𝒑𝒊𝒏𝒌 𝒄𝒂𝒅𝒊𝒍𝒍𝒂𝒄 | 𝒆𝒍𝒗𝒊𝒔 𝒑𝒓𝒆𝒔𝒍𝒆𝒚 ˚୨୧⋆｡

𝒑𝒓𝒐𝒍𝒐𝒈𝒖𝒆

August, 1953

⋆˚₊· ୨୧

━━━ELVIS AND I HAD ALWAYS BEEN
close friends. We'd met in high school. He was the kind of boy you just couldn't help but notice; I was the quiet girl, who sat in the front row of every classroom and minded her business just fine. Invisible, to put it bluntly.

Elvis Presley had always been a real character. Since our junior year, he'd dress in these wild, flashy dress pants and a matching jacket, his hair, long and blackened with shoe polish. Billy Sanders would always be on him about that. Golly, it made me madder than a wet hen seeing boys like Billy Sanders holler all kinds of awful things at him. And I'd give them hell for it every time. Elvis is too gentle and too kind to even stick up for himself. He'd tell me: "Molly, just ignore those guys. You ain't have to do all that for me". But I just couldn't shake it. I cared about him more than I've ever cared for anyone.

I laid by his side in the bedroom of my childhood home, the two of us sprawled across my bed draped in pink sheets, lying on our stomachs while teasing and laughing and throwing popcorn kernels at each other. We were young and dumb; teenagers who'd just graduated high school and had no idea why everyone around us kept calling us adults. We didn't feel like adults.

Mama and Daddy were never around much. They were in the entertaining business. The music industry. The whole family was. That's how I got into singing. Daddy was a producer and Mama was in a quartet with her three sisters up until I was born.

So, I had the whole house to myself. I guess that's a way of thinking of it. I missed them, but I had Elvis to keep me company. We'd spent every day and every night together, laughing at silly things that only mattered to us alone; talking about our dreams, and where we'd all end up one day. It worried his Mama plenty, how much time we spent together, but if he wasn't at home she knew where he'd be.

Elvis turned to me, a glimmer of mischief behind his blue eyes.
"Do you remember... that fight you got into with Billy Sanders?" He said, looking up at me slowly with a smirk.
I blinked, startled by his sudden question.
"It wasn't a fight it was a... altercation." I defended, smirking lightly.
"You almost slugged the guy." He laughed.
"I did not!" I threw a kernel at him, giggling in spite of myself.

Our laughter hushed as The Chordettes record spun about on my record player, and 'The Anniversary Waltz' began to play ever so softly.
Elvis took a long sip of his Pepsi-Cola, meeting my eyes and sighing as he reached to place the bottle on my nightstand.
"I'm 'on buy you one of them pink Cadillacs one day." He said, almost suddenly. His eyes were earnest, glowing beneath the golden-hued lights.

I gazed at him; starry-eyed. With a sigh, I hid my smile behind my hand.
"Now, why would you go and do a thing like that?" I raised my eyebrows.
I still wasn't through with laughing at what he'd said before, but something in his voice made me think he wanted me to shut up and listen to him.

He smirked a little, turning himself around.
"'Cause you gonna need it. I can't drive you everywhere the rest of my life."
"Shut up." I giggled, rolling over to whack him on the arm.
He laughed too, trying to block my hand.
He caught my arm before I could hit him again, his grip around my wrist growing weaker as he suddenly lost his smile. His eyes gazed into mine, and I knew what he was thinking.

I stared at those blue eyes of his and watched them as they closed, his eyelashes grazing his cheeks ever so slightly. I leaned forward as if I had no free will, like a force was pulling us together. I merely breathed and before I knew it, his lips were on mine. Kissing him was a first breath. Something I had been longing for all my life and I hadn't known it 'til now. I placed my hand on his cheek, his fingers running through my hair. I moaned softly through his kiss. The palm of his hand slid down my arm, coming to a halt as he reached my hand. He grasped it gently, our fingers interlocking.
We were one, Elvis and I.

Suddenly, I pulled from him.
"What's the matter?" He said with a dreamy drawl, pushing my hair out of my face. I turned my cheek to him.
I had realized what I was doing. I had felt so ashamed all of a sudden, almost guilty. I felt like I was doing him wrong. He couldn't love me like that. He couldn't.
"I, um--" I stuttered, holding my fingertips before my lips. I couldn't look at him.

"Hey, hey. It's alright," He stroked my cheek gently, trying to meet my eye.
"I'm sorry," I whispered, his hand on my cheek.
"No," He started, shaking his head.
"You don't have to be sorry."
He was stroking my hair. He took his finger and tilted my chin up, forcing me to meet his eye. He looked at me, his eyes darting across my face searching for what was the matter with me.

I turned my face away, shaking my head in dismay and biting my lip. He smiled halfheartedly, a sorry sigh escaping from his lips.
"I should go."
He stood up from the bed and placed a kiss on my forehead, turning for the door.

He grabbed his jacket, draped over my desk chair. He turned his back to me.
I ran a hand through my blonde curls, biting my
lip as I watched him go. I couldn't let him leave like this.
He reached for the doorknob.
"Elvis, wait," I called to his back.

He turned to face me, eyeing me slowly with an exhale of longing.
"Can you stay?"
He dropped his hand from the doorknob.
"Yeah, baby."

He laid down beside me, enfolding me in his embrace. He kissed my ear, my neck, all the way down to my collarbone. Soft and sweet kisses. The kind that gives you butterflies. Make you blush.
He reached over me to turn my lamp off.
"I love you, Molly." His whisper grazed my ear.
I sighed regretfully, fighting back the tears that were forming in my eyes. I loved him; hopelessly and devotedly, but not the way he did. Not the way he wanted me to. I held tightly onto him, pressing a kiss to his arm.
"You are my best friend," I said, closing my eyes.
I fell asleep in his arms.

He left the next morning before I was even awake.
He hadn't left a note or anything. I knew that I had ruined everything. Elvis was my only true friend. I didn't want to hurt him.

We never did see each other again after that night. Every now and again I'd wonder if he stayed in Memphis and got a local record deal or something. I doubted it. I'd drive by his apartment sometimes, hoping maybe I'd see him. But I never did.

It was bound to happen; I was off to college in the fall, and Elvis would probably move on to Nashville like he'd always talked about. Our parting was meant to be. He thought he was in love with me; he couldn't have been. And for all these years I had wondered how on earth he could have believed that. I guess I'll never know why.

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The Anniversary Waltz - The Chordettes, 1950