Brian is also a model. They met
at a runway show in New York, both represented by New York-Elite. The agency
was ecstatic they were dating. They loved the free publicity. Pictures
of the two of them were on the front of every rag. Unfortunately, not all
photos were flattering. Several caught them leaving nightclubs, drunk and
sweaty. The agency would send pubs professional shots, hoping to avoid
the candids snapped by the paparazzi. They rarely were used. People like
to witness others caught unaware.
Of course after three years, the frequency
of the photographs has decreased. Their pictures still appear when a special
event occurs, but not as often. A lasting relationship with no obvious
problems is not interesting. Fortunately, Brian is just as concerned with
image as she is.
Theirs is a rocky marriage, but no matter
how miserable they get, it remains private. Her mother still believes it’s
a match made in heaven. They can be having a blow out in the limo, Brian
enraged, kicking in the TV screen or shattering his glass against the tinted
window. But when the limo stops and the doors open, they hold hands and
smile. They are golden like early morning urine.
She still has time to exercise. She will skip
the breakfast served in the main house. The pamphlet describes a farm breakfast
consisting of omelets, bacon, sausage, hotcakes, fried potatoes, grits,
and baked apples with granola and whipped cream. It disgusts her to envision
how her body would process each bite of fat. It is no shock Americans are
so fleshy. Occasionally, she will indulge herself with food, but
this displeases Brian. His preference is for her to starve herself rather
than pop blood vessels puking. Her eyes puff out, and besides she pukes
loudly. It’s hard for him to ignore.
As the cabin’s floor is hard wood, she plants
herself on the rug in front of the fireplace for her isolation exercises.
She doesn’t bother dressing. The soft texture of the rug beneath her reminds
her of when she and Brian were first together. They would spend whole days
naked. It was Brian’s idea. “If we can’t be comfortable with our bodies,
who can?” Brian is more than comfortable with his body. He spends hours
examining his portfolio. He is unable to pass his reflection without stopping.
Once, after a magazine shoot, the photographer airbrushed his pectorals
to give them more volume. He fumed for days, “What did that skinny asshole
know?” He went on a lifting rampage, not satisfied until he increased his
chest by half an inch.
In their duplex in Monaco, he decorated the
exercise room in pastel colors, with floor length mirrors intermixed with
life size black and whites of himself. He entitled the room, “Willful Excellence”
and ordered a plaque made to hang outside the door. Her secret name for
this room is “Hopeless Self-absorption.” Still, she was disappointed when
there was no room dedicated to her.
Back in the bathroom, she reaches in her makeup
bag to retrieve her birth control pills. She wants to swallow it now before
she forgets and Brian enters the cabin. She is forbidden to take them.
They are trying to start a family. Brian says it’s time; otherwise, people
will speculate as to his sexual preference. Her pills are not there. She
knows she packed them. She is struck with an uneasy feeling. Has Brian
gone through her things?
He used to rummage through her things when
they were first together. He’d search for hints of her deceiving him. After
confronting her with evidence, slips of paper with phone numbers or used
tickets to a show, she proved him wrong, usually by calling the number
or the friend. He would defensively justify his actions saying he needs
to trust her. They spent so much time away from one another. It would hurt
both their images if they were caught screwing other people. She knows
she should have been angry with him, but instead she felt flattered, watched
over and taken care of.
She contemplates what it would mean if Brian
has discovered the pills. She rarely disobeys him. Brian has only hit her
once. Usually he takes his anger out on objects. He knows if he selects
the right one to smash or hurl across the room, it is just as if he had
done it to her. One time she failed to arrive from Paris in time to attend
an award’s ceremony where he was nominated for Male Model of the Year.
It wasn’t her fault. Weather problems caused the plane to circle La Guardia
for over three hours. He arrived home from the event, empty-handed. Somehow
he blamed her. He went to the bedroom and retrieved a music box her grandmother
had bequeathed to her. She screamed when she noticed what he carried in
his hands. He picked up the umbrella by the door and proceeded to bash
the music box to pieces. After the first blow, the music began to play,
distorted and injured. Smiling at her between each blow, he hit the box
over and over until the music finally stopped.
Honorable Mention - Life Drawing
Black and White One
Bill Wetherill
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The only time he hit
her was early in their marriage. She was reading an article listing the
top moneymakers in the industry. She jokingly pointed out she was listed
five spots ahead of him. Without warning, he backhanded her across her
face and practically knocked her off her chair.
