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Drama American Fiction

This story contains sensitive content

Author's note: This story is heavily based on the 1977 Charlene song "I've Never Been to Me". I do not own the rights to this song or its lyrics.


TW: Mentions of abuse, marital sexual violence

**


October 7, 1978

Buckle Rod, Alabama


Dear Charlene (or, whatever your name is),


Firstly, yes, I can finally admit it: meeting you two years ago was indeed, as you put it, fate. I must admit that I was, at first, visibly annoyed when you, looking every inch like a Golden Age film star in your Hermès scarf, approached me at the park, only for you to preach --- well, more like sing--- at me. I remember repeatedly barking at you to leave me alone. However, now that I’ve thought about it, there really was something about your Guérlain-perfumed silk dress that smelled of Madagascar vanilla and your fire engine red Christian Dior lipstick that also compelled me to talk to you, just as you told me you wanted to speak to me. I was about to tell you all this, you know.


Then, those screaming banshees that came from my womb violently slammed those thoughts away. You know very well that in our world, a woman is measured by the number of pieces of herself she has given away, how many holes there are in the jigsaw puzzle of herself. I felt like I had no choice but to put away the first thought I had for myself in a long while to once again, drown myself in the routine of wiping snotty noses and giving stern looks, a woman’s pre-assigned lot, I supposed. Just like the last time. And the last time. And the time after that.


“That’s the real truth,” you told me then as my eyes started to break out in tears. ”It’s the love you have for your babies.” 


My eyebrows flew to the top of my forehead, and I tried to escape your little sermon. I subtly backed out and tried to find the nearest exit. You cornered me and continued to badger me, though, and so, I had no choice but to sit down. You recounted your life of tasting the smorgasbord the entire world had to offer, a life of frequent flyer miles, Veuve Clicquot champagne, and meeting crowned heads, a life beyond these town limits --- a life I’ve dreamt about since I was a little girl. You then told me that you’d have given it all up for my cotton dress covered in baby vomit and the man that warms the other side of my bed, for a life of “domestic bliss” rather than the jet-set life. 


I replied that I thought that was poppycock, but you insisted that in your running away from the life pre-assigned to us women, you also ran away from yourself. Worse still, you kept pressing me, telling me that if I escaped from the lot I had, I’d also be escaping what you thought of as real. Enraged, I quickly gathered all my things, bolted out of the park, and let the children follow me home. I admit that that scene of me running away from you might have looked strange, but hey, what was I to do?


I guess my abrupt exit from the congregation of one in front of your pulpit was quite a shock for you because the next thing I knew, you’d written a song about me, a ditty that has been on the airwaves every now and then. In interviews, you mentioned that there was a possibility the song would offend me (It did.) but that you still wanted to teach me “to see the value in the routine I lived”. Well, despite my indignation at first, I’ll have you know that I did learn something from the conversation we had at the park, something that, if you don’t mind, I’ll share with you now.


To make it a lot more interesting and because you sang about my life, I thought I’d dispense that lesson I learnt in the form of lyrics to the tune of your hit song. Please forgive me if I’m rusty; after all, it’s been a while since I wrote anything other than a grocery list. Yes, it’s been a while since the days I secretly perused my father’s copies of Newsweek and dreamt to be featured there one day. It’s been a while since my English teacher, Mrs. Freedman, told me I’d written the best poem in class she’d ever graded in her long career. Yes, it’s been a while since I became Editor-in-Chief of our school paper under a male pseudonym. It’s been a while since Mrs. Freedman and I held secret after-school sessions to hone my writing skills so I could surely get into journalism school, only for my very conservative, almost cultish father to find out and burn down my portfolio of work. Hopefully, though, I’ve still got it.

**


Hey, Lady, you, Lady

Leering at my life

Yes, I was cursed to be a mother

It's the worst to be a wife

Some so-called bliss, all of this

Thrust on my fragile self

Don’t you realize

That I’m feeling like

Just a rag doll on a shelf



I wish I’d been to Georgia

And California

And my place out in the sun

No need to fall in

When I am soarin’

I won’t walk, I would run

I want to see those places

With friendly faces

Where I would be wild and free

I crave for paradise

Out where I could be just me



Please, Lady. Stop, Lady

With this, a soul can tire

I feel that domestication

Has just put out my heart’s fire

That I'll relight so very bright

It’s time to claim what’s mine

Yes, it’s time to start

‘Cos my weary heart

It yearns for the stars that shine



I long to sail the Nile

Sit on a Greek isle

Roam ‘round Tokyo, I won’t mind

To put on the Ritz

Out in Saint Moritz

Where I could find my kind

I want to learn some things

And to spread my wings

And to live and to laugh and to be

I crave for paradise

Out where I could be just me



Hey, you know what paradise is?

