Shortly after the photoshoot with Pamela Hart, I was flagged down by Kim, my assistant who wanted to know why I never mentioned my wife, and I told her the truth. It was the first time I told anyone outside of my therapy and family. Kim began welling up with tears, which made me uncomfortable since she is always so confident and strong; never have I ever seen her so vulnerable. It made me wonder how vulnerable I must have looked as I told her how I lost the love of my life.
Walking back to my apartment, I stopped at a convenient store to buy some cigarettes, a habit I kicked while I was married, but felt a strong desire to do that day. As I was paying for the cigarettes, I heard a familiar, husky and feminine voice behind me. I turned to look behind me and see Pamela standing bashfully, with those bright crystal blue eyes.
"Hi...," I greet almost like a shy teenage boy. Pamela simply smiled and said 'Hello' with a big smile. I start becoming nervous for reasons I can't grasp. She steps to the counter and pays for a cold brew coffee, so I continued to make my way towards the exit, but she called out my name and asked me to wait for her. I hesitated before complying, but did as she asked. She lightly ran towards me and smiled.
"Which way?" She boldly asks, hinting that she wished to walk me home. I chuckled at her boldness, but stopped to remind her that I'm married.
"No, you're not," Pamela said after taking a sip of her cold brew.
"I'm sorry?" I scoffed at her.
"I'm sorry, I overheard your conversation with Kim and I just wanted to tell you I'm really sorry about your loss," Pamela says with a much more serious tone and gentleness in her voice. I felt a bit betrayed because she eavesdropped on my conversation, I sighed deeply and began walking away.
"Wait, don't be mad, I couldn't help it! You both had the conversation by the dressing room," Pamela pleaded as she lightly ran to catch up with me. I approached the crosswalk to my apartment, and began to light a cigarette. As I took the first puff, I felt the relaxation course through my lungs, and a calmness followed after.
"For what it's worth, I know how you feel, I just lost both my parents in a car accident a week ago," Pamela broke the silence and made me nearly cough my lungs out. She patted my back to calm me, and once I did, I looked up at her.
"You just lost your parents a week ago, and you didn't take time off?" I asked after I wiped my face with a handkerchief.
"C'mon Jackie, you know what it means for a model to take time off," Pamela says with a soft smile. I realized what she meant, and I agreed, however it still doesn't make it right.
"My apartments' just across, you want a drink or something?" I asked very coolly as to not show any romantic interest. Pamela simply nodded her head and smiled. What followed after was a series of events I didn't expect.
Six months later...
I've never enjoyed fashion shows because of the highly pretentious people that always come and ruin the show. But seeing how it is my job to ensure everything goes smoothly, I came along with Pamela since she is also in the show. After we land in Paris, we immediately check in to our hotel, and decide to rest before the show tonight. The hotel is too ostentatious for my simple taste, but Pamela is very excited and I don't want to be a party pooper.
"Oh wow! They have a tiny fridge with little beverages!" Pamela shouts ecstatically, "C'mon Jackie! Look, they're so cute!"
I walk over to examine the mini fridge and suddenly have a flashback to when Natalie and I first spent the night in Las Vegas. They had tiny bottles of liquor and snacks, too but back then, Natalie was too nervous to jump around excitedly. This leaves me in a trance and I feel Pamela's hand touch my face gently.
"Hmm? Yeah, sorry, I just, I think they charge extra for taking these," I finally say, trying not to worry her that I was lost in another world.
"No way, really?" Pamela asks after she looks over the bottles.
"Yep, see there it is right there, $9 for a two-ounce bottle of vodka," I explain.
"Geez, that's too much, even for me," Pamela remarks in disgust as she places it back in the fridge. I chuckle at her whimsical nature, and kiss her cheek.
Ever since that night in my apartment, we've grown close and started dating more seriously. I never thought I'd date a model again, but Pamela showed me a side of herself that I didn't think any woman would ever have: Humbleness and compassion. Natalie had so many qualities that could never compare, but she's gone. I wasn't ready to move on at first, but Pamela has been the light in my dark and dreary world. Her bubbly personality and charitable actions set her aside from all the other women I've dated in the past. I knew I had to stop comparing her to Natalie, so I gathered my courage and asked her out to get to know her better.
Now, here we are in one of the most romantic cities in Europe, and I smirk in spite of it all. I really thought I wasn't going to get involved with this little redhead.
"Hey, we have a lot of time before the show," Pamela begins to seductively say as she stares me up and down, "So, what'cha wanna do now?" I look off into the distance through the window and press my lips together.
"There's a lot of movies we haven't seen yet, I mean, real classics," I playfully say to her, to which she reacts by pouting her lips and looking at me with half lidded eyes. I chuckle softly at her playfulness, and begin kissing her. As our kiss becomes more sensual and passionate, I begin to take lead and carry her over to the bed, which makes her giggle softly.
Her crystal blue eyes have me completely under her spell, she ignites something in me that I forgot I had: passion. As we make love in the pinkish-orange light from the sunset peeking through our window, I realize I can be happy again. As she thrusts herself on top of me, I feel a sense of euphoric joy I had not felt since I was with my baby doll. All of my pain melted away the moment I began to see Pamela as more than just a girl. I saw a real woman who I passed judgment on a long time ago, and who helped me get through my grief by being there. She climaxes and makes me climax with her loud moans. She falls atop my body and calms herself while catching her breath. I stroke her head softly trying my best not to trigger all the memories of Natalie. I feel her soft fingers trace the scar on my chest from the accident.
