Girl in Blue Velvet Who Fell From the Stars

by Freda, Paula

  Possibly it was loneliness that had caused her to build a world of fantasy around herself. If he could take away the loneliness, she might snap free of the illusions, and just possibly, his feelings for her might stand a chance.

  CHAPTER NINE

  By mid-afternoon, his drawing of the alien background, altered to reflect Jessica's suggestions, was ready to be submitted to the digital matte painter — the DMP, and next, the photographer for the shoot with Jessica, against a green screen. Ben had to admit that her suggestions enabled him to add depth and credibility to the images. And he was ready and willing now to consider more of her input with regard to the other sketches of the fantasy world she had created.

  His next drawing entailed the interior of the alien city and a specific building. He sketched the basic outline of a museum that preserved and showcased artifacts from the planet's past. He planned to show it to Jessica that evening when she came again to his apartment, this time at his request, to comment on the new sketch.

  Tonight, Jessica sported a lavender silk blouse and black jeans and sneakers. She had pinned her hair at the sides so that it fell in silken waves behind her, between her shoulders. "You look lovely," he told her once again, emotion threading his voice.

  She smiled and winked at him. "So do you," she said, without the least recognition that one did not usually refer to a man as lovely. He kept the thought to himself, and instead directed her to his dining area where he had set up two place settings. "I thought you might enjoy having dinner with me before we start working."

  She was silent a moment, eyes downcast. When she raised them, he read genuine warmth and appreciation.

  "This is very kind of you, Ben,” she said. “I do so enjoy being with you."

  There it was again, that lack of coyness that a sophisticated woman of the world today would know how to use to her best advantage. Not so, Jessica. She enjoyed spending time with him, and she said so.

  "Sit down. Do you like Chinese?"

  She looked at him funny. "Why shouldn't I?" she remarked.

  "Do you like Chinese food?" he clarified.

  "Oh," she laughed, understanding, chiding herself. "Yes, I have tasted it, during one of the courses I took at the Institute. We sampled several cuisines from various parts of the cosmos."

  Ben frowned. "Parts of the cosmos?" he asked, hoping she realized what she was saying.

  She gazed at him patiently. "You still don't believe me. And I don't have supernatural powers to prove my origins. In effect, now that I inhabit this body, I'm as human as you."

  Well, Ben thought, the latter remark at least sounded hopeful. "Exactly. You're as human as me. It's good to know that." He nodded and turned to pick up the phone on the kitchen isle behind him. "Any favorite?" he asked over his shoulder.

  "I found the vegetable fried rice with cashews, palatable. And the crab rangoons; most eateries here don't actually use crabs, do they? Cream cheese, isn't it?"

  Ben glanced at Jessica, incredulously. "Some substitute snow fish. But I'll specify you want plain cream cheese rangoons."

  Jessica smiled, satisfied. Her gaze fell on the white enameled metal teapot on the stove top. "If you show me where you keep your tea, I'll brew some. Fiona refreshed my memory how to."

  Ben sighed. Where in the name of heaven had Jessica been brought up? The reply that surfaced in his mind, sent a chill up his spine.

  While they waited for the takeout to deliver their meal, Jessica brewed a pot of green tea, and Ben filled two mini condiment bowls with salt and garlic seasoned olive oil, and served them with a basket of bread sticks. He noted that Jessica waited to see what he did with the bread sticks and the olive oil. When he took one and dipped it in the mixture in his mini bowl and took a bite, she followed suit in hers, and nibbled on what she obviously considered a treat, tasting first, deciding she liked it, and finally re-dipping and eagerly consuming the bread stick. "This is delicious. I do like garlic. May I have another bread stick?"

  Ben couldn't help chuckling. "Have all you want, but leave some room for dinner."

  "You're right, of course. I'll just have one more."

