Life was a song,
You came along
I've laid awake the whole night through
If I ever dared to think you'd care
This is what I'd say to you

The girl wore a glittery dress; a creamy chiffon with sequins beneath. She looked down and noticed she was on the third rung of a step ladder on an open sound stage. The scene was vaguely familiar, as if it was playing out from some movie she had seen. She heard the light tones of an orchestra; a musical dream? The intro was familiar as well, but instead of the rich tenor of Gene Kelly, the girl heard a voice that sounded similar to the dulcet tones of Kelly’s co-star, Debbie Reynolds. She stared at the woman who sang; not gorgeous by most folks’ standards, but like as not the most attractive woman the girl had ever seen. She held out her hand for an assist off the ladder just as a voice called loudly from off stage.

Mrs. Carlyle’s Rooming House, Van Nuys, California, Six in the morning…

“Hey, Mawnie,” the girl called out from the bathroom down the hall. “Ya got any hose? The Jenkins’ cat took a swipe at me and ruined my last pair of nylons.

“Go ahead…top drawer…take whatever you want.” The girl lay on her back on the bed with her eyes fixed on the broken light fixture overhead. Rita walked in and went straight to the highboy and began rummaging through the meager collection in the drawer.

“You shuh? I mean, I don’t hafta…” She paused and looked at the girl on the bed.

“Aw, honey, what’s the matta? It can’t be all that bad, right?” Rita walked over and sat down on the bed next to Marnie. She grabbed the girl’s hand and patted it.

“I betcha he ain’t worth it. You’re too good for him.” It was an excuse for tears that they both used at times since becoming friends at the rooming house. Neither of them had a boyfriend, and both had a lot to cry about. Rita never kept any secrets; her mother had kicked her out after a long lecture about being loose, and she had moved to Hollywood for fame and fortune. Marnie never spoke a word of what hurt inside, but she looked the part often enough that Rita had taken to calling her “Melancholy Marnie.” Rita got down on the floor next to the bed and faced Marnie, who had turned her head to the side.

“Listen, honey, whatevah’s wrong, we can get through this.” For all of her own struggles, Rita was as good a friend as you could find. She leaned closer and kissed the girl on the lips.

“Don’t you tell anybody I did that!” Even in a forward-looking place as California and a city like Hollywood, things didn’t always go well with free expression. She pulled back and shook her head.

“I’m sorry. It’s just that you look like you needed more than a friend. Oh fuck…I guess I’m a slut just like my mother said.” Now it was Rita’s turn to cry. Marnie touched Rita’s cheek, feeling the hot tears.

“No….it’s okay. I just…” Everyone, perhaps, has worn the look on their face that says, ‘if you really knew me, you’d hate me.’ Rita recognized it at once.

“Listen, kid. It can’t be any worse than being kicked outta St. Margaret’s for being one of those girls, ya know? I’m not gonna win any medals for nice, okay? So what’s botherin’ you? You can tell me.”

“I don’t think I can, Rita…I’m sorry.” She turned her head to the other side. Rita pushed off her elbows and leaned over the girl.

“You ain’t getting’ away that easy, sister. Give!” The brusque exterior and bravado completely belied Rita’s kindness, which was given away by the welcome look in her eyes. And truth be told, Rita was never as racy as her reputation; she just wanted someone to love her for real instead of how her step-father did when she was little. Sometimes the best repairs in our hearts come from other broken souls.

“I…I can’t…”

“You can’t what. Tell me? You don’t hafta, if I ….shit…I hope I’m not being a bitch here, but I know your secret kid.” The conviction on Rita’s face caused Marnie’s eyes to widen in fear.

“NO….NOO.” Marnie covered her face with her hands. She tried to scream, but no sound came out as she was wracked with sobs. Rita’s mother had disowned her for being ‘loose.’ Marnie’s mother hated her for how she turned out.

“Shhh….shhhh…..hey….hey…” Rita said quickly while grabbing the girl in her arms. She pulled her close to the side of the bed and held her tight.

