Lyrical Lights

by Maria La Serra

“Home?” I asked. He gazed at my face lovingly, brushing the hair away.

  “Wherever you are, that’s where my heart lives.”

  “Gloria, do you remember when we first met … sitting next to each other on the plane? You were freaked out because you lost your bracelet, and I found it wedged between the seats. I never told you this, but at that moment I thought—” Tracy began, and Simon and I watched attentively from across the table. Thanks to me, we had made it just in time before Gloria arrived at the restaurant.

  “This girl is a total mess,” Gloria added, and everyone laughed.

  “Yes … maybe a little.” Tracy smiled. “But my first initial thought was … I didn’t know you, but I had this amazing feeling that I wanted you in my life. You’re magic to me … So here we are a few years later, in front of friends and family.” Tracy pulled herself up to stand beside Gloria. “Baby, I’ve been dreaming about this day since the moment I first gazed into your panic-stricken face …” Tracy said, and Gloria let out a little laugh. “But I realized that, even though I found your bracelet, you were the one who came to my rescue.” Gloria put her hand to her face as Tracy pulled the ring out of her pocket and knelt. “Will you marry me?”

  “Oh, my gosh.” Gloria laughed tearfully. “Yes … a million times yes.” They kissed, and everyone clapped and cheered. I felt Simon’s hand tighten around mine. He had been acting so strange since his trip back from L.A., and it made me wonder if Tracy’s proposal had gotten him thinking, because he acted more affectionately throughout the night, I almost felt I could have read his mind.

  Simon and I came out of the restaurant, with the breeze at our backs. It was only the first week of August, but the air had changed, whispering that fall was not far behind. We turned the corner, continuing down the street, with the light poles illuminating our path as we made our way to Simon’s car.

  “I’m so happy for them,” I said, and Simon wrapped an arm around me, nestling me closer to his side.

  “Me too.”

  “They looked so happy, didn’t they?”

  “Gloria knew,” he rumbled.

  “What? No—I thought so at first, but—”

  “Okay, right, didn’t you see the look on her face when we yelled out surprise? I know what Gloria’s shock face looks like, and that wasn’t it.”

  “And how would you know?”

  “I’ve seen it before, and it’s not pretty.” He shrugged. “It looks like this.” He showed me, and I laughed. I wondered about the things he’d done to surprise Gloria. Like the time that Simon had told her that he was paying me out of his own pockets. Even though Simon was strong-minded and opinionated, I liked that fact he always strived to do what was fair. The more things I discovered, the more I fell in love.

  “Maybe you’re right.” I leaned my head onto his shoulder.

  “If I would have known, I wouldn’t have parked so bloody far.”

  “What’s your rush? It’s such a beautiful night for a walk.” I pulled my shawl closer.

  He flashed me a seductive smile. “I wanted to finish what we started back at your apartment.” He kissed the top of my head.

  “Making up for lost time?”

  “You know it.” His eyes glanced down the street before meeting mine again. “Have you ever thought about the future … about us?”

  “As in moving in together?” My eyebrows peaked, figuring it was what he said earlier.

  “Hmm.” He moved his head side to side. “I was thinking about something more.”

  I figured I’d seen something in his eyes when Tracy got up from the table to give a speech back at the restaurant. It was emotional to witness something as beautiful as two people who were meant to be together. It solidified your faith in love and the possibility that it existed for anyone who wanted it.

  “Marriage?” I almost felt stupid saying it out loud, because it would be the last thing he would have on his mind. Right?

  “Hey, don’t panic …” He looked me over. Maybe he saw the sudden hesitation in my eyes. After all, I was still too young to be thinking about marriage.

  “Are you serious? I’m just surprised you thought that far along,” I said.

  “Sure, why not? I’m happy being with you, and I can’t help thinking about wanting more. We could elope … just you and me. We’ll ride to Vegas.” Simon always thought ahead, and this pleased me, knowing he was a man who realized his goals and knew what he wanted. This made me want it more with him. But there was an underlying feeling I couldn’t ignore. Maybe it was too fast.

