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Overview
Product Details
| ISBN-13: | 9781624881336 |
|---|---|
| Publisher: | BookBaby |
| Publication date: | 09/12/1987 |
| Sold by: | Barnes & Noble |
| Format: | eBook |
| Pages: | 125 |
| File size: | 276 KB |
Read an Excerpt
POPPY
By Barbara Larriva
iUniverse LLC
Copyright © 2013 Barbara LarrivaAll rights reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-4917-0820-0
CHAPTER 1
Pain swept across the once-beautiful face of Allegra Alexander. The aging actress barely felt the needle the nurse pressed into her arm. She heard voices from a distance fading in and out. From some faraway place she thought she heard her doctor saying it didn't look too good. She wanted to ask him what didn't look too good, but no sound came from her lips. The swish of the drapes being closed filtered through her consciousness, and then a blessed blackness enveloped her.
Cocooned in the warm, soft blackness, Allegra became once again the beauty she had been in her prime. Tall and willowy with black hair that hugged her shoulders, the star stood apart from the crowd. Her magnificent blue eyes gazed over the thousands of fans gathered to catch a glimpse of her.
She searched the multitude, but she couldn't remember who—or what—she was seeking.
"You're looking marvelous, love," crooned Ramon Novarro. Allegra flashed a brilliant smile at the handsome movie idol and then turned into the arms of her agent, Rick Elliot, who laughed and wrapped her in a bear hug.
"Come on, let's eat," he said, his hand at her waist. "You're getting skinny."
She smiled up at him. "Just fashionably thin."
On the way to the buffet table, scores of fans clustered around begging for Allegra's autograph, and she stopped to sign her name over and over in flowing script. But her eyes restlessly sought something—or someone—she couldn't find. Despite the crowded room, an aching emptiness settled on her.
"Wait here and I'll fix you a plate," Rick said and handed Allegra the silverware snugly wrapped in a linen napkin.
She absently toyed with the rolled hem as her gaze moved across the enormous room. Suddenly her eyes were drawn to the edge of the crowd. Standing alone, back from the others, was her son Adam. Allegra's heart expanded with the joy of seeing him, but when he turned to her, the contempt on his face shriveled her soul. Her eyes pleaded for forgiveness, but Adam's face was granite—unloving, unrelenting.
Allegra cringed, backing away from the fans who worshipped her. What did it matter if these thousands loved her when her own child despised her? She backed farther and farther away from the crowd, and then she felt herself falling—falling into nothingness. Out of a cocoon into an abyss.
"Allegra, Allegra, wake up." Small hands gently shook the withdrawn body, but the old woman fought to block out the command. She lay motionless on the hospital bed, and the little girl's hands became more insistent. "Please, Allegra.
Come back," the child said, her voice breaking into Allegra's consciousness.
"I ... don't ... want ... to ... come ... back," Allegra moaned, twisting her head from side to side.
The child gently sponged the age-wrinkled face while whispering words of encouragement. Tenderly she smoothed back a wisp of white hair that had come loose.
Forcing her eyes open, Allegra blinked several times to bring the vague form into focus. As her vision cleared, she looked into the soft gray eyes of the child leaning toward her. She clutched the sleeve of the little girl's blue cotton dress and tears spilled from the old woman's eyes. How much longer could she take the punishment of being alive? "No one cares what happens to me, child," she cried, her voice tired and weak.
"I do. God does," the girl answered matter-of-factly. Allegra impatiently dismissed the words with a feeble wave.
But a deep-rooted anger strengthened the old woman's next words, "Don't talk God to me. He was never there when I needed Him." Allegra turned on her side and stared at the little girl for several seconds. "Who are you? And what are you doing in my room?" she asked brusquely.
As the child stepped back from the bed, a splash of sunlight streamed through the window and rested softly on her small shoulder. "My name's Poppy and I came to visit you."
"Oh, no! Spare me these do-good youth groups who go around visiting the elderly and adopting grandmothers!" Allegra fumbled for her glasses and perched them on the tip of her nose. "Well, they sure named you right with that mop of red hair." She studied the girl. "So you're visiting old people, huh?"
"Well, actually, I've seen all your movies and I wanted to meet you," Poppy said, moving closer to the bed as the old woman continued to study her.
"You're way too young to have seen my movies, child. How old are you anyway?" Allegra pushed herself up to sitting position.
"I'm nine. But I've seen all of them on T.V." The little voice was warm and clear and reminded the actress of a summer day after the rain. Poppy pushed a silken strand of copper hair behind her ear.
Leaning back against the unadorned pillows, the old woman had a faraway look in her eyes as she remembered moments from long ago. "They don't make movies like they used to. In the old days, way back in the thirties, they made movie-movies. Not like what they make today. And there was always dancing and singing and—and happiness. Lots of happiness. Even if an actor were in misery, the audience never knew it." I'm living proof of that, she added silently.