“It’s alright,” Rita said over and over.

“What pair we are, huh, kid? Apparently both of us are too much woman for anyone’s liking, but for different reasons.” She laughed even as tears streamed down her face. Marnie looked into her eyes and saw the exact same expression of acceptance that she had seen the night before with Miss Hagen. It didn’t feel real; at least as much as it should have, but somewhere inside, Marnie Svenson realized that she was loveable, even if she had started out as Markus Svenson.

The MGM Soundstage II, later that morning…

“Miss Hagen?” The girl stood off to the side; back to her job as a script girl now that her scene…the party scene had been finished. Jean Hagen was dressed in her Dueling Cavalier gown, complete with powdered wig. She looked up from the mug of coffee she held and smiled.

“You okay?” Not even a salutation; the woman slid into her mother-hen role immediately. Marnie shook her head no.

“Listen, kid. Your secret is safe with me. I would never dream of telling anyone that you’re a Republican.” She laughed softly; her humor and her charm diffused the girl’s fears only somewhat.

“You’re not the first to pass yourself off for something you’re not.” She paused and looked around; there was a lull in the shooting as one of the cameras had jammed.

“See…everyone looks at me and they see Jean Hagen…Movie Star…okay, actress. But I’m still the same girl I was back in Indiana, but with nicer clothes.” Marnie had put her head down and was shaking slightly.

“I’m sorry….I should have said you’re not the first one to try to be something everyone thinks you’re not. Like I said…my cousin. I hardly ever call her ‘he’ anymore. She just fits in like she belonged. I’m sure someday you’ll feel the same way.” Jean wasn’t sure at all, but she did hope for the best for her cousin and for Marnie in that regard.

“I…I don’t know why I came today. I was going to quit.” Marnie practically sobbed. Jean touched her arm.

“That’s not all you thought about doing, right? Tommy tried it a couple of times. Realized that ending the pain didn’t fix anything. He…see…there I go… She’s seeing a doctor in Manhattan. I bet they have somebody out here you could talk to. Just hang in there.” The woman looked at her and half-frowned; the kind of expression Marnie had longed to see from her own mother, it was one of concern for someone who mattered.

Just then, from behind, Marnie sensed a presence. She turned slightly as Linda Vanderwege brushed past her. The angora on her sweater seemed to stand on end.

“I’m sorry to interrupt, Miss Hagen. Wardrobe wants you for your telephone scene since they don’t think they’ll get the camera here fixed. I’m sorry.” She turned to Marnie and shook her head slightly.

“Sorry for interrupting.”

“That’s …okay. I have to get over to get some rewrites for this afternoon’s shooting.” With that Marnie turned and walked away. Her face had grown hot and turned pink.

“What’s with her? She seems awfully shy for someone in Hollywood.” The question seemed almost abrupt but for the look of concern on Linda’s face.

“She’s okay. I think her jitters are going away.” Jean smiled broadly and laughed; her contralto once again, belying the character she played.

“What?” Linda tilted her head and frowned, looking confused.

“You know what.”

“I don’t know what you mean, MISS Hagen.” Her attempts at imperious demonstrated that her acting classes were paying off. Jean touched her arm gently and stood up, assuming her Lina-like posture.

“I mean, if you were any redder, you’d give Rudolph a run for his money,” she laughed again.

“I’m red? No…what?”

“Relax, Linda. This is Hollywood. Right? And anything is possible in Hollywood.” Linda put her hand to her cheek, feeling the heat. Jean smiled and said at last,

“Looks like Marnie there isn’t the only one with the jitters, hmmm?” She chirped the words in her ditzy Lina whine before finishing in her own gentle voice.

“Like I said, this is Hollywood, after all.”

You were meant for me
And I was meant for you
Nature patterned you
And when she was done
You were all the sweet things
Rolled up in one

Next: Moses Supposes

You Were Meant For Me
Words and Music by
Arthur Freed and
Nacio Herb Brown
As performed by
Gene Kelly
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TUql3hgHpMU