The Flame (A Norman Reedus Story)

Chapter 62--Devil Wears Prada

Chapter 62—Devil Wears Prada

Sunday September 7, 2014 8:00am

Norman and I are driving to Atlanta for a meeting with his Prada contact.  Norm will be selecting a suit for the Walking Dead premiere and I will have a complete fitting for a gown worthy of this red carpet event.  I’m excited but a little nervous.  This small town girl has never owned, much less worn anything designer.  I sigh and wonder if Norman even has a clue as to why.  He looks over at me and sees me staring out the window.  I feel his hand reach out and push a stray curl off my face.  I look at him and give him a small smile.  He watches me out of the corner of his eye before speaking, “You’re awfully quiet, what’s running through your mind pretty girl?”

I talk a deep breath and stare back out the window as I answer, “Just kind of nervous about today.  I’m out of my comfort zone.”  He gently asks, “Why?”  I talk a moment to answer, “You know how I don’t talk about my past?  How I said it’s not a secret, just not very interesting?”  He puts his hand on my shoulder, “What’s up Jenna?”  I pull my legs up on the seat hugging my knees to my chest and resting my chin on my knees, “Some of my past has been my secret.”  I turn to look at Norm who glances over at me with a curious look as I elaborate, “I came from a small farming town in south Jersey.  My mama was from a small town in Alabama.  My Daddy met her when he was in the military stationed in ‘Bama.  He brought her up north.  My Dad was the son of a 4th generation farmer but he didn’t come back from Vietnam the same as when he left.  He lost the family farm when I was a toddler and I grew up poor.  I was the poorest kid in town.  We couldn’t even make ends meet; the bill collectors were constantly pounding on our door.  The reason I’m so good at my job is because I grew up sewing my own clothes because my parents couldn’t afford to buy any.  That’s why I can alter and sew anything you set in front of me.  I’m nothing but White Trash.  I got out of town as soon as I graduated and had no intention of going back.  I was ridiculed and picked on in school, which made me meek and introverted.  I got to Hollywood and I changed.  I grew street smarts and some Balls.  I blossomed and figured out who I was and who I wanted to be.  It didn’t last though.”  I pause and turn back to the window. 

Norman reaches his hand out for mine and says, “You aren’t White Trash, Jenna.  We all have a past and it doesn’t matter to me what yours is.”  I look over at Norman and sigh, “Trust me I’m as White Trash Redneck as it gets, I just hide it pretty well.  I make Daryl Dixon look like a cultured city gentleman.  I spent a lot of my twenties trying to cover it up and leave it behind.  Too bad I didn’t have any choice and had to go back to Jersey.”  He squeezes my hand as I continue, “My parents basically guilted me into returning home, telling me they would be homeless without their help.  I came home and left my career to work my ass off waiting tables and tending bar.  I started dating Andrew and well, that’s a story within itself.” 

Norman quietly says, “Tell me.”  I look over at him and decide it’s time to tell him, “Andrew was a couple of years ahead of me in school.  I didn’t think he ever noticed me back then.  When I came back I was working at the local bar and he’d come in and talk to me while I bar-tended.  I have to admit having the Quarterback from High School pay attention to you is nice.  He isn’t even my type, but I was flattered that he was interested in me.  I thought he loved me, hell I thought that until the day he punched me.  Now I realize that he just wanted a pretty possession, something to show off.  I was young and stupid back then.  I forgot that to everyone in that town I’m just White Trash.  I used to hear the old biddy’s at the diner whisper about me.  Things like; Thank God she’s pretty at least she can marry up.  Andrew paid lots of attention to me and I fell for him.  When he proposed and wanted to take care of me I just thought it was because he loved me.  Now I doubt it.  He did however, take care of my parents; I guess it was part of the package.  I don’t think my parents had a clue what his intentions were.”  I turn back to the window, feeling like I’ve bared my soul and now I’m waiting for backlash.