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My Mother and Father: I regret I have only this lifetime to return all the love and understanding you gave me.
Elvis had been in and out of the hospital all year; there were times when he wasn’t even sick that he’d check in for a rest, to get away from pressures, or just out of boredom. It had never been anything too serious.
Cmon! Over the phone!
In the background I could hear a grief-stricken Vernon moaning in agony. “My son’s gone. Dear God, I’ve lost my son.”
In fact, I wanted to die.
The daddy’s the husband!
The boys at school began trying to look like him, with their slicked-back pompadours and long sideburns and turned-up collars.
Humble brag
Hmmm
Jeff and the twins, Tim and Tom, hadn’t yet been born.
I fantasized endlessly about French-kissing, but when my friends who hung around our house played spin the bottle, it would take me half an hour to let a boy kiss my pursed lips.
When he refused to let me wear a tight skirt, I joined the Girl Scouts specifically so I could wear their tight uniform.
When I read the note on the back of the picture about how much he missed my mother, my eyes filled with tears.
Woah!
In times of emotional pain and loneliness he would become my guardian angel.
It was the last day of the campaign, and a rumor began circulating that Pam’s grandparents had put in a hundred-dollar bill for their vote. My parents were disappointed; there was no way that they could afford to match that much money and even if they could, they objected on principle.
I know how that goes
Everyone promised to write or call, but remembering past promises I knew better.
We entered the small town of Bad Nauheim, with its narrow cobblestone streets and plain, old-fashioned houses, and I kept looking around for what I assumed would be Elvis’s huge mansion.
“So,” Elvis said. “Do you go to school?” “Yes.” “What are you, about a junior or senior in high school?” I blushed and said nothing, not willing to reveal that I was only in the ninth grade. “Well,” he persisted. “Ninth.” Elvis looked confused. “Ninth what?” “Grade,” I whispered. “Ninth grade,” he said and started laughing. “Why, you’re just a baby.”
Well,
Ew
While Vernon settled on the couch, Elvis pointed to our family portraits on the wall and said, “Look here, Daddy—here’s Priscilla with her whole family. I think she looks like her mama. Can’t see too much resemblance with her brothers or sister—they’re still a little too young. Don’t cut your hair, Baby. I love it long like this. You’re one pretty girl. How’d I happen to run into you? Must be fate.” The last few observations were uttered in a whisper to me as my parents came in.
I was thrilled but contained my excitement. He really wanted to be with me.
While we were parked, one of the Frauleins who lived in the pension passed the car. She greeted me and then, when she glanced at Elvis, her mouth dropped open in disbelief.
Defensively, Elvis shot back, “Well damn!
Oh please
Huh
One evening he was playing the piano for the regular group, plus a couple of English girls. When he picked up his guitar, he looked around, but couldn’t seem to find his pick. “Anybody seen my guitar pick?” he asked. One of the English girls looked up and smiled. “It’s upstairs on the night table next to your bed. I’ll get it.” All eyes, including mine, zeroed in on her as she made her way up the stairs, aware that she was now the center of attention.
“Have you been with her?” I demanded. “No,” Elvis insisted. “Then how did she know where your guitar pick and room were?” “She was over one night, and I mentioned how dirty the place was,” he answered, a boyish grin on his face. “She offered to clean it, simple as that.”
But after the shopkeeper told me the price—650 Deutsche marks or $155—all I walked out with was my expensive taste.
CONFUSING
I wrote him: “I need you and want you in every way and, believe me, there’s no one else . . . I wish to God I were with you now. I need you and all your love more than anything in this world.”
Wow
I couldn’t help noticing that there had been a slight change in Elvis. He’d left Germany a gentle, sensitive, and insecure boy; through the course of the evening I’d see that he now was mischievous and self-confident to the point of cockiness.
I walked slowly toward him, climbed into the bed, and lay down next to him. Our faces were only inches apart. It was such an unexpected moment of tenderness that I was mesmerized looking into his eyes. We lay there for what seemed like a long time, staring at each other until our eyes filled with tears.
Elvis took me in his arms and held me close, but I couldn’t get close enough. If I could have gotten inside him, I would have.
“Why do you always have the TV on?” I asked Elvis. “It keeps me company,” he said. “When it’s on, I feel like there are people around.” He despised entering a quiet room, and soon I too adopted the habit of automatically turning on the TV whenever I walked into a room.
Forcing an enthusiastic smile, I went along. I was beginning to understand how everyone’s mood played off Elvis.
“Hair and makeup?” I said. “What’s wrong with my hair?” It was long and dark brown, casually combed. But beyond feeling he didn’t like my hair, now I began to think he didn’t like my looks.
Nine plus eight is seventeen, then a five makes . . . “Twenty-one!” I shouted. Throwing down my cards, I looked over to Elvis for his approval. “Let’s see,” he said, slowly scooping up the cards. Squinting one eye, he counted them. Then, leaning over to me, he grinned and whispered, “Sorry, Baby. It’s twenty-two.” I was so embarrassed that I excused myself and took refuge in the ladies’ room.
I walked onto the plane like a robot. I was in a daze that lasted throughout the eleven-hour flight. I talked to no one and didn’t care who saw the tears constantly streaming down my face. My world had come to an abrupt end.
Yech
“Ah, E, how can you say that?” Gene was mumbling in his slow Southern drawl.
He always avoided problems. If I was disturbed or depressed, or if I felt we were becoming distant and wanted to get closer by talking it out, he avoided me or told me my timing was bad. There was never a good time.
I became obsessed and watched what Elvis liked, what attracted him, trying to be everything he ever imagined a woman could be, and more.
Although Elvis said that I should greet my parents with a friendly smile, from the moment I got off the plane, my attitude was one of defiance. I now believed that my parents were a threat to my future happiness. I didn’t realize that their fears and concerns were entirely reasonable. All that mattered to me was what Elvis and I wanted, and no one was going to stand in our way. The weather was cold and dreary, which certainly didn’t help my mood. I walked through customs to find my parents waiting. Noting my attitude, their expressions were cool, their welcome stiff. No loving arms wrapped
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“All in all, did you have a nice time?” Dad ventured. “Yes,” I replied, looking out the window at the clusters of trees bare from the harsh winter. “Did Elvis like your present?” Mother asked hopefully. “Yes,” I assured her. “He loved it.”
Once, a note that was being passed in study hall ended up on the floor. I saw my name on it and picked it up. “Her name’s Priscilla,” I read. “She’s supposed to be Elvis Presley’s new girlfriend. If we make friends with her, maybe she’ll introduce us to him. Oh, God, wouldn’t that be neat!” I didn’t know who the writer was, but I couldn’t mistake the meaning. The friendly smiles concealed intentions to get to Elvis through me. Consequently, I was afraid to get close to anyone at school, and began to feel lonely and unhappy.
Unfortunately, Elvis forgot to speak to his father. Rather than ask for handouts, I resolved to earn my own money. I began modeling part-time at a boutique near Graceland. When I told Elvis about my job, he said, “You’re gonna have to give it up.” “But I’m enjoying it,” I said. “It’s either me or a career, Baby. Because when I call you, I need you to be there.”
