The Golden Queens

As a young girl, she had simply been known as “the child.” She was a quiet, winsome thing; easy to forget and easy to overlook. She was treated by everyone but her grandmother as an inconvenience. No one wanted to deal with something that would never amount to anything. But her grandmother clung to her granddaughter, believing that where she had seemingly failed with her son, she could succeed with his daughter. The town had stolen him from her, but they would not take the child.

What school would not teach her, the child learned from hours sitting at the feet of her grandmother. On hazy evenings, when the land would melt together with the smoky sky like a contemporary watercolor, she would sit and listen to her grandmother tell tales of strong men and women in far off lands. The child would let one leg dangle over the edge of the porch and pull her other leg close to her. She would rest her chin on her knee and let all the wonder of her grandmother’s tales wash over her.

As she grew older, the child began to exhibit a distressing mix of both her mother and father. While her father had been molded by the influences of the men in the town, the child had been left to her own devices. While she always upheld her mother’s sweet nature, she also maintained the wild spirit of her father. As she grew, so did her temperament. She was known to spontaneous outbursts off dramatic hysteria. These fits were her way of revolting against the townsfolk that had ignored her as a child. She had realized it was not enough just survive she must force her way into their line of sight, or be forgotten.

When she turned sixteen, the child liberated herself. Not by emancipating from her grandmother or proclaiming her independence with tattoos or piercings. Her liberation came in the form of a 1957 Chevy truck. Her brother had taught her to drive that summer and when she had been able to stay straight on the dirt road for more than ten minutes, she donned her prettiest dress and drove to the nearest town in search of deliverance.

She found it sitting in the seventh row of the old movie theater on Main Street. She would never forget watching a revival showing of Breakfast at Tiffany’s and thinking how wonderful it would be to escape as Lula Mae Barnes and become Holly Golightly. The winsome melodies of “Moon River” carried her away to dreamlands that she read about in the used magazines she kept in a box under her bed. In her mind, these were places only heroines of great determination could escape to. Places like Los Angeles, Chicago, New York…

That summer the child metamorphized from an awkward caterpillar into a butterfly, with wings spreading wide as they would reach. She announced to her grandmother and anyone who would listen that she would now go by her middle name Audrina, Audrey for short. Her name would be an homage to the woman who inspired her to be Miss Golightly. Audrey’s walls would become a monument to the supple grace of Miss Hepburn.

By the time the leaves began to turn color, Audrey felt she was quite knowledgeable in womanhood. She came across a worn-out copy of Lolita in the discard pile at the library. As she turned the pages her eyes widened as she learned she could earn what she wanted simply by looking pretty. Her raggedly, loose jeans turned into trim black Capris and her relaxed t-shirts would become form fitting off the shoulder tops. Audrey caught her hair up in a perfectly curved ponytail and wrapped it in colorful ribbons. After studying herself in the mirror she would sneak out as her grandmother slept and walk the country roads in the dimming golden twilight.

On many of these twilight jaunts she would walk by the wild fields festooned with wildflowers. They were dotted amongst the tall grasses and flaunted their blues, pinks, purples in a vibrant concoction of color. And arching over the delicate wildflowers were the ever-magnificent marigolds. Here were the golden queens of the flower world, great divas reigning over their gentle subjects. Audrey thought them very proud with their yellow and orange faces turned upward, searching for the sun. She loved their delicate stems and the laciness of their leaves. They were so confident in their positions as they dominated the wild and natural fields.

One evening as Audrey walked along the edge of one of these field she let her mind drift beyond the sunlit grasses to the cities that lay beyond the wildness of Wyoming. Here she had read that inhabitants lived on coffee and neon, their way always lit by fluorescent billboards that flickered 24/7. She wondered what how much more brilliant neon could be when compared to the marigolds and wildflowers. In those places of never-ending light there were fragrances different from the farm stench of Sheepshead. There the air smelled of vibrant possibilities. She dreamed as she often did on her walks, of walking to those cities. She knew this was a foolish notion, but what if she could? How glorious to be lost amongst people instead of vast open space.

