“The late Michael Thompson was the photographer, and I’ll never forget what he said. “Amanie, that’s absurd get rid of that cheap-looking thing. It’s not authentic— it doesn’t look like you.” So I thought, you have to know yourself before someone takes notice of you. That’s where it begins. I draw all my energy from within, being self-assured in who I am so I can be confident in what I do. Pictures don’t lie. You could be beautiful in every definition, but if you don’t feel comfortable in your skin, then you have nothing to bring to the table as a model.”
The waiter came by, refilling our glasses with water. I caught Simon staring from across the table, and it felt so surreal. How am I even here, talking to Amanie Melak? Growing up, I’d seen her on TV, on countless magazine spreads. She was the model who had redefined beauty in fashion.
“Have you guys worked together on a shoot? Is that how you know each other?” I asked.
“Funny thing is, fashion had nothing to do with us meeting,” Amanie said, glancing at Simon.
“We met several years back, working for a charitable cause,” Simon said.
“It’s because of Simon that I met my husband,” she added.
He was full of surprises. A matchmaker, humanitarian, and a photographer, and yet there was something offbeat about Simon. Any woman would be drawn to that magnetism; no one in their right mind would pass him up. I’m questioning my sanity, and if I should die before Gloria, I will make sure she inherits every single one of my sixty cats.
“All I did was introduce you two.” But then he added, “Mac is a good friend of mine.”
This reinforced my belief that he genuinely wanted to help people with no sinister motive behind it. And all that rugged, tough exterior was only a front. Simon hid his gentler side behind a wall, and of course I would know, because it was my favorite hiding place, too. I had my reasons. What was Simon’s?
“So what kind of humanitarian work do you do?” I asked Amanie.
“I’m an ambassador for Humanity Matters. I’m so grateful that this job has given me a platform to do more than just modeling. See, with fame comes opportunity, and it’s my responsibility to shed light on a third-world reality. I was fortunate to have escaped a civil war in my country, and not everyone is as lucky as I am. When you’re blessed with this sort of influence in the spotlight, you can’t go without wanting to do more for undeveloped countries.”
After the dishes were cleared off the table, and after we’d talked for a while about designers and Simon’s upcoming projects, Amanie turned to me and said, “You’re wondering why we’re all here today.”
“I’m beginning to piece things together,” I said.
“It’s been a couple of years now since I retired from modeling, but there’s one thing I always wanted to do: to have my own agency. So, last spring, that’s what I did. I opened one. I want to run a firm that breaks the barriers. To change the way the fashion industry is behaving. Designers will have to evolve their own images of women in fashion, but it starts at my level. Fashion is not created for one body type or culture. We come in a wonderful variety of forms and colors, and that should be praised, not shamed or abused. I know it will take time, but the progress has already begun.” Amanie looked me straight in the eye. “My question to you is, do you want to help me break the mold? Because I’d like to represent you.”
“Wow, you really throw yourself into everything,” I said, looking at Simon from the passenger seat of his blue rental car. After we had parted ways with Amanie, Simon offered me a ride home, and I, not wanting to let go just yet, said yes. When it became clear that he knew the area well, I asked him about it. Simon explained that he had worked for a short time as a still photographer, taking pictures on movie sets, and that had brought him to Montreal often for work.
“Photography is my great passion, but I have this innate restlessness inside me, which inspires change every so often,” he said.
I got what he was saying, but I wondered what this might mean for me. I was thinking that maybe Simon was a nonconformist, never constrained by anything or, possibly, by anyone. Perhaps being tied down domestically might have led to the dissolution of his marriage. Let’s face it: you can never tame a free spirit, and more than you can control the ocean.
“So you’re trying out everything for size?”
“Nah … yeah, I guess you can say that. I want to try everything at least once.” He shot me a smile. “I can’t imagine doing one thing for the rest of my life.”
“What happens when you run out of things to do?” I played with the zipper pull of my black parka coat.
“You could never run out of things, as long as this heart beats … the wind blows, and I go.”
I imagined my mother for a moment. Was it her restlessness that had caused her to go? I believed this feeling existed for some people, like Simon. When they are anchored in one spot for too long or suppressed, they have no choice but to break free for their superficial survival, like answering some private call of the wild. They need to change the scene no matter who they hurt or what the consequences are. I wondered if I had it in me, like my mother. Since I’d been back, I couldn’t seem to shake the feeling of being contained. It was like hearing the whispers of an inner intuition, calling me back to the concrete jungle. How can anyone defy nature?
“Amanie is so inspiring. I wish I could do something like that.” I peered out the window.
“Like what?”
“Make a difference in the world.” I turned my eyes back to him.
“Nothing stops you from doing what you want in life, Mable.” He quickly glanced my way. “I knew you guys would hit it off, and to think it almost didn’t happen. I had to beg her to stay. I never grovel—ever. You owe me big time.”
“Yes, I’m grateful for everything you’ve done for me. I don’t know how I’ll ever repay you.”
“Just buy me a bevy the next time we go out, and we’ll call it even,” he said, and I was amazed by how this pleased me, the possibility of seeing him again.
