Girl of Mine

Chapter 56 - Dear E.

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Elvis POV

The 9th of July, 1957

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✑ Dear E.  ✑
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I bet you wonder why I've written you a letter? Well, I'd like to share how it's been working with you. I've only ever had one or two well-known roles—until I'm now reaching my breakthrough, thanks to you. This is my road to stardom, and I could not be more thankful for it taking place with you—my greasy-haired co-star.

Now that I can't remind you before each scene—remember to wash your hair, or it will turn into a solid block over time. I know you're in love with Sal. But your biggest love is your hair—tragically.

The director took a real chance with hiring me—being all unknown to most. You never treated me any differently than if I was the president myself. For that, I both like to thank you and congratulate you. Fame hasn't gone to your head.

It was a short few months it took to grow on each other like a tic. But to put it into perspective—I've been married to Greg less time than I've known you. You've made a great impact on my life, and I hope I did the same for you. And... I hope you're popping that alcohol-free champagne right about now that you're well home. Celebrate Jailhouse Rock wrapping up! Plus, here's to having kids and all that—our summer traditions are waiting.

Keep your promise, E. Tell her.
Lots of love and wishes of luck.
Judy.

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Her words felt like a blessing and a heartfelt goodbye. Reading them, Lord—I missed her. Reminding myself she's gone, I keep finding myself thinking she's back in Hollywood on set. Judy never came to Graceland, which made it easier to believe in the lie my mind created to keep my heart safe. Your mind and body were great masters at giving you breaks from grieving to survive the unbearable. Losing a cousin last year, I knew that much.

Lowering the letter to my lap, I leaned back on the fallen tree trunk I'd been sitting by once before. This time on a red and black checkered blanket. Sniffing, I dragged the thin summer cardigan under my nose, having had no choice but to do so. What should have been the start of her life, her climb to whatever she wanted—being an actress, dancer, singer, or having her family life with Greg, ended with leaving her mark on this world with the love she shared with others. It wasn't enough to fulfill her life, but it certainly was enough to find her way into the hearts of those who knew her.

«Have you... have you read it?» Sal's soft voice broke into my train of thought as she came carrying a basket of heavenly steaming baked goods and, hopefully, a few bottles of Pepsi. Smiling, deeply affected eyes found hers. Her tentative ways these past few days were the cure to my grief. My 'walking medicine,' taking care of my despair. Grown from caring, she held back; she wouldn't let her anger interfere with how she handled my need to wallow. However, my stomach housed the threatening fear of when she would break into the conversation I knew would come. At the same time, I wanted us to work through it—avoiding the screaming part.

I sent her the slightest nod of my chin as she headed over to find the basked a good place at the far end of the blanket. Her upper arms brushed mine as she took a seat, coming close, keeping tabs on me no less now than a second before. Swirls of silk whispered of Sal's presence as her locks of hair touched my shoulder. But then it moved as her slender hand found its way to my hair with her gentle way of carrying herself. As my cheek went for her open shoulder, I folded the letter. I'd tell Sal how I felt about her someday, but not through Judy's letter.