Take A Look With Your Heart

..the pain woke him abruptly, his face still resting heavily on his right forearm, when he finally awoke and laboriously lifted his head..

His nasal bone hurt.

In his daze, his head fell down on his arm again. With his right index finger he laboriously tried to push away his horn-rimmed glasses, knitted his eyebrows together and finally lifted his head all the way to adjust his glasses.

wha' the..

Still blinded by the spring sun, which kindly threw its rays into the room on the top floor, James finally opened his eyes.

The bright rays brightened his elfin features so much that he had to half cover his forehead with his right palm to be able to see anything.

As his facial muscles gradually relaxed again, he could see the dust particles shimmering in the incoming light, like they were dancing. Two dreamy, almost lost-looking, blue eyes started smiling with the sun and immediately let their attention wander through their small workspace.

They found their peace on the script James had been struggling with for such a long time.

He laid his head heavily into his hands, crossed his long legs and rubbed his right back of hand against the high thinker's forehead.

... In view of the time in which he struggled to learn his text by heart, his head must have drifted off without further ado and - much to his luck - his glasses had remained intact..

There was no accessory on which he was so dependent as on.. his beloved glasses.

He loved, cared for and needed them, as they were his constant companion, wherever it may drew him that day (or at night, when he couldn't sleep again, mmhh..).

---

Strolling down the turning stairs, one of his other faithful companions, accompanied by cheerful meowing, came to meet him on velvet paws.

It was his cream-coloured Siamese cat, it was named after his uncle Marcus, on whose farm the young Jimmy Dean had spent his youth.

Immediately and full of warm-hearted joy, he let himself be courted by Marcus' flatteries and finally lifted him into his arm. His tomcat was something very special (like any cat for any master or mistress) but he was, i mean, really special, just like himself... from him, Marcus received a cat milk specially created especially for him, which was exactly according to his needs –

according to his own recipe à la Jimmy.

James liked to remember how he himself had once been spoiled by his loving mother.

And even though she was gone – for James she was always as present as the hurt he felt while he was deeply missing her.

---

- Mildred Wilson Dean, James Dean's Mum, 15.09.1910 - 14.07.1940 -

Why, mother, why did you have to leave me?

Why you?

Why me..

Nobody ever understood me the way YOU understood me, Maw.

Who am I anyway..

..and where the hell are my roots?

USA? Scotland? Ireland? Or am i a native indian?

Jimmie Dean, the cosmopolitan.. ha ha..

Of course, he was American –

his roots lay in the deepest Indiana.

..but, who cared?... t's only me..

–––

The apartment, which was inhabited by a sensitive soul called James Byron Dean, was situated in the middle of a secluded place, there was a little garden bordering a side street. That side of the garden seemed romantic and its inhabitants let their wild nature speak for itself – as their moods dictated it.

James Dean loved nature and the tremendous power that emanated from it. and so he was seized by the thought that his true roots could only be in her..

It couldn't be otherwise – because he was like her.

Wild, harmonious, then again unruly, sensitive, regenerating..

---

Since his eyes were good for nothing anyway (from his point of view), he tried to listen more to his heart in future and feel what it tried to tell him – even instead of looking – he would take his heart to see things more clearly.

After walking around barefoot in the grass for a few steps, he made himself comfortable on his shabby Hollywood swing, which almost seemed as if she had been standing in this garden for centuries..

"Mew!"

"You're feelen' lonely, huh?.. me too.. do you wanna come up?"

James began, with Marcus on his lap, to push himself off with his toes on the ground and swing back and forth a few times until the poor cat jumped from his lap in amazement - Marcus liked his master's fast car, but swings? Meeew!

James watched him disappearing behind the open window door, he listened to the birds through which the sound of the rushing trees sounded even more harmonious and entangled both hands behind his head.

---

What did you need More than that mystical mood on an fresh autumn afternoon?

Nothen', to say it with Hoosier accent.

Nothing?

One could not have called James Dean a calm spirit by far!

Letting boredom germinate was really repugnant to him..

He needed a life full of speed..

and he kept dreaming, wherever life allowed him to.

---

As the day drew to a close, James or Jimmy, as friends rather called him, decided to end his cosy evening with a visit to "Villa Capri", Patsy d'Amore's popular Hollywood restaurant.

