I : The A-List
My life was a life to be lived by most girls, only in their wildest dreams. In my youth I was unlike other children. For one thing, my parents were happily married. I was born into the upper suburban class. My father the leading CEO of a thriving business, and my mother and art teacher. It was from her that I acquired a flair and passion for art. At sixteen years old, I was awarded a scholarship to one of the finest art schools in Europe.
It was a dream to study there! I was immersed into a world full of life, brilliance and love. It was in this place of magic that I learned of my potential. I discovered that not only the world around me possessed beauty but I did as well. I was discovered by a photographer. We ran into each other quite literally while marvelling over the works of Da Vinci in France. I'm inclined to believe we fell in love at first sight, or perhaps first collision. It was a whirlwind romance, and we were quickly engaged. During our two-year engagement he thrust me into a new world, the world of fashion. So, it is for this I am grateful for. Two weeks before our wedding, it was called off. We split up for, how shall I say, "artistic" differences. He left me with an amazing career. He…left me; and I grew up.
It was four o'clock in the morning and after a day filled with promotional parties and the like I was more than ready to go to bed. Here's the problem, the louse leaning in my doorframe just couldn't take the hint.
" Thank you…again…for a lovely evening but I have to catch an early flight in the morning." I said gently while attempting to ease my door shut, " So, goodnight."
" Come on be-u-ti-ful," he slurred," the party hasn't even begun yet. Think abou' it. I'll make it worth your while." He finished, I suppose he was trying to sound suggestive while stroking my arm, but to me it sounded like gurgling. During his incoherent speech he had been edging his way through the semi-closed door.
Inwardly I sighed. Were all men in New York the same? Were they like this all over the world? Silly question, I already knew the answer to that. They all seemed to think that after four dates with a woman they had leave to get into her bed. Yet with a model, they seemed to think that there was an easy pass lane or something. Four hours apparently was the equivalent of four dates. Using their rationality, four hours with a model was more than sufficient, so the deal was sealed. Not with this model. Not with me.
" I don't want to be harsh," I said, irritation creeping into my voice," but I'm surprised that you haven't passed out by now. You drank more than a fish possibly can. I doubt at this point you can remember your own name, let alone mine."
" Oh honeybear! Of course I remember your name." He just simply wouldn't give up. Normally I would have been kinder in dealing with the slob; chalking his behaviour up to his state of intoxication or sheer stupidity but I was tired, my feet hurt, and I really didn't like people who thought I was easy. I glared at him as he slurred over different names." Ally-son, Nana, no wait, Anna?"
" Do you mind if I speak very frankly?" Not waiting for an answer, I continued," You will not be staying the night as the park is closed. Nor will you ever stay any other night for that matter. Now my advice to you sir, is that you go home, and drink water along with some Advil unless you want to find yourself bowing down to the porcelain god in the morning. Good night." That being said, I shut the door with a sharp snap, not really caring that I left the shmuck in the hall. He'd either go home or pass out in the hall. Like I said, I didn't care. After locking the door, I forced my poor feet to walk just a little further through my spacious uptown apartment. This time I allowed a sigh to escape my lips when I caught sight of my California king water bed. There were perks to being one of the world's most sought after super models.
Reaching my bedside, I kicked off my four-inch Manolo Blaniks and shimmed out of my size two Chloe dress; I didn't bother picking it up off the floor before crawling into bed in my underwear. Rolling over, I looked at the vast expanse of Egyptian cotton beside me. It shouldn't be like this. I of all people, should not be alone. I always had people telling me how smart I was, how funny, sweet, pretty. I'm not conceited, simply stating the facts. To top it off, I was rich, and on the A-list. Yet, in total honesty, I would give it all up and take up a bohemian lifestyle okay so I wouldn't give up my original Monet and my Manolo's and Jimmy Choos would be difficult to part with, but I could do it, if I had him.
" Stop it!" I scolded myself aloud. I'm twenty-four and I should be over him. God knows how I spent a small fortune in therapy for three years. Yet even after three years I had to resist the urge to hurl a water glass at a wall or cry. Maybe I should have stuck with it for another year. " No. Enough." I said aloud once again." I'm over tired, I have an early day tomorrow, and I'm talking to myself. Great." Despite having to repeat the first part of my new mantra several times over, I finally managed to unclench my fists from my sheets, leaving them slightly wrinkled, and rolled over to pull the chord on my lamp.
Closing my eyes, I was able to banish thoughts of him from my mind, but another thought lingered until slumber claimed me.
It's lonely at the top.