Marilyn Monroe Decides What To Do With Her Body – Part Two

Continued From Yesterday.

Marilyn Monroe felt lost, unloved, used and abused. If there was not a man waiting for her at the end of the day, she looked forward to wine or pharmaceuticals. It was either-or for her. Occasionally she would call her mentor, Lee Strasberg, but lately this was not producing any benefits. Lee was imposing some kind of professional distance between the two of them, and she could not help think that Lee was displeased with her acting work. Marilyn had dredged the deepest corners of her past for Lee, for the acting work, but Lee never seemed entirely satisfied. She obsessed about her acting so much, that it sometimes felt like her entire life had become about the Method, staying raw, with emotional blisters oozing from moment to moment. Lee had given her the keys to turning it on, but she did not know how to turn it off.

“You understand the terms of your will?” asked the lawyer.

Waking up in the morning was complicated for Marilyn, how could a legal document be understandable. She was feeling very vulnerable. She could not bring herself to reading the will.

“So, I see all these names here,” said Marilyn. At this point she reached out and flipped the pages of the will with her left hand, looking at the names of the people Marilyn had decided to leave things to, each name typed in all capital letters. There they all were, the names, Bernice Miracle, May Reis, Norman and Hedda Rosten, Patricia Rosten, Lee Strasberg, her mother Gladys Baker, Michael Chekhov’s wife and Marilyn’s psychotherapist, Marianne Kris. All the names. All the people who were going to take from her. Of course, they were not taking, she was giving. But that is not how she perceived it at that moment. Everyone was taking.

Marilyn thought of Joe. That’s Joe DiMaggio. Joe had a temper. Her marriage to him lasted less than a year because of his temper. But he had changed lately. Joe had seen a therapist and was learning to control his rage. Joe was the first man ever to take steps to make himself a better person for her, for Marilyn. And he truly cared.

Joe’s name was not in the last will and testament on the conference table. Joe had money. And Joe told her to do the right thing and take care of the people who needed it. That was Joe. Bottom line, always thinking of her. Marilyn thought maybe Joe DiMaggio was the only man whoever touched her with hands of true love, with compassion, with tenderness, who saw her body as part of Marilyn’s essence, not an object to fawn over or to use and manipulate. Marilyn thought of her body. She looked at her hands and ran them up her arms as if she were warming herself.

“You should read it carefully before you sign,” said the lawyer.

“I am leaving my personal effects and my clothing to Lee, Lee Strasberg,” said Marilyn.

“Yes,” said the lawyer.

“Personal effects being?” asked Marilyn.

“Your things. Anything you own that is not real estate or money or securities,” said the lawyer.

“So Lee gets everything but the money?” asked Marilyn.

“Well, Lee is getting your personal effects and clothing. By the way, why did you ask me to list clothing specifically as something to give Mr. Strasberg?” asked the lawyer.

“He was always telling me how to dress. He was always making suggestions, trying to help me, I don’t know, to make me pretty, cute. He told me clothes are important. The right clothes are things he thought would be good for my career. He would buy me stuff too. So I thought I would give it all to him. Maybe that’s stupid. Is that stupid?” said Marilyn.

“No. But you also mention Mr. Strasberg in the residual clause?” said the lawyer.

“The what?” asked Marilyn.

“Mr. Strasberg gets anything and everything else that you neglected to mention in your will,” said the lawyer.

“Oh,” said Marilyn to herself. “But I have nothing else,” said Marilyn. She touched the will as she said this and noticed her hands again. She had always liked her hands. They were not small, but were thin and strong. She had always felt weak and vulnerable, but her hands reminded her that she could be strong. A thought occurred to her.

“Who takes my body after I die?” asked Marilyn.

To Be Continued.

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