Brenda
Oprah Winfrey tilted her head and stared at her guest, “Tell me, are you in love, is there anyone special?”
Brenda sighed and shook her head. “I just don’t have the patience for love. It’s…not the right time Oprah. It’s just not. I know all of your audience would love to hear about some thrilling affair but I have to tell you the truth. I don’t know if I’m destined for love. I think I have a greater mission on this Earth.”
Oprah scrunched her face and looked at her audience.
Brenda grabbed her remote control and fast forwarded before Oprah could ask any more prying questions about her love life. It was her business and hers only. A few seconds later she hit PLAY and sat back on her loveseat.
Oprah put her glasses on and stared hard at Brenda, “Is it really harder for a woman today?”
Brenda leaned forward, arms still crossed, and thought about the question for a few seconds. “You know what’s hard? Being a woman of substance. A woman of conviction. But that is my commitment to my fans and to all your audience. This world needs more powerful women, more powerful than you, Oprah. Much more powerful.” Brenda nodded to herself, unfolded her arms and twirled the ends of her sandy blonde hair. “The world is all fucked up.” She reached over to a glass coffee table and pulled a cigarette out of crystal glass. “Yes, Oprah it’s very, very fucked.”
Oprah sat still, anticipating more of an answer.
Brenda lit her cigarette and realized that Oprah had frozen. “Shit.” She got up from her makeshift talk show set in her small living room, reached for her remote and turned off the TV.
She was tired of Oprah and her probing questions. Brenda’s fans would never get to see the lighter side of her. Maybe Jimmy Fallon would be better.
She dashed across her studio apartment and opened the drapes that separated her bed from the rest of the space. She sat down at a makeup mirror next to the bed. Blue eye shadow came off. Blue was fine for daytime stuff like Oprah, but night time needed a subtle; light rose, maybe with some violet undertones. A deeper red on her lips. She ran a brush quickly through her hair and fastened a set of fake pearls around her neck. This would do. She moved over to the rack that held her clothes and quickly pushed through each dress until she found a small black cocktail dress. She slipped out of her day wear and into the black dress. Brenda reached underneath her bed to look for shoes. On Oprah, the camera rarely went near her feet, but night time talk, your feet were out there for all to see. She slipped into a pair of black pumps, pushed PLAY on the remote and waited for her cue from Jimmy.
“And here she is ladies and gentlemen,” The audience roared their applause as Jimmy stood up to greet his guest.
Brenda took a deep breath and put on her best smile, walked towards her set as she gave a polite wave to Jimmy’s audience.
“It’s so good to be here with you, Jimmy.” Brenda told him. And in all truth, she was quite happy to be with Jimmy. He was always an easy interview. She wouldn’t have to dig too deep for him, just smile a lot and let him drive the car. It didn’t hurt that he was cute!
Jimmy waited for the applause to die down, “I hear you’ve been doing some interesting projects.”
Brenda hit PAUSE and smiled and played with her pearls, “Oh god I was hoping you wouldn’t bring this up. But, since you did…” she waited for the likely audience laughter, “Yes, I have been thinking about experimenting with this YouTube format. It’s really fascinating to me. I would be able to talk directly with my fans, let them know what I’m up to, give them my thoughts on various subjects. I can also post clips from my work and my interviews, like this one. I really want to go viral and just grab everyone’s attention.”
She hit PLAY.
Jimmy Fallon nodded his head, “That sounds really amazing.”
Brenda grimaced and inhaled, “Yes, it does, and I can promise you that as soon as I get it up and running…”
Brenda’s phone rang in the middle of her sentence. She stopped speaking as she tried to think about what to do with Jimmy Fallon while she checked her phone. She motioned for him to wait one second, pressed pause and picked her phone up from the coffee table.
RAYNA BENTON.
Damn! She’d better take this.
“Hello?
“Brenda? Rayna. Oh my god, like I really need a favor. This thing happened and it is like so exciting.”
Out of the corner of her eye, Brenda saw Jimmy Fallon’s frozen smile. “What happened, Lorraine?”
