Beautiful(22)

She was determined to try, as she drifted down the street, and passed a woman walking her small dog. She glanced at Véronique as she passed by and literally gave a start and backed away from her. She looked frightened, as though she was going to scream. It made Véronique want to run away, and hide, but she didn’t. She went past other women with their dogs, and some didn’t even notice her. Some were visibly shocked, and some men frowned when they saw her. A little girl stared at her, and said something to her mother that Véronique didn’t hear. She must have asked her mother why Véronique’s face looked like that.

She walked for a long way, and then turned around and headed home. She noticed all the reactions, the fear, the shock, the revulsion, and once or twice pity for whatever she’d been through. They could easily see, from the undamaged half, what her face had been before, but this was how it was now. It wasn’t her choice. It had been done to her, a challenge she had to meet, and as she went back to her apartment, she knew that she couldn’t let what had happened destroy her. The terrorists had gotten half her face, but she wouldn’t let them have her soul too. As she stepped into the apartment, her cheeks flushed from the September air, and the scars on her face bright red, she knew that she was still whole. Who she was couldn’t be taken from her.



* * *



—

Marie-Helene’s funeral at the end of the week was as quiet and dignified as Véronique had wanted it to be. Bernard was there with her, and the young priest she didn’t know. The cemetery workers had dug a small hole to put the urn in. The priest said a brief funeral service for her soul, a cemetery worker placed the urn in carefully, and they each threw a handful of earth in with it, and then Véronique took an Uber home, and Bernard went back to his office. It hadn’t been as devastating as she had feared. There was a peaceful feeling to it, and a sense of loss, but she had a feeling of closure too.

She began sorting through her mother’s clothes that night, kept some of her favorite things, and carefully boxed up the rest.

She had been working on it for a few hours when her cellphone rang. She still had her old number, but she hadn’t had a call since Stephanie. She had faded from view for long enough that people no longer tried to call her, and had no reason to. She realized now that all of her calls before had been for work, or from her mother. Both had ended now. She couldn’t imagine who was calling, and answered her cellphone, sounding distracted.

“Hi, beautiful. Who are you walking for next week? I just got in. So how are you?” She recognized the voice immediately. He was a successful Irish photographer who lived in New York, Douglas Kelly. She had known him for all the years she’d been modeling, and had done several covers for Vogue with him. She always saw him during Fashion Week, whether they worked together or not. There had always been an undercurrent of romance with him, but it had never come to anything. She liked him better as a friend, and didn’t want to spoil it.

“I’m okay, welcome back. I’m not walking for anyone. I retired. Stephanie wants to believe it’s temporary, but it isn’t. And how are you?”

“Holy shit, woman. What did I miss? What do you mean you retired?”

“I did. I just told Stephanie. She was pissed.”

“Obviously she was. But that’s ridiculous, you can’t retire. You’re the hottest face in the fashion business. I hope it’s temporary. What brought that on?”

“It’s a long story. It’s a major life decision.” She decided on the spur of the moment to tell him the truth, or part of it. “I had an accident.”

“What kind of accident? You fell on your head, and have amnesia about who you are? Let me remind you, you’re Véronique Vincent, the hottest model in fashion.”

“Not anymore,” she said quietly. “I’m done.”

“Are you okay?” He sounded worried then. She sounded as though she meant it.

“I’m getting there. I just got home this week. I’ve been gone for six months. And I lost my mother. We just buried her today.”

“Oh Christ, I’m sorry. That’s rough. Should I call back tomorrow?”

“No, it’s okay. She died six months ago. We waited to bury her till I got back.”

“Where’ve you been for six months? Please don’t tell me you’re becoming a nun. I have a sister who’s a nun, and one of the best models in New York entered a Carmelite order last year. It would be a terrible waste if you do that too. Besides, it would dash my hopes and evil intentions forever. Even I can’t hit on a nun.” She laughed. “So where the hell have you been?”

“In a hospital in Brussels.”

“A mental hospital? At least that would explain the decision.”

“No, I’m still sane. A military hospital.”

“A military hospital? For God’s sake, what’s going on with you? Did you enlist?”

“I was at the Brussels airport, wrong day, wrong time last March.”

“What were you doing there?” And then suddenly it hit him. He sounded shocked when he asked her. “Please God, don’t tell me you were there during the terrorist attack.” His voice was hushed when he asked her the question.

“Unfortunately, yes, I was. It’s been a long haul. I just got out of the hospital. My mother was with me, and a friend. They both died when the first bomb exploded a few feet away from us.”