by Sybil Ling
Diana has been a model since she was 17 — it’s the only job she’s ever had. For the past 6 years that’s all she’s been doing, and that’s all that she knows. She’s certain that she has some other interests outside of modelling, but when she stops to think about what they are, she can’t actually find a name for any of them.
She knows that, at the times when Zach has done an interview or some of his art is featured in a magazine or on the internet, she’s read the articles and found what he does to be interesting. Maybe it’s because she’s grown up knowing him, or maybe it’s because his perverse sense of humour has rubbed off on her and she actually gets his jokes, but Diana actually finds a lot of what he does to have a morbid sort of curiosity, and indeed almost a comedy, attached to it. It seems to be something that’s lost on most people — or, at least, that’s the impression she gets from reading these articles.
Diana has never been to one of Zach’s gala openings, though. Whenever they’ve been on, she’d have found herself conveniently tied up doing something else, or somewhere else in the country if they were, God forbid, in New York. This is all, of course, because she had wanted to avoid him. And she was certain that that wasn’t going to be an issue anymore. That is, until the solarium happened.
And that’s as far as Diana has gotten in regards to figuring out her other interests and planning out the rest of her life: she likes Zach’s art, most of the time.
Now, Diana blinks at the wall beside her closed bedroom door, watching the beam of sunlight slowly travel down towards the baseboard and start to disappear beyond the edge of the bed. She breathes slowly, not wanting to get up, but not wanting to be in bed anymore. Her mother and Hank have been getting increasingly better these past two days, and Doctor Thames said that they’ll likely be back to their old selves at any moment now. And that means that the time remaining for Diana to figure out her life is quickly coming to an end.
As the last of the visible beam of light disappears onto the floor, Diana’s stomach rumbles and she decides that she should finally get up, at least to get something to eat. She pushes her body up, feeling exhausted despite having lain in bed for the past twelve hours, and swings her legs over the side, standing up beside her bed. Reaching up to the sky and listening to the pop of her back, she pads out of the bedroom, not bothering to get dressed out of her pyjamas, heading downstairs to the kitchen.
As soon as Diana reaches on the main floor she can feel an air of activity going on within the house. She makes her way to where the food is and sees servants scurrying back and forth, each of them looking harried despite it being only, what, ten in the morning? They’re all carrying stacks of plates or trays of silverware, rushing around with lists, packing cardboard boxes with marker-written labels like Living Room Pictures or Ornaments on them.
Diana reaches the kitchen and spots Eugene on the phone, standing by the counter, a pen in hand and pad of paper in front of him.
“Yes, that’s right,” he says as she opens the fridge, watching him out of the corner of her eye. “Yes, ten of the seafood platters. … No, none of the extras will be needed … Yes, we have enough in store as it is.”
As Diana fixes herself a bowl of yoghurt and mixed fruit, Eugene finishes the rest of his phone call.
“And be sure to include all the garnishes. … Yes, that’s fine, we’ll pay the fee. Excellent. Thank you very much, good-bye.”
Eugene hangs up the phone, crosses something off of his list, and turns to leave the kitchen.
“Eugene,” Diana speaks up, and the man stops to regard her, his eyebrows raised slightly.
“Yes, Miss Diana?” he says.
“What’s going on?” Diana asks. “Who were you speaking to?”
“I was speaking to the seafood caterers for tonight, Miss Diana,” Eugene answers. “For the gala opening.”
“Gala opening?” Diana repeats. “What gala opening?”
A pained expression flashes across Eugene’s face.
“It is for Master Zachary’s gala tonight, Miss Diana,” he responds. “I believe that he is preparing to unveil the latest of his works to the public.”
Diana feels her heart drop in her chest. This is the first she’s heard of this.
“Oh,” she says, and Eugene looks sorry for her. “Okay … Well, thank you, Eugene.”
“Of course, Miss Diana,” he says, and he spins around, leaving Diana alone in the kitchen.
Diana looks down at the bowl of yoghurt and fruit, her stomach no longer crying for food. So that’s what Zach’s been doing all this time he’s been shut away: making some art. And now he’s having a gala for it, and he never invited her. Lots of people — strangers, all of them — will be coming to the house, going into his studio, will be standing around and talking to him, chatting him up, waiting for him to unveil his latest “masterpiece” and then oohing and aahing over it. It’ll probably be like that last one he did, what was it again? The Slaughtering. Just a bunch of pig guts stapled to a canvas. Jesus, a child could do that. Even she could make shitty artwork and sell it for a quarter of a million dollars, no problem.
Diana pushes herself away from the kitchen counter and stands up. She’s feeling angry. No, angry isn’t the word for it. Diana is feeling furious.
How dare he? How dare Zach think that he can just sleep with her, act for some reason like it was the end of the world, and then turn around and pretend that nothing ever happened? He thinks he can just run off to his little studio and play with his paints and his fucking animal carcasses and just leave Diana high and dry? Well fuck him! He doesn’t deserve her; he doesn’t deserve anybody. If this is the way that he wants to treat her, then Diana doesn’t want to be in his life and she doesn’t want him in her life. Fuck that guy.
