American Fantasy

Everything In Its Place

"I have too many fantasies to be a housewife. I guess I am a fantasy." – Marilyn Monroe

Addie walked home with her backpack swinging from her left arm, she thought about the book she had finished reading. It was a children's book, but she found it magical. A rather long title, Charlie and the Chocolate Factory was a tale of imagination, the kind of stuff Addie loved. Though she was going to college to move up in the world, what she ever wanted most was to go on adventures. Sadly, that is not a career choice, so she is settling for the next best thing. Historian.

Today was a particular good day, as the other women in her class did not poke fun at her. Most were not even in class, which was an even better surprise. There was a gathering, a tradition, she was told. Where young women wait out in the courtyard of the all-male college, and they wait for a man to take them on a "stroll". It is shrewdly named, "Arbitrium hominis", which is Latin for "man's choice", though Addie doubted any of those other girls knew that.

Addie was, as the others like to call her, quirky. Not that Addie minded, she had her sights on having a mindset like Marilyn Monroe. Marilyn never minded what other people said about her, she did what she wanted. Men followed her around like...well, like men. Addie had had her fair share of admirers, not that she minded them. They were just distractions, and Addie did not mind distractions, she pushed past them like flooring a mustang in a race.

"Addie," she turned her head to see a few boys driving around in a green Volkswagen bus, "Addddddddieeeee," her name was drawn out by Norton Concade, a confident boy she had the awful luck to share almost every classroom of her childhood with.

"Good day, Norton," Addie didn't even turn her head.

"We missed you at the Arb Hom," another boy spoke out, "I waited all night for you. How could you break my heart?" He leaned out the window so far his friends pulled him back inside with loud cackles.

"I pray that your driver is not as crapulated as the rest of you," Addie continued to walk with her head straight forward.

"Crapulated?" Norton snorted, "well, Miss Harvard, our driver happens to be...uh...what's your name?"

Addie did not hear his response, but took the opportunity to turn quickly to the right, away from the road, she cut across the courtyard and disappeared into a group of people. She swerved in between people until she came to the courtyard apartments. She took the extremely long way about, but at least she wouldn't have to hear her name in a drunken slur.

"Hello, Ms. Harper," Addie greeted the elderly woman whose eyes sunk deep into her wrinkled skin. Her glasses are lucky to be attached to a string around her neck, for they would surly also submerge into her flesh.

The elderly woman glared and flared her nostrils at her, "Miss Solo, if you would only spend as much time on your studies as you do on your hair..."

"I spend more time on my studies, Ms. Harper, I assure you. My hair is simply a statement of the times. We cannot go back, so we must keep up."

Ms. Harper's eyes turned pencil thin, and they fallowed Addie's "in style" bouffant hairstyle. Though, she didn't style hers as high as some of the others, she did put in some effort to blend in.

The first thing Addie did when she got back to her room was kick off her boots. The gave her an extra three inches, which she desperately needed, but God damn did they blister easily. She then stripped off her coat. Addie then fell, face first onto the bed, in a soft groan.

She let herself stay in the position for a few seconds only, she rolled onto her back and closed her eyes. Once she opened them she would have to get up, get changed into her work attire and head back out for the night. Her job wasn't that bad, she liked her co-workers and for the most part she was treated as a human person. What she loved most about her job was that is gave her time to go to distant places, to imagine herself with a purpose, a quest. Her brother used to tell her stories of princess' and how brave knights came to save them, as she got older she requested that her brother change the story so that the princess saved herself. "Truly ahead of your time, Addie," her brother would say.

Her sweet brother, Leon, Addie touched the feather necklace handing down by her chest. It was the last gift he had given her before heading off to war, died when she was very little, little enough that she only remembers his voice. Her mother burned the only picture when she burned down the house.

Addie mentally kicked herself for taking her break time to cry about the past. "The past does not change so we must not dwell on it," she would tell herself. And now, she had to go to work.

Just outside Addie's window a tall man in a trench coat snapped a picture of the young girl who had started to shut the blinds. He smiled, "found you."