. I have the perfect name: Melaney Joy. I can sing like my name; I have the looks and ambition to make it in Hollywood. I caught your eye, didn't I?

Did you know that there are more than 2,600 stars on the "walk"? Of course, I'm not one of them, but there are many other famous singers here, like Julie Andrews, the Beatles, Aretha, Ella, Judy and the Backstreet Boys...go figure. Anyway, Hollywood is way different than Goose Lake, Iowa. You never wore any kind of bathing suit in public there; little kids were the only ones that did. Once you reached advanced puberty, it was considered shameful to flaunt yourself or as they would say, "Show your goodies."

Betty Lou was the only one that flaunted herself. Weird, but some names just seem to determine your destiny. You won't find one star on the walk of fame with the name Betty Lou or Beverly Jean. It's a good thing Norma Jean changed her name to Marilyn Monroe, don't cha' think! I have the name.

"Baby Joy! I lovah', lovah', lovah' you!"

"Get out of here Elvis. Go find Prisilla why don't cha'."

"Ooooh, you are breakin' my heart, baby."

"Now quite calling me baby, my name is Melaney Joy and I've told you that at least one hundred times."

"But baaaaby."

"But Elvis."

Elvis never listens to me. I tell him every time I see him, Melaney Joy Melaney Joy. I don't think he's, you know, all there. Now, where was I, oh yes, I am in Hollywood with a real moral dilemma, I can't wear a bikini, especially in public or in front of strangers. And I don't know if you've noticed but there is a lot of skin showing in Hollywood. Oh look! We are standing on Julie Andrews! You never see a photo of her in a bikini, although she did show her boobies once, in a movie, no less. Hollywood.

"Melaney Joy! How's my girl."

"Oh, hi Larry LaRock. How's my guy?"

"Couldn't be better. It's another glorious day in Hollywood and I'm putting one foot in front of the other. It that a new suit you're sportin'?"

"Naw. Hey, it's my fifteen minutes! I'm telling all these nice people about me, Melaney Joy, a real living star."

"Have you told them about me yet?"

"Not yet, but I will. You're the bestest, the one and onliest, Larry LaRock!"

"You got that right doll. Catch ya' later."

That was Larry, he really is the best. He showed me "the flow". He taught me to put my best foot forward, like him, I can be happy anywhere and to keep singing, that's what I was born for. Now, where was I. Oh, yes, Jean Pierre, the Frenchman I met at work. He had a room in his L.A. house, all amenities paid for. I was a bit suspicious, but what harm is there in taking a look? He was always listening to converstional French tapes. I thought to myself, why would a Frenchman need to listen to conversations in French? Weird.

Anyway, he spoke French and painted! In fact, he was painting his kitchen. Not like painting, painting. He was painting the whole kitchen in a continuous mural of a French countryside; trees were growing from the walls, flowers were springing up out of the floor, just wow.

Honestly though, it was the smells that made me want to stay. The smell of the paints strewn all over the table mixed with whatever was cooking in the oven blended with a breeze of Oleander that pushed through the kitchen window. I felt at home. Do you know what I mean?

After I moved in, Jean Pierre kept petting me; my hair, my legs, my back, all the while telling me how wonderful I looked and wouldn't I like to be in 'ze movies'. The house and even my small bedroom did not feel like home anymore.

One day, he wanted me to join a guest he had invited to a swim. Of course, I said no, I don't own a bathing suit. He said, "Oh, but Cheri! Zat' is no longer a problem'. I took ze' liberty, you see...vwalla!" Out of his bathrobe pockets he pulled out five bathing suits I could choose from ranging from small, to smallest. A real checkmate move. I protested, "No, no, Jean Pierre. I can't. Especially in front of strange men."

"No, no, cheri'. You will be magnifique! I cannot take no for ze' answer. Look, if you don't make him happy today, I lose the house tomorrow and you lose the room, Capice?" He lost his French accent altogether.

"Hey, Melaney. Nice threads, but where is the sun?"

"Oh, hello Charlotte." I let her call me Melaney because she talks and moves so slow. I figure that it is just too hard for her to say Melaney Joy. "The sun is coming, Charlotte, don't worry. It's Hollywood!"

Oh, sorry. Sometimes I watch her walk away. I lose track of what I'm doing. I feel sort of a sadness creep up on me, a real 'there but for the grace of God, go I' kind of feeling. Where was I...bathing suit, friend, lost accent, boy was he serious. I fumbled through the bathing suits and chose the small one. I remember feeling very naked so I wrapped a towel around me. The guy was a creepy overly tan man with a gray hairy chest wearing a speedo that looked really gross on him.