Where big names like Frank Sinatra went in and out, where Sammy Davies Jr.'s told us about the latest Hollywood gossip, where Dean Martin made hilarious jokes and where James Dean as well-known as the night owl who went on speed dates with his Porsche.

At Patsy d'Amore's Villa Capri, famous faces could feel safe from paparazzi – and that's why Hollywood estimated the Villa as their save haven.

- The Villa Capri, Old Hollywood -

James combed his striking hairstyle, took a last look in the mirror and put his leather jacket over himself and kissed his little cat goodbye with a kiss on his wet nose. Marcus purred and stroked him one last time around his legs, then immediately devoted himself to his feeding bowl.

Would this cool cat, who was noone else than his master, would come home hungover again this time..?

---

The Capri's door blew open, and Jimmy Dean entered the ring.

The throbbing of his boots drew the crowd's attention, even though he would have been easily recognized; there could be only one cool Deaner.. The heavy biker boots set the tone for the old, creaking parquet and for that jazz music, for which his heart had always been beating.

But where were all the ladies and gentlemen that night?

The fact that the people stayed away from the Villa bar tonight might be due to the favourable weather conditions, so that every lad would swing onto his moped with his rockabilly chick in tow - to celebrate evening picnic and the sunny golden hours outside under cherry trees and continue the evening on a Lindy Hop Night or the generally popular question "are we going to your place or mine? " Their parents would never be told..

---

At the bar of the Villa Capri James sat down on one of the bar stools with the riveted leather upholstery to greet the bear-strong bartender named Jim.

Finally he could (yeah, at least halfway...) relax... and leaning on his left forearm, he finally allowed himself a sip of his cool malt beer..

The character James Dean was working on, left him no peace. He imagined how wonderful it would be to finally become part of a set again – yet he knew that expectations would be projected on him - The way he would have to put on the make-up on his face, how he would have to walk, to speak, to feel... Then, the script... Wait. Script?

There was nothing he cared less for than a cursed script! If they let him improvise, he was their friend. But if, however, the producers tried to prune his wings, or if this had only already been considered, he could rebel against them. From one torque to another, he would turn into a wild animal and overflow the barrel. He was well known for having to be treated with caution – in the gentle cycle way, so to speak – because everything else often only led to tumultuous arguments, which resulted in undesirable side effects for both the producers and actor.

But enough of that for now..

It wasn't that James was a bad person, although he might have seen himself in this light – all in all he was a man of great charisma, a charisma you couldn't describe, really. It was a charisma you'd also see with your heart, since he had a complicated Charakter. Together with his curved nose and distinctive eyebrows, it was these deep blue eyes that distinguished his charismatic face. And through his retracted shoulders and his movements, which seemed to emerge from nowhere, he also seemed like an unapproachable mystery with a dark disposition... a man with many faces, who could not be pigeonholed easily.

---

Thoughtlessly, James then let his gaze wander through the dimmed lights..

Then, unexpectedly ... his gaze stopped in the room. His breath stopped. His mouth remained open, dry, and his eyes closed instinctively.

He turned to the bar again and looked down on his beer, raised his eyebrows, embraced his chin with his right hand.

..and felt this restlessness sprout up within himself...

It was him.

Indeed.

Sometimes he was his idol, sometimes his great curse... but he would never have been indifferent to him...

Was he drinking brandy? Did he smoke a cigar?

And where was his companion?

None. The man neither drank brandy, nor did he smoke a cigar - nor was there any company. Marlon Brando, completely absorbed in his newspapers, rested in a strange armchair, his right ankle on his left thigh. The newspaper hid most of his face, but the man showed style, suit and tie. James tried to ignore him as much as possible.

Suit.

Tie.

Jimmy Dean and suit did get along as great together as Robin Hood and Sheriff of Nottingham. Napoleon and Kutuzov. Marcus Antonius and...

---

"Jimbo, are you okay, man?"

The bartender Jim blubbered to him, who seemed to watch the whole thing with his gaze. James's answer was sparse. He just gave him a slightly confused look, mumbled something incomprehensible, and then immediately nervously fiddled around with his hands in his lap. Jim grumbled, audibly this time, his eyes twisted, then he shook his head in disbelief.

