It’s her eyes. They’re open, alive, searching.
Suddenly, I’m on my knees. Tears stream down my cheeks as I blink rapidly, trying to process the scene in front of me. With each passing second, time seems to slow. I press my hand against her cheek, too afraid to touch any other part of her. She already appears so fragile, and yet futile comfort is all I have to give.
Her eyes stop their manic movement and lock on mine. The expression in her gaze penetrates me, transmitting her fear and confusion and regret.
“Marlowe!” My voice is shaking. “My God, what happened?”
Her mouth tremors, but she’s too weak to speak, too overcome by the many emotions seizing her. I long to comfort her, to find the right words to say, but the shock of seeing her like this is overwhelming. An hour ago, we were inside laughing and talking about our college days, fantasizing about our travel plans this summer. Now, the future is useless, our memories from the past all that remain.
Marlowe’s body turns motionless. Her trembling hands, then her stare, then her breathing. A domino effect. All is still except for the blood spreading behind her, seeping into the crevices between the cobblestones.
She’s gone. One of my closest friends is dead.Marloweis dead.
Only then do I scream.
ActII
Tippi’s Takes Presents:
What Hitch Taught Me About Life
An exploration of life and cinema from the viral sensation
by Tippi Rathbone
Chapter One
The Birds(1963): Feel the Fear
Spawning (irrational?) fears for countless viewers in the years since its premiere,The Birdschronicles the story of what happens when a budding romance is interrupted by terrifying bird attacks.
The film carries many of Hitchcock’s expert touches, from a slow and suspenseful pace to the intentional and ever-changing point-of-view shots, and acts as an ideal bridge between the director’s more demure films from previous decades and his grittier projects in the years that followed.
More recently, the film has become known for its behind-the-scenes drama. The movie’s leading lady (and my namesake) Tippi Hedren has since come forward with her own frightening accounts from filming,including the very real terror she felt when some of the mechanical crows were swapped out for living birds in the climactic attic scene.
Why are the birds acting so strangely? The answer is never explicitly revealed, and there’s nothing more frightening than the unknown.
This movie, as well as Tippi Hedren’s brave performance, teaches us that sometimes it’s best to lean into what’s scary, embrace the mysterious. Only then, amid a whirlwind of uncertainty and fear, can we begin to reach understanding.
16
Before
Oliver and I hadbeen dating nearly nine months before I invited him to Sunday brunch at Marmee’s house. It was the first time I’d introduced her to one of my boyfriends.
Ava, Constance, and Marlowe often goaded me for my lack of transparency when it came to my love life, speculating the reason most of my relationships failed to launch was that I didn’t give them the proper boost. I made no attempt to enmesh my romantic partners into the other aspects of my life: work, family, friends. Constance provided a slew of subconscious reasons for my tendency to construct walls, some of which rang true more than others.
When it came to Marmee, the reason I’d never introduced her to my past lovers was purely out of respect. Sunday brunch was sacred. I only missed the meal when I was traveling. Otherwise, rain or shine, in sickness or in health, I made it a point to visit her, and the last thing I wanted to do was cloud our time together talking about men, or worse, forcing uncomfortable conversation between my newest boyfriend and my grandmother.
With Oliver, things were different. He’d moved into my apartmentafter only six months of dating, a logical decision considering we spent almost every night together and I resented the trek out to his place in Brooklyn, the lease for which was due to end. He worked as a salesman for a wholesaler. Occasionally, he’d work from the apartment, but most of his time was spent in an office building in Midtown. Once a month, he’d travel to various locations to meet with colleagues for conventions or team-building exercises.
At first, the business trips felt like a gift. I understood the seriousness of our relationship, and the gravity of my feelings toward him, when I started to miss him. I’d wait impatiently by the door, always eager to see him and whatever kitschy souvenir he’d brought back—a shot glass from Chicago, a magnet from Baltimore.
That stabbing pain in my chest was what prompted me to finally introduce him to Marmee. I wouldn’t dismiss my feelings as I had so many times before. I was in love.
When we arrived, Marmee was in the conservatory, sitting beneath a shiny pane of glass, absorbing as much sunlight as possible. The weather was unusually warm for late fall. Sun-drenched soil scented the air.
“Marmee, there’s someone I’d like you to meet.” Oliver, behind me, squeezed my hand as we approached. “This is my boyfriend.”
