I head downstairs to the Starbucks in the lobby for a proper cup of coffee. Usually Madison offers to run down for me but I need to get out for a few minutes, get some air. Hollywood banter and celebrity chatter. Oh my God. Is this what I aspired to be? Grande soy latte in hand, I’m crossing the gleaming glass and marble lobby, passing the kiosk that serves as a newspaper stand when a magazine cover jumps out at me.
Cougar Hunting!
The magazine’s caption screams in huge lurid yellow font. But it’s not the caption on the glossy cover that grabs my attention. It’s the photo. It’s Trevor and me.
I stop in front of the newspaper stand and stare at the cover and wonder how in God’s name do they have our Paris pictures on the cover already? It should be impossible to have our photo on a magazine before I’ve even unpacked.
But there we are, in Paris, both of us dressed in black. It’s raining and I’m holding a red umbrella and he’s smiling down into my face and I’m smiling up at him. The photo’s cropped but I know exactly where we’re standing. We’ve just left Stresa after dinner and my hair is pinned up and loose bits are falling around my face. I’m wearing big gold gypsy earrings and I look so happy it makes my chest hurt.
I nearly pick up the magazine, intrigued by this smiling beautiful couple that has actually very little to do with me.
Is that what I look like? Am I really that happy?
It’s strange to see me look like that. It’s not how I feel on the inside. It’s not who I am anymore. Haven’t been happy like that since Keith died.
For a moment I’m lost, trying to remember what truly happy feels like when an arm reaches past me, bracelets jingling and takes a copy of US Weekly and then scoops up an issue of Life & Style which also has a photo of Trevor and me on it but this one screams, She’s Got It All!
I keep my head averted as the girl pays for her magazines.
So this is what I’ve become. Tabloid fodder. |
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