Allegra's gaze turned to Poppy again. Nodding, she said wistfully, "We always found the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow. At least, we did in the movies ..." Her voice trailed off as she looked up at the window behind Poppy and frowned. "And who gave you permission to open the drapes?"
"Nobody, I did it on my own. You were too far into the darkness."
"This is my room, and if I want it dark in here, it'll stay dark," she snapped irritably. Suddenly Poppy's words registered and Allegra, to gather time, adjusted her nightgown. She watched the little girl silently for a few moments and then said, "You mean ... you brought me back from this—this—darkness?"
"Oh, no," Poppy assured her. "You did that yourself. Just like flowers that are drawn to sunlight and bend in prayer."
"Don't start that again, child. I haven't prayed in a hundred years and I have forgotten how." Allegra put up a hand so as not to be interrupted. "And I don't want to know how. So don't go preaching to me."
"God can wait. He's not going anywhere. When you're ready, you'll pray." Allegra flinched at the little girl's words.
"I don't like this kind of talk. If you want to visit this old lady you're going to have to change the subject."
Poppy merely smiled. "I heard the nurses talking in the hall. They said the doctor was going to stop by to see you this afternoon. So I'll come back after visiting hours. Okay?"
"Who cares about visiting hours? Nobody comes to visit me. Now that I'm old and sick, nobody even remembers I exist. Where are all my fans? Where are all the autograph seekers? Where are all the men who wanted me?" Allegra's voice cracked.
"What about your son?" Poppy asked quietly, and a knife slashed Allegra's heart.
"Don't ever mention him again, child. I haven't seen him in thirty years ..." Thirty long, miserable, empty years, she added to herself as a flicker of pain touched her eyes.
The little girl stood close to Allegra. "I'm sorry," Poppy whispered, leaning over and kissing Allegra, a wisp of red hair grazing the wrinkled cheek.
In an effort to veil the unexpected warmth surging through her from the child's kiss, the old woman spoke gruffly as Poppy turned to leave. "Get your hair out of your eyes."
The little girl smiled and nodded. As the door closed softly, Allegra muttered, "And leave the drapes alone next time."
Allegra leaned into her pillow and waited for Dr. Morgan. He seemed nice enough, she thought, but she hadn't known him very long—eight days, to be exact. She'd had pains in her abdomen for a couple of weeks and kept blaming them on food. When they didn't go away, but worsened instead, she made an appointment with her doctor. After examining her, he suggested she see a specialist and recommended Dr. Morgan. That same day, Dr. Morgan put her in the hospital for tests. She'd barely had time to pack a few necessities, Allegra remembered, annoyed. And after all that rushing around, they had her lying there for days on end while they poked and probed and did one test after another.
Today she was supposed to get the results. "Well," she said aloud, "if the outcome of these tests is anything like the way my life has turned out, it will be bad news indeed!"
She reached over and picked up a hand mirror lying on the table and looked at her reflection. Deep lines creased the seventy-one-year-old face. What did she expect after thirty-five years of blistering floodlights and heavy grease makeup? She frowned at the single snow-white braid that hung over her shoulder. Whatever happened to her thick shiny black hair? she wondered. But the color of her eyes hadn't dimmed over the years. Their brilliant blue gazed back at her now. Allegra shook her head. Somehow she'd never thought she'd grow old. When she was young and beautiful, and the top MGM girl, old age seemed unreal. Like dying. Those things could happen only to others. Never to her.
And aging doesn't come on gradually, she continued to muse. One day you wake up and see the face of a stranger in the mirror. Familiar, but different. And you wonder how such a shocking change could have taken place overnight. Then you mourn the loss of your youth, and cry over your mistakes, and bargain with a God who either doesn't exist or doesn't care.
What was it Seneca said? "Nothing is more disgraceful than that an old man should have nothing to show to prove that he has lived long except his years." And that goes double for women, Allegra thought bitterly.
Dr. Morgan entered the room and Allegra studied the young man before returning the mirror to the table.
He pulled the chair to the bed and took the old woman's hand in his. "How are you feeling today, Allegra?" His face was drawn and tired despite his smile.
"Look, doctor, I know you're a busy man, so we can do without the pleasantries. You're here to give me the results of the tests, so let's get on with it." She removed her hand from his and smoothed back a few strands of loose hair.
Dr. Morgan twisted the end of his blonde moustache. "We found a tumor," he said bluntly.
Allegra's face blanched and her voice trembled slightly, "And?"
"The biopsy revealed that it's malignant. I want to start you right away on chemotherapy and radiation."
"No." Her voice was emphatic.
He frowned. "What do you mean—no?"
"I mean just what I said. No! No chemo and no radiation. I just want to be left alone. Now, doctor," Allegra asked as nonchalantly as if they were discussing the weather, "how much time do I have?"
Dr. Morgan shook his head sadly. "Six months to a year. Maybe little longer if you take care of yourself."
