Honey Pie

1934

You'll never know what you had was special until you've lost it. Back two years ago, 1933, I was with the love of my life. Her name was Barbara. She was this lively, optimistic, beautiful woman who had the dream of becoming a Hollywood actress. I mean, how could she not? She had glowing pale skin that was soft to the touch. Her platinum blonde curls bounced lightly atop her shoulders. She had crystal blue eyes that glimmered every time she let out her angelic laugh, revealing her beautiful smile and full lips. And me, why I was just another girl in our small town of Northampton.

It's not exactly acceptable in our society. Two women in a relationship. A romantic one at that. But we did a pretty decent job at hiding it. Of course our parents were a bit skeptical of us going out all the time—but for the wrong reason. They thought we had been sneaking off to see some boys. Oh how they were wrong. Barbara and I often snuck off to take walks in the park. Occasionally we would sneak in a quick kiss behind a tree or lay on the fresh grass and gaze at the clouds. We'd feed each other sweets like strawberries dipped in cream and butter tarts fresh from the bakery. But I remember Barbara's favorite of them all. Honey pie.

I could never understand how she could make it through a full slice of that sweet stuff. The first bite I would take would cause my face to scrunch up at the taste. But I never stopped buying it for her. I loved seeing how thrilled she got when I revealed it in our picnic basket. Her beautiful blue eyes would shimmer like I mentioned before. Her rosy cheeks complimented her cherry red lips that stretched into a smile. In fact, that's around the time I started calling her by the name honey pie. The first time I used it she just blushed and shied away from my gaze. I could not resist a smile at that.

Strangely enough in the middle of our second year of being together, I noticed Barbara started to work more. She had multiple side gigs for some extra money. She even started to work on the weekends. Now I know her family. They aren't the richest, but definitely not in need of their own daughter to be working multiple jobs. So one day I asked her why. "Oh! Joan, do you not know?" No. I didn't know. "Well, there's a huge production in Hollywood and they're looking for extras." I had gotten where this was going. When she started to smile, I was happy for her. This is her chance of a lifetime, her dream. Some might call it the American Dream. But this would mean she would have to leave me. And I knew it meant that when she started to frown. "Joan," she would say softly. "I'm going to audition."

At the time, I became a little aggravated with her. What if she wasn't accepted? What would she do then? But I had to be supportive of her. I loved her. This was her dream. So I let her go. I still remember the day I said goodbye as she was boarding the boat. When she was getting ready to sail across the Atlantic. I had cut my hair previously to her departure. So my hair was pinned in a short brown hairstyle. It felt like I was starting a new life. She was leaving home, I had a new look. I felt like a new person. The feeling was odd and awfully isolating. I didn't like it one bit.

She and I had only a few phone calls when she arrived in America. She sounded so exhilarated. I honestly wasn't expecting her to sound like she did. Traveling six weeks maybe more or less should be exhausting! But that was Barb for you. She was always up and ready to go. She called me right after her audition. It went smoothly and her squeal pierced my ear through the phone. That was the last time I heard her sweet voice for awhile.

A year later, I guess we had grown apart. I don't quite know how it happened. I did think of her each and every day and I'm hopeful that she did the same, but one day the thought of her faltered.  Little things would cause me to think of her and my heart would swell up but I wouldn't think of reaching out. How silly of me. Because that same year, 1934, I saw her name in big bold letters printed on the poster of an upcoming big production. I stopped on the sidewalk I was walking on and hastily shuffled toward the glass covered poster outside the theatre. And there she was. Barely recognizable. Her platinum blonde curls were fashionably styled and her face had skillfully applied makeup. I wondered what led to us drifting so far apart that I hadn't been aware of her quickly rising to fame.

That's when I called her number up. That was the first thing I did that day when I got home. But I found myself getting weak in the knees with the phone to my ear and my fingers ready to dial. Doubts raced through my mind. Was I not good enough for her anymore? Had she moved on and forgotten about me? I just wished she would just come home. Taking in a breath and gathering the courage, I dialed the number I still hoped was hers and waited. And waited. At last I heard a soft breath on the other line and the sweet voice of Barbara ring through.

"Hello?" She spoke.

I felt my heart jump up at the excitement, the thrill of being able to talk to my lover again.

"Honey pie," I called sweetly into the phone with my free hand nervously fingering the coiled wire.

A soft gasp emitted straight into my ear. Chills ran through my body. It's like she was here after quite a long time waiting to see her.

"Oh Joan! My darling how are you? Oh dear I have so much to tell you—"

"I'm sure you do my love. I saw your movie poster. You became a legend of the silver screen I see."

My sweaty hand tightened around the phone. I hadn't noticed how tense I was until I let my shoulders drop.

"Yes. I'm proud to say my hard work has paid off." I could hear the faint dreaminess in her voice.

"My darling, when can I see you again?" I quickly caught her attention before she went into a daze.

"Oh! Well there's a premiere for my film in a couple of weeks. It's down here in Hollywood. Maybe I could fly you out?" I could hear the uneasiness in her voice. I had guessed that she was worried I would reject her offer. Especially with a big offer like that.

"And you've got the money for that? Well it's certain we have much to catch up on!" I was shocked. As anyone in their right mind would be. Someone you knew who lived comfortably in a middle class family was now shipping you across the sea in a plane. Only the wealthiest could afford that.

"Lots have changed. But my feelings have not. I'd love for us to go out and have a day for ourselves. Like we did a while back." Her voice was softer. It hadn't been filled with excitement in contrast to a few seconds prior.

I spotted a cushioned chair in the corner of my eye and sat comfortably onto it. I let a breath of air I didn't know I was holding in out.

"Oh honey pie, won't you please come home? Come back to me?"

There was silence on the line. Dread filled my heart to the brim. If she had settled with someone, I would know by now. Right? Why wouldn't she come on home? She'd love to see her family after a long time of being away. But I'm sure they have been keeping in contact with her much more than I have.

"I remember when you first gave me that name," her voice was gentle with a hint of wistfulness. "It was the sweetest thing."

"Will you come back?"

"Joan, after this premiere I'll be straight home. Maybe you can distract me from all this glam living." She giggled.

That pleasant and soft giggle that created a pool of warmth in the pit of my stomach. I felt like a kid again.

I felt a small smile tug at my lips. "Yes. Then you can sing me one of your Hollywood songs."

"Will do," I heard her breath pick up as if she just remembered something. "And you'd better have a honey pie waiting for me in that old wicker basket of yours when I get back!"

"Oh, my love! Always! I'd never forget. Not even for a second."