TheBanyanTree: Tonight's Story

[Monique Colver]

Why do I sometimes write well and sometimes not? Who knows? I never spend
much time editing, other than cleaning up small things. I just write and
post, and sometimes it works and sometimes it doesn't. I'm not a
professional, I just dabble.
On Mar 27, 2014 5:39 AM, "Kitty Park" <mzzkitty at gmail.com> wrote:

> I have a question, Monique, about your writing.
>
> There's a flow with this piece that I don't always find in what you post.
>  In my mind's eye, you sat down, thought for a moment or two about what you
> wanted to convey and then the words put themselves down.  Minimal editing.
>
> Now don't misunderstand.  I appreciate reading what you share -- whether
> it's goofy or serious.  But there is a quality about this one that sets it
> apart from some of the others.
>
> Maybe it's *my* mood this morning that is affecting how I regard your
> thoughts about Cece.  Bottom line -- this one pulled me in and I was sorry
> when it ended.
>
> Kitty
> <mzzkitty at gmail.com>kcp-parkplace.blogspot.com
>  <http://parkplaceohio.com>
>
>
>
> On Thu, Mar 27, 2014 at 1:31 AM, Monique Colver <monique.colver at gmail.com
> >wrote:
>
> > I have a friend. She's a friend of a friend who became a friend. She used
> > to live in Hollywood, the Hollywood, and was married to a guy who was big
> > in the Scientology thing there. I met her once. She's a down-to-earth
> women
> > who's happy with living simply, and she didn't care for the Hollywood
> > religion.
> >
> > Years ago when I was broke she insisted I had to go to California to see
> my
> > grandfather, who was 100 at the time. "But Cece," I told her, "I really
> > can't afford to."
> >
> > "You're going to come see him," she insisted, "You and Andrew both.
> You'll
> > stay here, and you can borrow my van, and I'll pay for the plane
> tickets."
> >
> > And she did. She wanted to do it because she wanted us to see Gramps, and
> > she had the money, and she was insistent, and so we went.
> >
> > We stayed at her house, we met her family, her husband just for a second,
> > her disabled daughter for longer. Her disabled daughter, in her teens
> then,
> > told me I was too old for Andrew, and that he should go out with her
> > instead. Cece had her hands full with that one. She had other children,
> but
> > they were mostly grown and elsewhere, probably free spirits like their
> > mother.
> >
> > We saw Gramps, and he and Andrew had a good talk.He was slower, and
> seemed
> > tired, but was in good spirits. It was indeed the last chance we'd have
> to
> > see him -- several months later he was gone, shortly before he would have
> > turned 101.
> >
> > We were so grateful to Cece, but she would not entertain the idea of
> being
> > paid back. She was just happy she could do it for us.
> >
> > Not too long after that Cece left her husband and moved into the wilds of
> > California. She'd had enough of his Scientology, something she was in
> only
> > because he was, and she refused to belong anymore. Contact with her
> became
> > intermittent. She usually was far from Inter Webs, having to trek into
> the
> > nearest town to get it. She was free and unfettered, and she moved in
> with
> > a guy named Terry, a veteran with PTSD, into his trailer out in the
> desert.
> >
> > Every so often we'd hear from her. Sometimes she'd drunk dial me,
> > incoherent and rambling, but still full of love.
> >
> > Then Terry, the love of her life, blew his brains out while at his desk,
> > while she was in the next room.
> >
> > When I am at my lowest I think of how Cece found him when she heard the
> > shot, and I know I could not do that to anyone I love.
> >
> > Today Cece posted pictures of her trailer, pictures she'd taken when
> she'd
> > returned from the hospital, where he was pronounced dead.
> >
> > And there was blood sprayed on the wall, and pooled on the floor, and
> even
> > at a distance of several years, and in a picture, you can see the pain,
> all
> > the pain Terry had bottled up inside, until he let it loose to run over
> the
> > desk and the floor and the walls. Pain is a deep dark red, mostly, once
> > it's been released anyway. Before that it can be any color, but when it
> > comes out, it's red.
> >
> > Cece, being Cece, didn't explain the first set of pictures adequately,
> even
> > though she did say that's what she came home to after Terry was taken to
> > the hospital, so people were responding with things like, "OMG Cece! When
> > did this happen?" "Are you okay?" "What's going on?"
> >
> > Then she posted pictures of what it looks like now. She has a sense of
> > peace there, despite it all. I know she's fallen in love since again, and
> > maybe out of. It's hard to tell with Cece. She's mercurial, and what's
> here
> > one day may be something else the next.
> >
> > She's a lovely spirit, floating through her good times and bad, giving
> > whatever she has to give and not giving it a second thought.
> >
> > It's been awhile since I've had a drunken call from her, but she claims
> > that we helped her greatly.
> >
> > I know she helped me greatly.
> >
> >
> > M
> >
>