  By the time they had finished eating and were ready to tackle his new sketch in the alien series, Ben couldn't remember enjoying a repast this fully since his childhood holiday meals with his parents and family members. Jessica was obviously one of the lucky ones with a metabolism that burned calories quickly, or she'd be unable to eat with such gusto, and maintain her lovely figure. He, himself, had to watch what and how much he ate. Not that he denied himself hearty well balanced meals, but he exercised and swam regularly at a gym, to offset his long hours sitting at a drawing table.

  Dinner over, Jessica helped him clear the table and place the used dishes, cups and utensils in the dishwasher. She watched with that amazed look that he had grown used to, as he filled the detergent cup in the dishwasher, closed the appliance's door and pushed the buttons that started the mechanism.

  "Fiona has one with digital numbers," she said.

  "This one is an older model," Ben explained. "I've had it for a few years. I rarely entertain, so it doesn't get used excessively."

  "You lead such a quiet life," she said, "compared to your fellow employees."

  "I am more of a loner," Ben admitted. "Although I do socialize occasionally, when it's called for. I've always loved the arts, and have been drawing since the morning my mom placed a crayon in my hand and a blank sheet of paper in front of me. I remember my kindergarten teacher telling my parents that I preferred sitting at my desk drawing and coloring for hours, rather than playing with toys and games with the other children. But I was fortunate to have parents who did not try to discourage my love for artistry, neither as a child drawing zig-zag lines, nor as a youth choosing every and any art course available to me."

  "Are your parents still living?" Jessica asked, taking her place beside him at the drawing table.

  "Yes," he answered. "They own a horse ranch.”

  "Do you visit with them, often?"

  "Yes, although not as often as my mom would like me too."

  "Are your siblings as nice as you?" she asked, her smile entrancing him.

  "You'll have to ask my mother about that. We are a close-knit family. My two sisters and my brother are each married and have children of their own."

  "So your parents are grandparents as well," Jessica beamed. "What a marvel," she said in earnest.

  "Don't they have grandparents in your world?" he asked.

  "No," she answered, her features turning somber. "At least not what you envision a grandparent."

  "Jessica, I've been trying my best to humor your illusion, but can't you see, it's only that, an illusion brought on by some trauma in your past ... or maybe you were never loved as a child."

  "I don't know how to convince you," Jessica said. "Someday I'll find a way."

  The gentle tone in her voice and the sincere yearning in her eyes were not at all what he expected to his blunt statement. The fantasy she had built around herself was so deeply ingrained, that she might be beyond help. Her illusion might be all that kept her from going off the deep end.

  "All right," he relented. He'd continue to humor her for the present. He wanted to help her. She needed his help. And what is more, he was discerning enough to realize he was falling in love with her.

  CHAPTER TEN

  The next morning Lester heartily approved Ben's sketches reworked with Jessica's suggestions. His newest drawing showed a close-up of the city. The detailed oblong structure of the central buildings included a garden with exotic shaped flowers, curved stone benches, a large fountain basin spewing water that reflected the colors of the Aurora Borealis as it reached its apex. The water sprout curved, and cascaded down like varicolored streams of softened glass into the basin. Nearby, stood the octagon-shaped Institute of Higher Learning, and beside it, a place of worship, its triangular walls steepled at the top with an abstract version of two hands, fingertips touching, raised heavenw
ard. A tall adobe styled wall encircled the city, and the irregular shaped homes of its inhabitants. Each home contained a small exotic garden. Remembering Jessica's remark about no locks, he had drawn the entrance to the city as a simple wide open archway at the front of the encircling wall. The lensman photographed Jessica modeling the blue velvet gown in front of the central fountain. More fashion shoots were planned against exterior and interior blowups of the other alien buildings, to continue the series.

  Ben pinned the second of the three backgrounds scheduled for the upcoming issue, to the drawing tabletop. From his briefcase, he pulled out the designer's sketch of the fashion scheduled for the next shoot, that of a cap-sleeved high-waste crinkle cotton sheath. The straight skirt reached to just below the knees. Accessories listed for the dress were a thin gold chain with a glistening star-encrusted diamond tear drop to accentuate the demure scoop neckline, and a star-encrusted gold cuff bracelet. It was up to him to make this simple garment stand out against the extraterrestrial background.

