She's Like The Wind

Birth name: Mary Colleen Cohen 

Nickname(s):  Colly, Col , Candy 

DOB: February 24, 1953 

Starsign: Pisces 

POB: Wilkes Barre, PA @ exactly 2:45AM 

 Parents: Albert and Sylvia Cohen ( a plumber and a dress maker, respectively )

Biological Parents: Zelda Jean Cohen & Francis William Kane ( she raised to believe Zelda was her oldest sister )

Siblings: Two sisters, Zelda Jean and Gela, both much older. 

Height: 5′5′’

Weight: 118

Hair: Dark Brown / Occasionally blonde 

Eye: Green leaning hazel 

Medical Evaluation: 

- Anxiety / Depression

- Mild OCD ( she does things in 3′s. mostly checking doors and flicking lights)

- Oppositional Defiant Disorder ( strictly environmental ) 

* - Recovering Addict - since ‘80 ( after Frank’s death in front of her ) 

Drug(s) of Choice: Cocaine, Marijuana, Quaaludes, LSD

Occupation: 

Go Go Dancer / Cocktail waitress/ weed dealer ( low level ) (formerly) 

Seamstress and personal assistant to her husband when he tours. 

- Owner of the Cherry Bomb clothing label as well as the small boutique of the same name. 

- Former front woman of Coma Girl & The Excitement Gang, known for her short leather skirts, red slash of lipstick and bleached long hair she cut a very intimidating image. The fact that she actually had talent shocked many, her parents included. 

Fast Facts: 

- Sends a check to Zelda once a month but other than that she hears nothing from her. 

- Found out her ‘Older Sister’ was actually her mother when she was 13 years old. She found a photo of Zelda holding her on the day she came home and it was marked ‘Zelda and her baby Mary.’ 

- Her boyfriend, Significant Idiot, Frank ( funny how men named Frank just fuck her life up?)  Od’ed twice in front of her. The first time she didn’t even know his name. She drove him to the hospital and leaned him against the nurse’s station at 3AM. 

Significant Other(s): Francis Flannery ( until his death ) 

- She thinks of him every time she hears Box of Rain and smells the scent of sun dried linen and heady Turkish coffee. She sits on the dock smoking her splif rolled and mixed very carefully with lavender and rose petals hugging the peacoat he left her with staring out at the sea. 

- In turn he thinks of her every time he smells roses or lavender. A lump rises in his throat each time he tastes honey on his tongue mingled with kief and the heady Indica he’s found himself smoking each day. She had shown him how to roll the perfect joint and had watched transfixed by her hands. He smokes it and watches as his dreams of her turn to ash. What was and never could be. She forever moves in his memory as a shifting swirl of bright color.

- He watched her dance like heat lightning to the beat of the band. Untamed and uncaged and free. She was his, for now. In his heart he knew he could never be so selfish as to keep her. 

- He was her rock in the storm when her entire world fell to pieces. He left her with a new foundation and a sense of self. He broke her heart in the process, ultimately not intending to but doing so anyway. He had taught her how to pick up the pieces and move along with the current. 

- He often thinks of her on rainy days usually at dusk on those long drives home from the commute he’s found himself settled into. He pulls up to the house that she would have loved. Sees the flowers in the front yard, complete with two rocking chairs on the front porch. Blazing Stars and Blanket Flowers mingled cheerfully with the sunflowers. He’d even painted the front door red and hung the wind chimes she had left. This would never be her home but she sure as hell haunted every single acre and inch of it.