Norma Jean Moffitt Character Analysis

Leroy Moffitt’s wife, Norma Jean, is working on her pectorals. She lifts three-pound dumbbells to warm up, then progresses to a twenty-pound barbell. Standing with her legs apart, she reminds Leroy of Wonder Woman.

“I’d give anything if I could just get these muscles to where they’re real hard,” says Norma Jean.

“They won’t let you build a log cabin in any of the new sub­divisions,” Norma Jean tells him.

“They will if I tell them it’s for you,” he says, teasing her. Ever since they were married, he has promised Norma Jean he would build her a new home one day. They have always rented, and the house they live in is small and nondescript. It does not even feel like a home, Leroy realizes now.

Norma Jean is often startled to find Leroy at home, and he thinks she seems a little disappointed about it. Per­haps he reminds her too much of the early days of their marriage, before he went on the road. They had a child who died as an infant, years ago. They never speak about their memories of Randy, which have almost faded, but now that Leroy is home all the time, they sometimes feel awkward around each other, and Leroy wonders if one of them should mention the child. He has the feeling that they are waking up out of a dream together—that they must create a new marriage, start afresh.

Leroy remembers Norma Jean standing catatonically beside him in the hospital and himself think­ing: Who is this strange girl? He had forgotten who she was.

Mabel is talking about Shiloh, Tennessee. For the past few years, she has been urging Leroy and Norma Jean to visit the Civil War battleground there. Mabel went there on her honeymoon—the only real trip she ever took. Her husband died of a perforated ulcer when Norma Jean was ten, but Mabel, who was accepted into the United Daughters of the Confederacy in 1975, is still preoccupied with going back to Shiloh.

Leroy used to tell hitchhikers his whole life story—about his travels, his hometown, the baby. […] In time, he had the feeling that he’d been telling the same story over and over to the same hitchhikers. He quit talking to hitch­ hikers when he realized how his voice sounded—whining and self-pitying… […] Now Leroy has the sudden impulse to tell Norma Jean about himself, as if he had just met her. They have known each other so long they have for­gotten a lot about each other. They could become reacquainted.

Later, she says to Leroy, “She just said that about the baby be­cause she caught me smoking. She’s trying to pay me back.”

“What are you talking about?” Leroy says, nervously shuffling blueprints.

“You know good and well,” Norma Jean says. She is sitting in a kitchen chair with her feet up and her arms wrapped around her knees. She looks small and helpless. She says, “The very idea, her bringing up a subject like that! Saying it was ne­glect.”

Something is happening. Norma Jean is going to night school. She has graduated from her six-week body-building course and now she is taking an adult-education course in composition at Paducah Community College. She spends her evenings outlin­ing paragraphs.

“First you have a topic sentence,” she explains to Leroy. “Then you divide it up. Your secondary topic has to be con­nected to your primary topic.”

To Leroy, this sounds intimidating. “I was never any good in English,” he says.

She sits at the kitchen table, concen­trating on her outlines, while Leroy plays with his log house plans, practicing with a set of Lincoln Logs. The thought of get­ting a truckload of notched, numbered logs scares him, and he wants to be prepared. As he and Norma Jean work together at the kitchen table, Leroy has the hopeful thought that they are sharing something, but he knows he is a fool to think this. Norma Jean is miles away. He knows he is going to lose her. Like Mabel, he is just waiting for time to pass.

“Your name means ‘the king,”’ Norma Jean says to Leroy that evening. He is trying to get her to go to Shiloh, and she is read­ing a book about another century.

“Well, I reckon I ought to be right proud.”

“I guess so.”

“Am I still king around here?”

Norma Jean flexes her biceps and feels them for hardness. “I’m not fooling around with anybody, if that’s what you mean,” she says.

“Would you tell me if you were?”

“I don’t know.”

“What does your name mean?”

“It was Marilyn Monroe’s real name.”

“No kidding!”

“Norma comes from the Normans. They were invaders,” she says.

At Shiloh, she drives aim­lessly through the park, past bluffs and trails and steep ravines. Shiloh is an immense place, and Leroy cannot see it as a battleground. It is not what he expected. He thought it would look like a golf course. Monuments are everywhere, showing through the thick clusters of trees. Norma Jean passes the log cabin Mabel mentioned. It is surrounded by tourists looking for bullet holes.

“That’s not the kind of log house I’ve got in mind,” says Leroy apologetically.

“She won’t leave me alone—you won’t leave me alone.” Norma Jean seems to be crying, but she is looking away from him. “I feel eighteen again. I can’t face that all over again.” She starts walking away.

General Grant, drunk and furious, shoved the Southerners back to Corinth, where Mabel and Jet Beasley were married years later, when Mabel was still thin and good-looking. The next day, Mabel and Jet visited the battleground, and then Norma Jean was born, and then she married Leroy and they had a baby, which they lost, and now Leroy and Norma Jean are here at the same battleground. Leroy knows he is leaving out a lot. He is leaving out the insides of history. History was always just names and dates to him. It occurs to him that building a house out of logs is similarly empty—too simple. And the real inner workings of a marriage, like most of history, have escaped him.

Leroy gets up to follow his wife, but his good leg is asleep and his bad leg still hurts him. Norma Jean is far away, walking rapidly toward the bluff by the river, and he tries to hobble toward her. Some children run past him, screaming noisily. Norma Jean has reached the bluff, and she is looking out over the Tennessee River. Now she turns toward Leroy and waves her arms. Is she beckoning to him? She seems to be doing an exercise for her chest muscles. The sky is unusually pale—the color of the dust ruffle Mabel made for their bed.