"Jean Pierre! He shouted. "Bring Mel one of your specials so we can get to know one another better." He said this as he rubbed and patted my leg. I think both he and Jean Pierre could have benefitted by owning a pet.

"Melaney Joy." I tell him.

"Well, hey Mel, what are you hiding under that towel? Is it a secret? Can I take a peek?"

"Melaney Joy! I said louder and pushed his face away.

To make a disgusting story short, I guess, I didn't please Papa John. Papa John looked a little peeved as he got up to leave. But he didn't leave until he got what he came for. I call it the kitchen incident. He wanted to see the birds I had painted on Jean Pierre's wall. I remember turning around to show him the birds and he was naked! His penis was right out there, dancing real funny like. All of a sudden he jumped on me. He took me like an alley cat does, instead of biting my neck he just pulled it back so hard all I could see was the birds that I painted on the trees. The birds looked like they were trying to fly, fluttering up and down. Then they flew away.

Anyway, Jean Pierre, disgusted, he said, stuffed me in his car with my bag of belongings and dropped me off on Hollywood and Vine. I felt dirty and sinful and in the same predicament as Betty Lou, preggers. I cried a lot.

Then the day came when I had to have my baby. I wandered the street. People kept bumping me. I remember that I hurt real bad. I was on the pavement reaching up asking for help when I first met Larry LaRock, my savior. He picked me up like I was a twig and plopped me in his shopping cart. He ran all the way to the hospital making this horrible whirring noise. I tried to close my ears but couldn't, so I started to laugh and cry all at the same time. I remember him saying, "That's my girl, laugh and the world laughs with you, cry and you cry alone."

"Melaney Joy. " I blurted out.

"What's that?"

"Melaney Joy. My name is Melaney Joy."

"Melaney Joy! Beautiful! Look out folks Melaney Joy is coming through!" He burst through the hospital doors, stopped that horrible whirring noise and shouted, "She's here! Melaney Joy is here!"

Everyone turned around and just stared. "Well." Larry said with his arms outstretched. "Don't just stand there, this is Melaney Joy and she needs your help, now."

A nice nurse said, "I guess we need to take her to maternity. What did you say her name was?"

"Melaney Joy."

"And are you the father?"

"No siree. Just lending a helping hand to someone in need. How about you?"

The nurse took me to a room. She was kind. Until she told me I had to take off my clothes. I grabbed at my clothes and rolled over on my side as a wave of pain shot through me again.

"Let me help." She said as she tried to take off my sweater.

"No! It's awful!" I slapped and screamed at her.

"Okay, well here, here is a gown. See?" I couldn't say anything. "Okay, look, I'm going to lay this right here. I will leave. While I'm gone, you can do it yourself. Okay? I'm going. I'll be back shortly."

While she was gone, the waves of pain kept coming. I fell off the table. I swear, I was burning from the inside out. Everything seemed to be screaming around me. I began tearing my clothes off, they burned. I cried out, "I'm sorry. I'm taking my clothes off. Come back!"

I tried to get up off the floor but slipped and fell on that funny step at the base of the table. My legs wouldn't work. Then it happened. Jessica rose, the one I'd been talking to all those months. The one who kept me company. The one who kept me going when I wanted to disappear. Not die, mind you, just fade away, vanish like I never was.

The nurse came back and yelled out the door, "Oh my God, someone get a doctor!"

She came to my side and I told her, "Look, I took my clothes off, and look, it's Jessica Rose. Isn't that a pretty name? She's perfect."

"Yes, of course. Here why don't you let me take her. I'll have the doctor check her."

"Just a minute. She's so pretty. I just need to wipe some of this blood off of her. She is okay, right? I fell. I fell. "

"Yes, it's okay. Let me take her."

"Jessica Rose, that name sings, don't you think?"

"Yes. Let me take Jessica Rose so we can make sure she is perfect."

"I think I may have bumped her head."

"Here, give her to me." The nurse was so kind. She had tears in her eyes. I gave her Jessica Rose and she left.

The nurses name is Sarah. I go to see her every once and awhile. Like today! She tells me how Jessica Rose is doing. She is always fine but still recovering from that bump on her head. One of these days, I will take her home. I've wrapped a brown box just for her. It's clean, comfortable and safe. She will be proud of me. I'm one of the living stars on the Hollywood walk of fame. I sing every day for her in the finest bikini. I sing for you! Look, we are standing on Jayne Mansfield's star. She lost her head in a car crash.

"Mom! Mom! Look at that funny lady singing in the bikini. Look!"

"Stop that Gerald. Don't you know it's not nice to point. Now, come along."

"Go ahead and point, kid." I wink at him.