08 - The Sister I Lost

This letter is part of Nina's epistolary blog 'Nina's Diary', where she shares letters with her inner circle of close girlfriends. They overthink films, books, and heritage sites to make sense of life.

Millie's letter to Nina

Los Angeles, April 16, 1958

Dear Nina,

I ran into Billie about a month ago in New York. As always, she looked divine. You can imagine my surprise when she told me you settled in Paris with American girls! Darling, tell me why you’d cross the ocean only to end up with your own kind again? I imagined you indulging in endless plateaux de fromage and sipping wine with a devastatingly handsome French philosopher.

I was planning on writing to you earlier, but I got completely swamped with my new job at GWP Studios. Six months after I’d applied for the assistant photographer position, GWP finally called me at my parents’ house. I honestly thought someone was playing a joke on me. Anyhow, I’m slowly learning the ropes, and they’ve handed me more responsibilities assisting the photographers on set. Every now and then, I still have to pinch myself when I catch a glimpse of someone famous. Only yesterday, I was running around catering to the different whims of Hollywood royalty, from hunting down three cartons of unfiltered Chesterfields for Brando, to making sure Liz Taylor’s dressing room was overflowing with fresh violets.

You’d think all that would be enough to keep me occupied. But darling, you won’t believe what’s been happening with my sister Fanny. She’s getting a divorce! I can already see the shock on your face. Who would have guessed she’d divorce her high school sweetheart? They were annoyingly thick as thieves, or rather that’s what we all thought. How many times did she cancel trips, visits, or even simple phone calls because David needed something, or David had guests over, or David was too exhausted from work? She was all about him. Over the years, I even resented her for being so wrapped up in her marital bliss that she completely forgot about her family and about me, her only sister.

About two months ago, she suddenly showed up at my parents’ place, all the way from Louisiana with just a single suitcase. David had cheated on her and wanted out. Despite being left with nothing, she kept defending him. She insisted the affair was just a passing phase and that he’d eventually come to his senses and take her back. I felt sick to my stomach. I was furious with her. My reaction was a bit extreme, I know, but she had willingly sacrificed nearly ten years of her life acting as his maid, cook, secretary, and chauffeur, only to be thrown out of her own home because he simply changed his mind.

My parents were far more patient. They stepped in and hired a lawyer to protect Fanny’s interests, especially the house she owned before the wedding. They’re particularly worried about the marriage laws in Louisiana. Dad keeps bringing up something called the Napoleonic Code, though I doubt he understands any of it better than I do.

If it were up to me, I would’ve left her to face the consequences of her reckless decisions. Before they married, I told her David wasn’t to be trusted and begged her to think carefully. I was only worried about her well-being. I told her I’d seen David flirting with other women whenever he had too much to drink, but she made excuses for him every single time. She even had the nerve to accuse me of being jealous, and we stopped talking for months, right up until the day of their wedding.

On the flight back to LA, the mention of the Napoleonic Code kept nagging at me for some reason. And then it suddenly hit me. Do you remember, Nina, when we watched A Streetcar Named Desire together when we were seventeen or eighteen? Brando as Stanley kept threatening his sister-in-law Blanche with the Napoleonic Code. As soon as I landed, I went straight to the nearest bookstore to pick up Tennessee Williams’ play. I felt it was better to read the play instead of rewatching the movie version, as the risk of having my brain cells pulverized by Brando’s tight t-shirt was far too high.

I buried myself in the play and read it cover to cover in a single afternoon. Perhaps I was hoping to find some reasonable explanation for why Fanny had put up with David all these years. But by the time I turned the last page, my irritation had only grown. Fanny had been Stella for years. No, that’s not quite right. She had been both Stella and Blanche. She spent years defending David, only to be cast aside the moment he no longer wanted her.

Stella, at least, had a reason. She bowed to Stanley's brutish force and watched Blanche fall apart because she was financially trapped. With no practical skills and the family wealth vanished into thin air, how could she possibly survive on her own in a rough industrial city? Stanley was her only lifeline. But what was Fanny's excuse? She excelled in school. She could have gone off to college. My parents never once pressured her to marry.

The Fanny I grew up looking up to ceased to exist the moment she met David. The change didn't happen overnight, of course. Insidious as it was, she slowly started transforming into an exasperating version of David. Since when did she even like country music? She would play it over and over again. She became a total mouthpiece for her husband's opinions. Every other sentence was "David thinks this," or "David says that." Once, I finally snapped and blurted out, "I'm talking to you, not to David, and frankly I couldn't care less about his views." I'll always remember how she looked at me coldly and accused me of having a terrible temper. I could hardly recognize in this distant creature my loving, caring sister. My best friend.

I think all the anger I've been keeping buried for years is finally coming to the surface. I don't know what to do with these emotions! Do I call her to give her a piece of my mind? Or do I just let it go? She has enough to deal with. What would you have done? Oh Nina, how I miss our long talks!

Please do write back soon,

Yours,

Millie

P.S. I'm enclosing my new mailing address in LA and a photo of Brando to add to your collection. Yes, his outstanding performance might have diverted us from Williams's intended message, but who can blame us?