“You’re right. It’s perfect.” I turned and looked at her, steeling myself. “Okay. Let’s do this.”
I tried to keep my nerves under wraps as I walked back towards where everyone was still waiting. The nerves were wreaking havoc with my morning sickness, playing off each other, each one making the other worse and more intolerable.
I walked into the room with far more confidence than I felt.
“Change of plans everyone. The original model isn’t going to make it, but it’s okay because we have a replacement. Ta da!” I held out my hands and everyone turned to stare blankly at me.
“Me! It’s me. I’m the replacement model.”
Imelda – aka dragon lady – strutted towards me, her clipboard still in hand. She looked me up and down and in that one quick moment I felt judged, as if she had found and identified and catalogued every tiny flaw or foible.
“This is highly unconventional.” She said, still giving me that criticizing look.
“Well, I am highly unconventional,” I returned with a smile, trying to soften her, but if anything, her expression drew even sharper as if she’d been sucking on a lemon while I’d been having my breakdown and miraculous makeover in the back.
“Let’s go people!” Imelda said with a clap so sharp I jumped at the sound of it. Without another word she turned and strutted away again and I shared a helpless shrug with Heather before heading towards the photographer.
I sent him a smile, hoping to gain at least one ally but he barely even acknowledged me at all as he gathered his camera and snapped at his two assistants who scurried to do his bidding.
“Uh, where is everyone going?”
“The garden.” One of the assistants said after it became obvious that no one else was going to answer my question.
“Outside?”
“They want the photoshoot in the park just outside.”
“Outside?” I repeated again, softer this time, and full of dread, but there was nothing for me to do except what Thalia told me. Chin up. Shoulders back. Nothing could defeat me.
I repeated that to myself as my nausea continued to batter at me and I had to swallow hard several times as the photographer directed me to where he wanted me to stand.
I struck my first pose, the lights started flashing, and then the questions came, so fast I barely had time to answer them before Imelda the dragon lady was tossing another one at me.
What makes your designs unique?
What do you think you’ll achieve in the industry?
Why are your designs innovative?
What’s wrong with the way things are now? Why are you so adamant about changing them?
I stopped at turned towards Imelda. “What’s wrong with the industry now? There are so many ways that it is wrong!”
“Turn this way. No towards me.” The photographer directed me and I turned away from Imelda, still trying to answer her question.
“It isn’t inclusive. We are seeing more diversity, slowly but it’s too slow in my opinion. Fashion is for everyone. It should be for everyone, not just for those with a certain body type.”
“Stop talking please.” The photographer droned and I shot him a glare as Imelda, who had now officially earned Heather’s title of dragon lady, kept pelting me with interview questions. Back and forth it went, making my head spin just trying to keep up with everything.
Frustration and nerves filled me, along with bile, and the more they both pushed and prodded me the worse the nausea grew until I had to slap a hand over my mouth. I needed a bathroom, now!
Oh hell, I wasn’t going to make it. A private bush would suffice at this point. I turned, desperately looking for something, someplace where my morning sickness wasn’t going to get caught on camera.
I stumbled a few feet out of the frame of the camera, and bend over just as the muffin I’d had for lunch came tumbling back out again. It wasn’t until I opened my eyes and took a step back that I wished I could close them again and just disappear right there and then. I hadn’t made it to a private bush. In my blind stumbling, I’d stopped right in front of none other than Imelda and her Jimmy Choo’s were decorated now with the leftovers of my breakfast.
“Oh my god. Oh my god, I am so sorry, Imelda. I haven’t been…I’ve been…I’m…” I trailed off, already knowing there was nothing I could say to make this any better. Imelda turned and stalked away without a word and a wave of dizziness hit me as I took a step back, then another, too lost in my own embarrassment to hear Heather’s cry of warning.
I felt the earth tip beneath me and then heard the splash but I was in too much shock to realize what had happened until Heather was there, pulling me out of the shallow pond. Mortified to the tips of my toes I couldn’t even make myself look over where the rest of the crew was staring at me in absolute silence.
My dress was soaked and I could feel water slosh in my boots with every step.
“Come here, girl. Let me fix you up.” Heather said gently as she attempted to fix my running makeup.
“What’s the point? This whole thing is…it’s pointless. It’s ruined.”
“Hey!”
I looked up at the sharp tone in Heather’s voice.
“How hard have you worked to get here?”
“I ended up in the hospital. That’s how hard I worked.”
“And do you believe what you told Imelda? How fashion is for everyone? Do you really want to change things?”
“Yes, I do. I know what it feels like to feel unpretty, to feel ugly in your own skin. I know how powerful style can be for self-expression. I believe in that.”
“And are you pissed? That this isn’t going the way you wanted?”
“That’s an understatement,” I snorted. But she was right. I was pissed. I worked so hard for this moment, I deserved it. “I’m pissed.”
“Good. Then use it.” She dabbed a last bit of lipstick on, dark rich red this time, “then go show them. Prove them all wrong. Change is always hard, Poppy. But you can make that change happen. You just can’t give up.”
