History Remembers a Mad Woman

History Remembers a Mad Woman

"What were you saying, Tee? How did a middle-class divorcee do it all?" Rebekah asked, her eyes fixed at the sea.

'My mother was saying it to her friends. You know what they call your friends? The Bitch Pack. And I tell Mum, I'm also Rebekah's friend, so am I a part of this pack? Mum tells me, "You think you're very funny, Taylor? You're just a little girl who loves the grand Holiday House and you keep dreaming of owning it someday." You know, Mum thinks that's why I'm friends with you.'

"Well, why are you friends with me, Tee?" she smiled, fiddling with the sapphire ring around her finger. 

'Because even though this town says you're a shameless woman-'

"No, not a shameless woman. The most shameless woman."

'Yes, even if they say that, I know what you really are. You're a dreamer. And the world is okay with a woman who has desires. But when she acts on them, no one can tolerate it. I know because I'm a little like you. I also desire so many things and I try to turn them into songs. Someday, maybe I'll write one about you.'

Rebekah sat on a rock, her feet touching the sand.  We could hear a few voices from the other side of the rock, unaware of our presence.

"Married men after men, ruined their lives, ruined their wealth, ruined her own life too," laughed one of them.

'Wasted all her money, threw lavish parties, and all for what? To cater to her madness.'

"Mad woman. Even gambled with Dalí! Dyed that neighbour's dog. She had a marvelous time ruining everything. I pity her."

I felt my blood boil and I walked up to them. 'What about her charity? Her dance company? The medical research she funded? Her passion for art? No, you don't pity her. You're threatened by her!'

Rebekah suddenly held my hand, and I stopped. Would she scream at them? Would she hit them with a stone? Would she break down by the sea? She looked at them, and she still had that smile on her face. Then she began to walk towards her Holiday House, unbothered.

Later in the evening, I banged on her door several times but no one answered. Holiday House, known for its loudness, was dead silent. You could hear a pin drop, but no pin was dropped, no noise was made. The house was empty and it smelled of death. I recalled the men and Rebekah's strange calmness. 

"Tee, what happened? Are you crying?"

'Oh, thank God you're here! I thought you killed yourself. I could smell so much alcohol. My mind stopped working...'

"Killed myself? Why?"

'Those men, they said you're a mad woman. Maybe it broke you. They were wrong, so wrong, Rebekah.'

"But they weren't totally wrong. I did have a marvelous time ruining everything. Come on, let's go to the pool, I'm getting it cleaned with champagne. That's where you got the smell from."

I looked at Rebekah's face, more powerful than the sea. I knew I'd live in this house someday and I'd write a song about her. 

"And Tee, do you know what history has called every happy woman it has ever known? A mad woman."