Leroy Moffitt’s wife, Norma Jean, is working on her pectorals. She lifts three-pound dumbbells to warm up, then progresses to a twenty-pound barbell. Standing with her legs apart, she reminds Leroy of Wonder Woman.

“I’d give anything if I could just get these muscles to where they’re real hard,” says Norma Jean.

“They won’t let you build a log cabin in any of the new sub­divisions,” Norma Jean tells him.

“They will if I tell them it’s for you,” he says, teasing her. Ever since they were married, he has promised Norma Jean he would build her a new home one day. They have always rented, and the house they live in is small and nondescript. It does not even feel like a home, Leroy realizes now.

Norma Jean is often startled to find Leroy at home, and he thinks she seems a little disappointed about it. Per­haps he reminds her too much of the early days of their marriage, before he went on the road. They had a child who died as an infant, years ago. They never speak about their memories of Randy, which have almost faded, but now that Leroy is home all the time, they sometimes feel awkward around each other, and Leroy wonders if one of them should mention the child. He has the feeling that they are waking up out of a dream together—that they must create a new marriage, start afresh.

Leroy remembers Norma Jean standing catatonically beside him in the hospital and himself think­ing: Who is this strange girl? He had forgotten who she was.

Mabel is talking about Shiloh, Tennessee. For the past few years, she has been urging Leroy and Norma Jean to visit the Civil War battleground there. Mabel went there on her honeymoon—the only real trip she ever took. Her husband died of a perforated ulcer when Norma Jean was ten, but Mabel, who was accepted into the United Daughters of the Confederacy in 1975, is still preoccupied with going back to Shiloh.

Leroy used to tell hitchhikers his whole life story—about his travels, his hometown, the baby. […] In time, he had the feeling that he’d been telling the same story over and over to the same hitchhikers. He quit talking to hitch­ hikers when he realized how his voice sounded—whining and self-pitying… […] Now Leroy has the sudden impulse to tell Norma Jean about himself, as if he had just met her. They have known each other so long they have for­gotten a lot about each other. They could become reacquainted.

Later, she says to Leroy, “She just said that about the baby be­cause she caught me smoking. She’s trying to pay me back.”

“What are you talking about?” Leroy says, nervously shuffling blueprints.

“You know good and well,” Norma Jean says. She is sitting in a kitchen chair with her feet up and her arms wrapped around her knees. She looks small and helpless. She says, “The very idea, her bringing up a subject like that! Saying it was ne­glect.”

Something is happening. Norma Jean is going to night school. She has graduated from her six-week body-building course and now she is taking an adult-education course in composition at Paducah Community College. She spends her evenings outlin­ing paragraphs.

“First you have a topic sentence,” she explains to Leroy. “Then you divide it up. Your secondary topic has to be con­nected to your primary topic.”

To Leroy, this sounds intimidating. “I was never any good in English,” he says.

She sits at the kitchen table, concen­trating on her outlines, while Leroy plays with his log house plans, practicing with a set of Lincoln Logs. The thought of get­ting a truckload of notched, numbered logs scares him, and he wants to be prepared. As he and Norma Jean work together at the kitchen table, Leroy has the hopeful thought that they are sharing something, but he knows he is a fool to think this. Norma Jean is miles away. He knows he is going to lose her. Like Mabel, he is just waiting for time to pass.

“Your name means ‘the king,”’ Norma Jean says to Leroy that evening. He is trying to get her to go to Shiloh, and she is read­ing a book about another century.

“Well, I reckon I ought to be right proud.”

“I guess so.”

“Am I still king around here?”

Norma Jean flexes her biceps and feels them for hardness. “I’m not fooling around with anybody, if that’s what you mean,” she says.

“Would you tell me if you were?”

“I don’t know.”

“What does your name mean?”

“It was Marilyn Monroe’s real name.”

“No kidding!”

“Norma comes from the Normans. They were invaders,” she says.

At Shiloh, she drives aim­lessly through the park, past bluffs and trails and steep ravines. Shiloh is an immense place, and Leroy cannot see it as a battleground. It is not what he expected. He thought it would look like a golf course. Monuments are everywhere, showing through the thick clusters of trees. Norma Jean passes the log cabin Mabel mentioned. It is surrounded by tourists looking for bullet holes.

“That’s not the kind of log house I’ve got in mind,” says Leroy apologetically.

“She won’t leave me alone—you won’t leave me alone.” Norma Jean seems to be crying, but she is looking away from him. “I feel eighteen again. I can’t face that all over again.” She starts walking away.

General Grant, drunk and furious, shoved the Southerners back to Corinth, where Mabel and Jet Beasley were married years later, when Mabel was still thin and good-looking. The next day, Mabel and Jet visited the battleground, and then Norma Jean was born, and then she married Leroy and they had a baby, which they lost, and now Leroy and Norma Jean are here at the same battleground. Leroy knows he is leaving out a lot. He is leaving out the insides of history. History was always just names and dates to him. It occurs to him that building a house out of logs is similarly empty—too simple. And the real inner workings of a marriage, like most of history, have escaped him.

Leroy gets up to follow his wife, but his good leg is asleep and his bad leg still hurts him. Norma Jean is far away, walking rapidly toward the bluff by the river, and he tries to hobble toward her. Some children run past him, screaming noisily. Norma Jean has reached the bluff, and she is looking out over the Tennessee River. Now she turns toward Leroy and waves her arms. Is she beckoning to him? She seems to be doing an exercise for her chest muscles. The sky is unusually pale—the color of the dust ruffle Mabel made for their bed.