It’s freedom

Beyond just a fantasy of places and spaces

It’s you choosing your path

But you know what truth is?

It’s knowing who you are

And living as the true you

The same one with dreams wider than galaxies

That’s truth, it’s self-love



Sometimes, I’ve been to crying

For dreams that’re dying

That would have made me complete

So no, don’t you blame me

Or try to tame me

Time to march to my beat

Time to go to the unknown

Even if I’m ‘lone

Yes, it’s so worth it to be free

Hey Lady, I’ll be in paradise

And scream that I've been to me



I’ll be in paradise

Now, I've been to me

**

By the time you get this letter, I’d have already run away across the Atlantic to Paris, jetting off with no one to catch me just three days after receiving my airline ticket. I’d be admiring the stunning view of the Arc de Triomphe from my bedroom window. At seventy square meters, my new apartment is certainly smaller than the large country home I’m leaving behind tomorrow (as of time writing), but to me, the liberty that comes with the tiny city apartment is so much more expansive than that. I hope you understand. You should understand because once upon a time, you also chose this for yourself.


I also would have started on my first day at my new job as the host of a bilingual travel show geared towards women for the TV station Antenne 2. Yes, I will be hosting it in French, one of the languages I secretly learnt under the covers by flashlight as a child. (You probably should have seen more than my womb that day in the park and looked at what else I was capable of, by the way.) You see, after I heard your song on the radio, I felt the flame inside my heart reignite and started rewriting some of the favorite articles I’d penned from memory, then stuffed newsroom and television station mailboxes with parcels of them. On a whim, I sent some of them to France, and now, here I am. I’m ready to fly from my Paris-dise to other slices of bliss across the globe. I will make sure to visit every single locale you mentioned in your song, as well as the ones in the lyrics I’ve written, and soak in these places, enjoy the fact that I’m out of the cage I’m leaving tomorrow.


Of course, by the time you read this, the divorce that my soon-to-be ex-husband Stanley and I had signed would have already been filed. I’m both relieved and shocked that Stanley had accepted the terms I set, including that I would never be forced to come back to the boonies and that he have full custody of the children. 


Just to clarify, yes, Stanley is the same man who, after I had repeatedly rejected his advances, tattled to my father about my journalism school plans. It’s the same man, who I married, immediately after the discovery that ruined my future, with a shotgun to my head because his family had paid my father, as if I were a prized cow. It’s the same man I never made love to, only had undesired, forceful sex with because it was my duty as a wife, I thought. It’s the same man who, knowing I never wanted kids, tampered with my birth control pills before violating me, resulting in twins. No, contrary to the song you put out, we hadn’t just fought the morning you and I had our chance encounter; I’ve fought him and everything he represents to me for my entire life. This time, I won.


(Then again, perhaps, Stanley’s quick acceptance was most probably influenced by the fact that the producer of the show had told him that she was more than willing to use her media connections to make him a national laughing stock in France if he ever so much as suggests I come back from Paris-dise. After all, even if he and the rest of the Robb family have no connections to my new home country, their pride would not allow for one smidgen of taint.)


Speaking of my new boss, I had only spoken to her on the phone, but it seems to me that Madame Moineau --- or perhaps, I should say Marianne, as she insists I call her --- will be a fantastic mentor to me. Before she booked that airline ticket to France for me, she spoke about being excited to work with someone who reminds her of herself, another country girl who had narrowly escaped the prison of giving up chunks of yourself to the altar of domesticity. Marianne and I had discussed on the phone about how we hope the show we’re working on would help women find their paradise, wherever it may be. Hey, perhaps, in the future, womankind wouldn’t even need a travel show to tell them to go to where they can be free. One thing’s for sure, though: If Marianne had approached me on a park bench, I’d never be annoyed. Oh no, I’d actually more than welcome it.


So, no, it may not be the lesson you wanted to impart to me, but thank you for teaching me that it was time to choose paradise, to choose me. Will I regret it, just like you did? I don’t really know. However, if I would, I think it would sting less than if I chose to stay in some small town with small-minded people instead of flying to find my paradise. If you don’t mind me saying it, though, I hope you too had learnt a lesson throughout all this: Never give unsolicited advice to people who clearly don’t want it.