As she reached one of the many country crossroads, she felt as though she was being watched. Somewhere, hidden in the grasses were two eyes. Watching her. Stalking her. She could feel the darkness of the creature’s pupils pierce the skin on the back of her neck with their gaze. The wind picked up and amidst its shrill, wild shriek she was certain she heard a lower whistle. A whistle that hissed from the mouth of something human. Someone was watching her. She began to walk quickly toward home, feeling that the shadows were growing longer much quicker than usual.

Headlights from an approaching car lit up the darkening sky and she turned to look over her shoulder. Without thinking, she stuck her finger out as she had seen people do in the movies. To her surprise, the car slowed to a stop beside her. Audrey listened… the whistling had stopped.

The driver of the car rolled down their window. Audrey squinted against the car's headlight to make out the driver. He was older, maybe in his twenties. He was dressed in a dress shirt and jeans and wore a large white cowboy hat pushed back on his head.

“Can I help ya, darlin’?” he asked in a thick drawl. “Little girl like you shouldn’t be out this late at night.”

Audrey put her hands on her hips. “I’m not little and am almost no longer a girl.”

The stranger laughed. “Well, pardon me! I meant no offense. Where ya headed?”

Audrey shrugged. “I don’t know. Anywhere.”

“Whatya doin’ out here by yerself? You lost?”

Audrey stamped her foot. “You sure do think I’m a fool, don’t you? No, mister, I’m not lost. I was just out walking and admiring the flowers.”

The stranger looked her up and down from her dusty feet to her slicked back ponytail. “Is that so?” he murmured. He held out his hand. “The name’s Charlie. I’m from Amarillo, Texas. Ever been to Texas?”

She shook her head. “Never been more than twenty miles from home.”

Charlie’s hand was still extended. “You gonna shake my hand?”

Audrey stepped closer to the car and reached out to take his hand. His grip was firm, and his rough skin rubbed against hers. She quickly pulled her hand back and stepped back to the edge of the road.

Charlie adjusted his hat. “Listen, I’m on this assignment. I’m a wildlife photographer for National Geographic…”

Audrey’s eyes lit up. “The magazine?”

Charlie beamed. “Yeah! You heard of it?”

“I have a few copies back home. I like reading about places. Places that aren’t here.”

Charlie’s grin widened. “Well, I was just noticing how pretty you looked standing among all those sunflowers. I was wondering if you’d let me snap a few pictures?”

Audrey was shocked. “Me?” She looked around as though certain he was addressing someone else.

Charlie opened his car door. In his right hand, he held a sleek black camera. He removed the lens cap and threw it on the seat. “Why don’t you go stand between those two flowers?” He pointed to two large sunflowers which stood taller than the rest. Audrey walked over and stood where he had asked her to. “That’s it!” he exclaimed. He raised the camera to his face and began to snap pictures.

Audrey felt completely out of place. “I don’t know what to do exactly,” she locked her fingers together and held them awkwardly in front of her.

“Just that!” Charlie exclaimed. “Except smile!” Charlie looked into the viewfinder of his camera. “I have a feeling about you, kiddo. you’re going places, that’s for sure.”

Audrey’s lips parted, and she felt her chin lift with his words. “You really think I could get out of this place? You really think I could go places?”

Charlie switched his camera off and tossed in the backseat of his car. “I know so. I think you’ve got a lot ahead of you, kid.” He walked around to the passenger side of the car and opened the door. “But right now, you should be going home. Come on, I’ll take you home.”

Audrey did her best not to skip around the front of the car. As she slipped into the passenger seat, she turned and looked up at Charlie, her eyes wide with hope. “Promise you’ll put me in your magazine. And underneath the picture, put my name. Then everyone will know my name!”

Charlie leaned against the door. “Kid, I don’t even know your name.”

` Audrey leaned back against the seat. “You can call me Audrey.”

Charlie nodded and shut the door. “Audrey it is!”

She looked out over the rainbow golden fields. Now that the door was open for her to leave, she thought that the majesty of the fields would always surpass the glory of the big city. She was a flower, now in full bloom, spreading her petals toward limitless possibilities.