𝒑𝒊𝒏𝒌 𝒄𝒂𝒅𝒊𝒍𝒍𝒂𝒄 | 𝒆𝒍𝒗𝒊𝒔 𝒑𝒓𝒆𝒔𝒍𝒆𝒚 ˚୨୧⋆｡

𝒐𝒏𝒆

June 22, 1955

⋆˚₊· ୨୧

━━━I SAT IN THE PASSENGER SEAT
of my mother's white Lincoln Capri, drifting asleep with my head resting against the car window. My legs crossed, my foot bopping to the beat of the radio as my mind wandered to hopeless dreams that were only true in my heart. The Del-Vikings' 'Come Go With Me' played in the background of my thoughts.
Daddy always used to say I was a dreamer. I guess I am one.

I was wishing we were there already. Seemed like we'd been driving for hours, though I knew it was hardly thirty minutes. My flight had just landed in Fort Worth not too long ago, and we were on our way to the Municipal Auditorium in Texarkana. This drive was nothing new for me, as I had been performing on the Louisiana Hayride for as long as I can remember.

I had a dreadful headache. Like the kind that you get from laying out in the sun too long and finally sitting up straight. I felt almost dizzy. I wasn't sure why. I felt bitter because of how carsick I was feeling.

Mama leaned over and placed a gentle hand on my knee, patting it lightly to grasp my attention.
"Your father and I will be at the show tonight, but our flight is early the next morning," She said, keeping her eyes fixed on the road before her.

I dragged a hand along my forehead and let out a sigh.
"Mama, I don't wanna talk about this," I exhaled.
Mama and Daddy own a producing company for one of the biggest music industries in the states. They're always working with all sorts of people all over the country.

She kept on talking as if she hadn't heard me.
"Tomorrow morning at 7:00 is when our flight departs. 'Probably have to say our goodbyes this evening."

This is always how it was. They'd fly in for two days and be gone for three weeks. As I got older they'd leave me alone for longer periods of time. Now that I was nineteen, I hardly ever saw them. I was used to it, and a part of me even made peace with the fact that we were always apart. But I was all alone in that big old house. Time goes by awfully slow when you're by your lonesome.
"So, you're leavin'?" I said finally.

"Molly Mae, we talked about this," She started.
"For how long?" I sat up in my seat and turned to her. I was becoming more bothered with each word she spoke. I didn't want to be sore at her; I know it isn't her fault, but I was growing tired of all of this.
"I don't know yet, baby."
"I just-- Mama,"
Sitting up straight, I clicked my tongue against the back of my teeth.
"And it's not like you n' Daddy'll let me have a job--"

"What do you need a job for? Your singing is much more important than any silly job!" She defended.

"I'm sayin' it's not like I can move out and get a place of my own. I just have to sit there in that house all by my lonesome." I frowned, feeling small in my seat.

"Well, I'm sorry that your father is a very busy man who works hard to support us. We want to be here, baby, you know that. But we can't be." She said.

I let out a sigh and rested my head back against the window. I understand why they have to be away so often. We're in the entertainment business; it happens. Daddy says it's all for me. I believe him. It hurts less, that way.
Besides, I couldn't leave home anyhow. It was close to everything I had ever known. If I had just packed up and left, my folks would never have a way of finding me. Then they'd be awful lonely, too.

I stared at my hazy reflection in the window as if staring through to my soul. I thought often of how different my life used to be. When I had places to be; people to see almost every night. I felt pitiful idolizing my seventeen-year-old self in such a way. It wasn't the late nights and the fun that I missed. It was him. After all this time, ever so often, his face would pop into my mind, and it's as if that summer's night in '53 never happened.
Remembering was painful. And I remembered everything.

"Folks, this newcomer from Memphis, Tennessee has risen to the top of the charts in a matter of days..." The radio began as I was nearly half asleep.
"Coming to you from Sun Records, here's Elvis Presley!"
My eyes widened, almost gasping at what I had just heard. I shook my head, deciding I'd brush it off. I knew I was just hearing things. I was sleep deprived from last night's show and had been daydreaming far too much. He couldn't have said what I thought he said. He couldn't have.

And then the radio began to sing.
"Well, that's alright, mama. That's alright for you. That's alright, mama, just any way you do..."
That was his voice, the song he used to sing so long ago. I felt an ache in my chest.
I sat up in my seat.
"Oh, my days..." I mumbled.

"Mama!" I grabbed onto her arm with excitement.
"What?! Good heavens, Child--" She yelped, nearly swerving into the left lane.
"Mama, that's Elvis!" I shrieked.
"What is?" She said.
"Elvis! On the radio!" I pointed to the car stereo.
She merely blinked at me. She hadn't a clue in the world as to what I was talking about. Figures.
"Elvis Presley, Mama." I sighed.

"Oh, that boy. Molly Mae, he wasn't nothin' but white trash..."
I ignored her crass comment, hardly having heard her at all. My mind was in shambles, my heart beating rapidly.
I sat back in my seat.
"He did it." I exhaled, dumbfounded.
He really did it.

Where ever he was, I was glad he'd made his dreams come true. I remember the days of him going down to the record station to make a record for his Mama. But now, he was on the radio! What seemed like an unreachable fantasy not so long ago was now his reality.

Anything that happened between us was all so long ago; our friendship was only a memory now. Part of me felt like calling him. The other part of me knew how foolish that would be. I haven't talked to him in ages. But despite the past and everything that has happened from then to now, I will always love him dearly. I don't know if he'll ever know.

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