  “On your motorcycle, from New York to Vegas?” I frowned. That’s so like him, but is it me?

  “Yeah, sure.”

  “That’s a long stretch.”

  “It’d take roughly about thirty-nine hours.” He caught me squinting my face. “Come on, it will be fun. We’ll make stops. Look at it this way. It will be part of our honeymoon on the way back.”

  I appreciated his enthusiasm, but I didn’t picture myself on the open road for that long.

  “No relatives? Oh, that will not go well with our parents.”

  “We could have a small party for our rellies when we come back.”

  “Wow, you really thought about it.” I glanced up at him.

  “I don’t know, it was just an idea.” He cleared his throat. “One day, maybe.”

  “One day,” I said, hopeful.

  “Look.” He suddenly halted, placing his hand on my chin. “I don’t want you to get weird on me … whether it’s in two months or years from now … I don’t care. I need you to know I want to be part of your future, whatever it may be,” he said, seeing through my demeanor.

  This conversation was making me uneasy, but not for the reasons he thought. It was because I didn’t wish for my mind and heart to commit to an idea, only to later be disappointed. We were fresh; our roots hadn’t taken their place just yet. Anything could change at any time. We knew that more than anybody. I kissed him with no reservation, making him understand I was his, and whether it was on paper or not, it didn’t matter to me.

  “How about we take a last-of-the-season road trip this weekend?” He pulled back, taking my hand in his, and we continued on our path. I enjoyed hopping on the back of his bike, wrapping my arms around him, feeling the rush of excitement and the weightlessness as we cut through the open air. I wasn’t thrilled about the prospect of riding across the country, though.

  “Where do you want to go?” I asked, wondering what other crazy ideas he had in his head.

  “Well, my sister has invited us up to her house in the Hamptons. She’s been driving me crazy, and she really wants to meet you—but only if you want. No pressure.”

  “I’m okay with that.” I glanced at him. “I’m excited to meet your sister and her family. Don’t get me wrong, I want to merge our lives together, Simon. I just want to make sure it’s at a pace we’re both comfortable with.”

  “I know.” He nodded and kissed the back of my hand. “I know you love me.”

  “More than anything,” I reassured him.

  “So the only thing we have to figure out tonight is—your place or mine?”

  “Mine,” He said.

  “Okay, but I have an early day tomorrow,” I stopped talking when Simon suddenly paused in his tracks.

  “Bloody hell!”

  My eyes followed his gaze. Parked between two cars was a black two-door sedan with the words “Asshole, you should never have fucked with me” spray-painted on the hood of the vehicle. It took a second to realize it was Simon’s.

  We were outside on the red carpet when Bruno placed his arm around my waist. He tilted his head closer to my face as we posed for the camera.

  “And so my wildflower becomes the rose,” he whispered close to my ear. I didn’t know if that statement held any actual value. Even as my feet glided across the plush red carpet of the Gala Fashion for a Cause, I was not sure what I had done to deserve this sudden attention. A sea of men in black suits rolled out in fron
t of us, and hundreds of lights flashed sporadically, setting off this seizure-like episode inside me. I realized that this person standing there was not even me. The real me would be at home, watching this on TV in her fuzzy sock slippers, eating a container of ice cream.

  After Bruno had placed me at the front of the line a year ago, he had chosen me to represent his designer label, Ortiz. I was his ambassador for most of his perfume ads. I guess you can say I became more than his muse, and I appreciated the camaraderie between us. This industry had brought amazing people into my life, yet, on the flip side, it had also brought more insecurities. Looking in, it was so easy to be seduced by the glitz and glamour, but when you got behind it, you’d be surprised by what you’d find.

