Girl In The Mirror. Mary Monroe Alice
mother?”
Helena snapped the blue-and-white-striped kitchen towel against her thigh. The crack ricocheted in Charlotte’s ears. She kept her gaze riveted to a thin streak of soap that floated above the white breakfast china in the sink.
“What you know about going far from home? It is hard and cruel for a young woman who travels alone. People, they take advantage.” Her eyes grew bright with hysteria.
“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“I—I wouldn’t be alone. Dr. Harmon gave me the name and address of a big agent in Hollywood. Dr. Harmon’s writing a letter of introduction.”
“Dr. Harmon again?” Helena’s eyes glittered with hatred as she pronounced his name slowly. “Always it’s Dr. Harmon with you.”
“Mother, please. Let’s not start that again….”
“You take his word over mine. It doesn’t matter anymore what I think. I’m only your mother. I only gave you your life, and give you a roof over your head and food for your belly. What right have I to have opinion? You change your face, your job, and now you want to change how and where you live? In California!” She grunted, shook her head and placed her hands on her hips, caught in a private thought. “A letter of introduction? Ha!”
She felt her mother’s will push down on her, suffocating her. “I’ve always wanted to act.”
Helena slapped the air. “Ach, you are no actress, Charlotte. You just do a little helping at the theater. Stop dreaming. Why not you just be happy as accountant? It’s a good job. That is enough for people like us. You can’t do something like be an actress.”
“Mama, I can do this! Why do you always tell me what I can’t do?”
“Because I know better. And I don’t want you get hurt.”
“I want to try.”
Helena raised herself up, tossing the towel upon the spotless counter. “No,” she declared sharply, making the decision for both of them. She straightened her broad shoulders and clasped her hands before her on her belly. “You will not move to California where they make movies and live wild life.” She began wiping her large hands on her apron, as though the very idea was dirty.
Then she speared Charlotte with an accusing look. “And you will throw out that ridiculous list that you hide in your room. Yes, yes, I saw it. You write down how you want to change everything.”
Charlotte paled and her breath shrunk in her breast, thinking of her list of wishes, goals and dreams. “You’re going through my things now? In my room? That’s…that’s private! That’s unforgivable. I’m not a child. How could you do that?”
“Don’t you dare raise your voice to me. I’m your mother! This is my home. I can do what I want in my own home!”
Charlotte was white with anger. How long had she handed over her paycheck, willingly, to support her mother? Only to be told she didn’t even have the right to privacy in her own bedroom? She didn’t have the right to make her own decisions? She felt so exposed. Naked. Her list was her most private secret. Except for…
She flushed, realizing that her diary was also in her drawer. Lifting her hands from the cooled, greasy water, she glanced quickly at her mother. Helena was watching her with arms akimbo.
“You read my diary.” It was an accusation.
The truth glittered in her mother’s pale eyes. Her guilt was written on her rising blush and the nervous tapping of her fingers.
Charlotte couldn’t look at her. She felt physically ill. Drying her hands quickly, she asked in staccato, “You know what happened to me? About Lou Kopp?”
“Ach, dirty. That filthy man. I hope to think you learned your lesson.”
“My lesson?” she cried, hearing the hurt she felt come through. “The only lesson I learned is not to let anyone take advantage of me ever again. Anyone, Mother.”
Helena’s pale blue eyes iced over, like a lake caught in a bitter chill.
“I can’t continue like this,” Charlotte cried. “I’ve made up my mind. I am going to California.”
“Ungrateful slut!” her mother called out, the vehemence of it forcing Charlotte to slam back against the kitchen counter. “You turn your back on me? After all I’ve been through for you?” She shook her head. “You were my punishment. I knew it from the first I saw your face. But did I turn my back on you. No!”
“Your punishment? Mother, how can my face be your punishment? I’m the one who suffered. Not you.”
“You know nothing!” Helena snapped back. She caught her breath, staring madly at her as though considering whether to stop now or to hold back. But fury had already broken the bounds of control. Helena took two steps forward, aggressively invading Charlotte’s personal space.
“You think you know so much?” she charged on. “You want to change your life, do you? Then you should know it all.” Her eyes narrowed and she pointed a finger at Charlotte with accusation.
Charlotte shrank back, instinctively knowing a hurt was coming.
“Your father he never married me. Because of you I had to leave my family, my homeland. I leave everything to come here and live alone. To have you. You! I come with nothing but lousy letter of introduction. It did nothing for me. Yes, I suffered!” She buried her face in her hands.
“Your face it was my punishment for my sin. Sin of having child out of sacrament of marriage.”
Charlotte’s mind whirled. She felt like she was riding a carousel, going round and round with macabre music playing in the background and the barker crying out, “Bastard. Bastard.”
“That is why I say no to surgery,” Helena moaned.
“May God’s will be done.”
“God’s will? What about your will? And mine?” Charlotte pushed away from the Formica. All further words tumbled and spilled unspoken from her mouth in a soft whimper. She turned to leave, stumbling away.
“If you go to California,” Helena called at her back, “you will never be welcomed here again. If you leave, you are not a Godowski!”
Charlotte stopped, tilted her head, then slowly met her mother’s unyielding gaze. She felt as squeezed dry as the sponge in her hand. “Apparently, I’m not a Godowski, anyway,” she replied in a low voice. “I don’t know who I am. But I assure you, Mother, I intend to find out.”
Charlotte arrived in Los Angeles two days later. As she stepped from the cab, bag in hand, she hoped no one passing her on the street could hear the pounding of her heart or see the trepidation blazing across her face. She quickly glanced at the dog-eared business card in her hand. Yes, this was the right address. The office of Freddy Walen, Talent Agent.
The ghost of the little girl she once was materialized in her mind, tugging at her thoughts, telling her this was much too much a dream for her to go after. Who do you think you are, anyway?
Charlotte chewed her lip as she craned her head far back to stare up the tall granite building. Well, wasn’t that the very question she had to answer? she asked herself. Scooting the little girl from her mind, she entered the building with long strides, marched through the plush marbled lobby and rode the elevator to the top floor where a shiny brass plate indicated the offices of Freddy Walen. A young woman with enormous breasts and lips gave her the once-over when she walked in.
“I’m here to see Mr. Walen. He’s expecting me.”
“Your name?”
Charlotte braced herself for a laugh or a rolled eye as she said her new name.
“Charlotte Godfrey.”
“You