Having completely forgotten about the yoghurt and fruit, Diana storms out of the kitchen, intent on going upstairs to her room to pack her things. The way she came down by is currently blocked with some servants carrying a large sofa, though, so Diana veers off to go another way — one that happens to take her through the living room.
As she enters the large room, she glances over at the two beds and it takes her a moment to register the fact that both occupants are sitting up, cups of tea in their hands, both smiling brightly and talking with the nurses standing over them. Just as this information is making its way to Diana’s brain her mother looks over and her eyes light up, catching sight of her daughter.
“Diana!” she calls out, slowly and carefully putting the cup of tea down on the saucer she’s holding and lifting a hand to wave. Diana slows down a bit, hot, angry emotions still coursing through her, before detouring from her intended path over to her mom.
“Mom!” Diana forces a normal tone of voice. “Hank, you two look … well, you look good!”
“Yes, we feel good,” her mother says.
“We think we’ve finally taken care of whatever it was that caused your parents’ illness,” Doctor Thames says, coming up beside Diana. “Their vitals are looking good, their motor functions are back to their normal states. I’d even dare to say that they should be up and walking about in an hour or two.”
“Wow,” Diana says, and despite the anger that’s still coursing through her veins, she feels herself smile. “Wow, that’s amazing. Doctor, thank you so much!”
“She’s wonderful,” Hank says from his bed. “We don’t know what we would have done if it weren’t for Doctor Thames here.”
“It’s just part of my job,” the doctor says, and she turns to leave Diana to her parents, a light flush of red coming across her cheeks.
“Wow, so you two are feeling better then?” Diana asks.
“Almost as good as new,” her mother says, taking another sip out of the steaming cup. “In fact, if Doctor Thames is right and we can both walk by this afternoon, we may even be able to come out to Zachary’s new gala opening!”
Diana’s smile slips from her face.
“Oh …” she says, struggling to keep her voice f
rom breaking. “Really?”
“Oh yes,” Hank says. “He came and told us about it this morning. Looked pretty excited, I’d say. I guess he’s been getting a lot done since you two came here, what, only a week ago!”
“Yeah … he certainly has,” Diana says.
“Honey?” her mother says, concern in her voice. “Are you all right? You’re looking a little pale.”
Diana lifts her eyes to meet her mother’s and a smile, completely forced, spread across her lips.
“Nope, I’m fine,” she says. “But I guess should let you guys know too, I’ve actually taken a new modelling job with a different agency.”
“Oh!” her mother exclaims. “Well, this is news. A different agency, you said?”
“Yes,” Diana says, keeping her eyes bright. “It’s down south. Florida. They said that they’ll be needing me immediately, so I’ve actually got to fly down there today.”
“Oh, but … what about your brother’s gala?” her mother asks. “And what about Dean? Are you still with him?”
“No, Dean and I are through,” Diana says. “It didn’t work out. His interests weren’t where mine were. Are.”
“Well, this is definitely surprising news,” Hank says.
“Yeah, it’s pretty short notice, I guess,” Diana agrees. “But it’s work, and if I wasn’t working then what else would I be doing with my life, right?”
“Yes, I suppose so,” Hank agrees slowly.
“But, do you have to leave today?” Diana’s mother asks. “What about your brother’s gala?”
“It’s unfortunate, I know,” Diana says. “But I guess I’ll just have to miss it. It’s okay, though,” she puts her hand on her mother’s arm. “I’m sure I can come back for the next one. After all, it’s not like this is his last piece, right? He’ll probably be doing lots more, for years to come.”
Her mother doesn’t respond; she simply looks at Diana, looking confused, and then she looks over at her husband for some sort of answer, which Hank apparently does not have.
“Well, I’ve got to go get packed,” Diana says. “You two get rested up for the gala. I’ve got a big trip, and I’m heading out soon.”
“Okay,” her mother says as Diana begins walking away. “Don’t leave without saying good-bye, though!”
But Diana pretends she didn’t hear her as she quickly leaves the living room, taking the secondary set of stairs up to the next floor.
As Diana walks along the hallway to her bedroom, she sees that her door is closed. She furrows her brow: I didn’t close my door when I got out of bed, did I?
She approaches the thing and sees a piece of paper clamped between the door frame and the door itself. It’s a single sheet of lined paper and Diana can see the etchings and dark marks of something written coming through from the other side. Grabbing a hold of the sheet, she opens the door and takes it into the room with her, shutting the door behind her.
The sheet of paper is, in fact, a note, and Diana can tell immediately from the style of writing who wrote it. It reads:
Diana,
Sorry I missed you — I came to tell you after I told mom and dad: I’m having a gala tonight for something I’ve been working on. I want you there to see it. I know I’ve been acting weird these past few days, but please come to the gala. I have to show you what I’ve made.
I want you there.
-Zach
Diana doesn’t know how to react. She re-reads the note again, trying to decipher any sort of meaning out of it, but nothing comes up. Zach isn’t offering her any explanation for why he did what he did. All she knows now is exactly what she knew before, which she had to find out from other people: he’s having a gala, and it’s tonight. He was apparently planning on telling her in person, but instead of looking, oh I don’t know, anywhere else in the house he decides to write her a note on lined paper that he, what, brought with him? and leave it in her door like he’s some kind of a fucking Don Juan.