  The other day I had been in a cab driving through Times Square when it stopped at a red light. I looked out the window, and there she was in print, in the process of being plastered on the side of a building. It was on a big billboard where millions of people would see it for weeks at a time. For most struggling models, this would mean you had arrived. I should have been mad with excitement, but all I remember was feeling sick to my stomach because—there I was, put on the highest shelf, and it could only mean one thing … unnecessary and hateful criticism that would range across everything, from my hair to my weight—or the fact that I was hard of hearing. Because who could imagine someone like me would get this far? I was tormented by adults all the time, and it baffled me. Did people think I didn’t read the comments? Didn’t they realize that I was human too?

  Flash, flash, flash.

  Up top …

  Mable, over here …

  Flash, flash, flash.

  Like the riddle of the tree that falls in the forest, did I exist if I didn’t have the public’s attention? Fame was a privilege that could be taken away. I was a realist; I knew at some point this would end and they would stop hiring me for not being young and beautiful. And then what?

  “I think I will never get used to the attention,” I said to Bruno as we moved on to the next row of photographers.

  “Well, darling, it’s either you’re somebody or nobody … you’re somebody, so use this to your advantage.”

  This success wasn’t overnight, but progressive. I’d sought fame out—I wanted it—but it wasn’t what I imagined it would be. The lights were attractive, but get close enough and you’d be scrutinized by them.

  “When you’ve been around a long time like me in this business, you get to meet lots of people. I think modeling is fun for the first couple of years. You fly around and get to wear designer clothing. If you’re good at what you’re doing, then eventually you get to be overpaid to do so little. But at some point reality sets in, because nothing is what it seems in this business. Be smart about it; find your purpose besides modeling. You’re a smart girl. I’m sure you’ll figure it out.” Bruno winked at me.

  I loved our chats, and Bruno’s advice had already been put to use. I’d been working on other things that were more fulfilling. I intended on keeping my identity rooted. They will see me bend, but I won’t break … only focus on what’s important; then maybe I have a chance for survival under the lights.

  After the photo calls were the interviews, and the past few weeks I’d done tons of them. I understood it was part of the game; the only thing was that they all appeared to ask the same irrelevant questions.

  What would be the best piece in your wardrobe?

  Does the world care?

  What outfit do you regret wearing?

  Really?

  What do you wear to bed?

  Nothing, except Chanel No. 5 … kidding. I didn’t say that Marilyn had.

  Was this what the world wanted to know? What was inside my purse? Thankfully, tonight it was not about me; it was about raising money and awareness for a cause I held close to my heart. And, like Bruno had said, I had to use this attention and gear it into something relevant. My newfound fame would allow me to talk about things of high value that should matter in the spotlight. That was something I’d been working on.

  I made it up the stairs to the extended platform where Christopher Leon waited for me to be interviewed. He spoke to most of the guests before they went inside the reception area. Christopher was the editor at large for Blind Item magazine. He had been a permanent fixture on the front row of every fashion show in the past twenty years. This was the sixth time we’d met on the red carpet.

  “Look at you.” We kissed hello on each cheek. I knew the camera was rolling and this would be shown on Entertainment Weekly.

  “What a magnificent dress. Who are you wearing?”

  “This gown was designed by my dear friend Bruno Ortiz,” I said, adjusting the fabric. The garment had a high slit and rolls of feathers all sewn at the base of the dress.

  “Beautiful! And those shoes.”

  “Thank you,” I said, as if I’d made or bought them.

  “Is the dress comfortable? Because it doesn’t look like it,” Christopher asked.

  “Very much so; it appears deceptively heavy, but it’s quite light and easy to maneuver.”

  “Yes, I’ve been watching you from up here, moving around with such grace and elegance. Well, you look gorgeous. You own it.”

  “Thank you.” I felt uncomfortable with the compliments, but this was work.

  “Okay, so now I want to talk about—you.”

  “All right.” I smiled. This should be good.

  “You are the first model to be hard of hearing to grace any magazine cover. How does that make you feel? What kind of message do you want to send out to the girls who want to follow in your footsteps?”