  Pointing to the drawing, he asked, "So, what do you think?"

  Jessica leaned forward in her chair to scrutinize the images. "It's a blowup of our place of worship. It's a good facsimile. I wish you could see within."

  "We leave that to the reader's imagination, according to their beliefs," Ben said.

  Jessica added, "It's a multi-denominational house of prayer, respecting faiths from all over the cosmos. Yours as well."

  "I'm Catholic," Ben said.

  "Yes, I know. The Creator's Son came to your world to save it from destroying itself through hate and greed, and set you on the road to evolve into a civilization of peace and good will."

  "Peace and good will," Ben repeated, forlornly. "It's a wonder the Creator hasn't turned His back on us."

  "Oh no," Jessica exclaimed. "He never will. All His creations are precious to Him."

  "Tell that to victims," Ben said.

  "It's small comfort for them, I know," Jessica said. "But He gave us free will, the good and the bad. He can't interfere. So He suffers along with the victims, sharing their pain, and He is always there to comfort and give them the strength to persevere."

  Ben found it hard to resist the fervor in her voice, and the intense sincerity in her eyes. They made him want to believe her illusion that she had come to this earth from another world far more advanced and mature than the one he inhabited. Jessica's soul was beautiful. No wonder he felt drawn to her.

  He turned to his drawing and sketched a side view of Jessica attired in the crinkled cotton dress, in front of the place of worship, with her arms uplifted, her hands steepled in prayer, and her gaze raised toward the heavens.

  When he was finished, he asked Jessica, "So what do you think, now?"

  "It's very fine," she replied. "Now, would you draw a gold band with a blue velvet rose encircling my right ankle. That will be my logo. Every photo of me that is used, must have it."

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  The following months were the busiest and most life changing Ben had ever experienced. The Alien series was a hit. Sales crescendoed. Lester Edwards gave everyone in his department a raise.

  Jessica was a natural at modeling. Ben was amazed at how well her suggestions played out on his drawings of the extraterrestrial city. Often he found himself wondering if there was the minutest possibility that it really did exist and she had been born there, or, as she liked to put it, her essence and her corporeal form created there.

  Illusion or not, she had captured his heart and his mind. And his spirit, too. Her playful gentleness made him want to be with her every moment possible. He had made his routine to give her a lift to and from work each weekday. Most workday evenings, Ben took her to his apartment where they dined together informally and then worked on his drawings. Weekends were the best, though. He escorted her to various restaurants, from gourmet to steak houses. They went to the movies, plays, and concerts. Always, she watched each event with eyes wide with amazement, as if it were her first time. When their conversation turned to ranching, she told him she had never been to a ranch, rode a horse, or attended a rodeo. He took it upon himself to familiarize her with the life of a cowboy.

  "You're coming with me on my vacation," he said to her one evening in late August. It was a Thursday evening and they had just finished working on his latest drawing in the alien series, a museum of alien artifacts from different parts of the cosmos.

  She didn't reply immediately. It was one of her habits he'd grown to like. She waited for him to complete his thought, and seemed to sense his fear that she might turn him down if he phrased it as a question. Not the smartest or most considerate way to ask if she would join him. Most women would resent being told. And he did not disagree with that resentment. He had been raised by kind and fair-minded parents who considered each other's feelings and made decisions together.

  "I've spoken to Lester. He's agreed to coincide our vacations, so you can join me for a stay at a working ranch ..."

  Still no answer.

  Gathering his courage to overcome his fear of rejection, he added, “if you like." Ben swallowed nervously. "Would you like?"

  Jessica studied his face. She raised her hand and touched his chin. Her fingertips traced his jaw, a strong jaw, but with a touch of softness. Gently, she caressed the side of his face. "Ben," she asked, "are you in love with me?"