He had never understood this James Dean before, never would! He was somehow... a strange individual. A dreamdancing free spirit, a restless confusion of languages with Indiana accent...

At any rate, he would dare to say so.

To Jim, who was himself more down-to-earth than most of the country bourgeois, these actors had always given him the creeps!

---

James Dean only gave him that kinda wtf-look, took a Chester, which he then clamped behind his left ear like the most giant western hero of Texas and watched Jim with a cunning look how he enervatedly slammed the kitchen door behind himself..

James could have sworn to have felt something at that very moment - Something only very delicate - had slipped past his left ear...

James swallowed, arched his eyebrows and finally looked shyly up and slightly to the side.

Such an impudent smile...

the cigarette that James was about to catch himself at that moment, was already in the corner of this mouth....

"Good evening, Jimmy".

Brando threw his head with the dark hair in his neck, shrouded an undeserved draught of James cigarette and gave him an annealing, almost arrogant look from his dark, blue eyes. Take a breathe, James thought, turning his gaze inwards and down to Brando's neatly brushed shoes;

why did this heart beat for an antisocial person?

Marlon arched his right eyebrow slightly and in a charming way, grinned only cheekily as he let the cigarette smoke flow down to James' left shoe.

"I used to have them, too. Converse.. But they're too cheap."

James payed his attention to these perfectly polished shoes for a moment and then raised his gaze to lose himself in those charismatic eyes for a moment.

Hi..."

One could still hear a lot of shyness in James' mumbling voice.

Marlon's gaze wandered only briefly to the entrance to watch the pretty brunette in the pink dress leaving the restaurant. He bent slightly back so that he could catch his last glimpse of her, whereupon the girl even turned to him, she seemed to feel flattered and gave him her last smile. To him, she was just another test strip..

No... this man had neither charm nor style.. in short: Marlon Brando had not changed a bit.

James used this moment to examine his counterpart without being intrusive. The actor from 'Desirée' wore his dark hair neatly combed back and the black, probably custom-made suit perfectly matched his shoes. Under his black tie shone a white, classic shirt, quite gentlemanlike - since their last meeting he'd gotten a bit portlier, his chin a little softer - which looked good on him.

Nevertheless, James didn't quite buy the role of the hoody two-shoes-Brando, which was absolutely not him..

He's an actor, just like you..

---

Marlon tilted his head slightly to the side, raised his chin and brought his teasing smile over his face. "Hollywood says, you'll play boxing legend Rocky Graziano."

Instead of an answer, James just nodded, looked down on his beer and sipped on it again.

"You've got the rebellious characters in your blood, have ya?"

"Did you know, Graziano had his license suspended in New York for failing to report a bribe?"

Then James suddenly grinned at him mischievously, squinted his eyes and lit another cigarette.

"Suits you.."

James pushed himself against the theses and laughed. "We'll see... The rehearsals begin tomorrow morning", he drank his beer and slammed his glass on the wooden counter.

"I've gotta go.. a cat's waiten for me..."

He cleared his throat and rubbed his nose. His gaze was turned away.

"Is the name of this kitten.. Ursula Andress?

"You know, with Ursula and me, it's tricky thing...", James chuckled and held his fist with a cigarette between his fingers in front of his mouth.

Wherever they hung out together, he and the Swiss actress were like cat and dog.. no, like two monsters..

Marlon nodded acknowledging, finally thrumming a final bongo rhythm on the counter.

"Nice meeting you here, Dean...

Let's meet here tomorrow night."

His passionate gaze turned from his shoes straight into James' blue eyes. Jimmy smiled, more open this time, arched his brows and finally supported his chin in the palm of his hand. Behind this facade, which was difficult to understand and often playacted, hid a very sensitive, creative heart.. But could it stay hidden, in front of this Marlon Brando, who seemed to see right through him?.. James finally aggreed.

"Seven p.a.?"

"Dinner."

"Deal."

As the door fell into the lock, James peered pensively over the top of his glasses and began to giggle again..

What the heck had he got himself into?

Jim, the bartender, who piled his glasses grumbling again, just shook his head in disbelief.

"These actors..."

---