“It’s Rayna, remember I changed it…”
“Oh that’s right, so what happened Rayna?” Changed her name again. Didn’t matter, she was still essentially a Lorraine.
“So tonight, I’m at work doing the dinner shift and this guy in my section was like watching me all night, I’m like getting a little creeped out, so I finally work up my nerve and ask him what’s going on with the whole staring thing.”
Brenda grabbed another cigarette. This was going to be a long conversation. Lorraine loved to go on about herself, whether anyone was listening or not didn’t seem to matter to her.
“Anyhow, he pulls out his phone and shows me all these pictures he was taking of me, and at first it was like really, really creepy but then the pictures looked really, really good. I mean, like, he knew what he was doing. So we get to talking and it turns out he’s a cinematographer! Is that like crazy?”
Brenda inhaled the cigarette and rolled her eyes. “Crazy.” Lorraine or Rayna was so freaking gullible, but what could Brenda say to her? Would she take her advice? Probably not.
“So anyways, he wants me to do a photoshoot for some fashion thingy he’s working on! And before you say anything, it’s all legit. I totally checked out his stuff on-line and he’s like this really kind of a big deal.”
Brenda felt a sadness start to sink in. Was it because her friend was so totally ignorant about men who claimed to be cinematagraphers? Or was it because something else? She closed her eyes and shook her head. She would not think any further about it. “What about this favor you wanted?”
“Oh yeah, he wants to shoot me tomorrow night, so I need to know if you can take my shift?”
Shift. Work. A waitress uniform. People snapping their fingers at her. Picking up stranger’s leftover food from tables. She tried to keep these images from penetrating her mind.
“Brenda? You know Friday night tips are the best, right?”
Brenda’s hands shook. She didn’t want to have to think about that place, but she knew somewhere in the back of her mind that she needed to make money. “Okay.”
“Oh, Bren, you are the best! Totally love you. Are you working on Saturday? I’ll see you then and tell you all bout the shoot! I’m sure you’re really busy, so I’ll let you go.”
Brenda stared into space and listened to the dial tone after Lorraine hung up. Jimmy Fallon’s face was still frozen in a smile on the TV. She didn’t feel like talking to him anymore. Her dress started to feel uncomfortable, too tight. Her shoes felt heavy, pulling at her feet. She felt her make-up eating its way into her skin, as beads of sweat poured down her forehead.
Brenda put the phone down. “Of course, Lorraine, I’m very busy. I have a million things to do.” She started twisting the pearls around her neck, glaring at Jimmy Fallon’s smile, “What’s so funny?”
She pulled hard at the pearls sending the baubles to scatter. “Just tell me what’s so goddamned funny?”
She ran into the bathroom, grabbed a towel and began rubbing it against her face. She felt a tear coming out of her eye. She fought it hard. Behind that one there were millions of them waiting. If she didn’t hold them back, they would never stop, each tear bringing its own fresh pain.
“Why do I have to be the one to do all the suffering?” She raged at her reflection. For a brief moment, reality seeped into her life. She was a waitress living in a furnished studio apartment in East Hollywood. She had no family. Lorraine was her only friend. No one really cared about her. Her own mother dumped her when she was barely able to open her eyes.
“Stop it!” She yelled back at her image in the mirror. “I won’t have it. I just will not have it.” She wasn’t sure what “it” was, but she felt better fighting “it.” She needed to cheer herself up. She couldn’t go down this dark hole. Brenda took deep calming breaths and walked to her bed. What would make her feel better?
Ellen. Ellen DeGeneres would make her feel better. She always kept her show light and fun. She turned towards her clothing rack. Hmm, maybe just some nice jeans and a silk shirt for Ellen. Something simple and maybe a little bit sexy for a daytime audience.
Ross Dreiblatt is a writer, currently living in South Florida, where he divides his time between writing and yelling at Florida’s unemployment website. He has had short stories published in The Write Launch, La Chaleur and Adelaide. He is currently shopping a short story collection, called I am not Brad Pitt.
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