Well, Diana has had it with him. Him and his ridiculous mysteries. If he wants to go off and fuck with somebody else’s heart and mind, then let him. But she won’t be treated that way. She won’t be made to feel like she’s useless and ugly; like he just wanted her for a quick fuck and then left her to wallow in her own self-pity. She thought that she could finally be happy with him. She thought that she could be herself, and she could finally feel beautiful. But apparently that kind of happiness just isn’t in the cards for her.
Diana crumples the note in her hand and throws it into her wastebasket before marching to her closet and pulling down two of her large suitcases.
Throwing the heavy things onto her unmade bed, she flips open the tops and proceeds to grab clothing, dresses, anything she has that she would want out of her closet. She said that she’s going to Florida — the farthest possible place from where she is — and so that’s where she’s going to go. She doesn’t have any modelling jobs lined up there, of course. She has nothing there; she doesn’t even know any of the city names apart from Orlando. But she’s going to go, all the same. She’s going to start a new life there. A new life that doesn’t involve modelling, or Zach, or being forced to dress and undress in front of strangers while they take her picture, or having people propose to her when she’s never even met them in real life, or having people tell her that she’s beautiful when she knows that it’s just words coming out of their mouths, just shallow words that mean nothing and are only being said to try to placate her, to make her feel superficially good so that she’ll come back another day, and another and another until she’s old and the public doesn’t want her anymore and she’s lived her whole life being told one thing when, in fact, it was all a lie and all that they cared about was her youth and her make-up and her looks, and then Diana is left old and cold and alone in the dirt, in the gutter, having squandered away her entire life thinking one thing when, in fact, it was the exact opposite that was true …
Diana has to stop. She has to stop packing up her suitcases because the way that she’s stuffing her clothing into them is going to wrinkle the fabric, and besides that she can’t even see because of all the tears that are flowing out of her eyes and down her cheeks, staining her skin. She takes in a few shuddering breaths, feeling overwhelmed, feeling terrible. Dropping the red dress that she wore the day she arrived back at this house, Diana pushes the two half-filled things to the side and makes a space for herself on the bed. Climbing up on top of her covers and curling onto her side, she sobs quietly, silent tears now dripping out of her, not as steadily as they were a moment ago, but still there all the same.
The fact of the matter, if Diana is being forced to admit this to herself, is that she wants somebody there in her life. Having had the job that she had — a steady job that’s made her more money in 6 years than most people make in a lifetime — was good. But the goodness only goes so far. Money only goes so far. What good is money if you’re just stockpiling it and spending it on yourself? What good is working if, night after night, you only come home to an empty apartment? What good is eating expensive meals with people who call themselves your friends, who have the same career as you, who are trying to push themselves up to that next level and who would (you know in your heart of hearts even though nobody would ever say it out loud) step all over you to get what they want, would do it in a heartbeat, and would never even consider looking back?
They say that it’s lonely at the top, and they are entirely correct. Diana is lonely. Her romantic relationships in the past — if you can even call them that, romantic — have been shallow. The guys she’s slept with, went on dates with — they didn’t care about her. All they cared about was furthering their own careers by being seen in public with her. Is it Diana’s fault that people like the way that she looks? Is it Diana’s fault that magazines chose her over a million other girls who were auditioning for the exact same thing?
It’s all fake. And Diana, even at only 23 years old, knows that she’s done with the falsehood of it all. She
wants something real. She wants a real life, where she wakes up in the morning to do something she’s interested in, whatever that may be. Where she actually enjoys eating with other people, and going on dates with people, people she likes and who like her. She wants, in another word … she wants something normal.
And she doesn’t have that now.
She thought that, perhaps, she could have something normal with Zach. They had a good relationship when they were younger, up until the very end. And even then, Diana found out in the solarium, her messed-up feelings were all for nothing because Zach felt the same way about her that she did about him! They could have made it work together, if only she’d been honest with him, if only he’d been honest with her.
Well, she’s tried being honest with him, and look where it got her: crying, confused and hurt and alone on the gravel pathway, naked and leaking out tears and her stepbrother’s cum.
Diana is through with him. She’s done trying to mould herself for him, trying to wait and see whether or not he’ll finally “come around”. He’s obviously not being honest with her. If he were then he would talk to her. He would let her know how he’s feeling; let her know what he’s going through. But he’s not, and if that’s the way that Zach wants to live, then so be it. Diana has had enough of him.
Diana takes a deep, shuddering breath and lets it out. She turns and looks out the window. The sunlight is no longer streaming in through the glass. It’s overhead now, a little bit path its zenith. It’s just become afternoon, and if Diana is going to go to Florida today then she’s got some work to do ahead of her.
Chapter 13
Inside of the large mansion of a house where Diana spent most of her life are a collection of old antiques, items that Hank and Deborah have picked up during their many rich years of travelling, pursuing furniture, mechanical items and the like, only to have them fixed up and put in the house, in order to give the place a regal, if not anachronistic, feel.