  “Am I the first? I guess it’s about time.” I smiled. “Well, I talk funny; maybe some people think I’m not the ideal model, but here I am, I don’t view myself as being different—this is me. I want the girls out there to feel beautiful no matter what the world pressures them to be. I wish for them to embrace their differences … because that’s what makes us unique and we shouldn’t have a limitation on our dreams just because they don’t fit into the norm … mold the norm so that it fits you,” I said.

  “You’re also a global ambassador for Humanity Matters Worldwide, and you work in close collaboration with organizations that promote gender equality and the empowerment of women … Woo, that’s a lot to swallow! You’ve been busy, Miss Harper.” He looked up from his cue card.

  “Yes, modeling had given me a voice, and I intend to use it.”

  “Well, I’m looking forward to what you’re going to do next. Enjoy. Have fun tonight.”

  And the camera cut off. I came back down and found Bruno at the bottom of the steps waiting for me.

  “Bruno … who is that woman with the dark sunglasses?” I recognized her, but I didn’t know what she did or what her name was. We had crossed paths before but never actually talked. It almost felt like she was trying to avoid me, and I wondered why.

  “My dear, you don’t know who Elaine Furstenberg is?” Bruno looked at me like I had two heads.

  “No,” I said as he laughed at my confused stare.

  “The editor-in-chief of Elite and the artistic director for Most magazine. How is it you’ve been in this industry this long without meeting her?”

  “I guess … I never got the opportunity.”

  “You were never introduced?”

  “No, never.”

  “Well, in all fairness, she is a difficult person to come by. I will have to present her to you later.”

  The night that had ended with us discovering Simon’s car marked with graffiti had stirred some uncertainty in me. I trusted him, but somewhere in the back of my mind, I couldn’t shake off that feeling. What if I was wrong?

  When I suggested we call the cops, Simon was too eager to brush it off as probably some jerk fooling around. He said there would be no point—they wouldn’t find them anyhow. That night we went back to my place, and he was quiet for the rest of the evening. That was what had me thinking his behavior was off. If it
was some random jerk playing with spray paint, why would they choose those words? Maybe I was overthinking it, but perhaps I wasn’t.

  Tonight we could have made our first appearance as a couple, but we had both agreed that our work and personal life should be kept separate. We didn’t need the paparazzi to distort our relationship into something ugly and dramatic like they usually did. But inside the gala, no paparazzi were allowed past the red carpet, and guests posting on social media had been prohibited. I guessed we could have been seen together inside, in a platonic nature. But I hadn’t seen him all day. I imagined that, like me, he had been pulled right, left, and center. When I got away from the entourage, I went out into the hotel lobby and searched my phone for any missed messages, disappointed there were none.

  I looked up when I felt like I was being watched.

  “Hello.” I smiled at the bright eyes that caught mine. I almost didn’t recognize Simon with his hair so short. So unexpected.

  “You look hot,” he said.

  “Hot?” I frowned. “Please don’t let that be your best pickup line. You will say something more substantial if you’re trying to win my attention, sir.”

  “Huh, alright … you’re incredibly smart.” He continued to walk toward me.

  “Hmm … keep it coming.” I bobbed my head from side to side.

  “And beautiful.”

  I sighed and moved around him. “Nice try, but your time is up.”

  “Hold on, I’m not done yet.”

  “Oh, I think we are.”

  “You want to know what I thought when I first saw you?”

  I turned. If he was trying to get my attention, he had finally piqued it.

  “That I was the most incredible woman you’d ever seen.” I smiled.

  “Yes, but there’s more.” He smiled, placing his hands in his suit pockets. “I told myself if I could get within three feet from you, then I’ll know.”

  “Know what?”

  “That you’re just right … that there was something legitimate about you. Back at the Little Orange, you thought you made a bad impression because you talked funny, but that’s not why I reacted the way I did. It’s because I saw you with the most accurate eyes … I felt this wanting … this knowing that I would desire nothing more in life than I did you.” He was being emotional. “I knew you were the kind of person to make me feel like the world is my oyster.”