“You’ll be in good hands should you sign on with Amanie’s agency,” Simon said. “Have you thought about the offer?”
“It’s a lot to think about. My dad is ecstatic to have me back, and I’d feel terrible leaving him again. What should I do?”
“Mable, I’m the last person you should ask,”
“Why? You’re the one who set this up; why wouldn’t I want your opinion? You have a hand in my career, and all the good things that have been happening so far.”
He slightly opened his mouth, taking a moment to choose his words. “I can’t tell you what to do because my answer would be blinded by my own motives, Mable.” He bit his bottom lip, stopping himself from saying what he wanted to. So there was a motive, and at least he was admitting it. But what could it have been? It wasn’t difficult to see that Simon was a man restricted by self-imposed restraints, whatever drove him to help me, whatever it was that we meant to each other. Half of the time I wasn’t entirely sure of it, but there was this force between us. This invisible wall we might never scale over, because there was something we wanted from each other but didn’t really need, not just yet.
“You know, before we met, I had heard stuff about you … through the grapevine.” I raised my finger in the air.
“What kind of stuff?” He gave me a quick glance.
“I don’t know, the way people spoke of you, I got the impression you were … a little unhappy, I guess.” I inspected my hands as I spoke.
“Uh-hun … but you’ve told me something like this before.” His eyes became small, and the lines on his forehead became more pronounced. I would have said nothing if I imagined he would take it personally. Since when did it matter what I thought of him?
“Have I? No, I don’t think Gloria let me finish … What I said was you’re not what I imagined,” I gave him a side-glance. “But then I met you—”
“And you thought … Oh my God, he’s so hot,” he said in a girly voice.
I laugh.
“No way.” I playfully shoved his arm. Maybe, but he didn’t need to know that.
“Go on.” He signaled with his hand for me to continue, without removing his eyes from the road.
“It’s so surprising you can be such a goofball.”
“Why is that surprising?”
“I don’t know. Maybe because you act so serious most of the time, and it made me wonder if there was anything in life that made you smile.”
“You make me smile,” he said, and my heart picked up the pace.
He shifted slightly in his seat, contemplative in thought.
“Well, I’m not an angry person … maybe just tired of feeling sad.” He sighed. “But I don’t want you to think I’m depressed, either.”
I could feel it with every breath he took. He’s trying to tell me something, but he’s not sure if he can trust me yet. I can’t understand why this frustrates me. The reality was that we were nobody to each other, yet I felt like I’d known him my whole life.
“Maybe I’m like you said, but then you came around, pestering me with your enthusiasm and fun-loving attitude, at least for the little time we spent on the set. You made me forget.” He gave me a quick side-glance. What did he want to forget?
“So my point is, you’re a good guy, Mr. Rowe.”
He stifled a laugh. “That’s absurd.” He looked in his rearview mirror and changed lanes.
“Aw, I’m making you blush.”
“I’d rather you thought I was sexy and dangerous.”
“Maybe I do.”
“Yeah?” He flashed a knowing smile.
“I see you, Simon Rowe. You helped me so much, and I’m not sure why.”
He sat there quietly for a second. “Well, you kind of remind me of myself.” He shrugged. “I’ve been there before … big dream and a passion to match it. I know how it feels when all the doors are closed off. Look, I’m sorry I was such an arse to you back there.”
“You were right. I was the one being unprofessional.” I realized now that he had every reason to be upset with me. He was the one who had put his reputation on the line. But I had never expected him to.
“So the next time when I tell you it’s important—be punctual?”
“Fair enough, but only if you promise no surprises, all right?”
“We make a good team, you and me,” he said, matter-of-factly.
When he looked at me with those wild eyes, I had to fight the urge to kiss him. I understood the depths of my situation. Maybe I hadn’t realized it before, but something had happened that day in the studio I never expected. With Simon, it was easy to communicate, without uttering a single word. We knew what we wanted from each other. Gloria later told me it was beautiful to watch it happen, almost poetic. Like witnessing two people falling in love. I never questioned what she meant, but I always wondered, the day that the axis shifted ever so slightly: did she mean love between a photographer and his muse … or did she see something that Simon and I weren’t aware of?
“What should I do? Tell me, Simon. I trust you.”
“You trust me?” He pulled into my father’s driveway, putting the car into park.
“Of course I do,” I said with all honesty. “You’ve proven to be a good friend, and what you think matters to me.” The more I got to know him, the more I wanted to know, and the further my heart opened.
He looked deep into my eyes. “If it’s up to me, I want you …” He turned and leaned in closer.
“Want me?”
“I want you to come to New York and work with me.” His words were restrained, filling the air with what my heart had been whispering all along, like a call of the wild.
What is it about New York City: that when you’re there, you can’t wait to get the hell out, and when you’re gone, you keep wishing to go back? You realize you can’t live without her, that grand metropolis, because it has the kind of magic that can revive your dreams, shine them up and make them brand new again. And then, with just the change of the tide, with no recognition of diplomacy, she will swallow you whole. One way or another, you can’t stop loving her. No doubt, you’re screwed.