  It was not what he expected to hear, although he should be used to her surprises by now. She often shocked him, asking unexpected questions out of the blue. No use hiding the truth from her. She had an uncanny capacity to see right through him, whenever and whatever he tried to hide. Come what may, he replied, "Very much so, Jessica." The spot at the pit of his stomach tightening, the hell with it, he thought. Get it over with!

  He slipped from the desk chair to kneel in front of her. He saw no smirk, no triumphant gloat on her face, only that inquisitive look that made him want to lay bare to her his very soul. "Jessica, will you marry me?" He held his breath, waiting for her reply.

  When it finally came, it was like a breath of refreshing cool air on capped heated desire and passion. It was the only way he could describe the feeling of satisfaction as she bent forward in her chair and kissed him tenderly. "Yes, my darling," she whispered against his lips. And with a sigh, "I've been wondering when you were going to ask me."

  Had he heard right? He stood up taking her with him and enclosing her in his arms. The touch of her body pressed to his made every fiber within him ache to make her his own right then and there. But what remained of his conscience able to think beyond the burning desire, held him back. He knew Jessica's views on premarital sex. They had discussed the subject during one of her impromptu queries. As she explained, in as close a translation to her native language, the promising of two essences to blend and spend their allotted time together on this plane of existence, was sacred and beautiful. In like manner, the physical sexual union of two corporeal beings was not to be consummated before they presented their vows of acknowledgment and fidelity to the Creator for his Blessings, and that of beloved kin.

  He understood the gist of her archaic lingo, especially in his society today. He respected her ideals, and found them endearing. His mother would praise her. His father consider her a proper filly for his son to wed and continue the line. That is, of course, as long as he never mentioned her illusions. But he was confident that her illusion that she was extraterrestrial would grow dim and eventually dissipate once she felt completely loved and needed by him, and God willing, their children.

  "I can't travel to your planet, but will a Church wedding on our world suffice?" he inquired solicitously.

  Jessica's eyes lit with pleasure. "Oh, yes," she replied. Perfect and proper." She kissed him. "And now I have a special request."

  Ben felt a sliver of apprehension. He hoped her request had nothing to do with the other world. He listened.

  "I want you to meet my parents."

  "Oh, of course." he said, relieved. "And you
, mine." Ah, he thought, I may finally learn where she was born. "So, where do your parents live?"

  Jessica eyed him as if his question was redundant. "On my home planet."

  Ben swallowed nervously. Oh Lord, he thought. "How will I meet them, if they are half across the cosmos?"

  "Not physically. We could travel in my ship, but that requires suspended animation. And in your case, by the time you returned from my home planet, you would have outlived everyone you know on this world despite only aging a few months."

  It was possible that in the real world she was an orphan, and this was her mind's way of denying that truth.

  Jessica explained, "There is another way for you to meet them without ever leaving your world."

  "Go on," he said, curious.

  "Well, I can communicate with them, as you define it, telepathically. That ability is not yet fully evolved in most human minds. But you can hitch a ride with my thoughts. After all, I was pure thought before this human form was developed for me."

  "That would be an ... interesting ... choice," he said, rubbing his chin, feeling the beginnings of a light layer of bristles growing since his shave early that morning. "All ... right," he said with a drawn-out breath. He'd fallen in love with her and made up his mind to marry her. But somehow he had to cure her of this fantasy. How, he had no idea whatsoever. All he could do for the present was humor her, until she realized the truth. One way that came to mind, was that he go along with her suggestion of hitching his mind to hers. Outside of hypnotizing him into believing he had traveled to another planet telepathically — and he did not believe that was possible — she would have to admit failure. Ergo, one step in the direction of her realizing her alien history was a delusion.

  "All right," he repeated. "When can I meet them?"

  Jessica hesitated. He saw a frown crease her brow as she nipped at her lower lip. "W-well," she stammered, "Why don't we meet your parents first."