It's So Easy | Buddy Holly

Studio

October 12, 1958 12:09 pm, Deca Records

I sit in the hallway of the recording studio waiting for Buddy to get done with his session today. I don't even know what he's recording today, I just came along because I didn't want to sit at home alone.

"Excuse me, you can't be back here." a feminine voice says from above me. I've been too busy flipping through a magazine to notice anyone walking past or toward me.

"Oh, um, no, I can be back here." I mumble, hoping she'll go away.

I see her cross her arms from the corner of my eye. "What makes you think that?"

I look up. She has bland brown hair and eyes and sharp features. She almost looks like a rat in an oddly endearing way. She's not ugly, but not conventionally pretty.

"I'm married to someone recording. I'm under specific instruction to stay quiet while I'm here so I don't mess up the recordings. Thank you, though." I look back down and start to scan the article on the page.

"You're married to one of the recording artists right here in this building?" she raises an overly plucked eyebrow.

I nod.

"And who exactly would that be?"

"Buddy Holly." I say simply. It doesn't occur to me how unbelievable I sound.

"So you're telling me that YOU'RE married to THE Buddy Holly?" she says, sounding amused.

I nod once again.

"You're saying that Buddy Holly, who sung That'll Be The Day, is your husband?"

"Yeah, I'm Violet. Ask him if you don't believe me." I shrug my shoulders.

"I need to see some identification that says you're not some crazy fan." She holds out her right hand as if she is waiting for me to give her our marriage license.

I sigh and grab my purse from the chair next to me. I open it and rummage through to get my wallet. I pull out my Drivers License, my general U.S I.D card, and a picture of Buddy and I on our wedding day. I always keep it with me for some good luck (it's never worked). I cautiously hand her the items.

Her eyes widen. "This is a pretty complex prank you're pulling here, "Violet". I should get you kicked out right now. You're going way too far with this." She says, skimming my cards and photo. "How did you get him to pose with you like that?"

"Because we were getting married that day. Why else would he be in a full tux and I in a long white dress?" This girl is really insistent that I'm some random creep.

"Why is there an E in Holly? Last time I checked it was just a Y."

"Real last name is Holley, with the E. Next." I say as I'm waiting for her next question.

"If you're actually married, what day was the ceremony?"

"December 30th, '57. Next."

"What are his parents names?"

"L.O and Ella. Next."

"What's his favorite color?"

"Dark blue. Next."

"What's his birthday?"

"September 7th, '36. Next.

"Why are you lying?"

"I'm not! Next."

"Where are you really from? London?"

"Paris, France. Next."