He had a crush on Raquel Welch since the late sixties, since seeing a photograph of her in a Foster Grant Sunglasses ad, since a striking photo layout of her in Look Magazine, and since the movie Incredible Voyage where she played a crew member aboard a submarine shrunk to microscopic size and injected into the blood stream of a dying diplomat. Now, 40 years later, he needed to see her in person.
If he’d done this 30 or 20 or even 10 years ago, that is, drive down to LA, buy a map of the stars, and then park outside her modest, but immaculate home in Beverly Hills--to do what? Watch her pick up the newspaper? Ask for her autograph? Drive to the grocery store? He didn’t know what he’d do, knew only that he had to see her, and he knew if he was any younger, he’d be called a stalker. But now, in his 50's with a bad heart, how could be a stalker?
He focused the binoculars on her white lace curtains and thought, If this is not stalking, what is this? And quietly his heart said: this is a journey to Mecca, to the center of the universe, to communion with the divine. . .
For the whole of his life, well, at least since age 13, Raquel Welch represented a thing ultimate. The word beauty, but was too small, it was more. When he looked at her, even after 40 years, there was no greater or more full or more complete feeling. And now, at his age, with his failing heart and bad back, he had to see her before it was too late. It wasn’t sexual obsession. That was blasphemous. And it wasn't something crazy like wanting to marry her or be her friend. He didn’t know what he wanted. Just that he had to see her before he died.
Without warning, the brown chestnut door of her home swung open and she stepped out. He got out of his car and crossed the street, his body being pulled forward. She saw him, but continued toward the newspaper on her front yard, then she stopped and waited for him to approach. She stood erect as a goddess in her white satin robe and thick brown hair pinned up and back.
His heart pounded, as he walked closer. Her beauty was beyond anything he’d imagined. He stopped a few yards away and knelt. The newspaper was by his knee. He picked it up. “I . . .,” he stammered. “I had to see you before. . . my heart . . .”
She stared at him in with hard sultry eyes and he thought he would combust. But then her eyes softened and his heart was filled with warmth. “I know,” she said.
She stepped close to him and he did not move, just stared until the pain of her beauty and presence caused him to look away. “I’m glad you came,” she said, taking the newspaper from his hand. “Thank you for coming.” Then she turned and walked back into her house.
Prompt: Movie Star Crush 4/7/07
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2 comments:
So how did he feel after this encounter? Did he feel fulfilled?
I love it that two of us have posts from the same prompt. One thing I'm always fascinated by is how diverse our responses are to the prompts. I'm often knocked out by everyone's pieces - and how different they are. It would be great to see more of that on the blog.
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