I looked at Heather, but it wasn’t her I was seeing. It was my own mom, comforting me, drying my tears after some of my school mates had called me fat and ugly and had made fun of my second hand, ill-fitting clothes.
She told me then that I could do whatever I wanted to do, be who ever I wanted to be in life, it just took work. If I was willing to do the work, I could make any of my dreams come true. Little Poppy had believed her then, and I still believed her now.
My hands fell over my stomach. At Nate’s insistence I’d gone to the doctor to get another pregnancy test and found out I was nearly eight weeks pregnant. I was going to be a mom in a little over seven months, and I didn’t know a lot about parenting but I knew one thing. I was going to tell my child the same thing my mother had told me. Go after your dreams. They are all possible if you’re willing to do the work. Show up for yourself, be true to who you are in the inside, no matter what anyone else says.
I knew I couldn’t back down. I couldn’t run away and hide like a wanted to. Because I wanted to be someone my child could look up to, that they could be proud of and learn from. What kind of lesson would it be, if I let a little trouble hold me back?
I nodded at the photographer.
“I have a new idea for the cover pose.”
The rest of the photoshoot went past in a blur. I was still embarrassed as hell and as soon as the photographer called a wrap, I fled the park. I walked down the street and it wasn’t until I found myself in front of a large, familiar, gated house that I realized where I was.
I was right in front of Nate’s grandmother’s house. Without thinking, well, honestly thinking of nothing but escaping, I walked up the steps and grabbed the brass knocker.
I stood there, in front of the big, lacquered door and shivered, partially from the cold damp water still dripping from the dress, chilling my body but even more from the awful mortifying dread that I was pretty sure was just a permanent fixture
inside me now. Like the bright red embarrassed blush on my cheeks and the ten pound weight in my stomach that felt like it would drag me down to the ground.
I knocked again, holding my breath and holding back my tears at the same time. After an eternity the door answered and Nate’s grandma stood there, looking as regal as the last time I’d seen her only now she was staring at me with wide-eyed shock.
“What the hell happened to you, girl?”
21
Poppy
“It’s a long story.” Actually, it wasn’t. It was a pretty short story. I screwed up. I embarrassed myself. I threw up on the director of Open House Magazine. I fell into a koi pond. My career was over. There, I could actually sum it up pretty succinctly.
“Come in. Come in.” Isabel drew back so I could step inside, but she stopped when she got a better look at me in the light of the marble foyer. “Better yet, why don’t you stay right there while I get you a towel, or a squeegee.”
“Thanks.” I said gratefully, still huddled in on myself shivering. At least I couldn’t possibly be any more embarrassed than I already was. Nate’s grandmother disappeared up the spiraling staircase, reappearing a few minutes later with the towel and a pile of clothes.
“I wasn’t sure what would fit you so I just grabbed a few things. As lovely as that dress is, I thought you might want to get into some dry clothes. Also, I won’t have you dripping all over my chase.”
I snorted out a laugh as I toweled off my hair and dripping limbs as much as possible before heading to the nearest bathroom with the borrowed clothes. Turns out Nate’s grandma leaned towards loose and oversized kaftans and I gratefully peeled off the soggy lace and chiffon and wrapped myself in the soft fabric.
A grimace flew across my face when I caught sight of myself in the mirror and wished I hadn’t. No wonder Nate’s grandma had looked at me like something the cat had dragged in. Her least favorite cat, at that.
I tried my best to get rid of the dark smudges of eyeliner and mascara that had made black streaks down my face but even my best efforts left a shadow behind. I used Isabel’s sweet and citrusy smelling soup, guiltily reveling in the luxurious fragrance as I lathered a small towel to try and get the rest of the make up off.
I took one look at the rat’s nest of my hair and didn’t even attempt to tame it. There was no use. Without a bottle of detangling spray and my premium conditioner, the only thing I could do is tie it into an even bigger knotted mess.
When I felt a little more in control, and like I didn’t look like a drowned barbie doll, I walked back out into the foyer.
“In here, dear!”
I followed the older woman’s voice until I found her in the sitting room that I had first met her in. It was just as austere and pristine as the first time, too. Nate’s grandmother was sitting in a low backed floral print arm chair and she gestured for me to take a seat on the velvet couch.
I dropped into it gratefully but then felt awkward, not sure what to say, sitting there in her borrowed kaftan. We looked like twins, besides the difference in our age and the fact that she had white hair and I had dark.
“So, are you going to tell me why you showed up on my doorstep soaking wet despite it being a perfectly sunny day outside or should I just try and guess?” She tilted her head, putting a finger to her lips as if she were pondering a great mystery, “Hmm. Were you perhaps pursued by your own personal rain cloud, ala a cartoon character?”
“No.” I said on a choked laugh, “I wish. The truth is…a whole hell of a lot more embarrassing.”
“Don’t make me guess, Poppy. I detest guessing games. Take this tea, be an adult, and tell my why you’re here,” She handed me a tiny porcelain tea cup of which she seemed to have an endless and ever changing supply and softened her words with a kind smile, “Not that I mind you dropping by, much more interesting company than the usual fare, I can tell you.”