Allegra considered his words. Too long, she thought. Now that she knew the inevitable, six months seemed much too long to wait. She clenched her fists into tight balls and stared at the pink and white striped wallpaper. She'd lived through the golden age of talkies, she'd survived the frightening era when the studios broke apart, and she'd muddled through endless years of heartache and loneliness. Why couldn't she just die and get it over with?
"Allegra," he said quietly, "I'd like you to think about what I said. About chemotherapy and radiation. They could add years to your life."
She looked at him. I don't want to add years to my life, she rebutted silently.
"Well, think about it," he said and patted her hand before rising. He started for the door, then paused and asked, "Will you be okay by yourself?"
"Of course I will," she bristled. "This isn't the first crisis I've handled alone. Besides, doctor, do I have a choice?"
Dr. Morgan raised his thick, blond eyebrows and sighed. "No, I guess you don't. But at least I can make you a little more comfortable. I'll leave an order for pain pills." He hesitated at the door, staring at her as though she might change her mind. Then he walked briskly out of the room.
Allegra knew Tillie, her roommate, would be back shortly and the last thing she wanted was to listen to that magpie. The woman was an insufferable chatterbox. Ninety if she was a day, Tillie talked constantly. Allegra tried to keep her curtain closed whenever Tillie was in the room. Thank goodness she was out for therapy a good portion of the day. It was no wonder she rarely had visitors. Her constant yapping probably drove them crazy.
Turning her back to the other bed, Allegra blocked out her surroundings and looking deep inside herself, found the beautiful, adored movie star she had been long ago.
"Miss Alexander. How does it feel to be Barbara LaMarr's successor as the most beautiful woman in the world?" the reporter asked. He thrust a microphone at her as she moved toward the entrance of the exquisitely ornate Pantages Theatre.
Before she could answer, scores of reporters moved towards her until she was surrounded by men pushing and shoving and pelting her with questions.
"Please, I need room," she said breathlessly, looking around in panic for her husband.
While straining to find him in the crowd behind her, Allegra's skin began to prickle. A shudder rippled down her spine as she felt hands grabbing her. She turned around in horror to see several wild-eyed fans with outstretched arms trying to touch her. They must have broken through the police barriers set up for the movie premier, she thought, biting down on her bottom lip to keep it from trembling. Her long, crimson fingernails dug into the palms of her hands, leaving half-moon indentations.
Suddenly, an overzealous fan yanked Allegra's silk wrap from her shoulders and thrust a crumpled piece of paper in front of her, begging for her autograph. Dazed by fear, Allegra tried to cover her exposed arms, to shield herself from the near-hysterical mob.
Afraid her legs would no longer support her, she looked for a place to sit down. She realized the folly of such a thought as she was shuffled from side to side by the crowd. In shocked disbelief she watched the fans continue to battle the police. Then out of the corner of her eye Allegra saw her husband rushing towards her, and a flood of relief surged through her that gave her the strength she needed to get through the rest of the evening.
"Move back and let us through," he commanded as he put a protective arm around Allegra's shoulders and led her into the theatre. She smiled up at him gratefully, her tense body relaxing under the gentle pressure of his hand.
It had been like that from the day they'd met. He had been her protector, her mentor. He made all the decisions and took care of her. He selected her wardrobe from the sketches of the famous Hollywood designer, Adrian, as carefully as he selected her movie roles from the extensive MGM script library. Loved, pampered and adored not only by her fans, but by her husband—the man she loved more than life itself—Allegra knew she had everything.
She was brought back to reality by the sound of the door opening. But she remained motionless, staring up at the ceiling, trying desperately to hold onto the thread of happiness.
"Would you like me to read to you?" Poppy asked, sitting down on the edge of Allegra's bed.
Allegra continued to stare at the imaginary point in space. A single tear trickled down her wrinkled cheek, the pain of coming back to the present almost too much for her to bear.
"Maybe you'd like to play cards. I can go get some," the little girl said softly.
Allegra shook her head.
"Do you want to talk about what the doctor told you?"
Her gaze still transfixed, Allegra spoke in a tired, defeated voice, ignoring the child's questions. "Why aren't you with other children? Why are you hanging around here? The last thing I need is a redheaded guardian angel hovering over me."
Poppy took one of Allegra's blue-veined hands in hers.
Suddenly dropping her gaze and blinking, the actress jerked her hand away. "Go back where you belong. You're too young to be spending all your time with an old lady."
"Oh, phooey. You're not old. You're Allegra Alexander, remember? The beautiful movie star. The queen of tinsel town. I read that in an old movie magazine. I think it was Photoplay. No, maybe it was Modern Screen. Well, anyway, you were on the cover." Poppy blew at the strand of hair that perpetually fell over her brow.
(Continues...)
Excerpted from POPPY by Barbara Larriva. Copyright © 2013 Barbara Larriva. Excerpted by permission of iUniverse LLC.
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