TheBanyanTree: Tonight's Story

[Theta Brentnall]

And your dabblings are amazing.  Now you have to call Cece and get an 
update because we all care about what's happening with her!

Theta

On 3/27/2014 10:02 AM, Monique Colver wrote:
> 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
>>>
> .
>