Since I’d been back to New York, things had progressed. Auditions turned into callbacks. Callbacks turned into job offers. My new agent, Amanie, believed I had a unique look, the potential for a promising career well into my thirties. The feedback was positive; the designers said I had a great presence when I walked. I should have been happy, but for some unknown reason, I couldn’t help but feel that something was missing.
I didn’t think Nonna’s lasagna could have helped me with this hitch. So I did the next best thing. I sought him out. I realized this was becoming a habit. Simon encouraged me to come and see him at his studio, because he loved a good chat, and I was looking for any excuse to devote more time being around him. But lately, I had tried to create space between us, because I realized the time we spent together only intensified my passion for him. I was playing with a loaded gun, and it was only a matter of time before I would get hurt.
I ran into Gloria on her way down the staircase. From the look on her face, she was questioning why I was there.
“Hey you, what’s going on?”
“Is Simon still up there?”
“Yeah … yeah, he is.” She gave me an unsure look. “Was Simon expecting you?”
“No … ah, I wanted to swing by and tell you guys the good news … I’m booked! Ten shows for fashion week.” In the small details, I wasn’t getting paid much. A few of these gigs paid nothing at all. Amanie said I had to look it like this: I was working for exposure, hoping I might catch an editor’s eye. In the modeling world, time is your enemy. I was twenty, and if it didn’t happen soon, then it was never going to happen for me.
“Oh, that’s great! I’m so happy for you,” she said, pulling me into a hug. “I was just on my way to the apartment. Are you coming home for dinner?” Gloria and her partner Tracy had allowed me to crash on their sofa until I had myself sorted out. I would find a place of my own once I had a steady income rolling in; it wouldn’t be much longer. Hopefully. Crossing fingers and toes.
“Hey stranger, howya been?” A husky voice echoed in the small corridor, and we simultaneously looked up. At the top of the staircase, leaning against the doorframe, was Simon.
Simon’s eyes were bright. I wasn’t sure if he was happy because he had had a good day or for the fact he was seeing me. Heck, I’ll go with the latter.
“I came by to share the good news.” I slid my hands farther into my coat pockets.
“Come on up, love, and tell me all about it,” he said, disappearing around the corner.
“Okay, I’ve got to go … Should I expect you at home?” Geez, Gloria could be so maternal.
“Yeah, sure, later, but not for dinner.”
She looked me over through her black-framed glasses. “Don’t forget about the cats,” she shrilled over her shoulder as she walked past me.
“If you don’t stop taunting me about them, I will not feed them.”
“You’re cruel,” Gloria continued. “I’ll see you later. Hopefully not too late. Don’t do something I wouldn’t do,” She said, disappearing through the door.
Gloria knew it, and I knew it. It’s always possible to go past the line, to smudge it when you’re attracted to someone, but I had packaged it with a little bow and sold it to Gloria that Simon and I were nothing but platonic. We had sailed far into the friend zone, and I was comfortable with the idea. I think.
The way I saw it, this was safe. I didn’t need to give a part of myself, but that also meant I couldn’t expect anything from him either. Then again, does a platonic relationship actually prevent you from any kind of heartache?
When I reached the top step, I realized he wasn’t alone. Some of the crew still lingered around.
“Mable,” Simon called from his office, and I walked in.
“So where have you’ve been?” he asked. When I was in his view, he went back to placing his grip equipme
nt on his pegboard.
“Oh, am I interrupting something? I could come back later,” I said, noticing the cute brunette sitting in the chair in front of his desk.
“Oh no, stay. I was just on my way out,” she said, getting up and sliding on her coat that rested on the back of the chair.
“Mable, this is Roxanne, my new intern. Roxanne, this is Mable,” he said, placing his camera back in its case.
“Nice to meet you,” she said, and I smiled. My hands remained in my pockets.
“I’ll see you tomorrow, Simon?” Roxanne said, and he nodded. His eyes followed her out the door. My stomach was in knots, but it might have been because of the hamburger I had eaten at lunchtime. It had to be the extra pickles, and nothing to do with the brunette.
“So?” Simon studied me from across the room. “A little bird told me you went out with Noah the other night.” He smiled in a satirical way.
“Are you keeping tabs on me?” I playfully narrowed my eyes.
“No, but Noah is my top bloke.”
“I’m not stealing him from you, if that’s what you’re thinking … It’s not my fault if he likes me better than you.” I flashed a coy smile.
“I have no problem sharing in the sandbox. All I’m saying is it would have been nice to be invited.” He held out his arms.
I wasn’t sure what was bothering him, but I guessed it was the fact that he hadn’t heard from me in a while.
“Geez, I’ll be sure to, the next time. Only we wouldn’t be able to talk about you behind your back.”
“What about me?” His tone was playful.
“Ah, my lips are sealed.” I casually slid into the chair, making it roll back a few inches. It was still warm from the attractive brunette. “Anyhow, I didn’t want to bother you. I thought you’d be busy with your new intern.”
His eyes snapped up. “Yeah, you’re right, she has been keeping me busy, but not the kind of busy you’re thinking.” He frowned. “Roxanne is my intern and nothing more.”
Of course, I should know. I waved my hand dismissively. The last thing I wanted him to figure out was that I cared about what he did, but it was too late for that now.
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