Remember Me

Remember Me

“Don’t you remember me?” I ask, sugary sweet venom dripping from each word. The man behind bars squinted. After a few moments, he jumped back in terror. “Blanche!” he cried, tearing his shirt and fisting his hair. I smiled, but the action did not meet my eyes. You deserve all the pain and suffering you got, Stanley Kowalski, I mused silently. “Hello, again, Mr. Kowalski, remember me? I’m the girl you raped.” I narrowed my eyes and backed away as the deranged man, a shell of his former self, lunged at me. “Liar! I never did no such thing! You turned my sweet Stella against me.” Stanley yelled, attempting to strangle me through the iron defenses. A policeman nearby stepped in to intervene, but I stopped him with a wave of my hand.

“We’re almost done here, sir.” I explained, shrugging. What a poor brute, I thought. Despite all he had done- that was all he was. He held no power over me anymore. I stuck a small note in between two of the bars and began to turn my back on Stanley Kowalski. “Wait, Blanche! Blanche! Don’t leave me here!” Stanley howled. I smirked- remembering the moment he had uttered something similar to my sister. I turned halfway to look the man I despised in the eyes for one last time. “Goodbye, Mr. Kowalski. I hope you too find comfort in the kindness of strangers.” Without a second glance, I walked out of the holding area and onto the busy streets of New Orleans.

The next day, I spent the majority of my planning period pacing the entirety of my small classroom. After half of a year in the sanatorium and a healthy dose of anti-psychotics, I was able to return to the workforce and regain a semblance of a normal life. Stella even helped me find another English position at a local high school. However, all that being said, my life was still far from easy. At this moment, I was struggling to remain conscious after a particularly critical meeting with my principal. I had been slacking on my paperwork and missed quite a few days of school. Consequently, my student’s grades were suffering.

Ms. DuBois, things cannot continue as they are. Although you have made significant improvement since joining our faculty last fall, as principal I will not allow students to suffer academically. Fix the problem or we will have to take more dramatic action.

I was also still on edge after my brief meeting with Stanley. I still hadn’t told Stella about it. I may never, I admitted silently. The bell rang as my third period AP English class filed into their seats. In a trance, I wandered to the whiteboard and wrote “Annabel Lee” in big letters. “Today, class,” I sang, “we will be reading one of my favorite poems by Edgar Allan Poe and analyzing its central themes.” A collective groan filled the air. I laughed lightly at their distress. Despite my absences and lack of focus, I loved my job and the kids. They were all troubled and gifted- just like me.

My voice glided through the first stanza. Even the most stubborn students stopped to listen as they noticed my enthusiasm. A girl in the back raised her hand. “One of the themes of this poem is obsession- almost to the point of a break in reality. It doesn’t really make sense to me. Why would someone want to live in a fantasy?” Blanche felt something akin to grief pass over her features, but nodded in thanks to the question. “Interesting analysis, Catherine. It is true- the author was overcome with grief over the death of his beloved. Poe was almost hysterical after his wife passed, by many accounts. To answer your question, dear- why wouldn’t they? When the world outside their mind is filled with disappointment, anger, and agony?” A murmur crossed the classroom. “Wasn’t Poe like thirteen years older than his wife? Isn’t that a little creepy? I smiled. “Perhaps true love transcends age.” she stated dreamily.

After school, I returned to her shared home with Stella and her daughter, Ivy. I was immediately greeted by a stern sister and crying niece. “The jailhouse called. Stanley has escaped.” My blood ran cold. The world around me began to spin. Dear god, calm down, Blanche, I lectured to myself. Stella put her free hand on her hip. “They also said you stopped by for a visit. You didn’t… did you?” she asked in horror. I yelped at the accusation. “What a wild and atrocious thing to say, sister! I was relieved to see him arrested.” Stella frowned, unconvinced. “You just…You just have a tendency to make up things.” Stella whispered, hushing Ivy- who had begun to sob louder. I scoffed and fled to my upstairs bedroom. Slamming the door behind me, I screamed into the void.

The next day, I made a dangerous decision. Was it the smartest? No. However, I wanted to be the one to find Stanley. I would put on my detective hat and fish out the man who had ruined my life. Turns out, it was easier than I thought. How stupid of him to go to the bowling alley when he was running from the police! I mused. I entered the establishment and hid behind a vending machine. I watched the troubadour flail and flaunt himself. How pathetic, I drawled. I waltzed over to the group of burly men and sat on the hard seat across from Stanley. “Blanche!” he cried, jumping up and glancing toward the exit. I laughed lightly and patted the arm of the gentleman beside me. “Don’t fret, Mr. Kowalski. I was just coming to entertain myself. And these fine young men seem good enough.” I said, slipping my arm around the shoulders of my prey.

The way Stanley was eyeing me was enough to have me touching the speed dial button on my watch. 12:35 p.m. I’ll make them all believe me, I cackled silently. I lightly slid my hand down the boy’s chest and patted his stomach. “What’s your name, big fella?” I cooed. Stanley coughed. I grinned and turned my attention to another member of the party. I gestured toward the empty seat next to me. “Join us, sir. I have enough love for everybody.” I punctuated the end of my statement by looking directly at Stanley. He seemed to get the message. He grunted like an ape and grabbed my arm, pulling me up to be crushed against his chest. A painful static blared in my mind, but I pushed it down.

Stanley pulled me to the front entryway. “What the hell are you doing?” he seethed. I put my hands on my hips and answered, “Nothing, sweetie,” while batting my eyes. I looked at my watch. 12:45 p.m. I slipped my arm out of Stanley’s grasp and pushed my hair behind my ear. “You’re a little freak, you know that? Just what are you trying?” Stanley murmured, his eyes lowering to my breasts. I smiled, showing my teeth. “Freaks have all the fun.” I whispered, leaning towards him. He met me in the middle- his lips crashing onto mine. I whimpered into the action, using his distraction to raise my arm and stare at my watch to avoid the sickening nausea rising in my stomach. 12:50 p.m.

Stanley’s arm wrapped around my waist as he tangled his other hand in my hair. Just as he was beginning to suck on the tender spot of my neck, the door swung open and I heard Stella scream “Stanley!” As he jumped back, I grinned. I slinked into the background as Stella ran up to him and slapped her ex-husband in the face. “Stella! She kissed me. I swear!” he swore, pointing a shaking finger at me. Behind Stella, three police officers walked in. They caught eyes with Stanley and the latter started to run toward the back door. However, I tripped the sucker just as he was starting his voyage. I looked at my watch. 1:00 p.m. Time’s up, sweetie.