Shocked and surprised, she locked herself
in the bathroom for the rest of the night. In the morning, she emerged
with a fat lip and canceled her photo shoot. She swore to him that she
would divorce him before he caused her to lose work again. He seemed truly
sorry and for the next few weeks was so sweet toward her. Those were the
happiest weeks in their marriage.
She continues to search. The pills are not
there. Although she agreed to get pregnant, she does not want a baby. Other
models had children, but they lost their edge. They reduced their schedules
and rarely traveled out of the country. Brian’s life wouldn’t change. His
career would not be at risk. Anyway, she could not disfigure her body.
She went to a baby shower for Amber, a model friend, who was almost nine
months along. Lifting her shirt, Amber showed them her protruding stomach,
laughing as she rubbed it. It was grossly huge, bulging like some tumor
gone haywire. She was shocked Amber would show off her hideous body. When
Amber returned to work six months later, her abdomen resembled a New York
City roadmap. No more swimsuit shoots for her. On that day Bente swore
she would never bear a child.
Besides, what would she do with a kid? Her
own childhood was miserable. Her name was Suzette Dukes. The agency asked
her to change it to something sounding more Scandinavian, not so trailer
park. They renamed her Bente Jorgensen, to match her blonde hair and blue
eyes. She approved the change. She wanted to forget who she was and where
she came from, which was, in fact, a trailer in Toronto, Iowa. Her father,
an alcoholic, had trouble keeping a job. Her mother worked in a convenience
store. Her father often came home drunk. Her mother would nag, yell, and
avoid him, all with the same result. The next morning her mother applied
extra makeup to cover her cuts and bruises. On these mornings, her mother
would swear she was leaving him. He would be sorry he ever laid a hand
on her. But she never went anywhere. Then one day, her mother got lucky.
After one of his drinking binges, her father wrapped his car around a telephone
pole. The police informed them he was dead on impact and never felt a thing.
Bente always thought her father’s death was unfair. He should have felt
something. He should felt all of it.
Sighing deeply as she steps into the shower,
Bente wishes for her mother’s luck. Divorce is not an option with Brian,
but how agreeable a fatal accident would be. She pictures herself at his
funeral, whispers of sympathy in her ear, embraces of support to assuage
her grief. “My love is gone…” her eulogy would open. Staring into the crowd
of tear-stained faces, she would vow to go on, not because her life meant
anything anymore, but because Brian would have wanted it that way.
Walking into the stables, she notices Brian
waiting. She inhales slowly, not knowing what to expect. He walks to her
and wraps his arms around her, gently lifting her off her feet. She braces
herself, ready for his pressure to increase around her frame. Instead,
he sets her down and kisses her nose softly. She is surprised, but once
free from his embrace, she notices a tourist indiscreetly snapping photos.
She smiles up at Brian and gently strokes his cheek with her hand.
Brian chooses a small trail ride along the
cliffs overlooking the ocean. The instructor has her horse ready. They
call him Granddad and use him for novice riders. Although nervous, she
allows them to help her mount and to lead her out of the stables.
The trail follows close to the cliff’s edge.
Occasionally she moves close enough to view the jagged rocks below. She
imagines Brian’s body twisted and mangled, his head oozing into the water.
It would not be too difficult. She could photograph him on the edge, urging
him to take just one more step backward. She has heard of people dying
this way in the Grand Canyon. “He died doing what he loved,” she would
add to the eulogy.
“I wish I brought my camera,”
she offers to Brian.
“I know, what a great backdrop.
Let’s come back after lunch.” he responds.
Once she has made the decision, she
remains remarkably calm. They eat lunch in the main house. Brian acts strangely
pleasant, so much so she figures she forgot the pills at home. He has no
knowledge of them after all. But that doesn’t matter anymore. She has a
plan. They laugh and hold hands throughout the meal. Across the room, the
tourist sits with his camera. His photos will document how happy they were
to the end. Just hours before his death, they were so obviously in love.
Back on the trail, they hike without
horses. Her camera hangs on a strap around her neck. They reach the edge
of the cliff. Bente walks along the edge, searching for a spot where the
rocks below are the most jagged. She couldn’t spend the rest of her life
taking care of an invalid. As she leans over, something hits her back.
Off balance, she falls forward. Reaching out, she catches the side of the
cliff. Brian quickly reaches over for her hand, and she is saved. She gratefully
stares up at him, and his face forms a smile. The same twisted smile he
wears before he breaks something. She gasps, “Please Brian.”
And she is falling. |
