The Black Dahlia

Nō. 1

P A R T 1

"Happy birthday to you! Happy birthday to you! Happy birthday dear Elizabeth! Happy birthday to you! Yay! Happy birthday, Beth!" I blew out my candles. "Happy nineteenth, baby girl. What did you wish for?"

At this point, everyone surrounded me by the cake. I gulped. "Well, mom. I, uh, I wished to go to Vallejo, California and become an actress." Everyone stopped and dropped their plates and forks. "Honey, now why would you want to leave Boston? You have everything you can. Why would you decide to leave us?" I sighed. "Momma, see, I'm not leaving you. I'm leaving Boston. Do you know how hard it is to become an actress in Massachusetts?"

"Sweetie, why do you want to be an actress so bad?"

"Well, when I was five, Cleo showed me these amazing films, momma. Those people, they're so talented. I wanna know what that feels like, momma." She sighed. "Sweetie, Cleo abandoned us. Do you seriously think he could have done anything to influence your life in any way?" My eyebrows drew together. "Momma, he loved us."

"If he loved us so much, why did he leave? And now you're leaving too? Honey, I'm losing my family!"

"That is not true! You still have Dorothea, Eleanora, Muriel, and Virginia, mother!" She took a deep breath in and she walked away and didn't look back at me. She stopped in her tracks before she could reach where she decided to sit. "Honey, I really hope you know what you're doing. I'm really proud you know what you want, just be careful. Okay? Do you know when you're leaving?" I stared at the ground as everyone started moving again. "I'm leaving Friday of this week." She sighed. "Well then we have four days to help you pack and say goodbye, then, don't we?" I chuckled. "I love you, momma." I heard her smile. "I love you too, baby girl." She walked away. My momma's quite the tough woman, and I respect that.

I got my cake and walked to where I was going to sit. I decided I wouldn't start packing until tomorrow.

"Alright sweetie, what else do you need?"

"Well, I think we need to pack more dresses." She nodded and went to my drawer. I didn't like to look at her for too long. I knew that if I did, I'd miss her more than what I knew I would. I hate that. I know I'm still going to talk with her, but I hate knowing I won't be with her. She was my mother. She raised me. I didn't want to imagine life without her.

She hummed a tune, I really wish she didn't do this to me. I turned around and looked at her. She was tough. She never cried. Well, I've never seen her cry. She didn't allow any of us to see her cry. That was her defense mechanism. That was the way she kept herself protected. Along with that, she believed that she was also protecting us somehow. She was probably the only person I could ever love, and the Lord knows that no one in my life would ever replace her.

The tune. Why that song? The song she knows will break me. I'm her third child, why do this to me? This mustn't be a big thing for her. I'm just leaving. I'll write to her, and visit her. Why is she taking it so hard? "You know I'm gonna visit you, right?" She simply smiled.

"You better." She laughed and shrugged it off. "Honey, trust me, you're gonna be too famous to come back to a little old place in Boston. I wouldn't blame you if you decided to stay if California." I pressed my lips together. "I promise you, no matter what, I will come back and visit you, no matter how popular I become. Because, either way, you are my mother, and I love you." She smiled at me. "I love you too."

I really wanted to hug my mother, but I just didn't know how. I never hugged her, or showed her any affection. It was weird. ...and I love you... They just slipped out. Strange how somethings we don't mean to say, but they come out anyway. Yet other things we want to say, won't come out until they're pushed.

My sisters. What are they doing? I know that they thought it was dumb of me to become famous and end up at the front of every news paper, but how did they react when I told momma that I was going to leave? I was to busy focusing on her, I forgot to think about them.

Candid, I hate saying goodbye, but this seems like my only way of getting things to turn out correctly. I'm happy... but I'm not.