Finally heading to me,

Celeste Robb Highmore


January 28, 2024 05:45

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28 comments

Michał Przywara
21:40 Jan 31, 2024

Huge “grass is greener” vibes here from both characters, but there's a key difference. Charlene is absolutely certain she's right, whereas Celeste has the wisdom to admit “Will I regret it, just like you did? I don’t really know.” “a woman is measured by the number of pieces of herself she has given away” - great passage. And Charlene's absolute certainty is what leads her down the irritating path of giving unsolicited advice. There's a parallel there, to the undesired attention from Stanley, to the unwanted children, etc. For a long time...

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Alexis Araneta
02:40 Feb 01, 2024

Hi, Michal ! Exactly that. That's precisely why the song I based the story from always rubbed me the wrong way. Sure, Charlene also chose the same life Celeste did, but they're two very different people. For all we know, by the time Celeste gets to Charlene's age, Celeste would still say "I made the right choice." The real Charlene is still, apparently, very proud of the song. I think she'll still react negatively. Hahahaha ! Thanks for reading this. Glad you liked it.

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Sjan Evardsson
23:52 Feb 08, 2024

Looking at the story (Never Been to Me) from the other side makes it undeniably arrogant, not to mention more than a smidge misogynistic - the idea that being a wife and mother is the only way for a woman to be "whole".... I have to side with you on this one, Stella. The song is ick, and good on Celeste.

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Alexis Araneta
02:29 Feb 09, 2024

Right! I always thought it was a shame that a song with a great melody and lovely instumentation came with lyrics that make me cringe. Thank you for reading this story!

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MJ J
11:29 Feb 08, 2024

You’ve done so much within the story - it’s not just a story, it’s a letter, a lesson, a poem, a truth that you have so beautifully crafted. I can’t say I loved Celeste from the moment I was inside her head, because I think that’s not what you had planned for her anyways, I think you wanted us to be a little bewildered at her mentality because that’s the societal expectation. That we’re confused by any woman who doesn’t want to marry or have children, but instead choose freedom and independence. I love that Celeste made her choice, even afte...

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Alexis Araneta
12:06 Feb 08, 2024

Oh wow ! I'm so grateful for the kind words, MJ, thank you! It started out as me exploring what would happen if the subject of the original song happened to reject what was espoused there, but I'm glad you saw that about her. Indeed, it's a bit frustrating how in this day and age (what more in the 70s) people still can't fathom it when a woman doesn't want marriage and/or kids. I, personally, do want to get married, but that's not what every woman wants. I'm so happy you liked it. Thanks for reading!

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Kristina Aziz
21:28 Feb 07, 2024

I really admire how you handle the Pacing here. The ties of emotion woven in the very long sentences (my favorite kind of sentence) go a long way in lending a kind of manic vulnerability to the narrator. I also like that you don't actually have to be familiar with the song to get a feel for the setting and circumstances of the story because I've never heard of that song before reading this.

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Alexis Araneta
23:13 Feb 07, 2024

Thank you so much, Kristina. When I was writing this, I sort of imagined myself in the shoes of the "Lady" in the original song. I imagined that the persona in that song didn't know what she's talking about. So, this is what came out. Glad you liked it !

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Molly Kelash
05:21 Feb 05, 2024

This story has so many insightful lines…one of my favorites comes near the beginning, as tru as it is painful to read; “You know very well that in our world, a woman is measured by the number of pieces of herself she has given away, how many holes there are in the jigsaw puzzle of herself.“ This captured so well the complicated feelings of being a new mother, how you sometimes feel trapped and empty. This escapist fantasy would have appealed to me at moments early on, let me tell you! Anyway, great story with a visceral kick and a clear, scy...

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Alexis Araneta
05:55 Feb 05, 2024

Hey, Molly ! Glad you liked this story. I quite enjoyed writing that line (as well as the rest of the story). Like I said in the previous comments, this story was inspired by the fact that I wondered what it would be like if the "discontented mother and regimented wife" in the Charlene song was the type of woman who'd have been childfree had she been born in later years. Anyway, thanks for reading !

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Ty Warmbrodt
21:04 Feb 03, 2024

You provided a passionate voice to this story. The voice of a woman scorned. I hope she found her paradise or at least got to start her life anew, in a way satisfying to her. Great job on the story!

