The Facade

Chapter 1

I'm sure all of you reading this have wondered what it would be like to be proposed to. Of course, the proposal would be from the person you love. Maybe you two would have been together for a long time. Maybe only for a glimpse in time.

Your motives for being with that person may be different. Some people want the person for a specific favor. Some want arrangements to be beneficial for decades. Dreamers want the person who propose to them to be their true love. Maybe you would be the person doing the proposing. Marriage can be a wonderful thing. Many go out of their way just to achieve a piece of paper succumbing their will to another person.

I was never that person.

"Marlon, your performance was great." I reassured him as I held the telephone receiver to my ear.

"I hated it. I could've done better, I know I could've." Marlon complained through the phone. It was time for Marlon's daily dose of self loathing, no manner how many accolades he collected he never felt good enough.

"You looked great, your performance was great, everything was amazing!" I rose my eyebrows. Under all of his confidence and sophistication, Marlon always needed reassurance.

"Please, I haven't looked great since Streetcar." Marlon huffed into the phone.

"I think you looked great in this film. And don't forget about The Wild One." I mentioned to him.

"Come again? I'm sorry, I think the line is fuzzy." He asked. In those days long distant calls weren't very reliable.

"The Wild One, Marlon." I repeated myself. There was a silence on the line as Marlon searched for some other horrible thing to say about himself.

"So you agree I looked bad in Desireé?" He asked me.

"Marlon, I never mentioned Desireé..." I groaned.

"But you said I looked good in Streetcar, I looked good in the Wild One and I looked good in this last film..." He listed.

"Yes, you looked great in On The Waterfront." I interjected in the hopes he'd just drop what he was saying.

"Alright, alright, well just hear me out. Desireé is the only film of mine that you hadn't mentioned. That's all." Marlon mumbled into the phone.

"No, that's not true. I never mentioned The Men." I mumbled.

"I meant of recent years. Recent years, Rose." Marlon corrected me.

"If you're going to be such a debby downer I'm going to hang up on you, Mr. Brando! You're great at what you do, believe me when I say it! And you look great when you do it." I told him. He chuckled on the other side of the line. With furrowed eyebrows, I questioned him. "What?"

"All I can think about is you cooped up in that New York apartment and I can't come over and confirm to you how good I am at what I do." He said in a low, sultry voice.

"I thought we were through with that?" I asked him. Marlon and I had a long complicated history.

"Of what?" He whined.

"Of that." I repeated myself. He knew what I meant.

Marlon and I had a long history of sneaking around with each other. After the media almost found out, we decided to let it rest and settle as friends.

"Remember how we met?" Marlon asked in a high pitched tone.

"Yes." I rolled my eyes. "You whacked me in the ass so I smacked you in the face."

"And what a smack it was." He laughed. "The smack heard round the world."

"Are you through with going down memory lane, Brando? I really don't want to pay for this call." I pestered him.