"Does it still hurt?" Pamela asks though smaller huffs of breath. I look down at my scar, from my left collar bone to my armpit, a thin scar can be seen for when they had to do reconstructive surgery.
"Not really, I get small needle like pains from time to time, but it doesn't hurt anymore," I reply. Pamela continues lightly touching it, like a doctor looking at a patient.
"Do you ever wonder what would have happened if she lived?" Pamela asks a little too boldly, but that is just who she is, so I forgive her for asking such a question. I take a deep breath and prepare to answer. Unlike Natalie, who was a bit more considerate when it came to personal questions, I've had to let go of my pride and ego with Pamela.
"I used to, a lot," I say as I try to prop myself up on the bed, "It took me a long time to accept it, but no matter what I did, I couldn't live like that, it was killing me from within, and I knew I had to move on." There is silence for a while, and I hear Pamela sigh, reminding me of a child, she gets up and looks away from me while covering herself with the bedsheet.
"Maybe she is happy where she is now, you know, heaven?" Pamela says glumly, "I know I only met her briefly, but she was super confident and beautiful, it made me so jealous."
"What do you mean? You're super confident and beautiful, too," I retort, "Are you asking me all this because you're worried that I'm comparing you to her?" Pamela finally looks back at me very glum and almost about to cry.
"Can you blame me? You're always looking off into an abyss I can't see, and I know you're hiding it, I'm not stupid," Pamela explains, gradually getting angry. I press my lips and click my tongue, unable to speak after what she just said. I realize I do drift off into space a lot, but to me the wound is still fresh. I've heard throughout my life that every person on earth deals with grief differently, some take longer than others and some never really move on, but I've moved on. I'm in disbelief that I just climaxed with this woman, who is now accusing me of something.
"If I really didn't want to be with you, believe me, I wouldn't," I respond very sternly, "I don't like to waste time on things I know won't lead to anywhere or anything, you know this." Pamela gets up from the bed and starts combing her hair, looking slightly pissed off, and I have no idea why?
"Pam, c'mon what's this really about?" I ask, a little jaded now with this conversation. As Pamela pulls the snags out of her hair, she starts getting ready to shower and makes me believe that she isn't going to answer me.
"I just want you to talk about it with me, if I do something that reminds you of her, then please tell me, okay?" Pamela finally answers before walking into the shower and leaving me speechless. Reflecting on my previous actions during the course of our relationship, I don't think I've ever mentioned Natalie at any time, unless she asked me; I never really bring it up or speak of it, since it's not something I enjoy doing. But I've given Pamela a free pass because it was one of the conditions after I asked her out. I regret treating her the way I have been, and not confiding in her about my deceased wife.
We make up just before the show, and have a good time, surprising even I; never thought I'd enjoy these shows. At one point during the show, I feel myself going mad. As I watch Pamela do her catwalk from the back end of the audience, I swear I saw a woman who looked exactly like Natalie sitting next to an Indian woman at the VIP section. I did a few double takes, but I knew it couldn't possibly be her, knowing fully well we're on the other side of the world right now, and Natalie's grave is in Syracuse. I stared for too long, making myself feel like a stalker.
The resemblance was uncanny, and I couldn't tear myself away, because this girl looked different somehow. She looked happy and carefree. Nearly tempting myself to find her and maybe speak with her, I reminded myself that I'm in France and can't speak French very well. The girl might think I'm crazy. I mention this to Pamela and she insists I try to find the girl, but I assure her I've moved on and have no desire to speak to a doppelganger.
We prepare to leave for our flight, which is a red eye, and sleep for the duration of the flight. Upon our arrival, Pamela persists that I should have spoken with the doppelganger, that maybe it would have given me some kind of closure. I agree to disagree with her, and try to move on from the incident. Pamela stays over my apartment, the same one I once shared with my baby doll. She prepares to leave early in the morning for a photoshoot in Manhattan. I decide to take a day off, which is a nice perk to have as a boss, and begin going through some photos from the fashion show, despite taking a day off.
Before I know it, four hours have gone by, and my stomach begins to rumble, so I decide to go to the deli down the street to grab a sandwich. I start searching for my keys and find my old pack of cigarettes from six months ago when I first ran into Pamela at the convenience store. I smirk and realize I haven't smoked a single one since that night, so I grab my keys and a lighter and proceed to leave for lunch. As I walk down the stairs, my phone goes off so I pull it out of my pocket to see an unknown caller, and answer it.
"Hello?" I answer.
"Hey babe," Pamela's voice rings through relieving me of my thoughts that it could be a scam, "sorry to call you from another phone, I think I left my phone at your place, can you check?"
"Uh, yeah, I saw it on the bed this morning, I was just on my way out to get some lunch, you want me to stop by and drop it off?" I ask as I continue to take smaller steps downstairs.
"No, just let me know if you find it, I'll come over tonight and pick it up," Pamela says as if she is already exhausted, "Besides once you get here, I'll already be done."
"Alright, I'll be here waiting for you then," I say as sweetly as I can, "You want anything special for dinner?" I ask as I take the last step towards the sidewalk. I look up to my right to turn and see the same woman from the fashion show, standing before me, with puffy pink eyes: Natalie's doppelganger. Feeling my eyes grow wide in shock, I faintly hear Pamela's voice drift away on my phone as I drop it to the ground. Completely lost for words, she simply stands there as well. We look like statues just staring at one another in utter silence and disbelief. Until she finally breaks the silence with choked up words.
"J-Jacque? I-Is it really you?"