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Alexis Araneta
04:54 Feb 04, 2024

Thank you so much ! I think the fact that Celeste has always known what she wanted means she will be satisfied with her choice (and if she ends up regretting it, as someone else said, at least, she got to try her choice instead of following the life imposed on her). Glad you liked it !

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John Rutherford
12:00 Feb 01, 2024

I really enjoyed this piece. It's imaginative, creative, wispy threads, versions interwoven. I like your style. As Michael pointed out below, the phrase beginning "a woman... What a statement, great stuff.

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Alexis Araneta
12:23 Feb 01, 2024

Thank you, John ! Like I mentioned in other comments, the idea for this story came to me because a neighbour was singing the song (quite loudly) during a party. When the prompt was published, it was a good fit. Glad you liked it !

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Jack Kimball
23:44 Jan 31, 2024

You'd think the word would be out by now. "Don't run other people's lives for them!" but I guess it still hasn't gotten through. This reminds me so much of, do I dare say it, the Mormon population in my neck of the woods (the US). Great job Stella, and I sense some autobiographical frustration or history (could be wrong). In any case, I hope BOTH characters find some happiness. An '...abrupt exit from the congregation of one in front of your pulpit' is well written and kind of says it all.

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Alexis Araneta
02:44 Feb 01, 2024

I always found the song I based it from reaaaallly preachy (which is a shame, since I like the melody. It was written by Berry Gordy, for crying out loud). So, I decided to make this. Nope, I've never been in Celeste's shoes, but I imagine that's how I would react if I were. Glad you liked it !

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Hazel Ide
16:27 Jan 31, 2024

Your descriptions were so vibrant and beautiful, the scarves and lipstick and "screaming banshees that came from your womb"- all great. I also like the concept of basing a story off a song, I looked it up after reading to listen to, it was lovely!

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Alexis Araneta
17:36 Jan 31, 2024

Thank you so much ! Glad you liked the story. I quite like the melody of the song I used. The lyrics, well, great description but a bit preachy. Hahaha !

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Helen A Smith
18:28 Jan 30, 2024

Hi Stella, I like your style. There is so much to like about this story of a woman’s life changing for the better

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Alexis Araneta
23:07 Jan 30, 2024

Awww, thank you so much, Helen ! Glad you liked it. Indeed, her life is changing for the better. Glad you liked it !

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Mary Bendickson
00:52 Jan 29, 2024

Lot to sacrifice to get back to me.

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Alexis Araneta
01:46 Jan 29, 2024

True, though. Thanks for reading !

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Michelle Oliver
22:52 Jan 28, 2024

Good on Celeste. I think begging true to yourself and not judging your life by another’s standards is the hallmark of wisdom. You also can’t judge another persons life by your own experiences, so therefore it’s a good idea to refrain from offering unsolicited advice. Great story.

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Alexis Araneta
01:45 Jan 29, 2024

That's the idea. The song in itself's lyrics have always rubbed me the wrong way, so I made a reply version. Glad you liked it !

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Trudy Jas
22:19 Jan 28, 2024

I always enjoy reading your stories. Such a smooth way with words. I hope Celeste finally finds her paradise. I had to chuckle when I saw that was both picked a song as the basis of our stories. Though I wouldn't dare to try and write one myself. Well done.

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Alexis Araneta
01:32 Jan 29, 2024

Thank you, Trudy ! Actually, the idea came to me before the prompt was even posted. (A neighbour was singing "I've Never Been to Me" on a rented karaoké machine. ). I thought "Has anyone made a reply version ?". Haha! I'm glad you enjoyed this, as well as my other stories. I too enjoy your stories and how rich they are.

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Thom With An H
23:02 Feb 03, 2024

I was really impressed by your lyrics. It's not easy to write a parody song. I still like the original much better though, maybe because I'm a man, who knows. You did get me thinking if there were any songs that rubbed me the wrong way. I have to think there are some but I can't think of any. I'm not a big fan of Baby Shark or Gangnam Style, but that's mainly because they are truly awful tunes. Also I've Never Been To Me wasn't written by Barry Gordy. I think he produced it though. It was co-written by Ron Miller and Ken Hirsch.

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Alexis Araneta
04:52 Feb 04, 2024

Hahahaha ! Baby Shark is quite annoying, yes. Then again, I don't think adults are the target audience for it. Thank you. Also, thank you for the info !

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