The Day Marilyn Monroe Died

The Day Marilyn Monroe Died by Sharon Shaver Wood For almost an hour now they have been taking turns beating on the bathroom door and demanding that Yona Lee come out. Twice they have made me get up from my spot in front of the refrigerator, across the kitchen from the bathroom door, and call to her myself. Useless. I know what Yona Lee is doing inside the bathroom. She's wrapped herself in one of the towels (probably the new one that came out of the DUZ box last week) and curled herself into a ball that is almost as round and as solid as a baseball. It's a peculiar talent that Yona Lee has. I envy it because, while it won't keep people from seeing you, it does keep them from seeing much of you! Yona Lee is probably so tightly curled right now that she's almost invisible. Aunt Beck says Yona Lee needs a thrashing. Grandma says not to worry about thrashing her, just to worry about getting her out. She begins to call to her again, trying to coax her out with the promise of the last of the blackberry pie. Aunt Beck throws up her hands and turns back to the sink to finish washing the pots. She mutters that it is Esther, Yona Lee's mother, who ought to be thrashed for filling both our heads with such nonsense at that drive-in. "Come on out Yona Lee," begs Grandma. "Don't be worryin' your poor Grandma. Come on out, baby." If they'll leave her alone, Yona Lee will come on out in a little while. I tried to tell them that fifteen minutes ago, but no one has been listening to me. Yona Lee, without even being in the room, has managed to capture center stage. That's another of her talents. My mama says that Yona Lee likes being center stage, watched. Well, she's certainly worth the watching. She's built like my mama rather than Aunt Esther (Yona Lee's mother and sister to my mama and Aunt Beck), perfectly arranged, if you know what I mean. None of her lengths are longer than they should be, and although she's not thirteen, only six months older than me, she curves where she should curve—and where I don't. She has Mama's blonde hair and what the others say are her daddy's green eyes. Yona Lee is what is called a natural beauty. But that's not what makes her so special, so worth the watching. Back in 1950 when she was just a baby, Yona Lee and her mama and daddy lived out on the West Virginia and Ohio border along the Ohio River. Her daddy ran a ferry, carrying cars from one side to the other. One day, after a tornado had whipped up the water something awful, he was killed trying to dock the ferry. No one else was there but Yona Lee and her mama. Aunt Esther tried to lay Yona Lee down a couple of times so she could go help, but there was just no place on that slick river bank to lay a baby. They stood right there while Yona Lee's daddy drowned. Now isn't that tragic? Isn't that just the most awesomely tragic way to die? And Yona Lee has lived all this time without the slightest memory of her daddy, but with the full details of how he died right there before her. Isn't that an incredible way to start your life? It's almost better than being born in a caul. Yona Lee, in order to live up to her daddy's spectacular death, thinks she must have a spectacular life. That's why she decided to be Marilyn Monroe. We see Marilyn Monroe movies at the drive-in down the road a couple of miles from Grandpa's farm. Aunt Esther takes us down there every time the feature changes. I like to go because these aren't those dull, kiddy movies they show at the Saturday matinee back in Richmond where I live during the school year...