I took a tentative sip, instantly calming as the flavors of lavender and mint with just a hint of honey hit my tongue. I took another sip of the delicious tea, more to gather my thoughts than anything else.
“First of all, I am sorry for just barging in on you, I…I had a…situation.”
“I would say that’s putting it mildly,” She snorted, tapping my knee lightly, “I don’t you worry. I love having guests over. This big old house with just me in it. It’s a shame for all of this fabulous decorating to go to waste.”
I smiled again, her irreverent attitude already putting me at ease. And then I remember what had happened to drive me there and the smile faded away.
I told Isabel the whole sad tale. Showing up at the photo shoot without a model in sight, realizing that the model wasn’t going to show and getting talked into stepping into the spotlight once more.
“I think it’s a fantastic idea. Why not be the model for your own brand?”
“That’s pretty much what Thalia said, but…” I trailed off, shaking my head, “It didn’t go…well.”
“What ever does?”
“No, you don’t understand this was…it was tragic.” I shuddered, humiliation once more staining my cheeks at the memory and I buried my face in my tea cup.
“Come now, it couldn’t have been that bad.”
“I threw up on Imelda’s eight hundred dollar shoes.” I whispered into my tea, “Then I fell into the koi pond. In the middle of the park. There were gawkers.”
Isabel gave me a startled look, staring at me for what felt like an eternity. She made me jump when she threw her head back on a sudden, loud barking laugh. She laughed for so long I started to get worried about her but finally, she calmed, her belly laugh mellowing to the occasional hiccupping chuckle as she wiped tears from her eyes.
“You threw up on…Oh my, Imelda that shrew, she was probably livid,” Isabel shook her head, her expression still full of mirth when she finally looked at me again, “That is without a doubt the best thing I’ve heard in some time.”
“The best?” I looked back at her in shock, “If that’s the best, I don’t want to hear the worst.”
“Oh, you really don’t. But I can just imagine the shriveled up look on Imelda’s face. I know her from the board, of course. Not a very pleasant woman under the best of circumstances.” Isabel clapped her hands together in delight, “I wish I could have been there to see it.”
“No, you really don’t,” I said, echoing her. “It wasn’t pretty.”
“Who cares about pretty!” She waved her hand in the air and then caught my look of dismay, “I know it may seem like a disaster now, but just wait. It will all blow over. There will be some other…situation to talk about.”
I hoped she was right.
“I do think this calls for something a tad stronger than tea, though.” She said as she pulled out a small bottle of brandy from the mahogany side table. Nate’s grandma poured a generous splash into her cup of tea, and then leaned over to fill my now empty tea cup but I stopped her.
“No alcohol,” I said distractedly, waving my hand, my mind still on the fiasco that was my day, not sure how I was ever going to be able to step out into public again, “I can’t drink.”
I was so lost in my own miserable thoughts that it wasn’t for several more moments that I realized Isabel was sitting there, motionless, still holding the bottle of brandy mid air.
I glanced over at her curiously and saw her scanning me with her razor sharp gaze that missed nothing. From the top of my knotted bird’s nest of a hair down all the way to the tips of my heeled boots and back up again.
After another minute of deafening silence, she threw her head back and let out a delighted cackled that had me jumping in my seat and sloshing the last of my tea on the back of my hand.
“Oh, this is wonderful.” Nate’s grandma said, clapping her hands before leaning towards me and embracing me in a cloud of expensive perfume as she kissed both of my cheeks. Her hands still had their surprisingly strong grip on my shoulders as she leaned back slightly.
“I am so incredibly happy for you. And Nate of course.” She grabbed her brandy laced tea once more, tilting it towards me in cheers, “Congratulations, dear.”
I stared at her in open confusion.
“For what? Murdering my career in a single morning?”
“No, of course not.” Isabel waved my words away, gesturing to my stomach, “for the baby.”
“How could you know that?!” I gasped and Nate’s grandma let out a devious chuckle.
“Oh, Poppy. I know. If not from the moodiness alone I would have guessed. You don’t strike me as the moody type. And if you’re not imbibing after the day you just had…” She shrugged, giving me a kind smile. “It doesn’t take a genius to figure out that you’re expecting.”
I felt the tears fill my eyes, blurring my vision, and there was nothing I could do to stop them from falling. I wiped at the moisture, fighting to keep the tears at bay.
“I’m sorry,” I said through hiccupping breaths, “It’s just…it’s all so…”
“I know dear.” Isabel said, her voice full of sympathy, “A baby can change your whole life around.” She paused for a moment, “Does Nate know? I’m assuming, of course, that he’s the father?”
Her last word ended on a question mark and I nodded, trying to answer through my tears.
“Nate’s the father. And he knows. He seemed…happy. Really happy.”
“Of course, he is. The boy always wanted a big family. He was a lonely only child,” She paused, laughing softly to herself, “When he was young, he used to make all of the drawings of other kids. He’d cut them out and paint them, put them in school and pretend to be the teacher. He wanted brothers and sisters, but his parents were more than happy to have just one child to take care of. Two would have been an inconvenience to their lifestyle,” Isabel grimaced, but then her expression softened, “and of course, there is also the fact that he’s in love with you.”
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