soundedtohimliketheevilwitchesinDisneyfilmsandhehadstillnotseenanythingabout herthathecouldlike.Bonniewasn’tworriedaboutthatandneitherwasStuart,giventhathe wasundertheinfluenceofthewitch’sspell.Everybodybuthimthoughtthathewasgoingtoo fast and, upon meeting Bonnie and remembering Lucille, they were confused as to how somebodylikeStuartcouldendupwithawomanlikeher.Notonlyduetoherdiscreetandnot atallattractivephysique,butalsoduetoherstrangeandintrovertedpersonality.Nobodysaw thatunionasagoodone,butthecharismaticStuartClaytonhad,overnight,turnedintooneof
the wealthiest and powerful businessmen in New York and going against him could be dangerousformany.
Bonnie didn’t feel good with her bridesmaids who would not stop criticizing how her dress looked on her. Too big here, you’re too short for this style, the stones don’t hide your smallandalmostinexistentchest...Bonniewasfedupandsad,notseeingherselfasthemost beautifulbrideintheworldwhenherimagewasreflectedinthemirror.
Athalfpasteleven,thegroomarrivedatSaintPatrick’sCathedral.Itsneo-gothicstyleand itswhitemarbleshonealongsidethecountlessflowersthathadbeenplacedineveryavailable corner, just for the occasion; while a beautiful melody was being played on the piano. The guestsbegantoarrive,complainingaboutthecoldweatherandthetrafficinthecity,asthey posedwiththeirbestsmilesforthemediawhohadnotwantedtomissMr.Claytonwedding.
Bonniearrivedinahorse-drawncarriageattenpasttwelve,lateasmarkedbytraditionandon thearmofoneofStuart’sbestfriends.Shewalkeddowntheaislewithasmile,asshelooked atStuartatthealtar,waitingforherwithhisson,whowasholdingtherings.Shedidn’teven lookatanyoftheguestsfaces,whowerelookingatherasifsheweresomekindoffreak.Not even the most powerful magic in the world could convince and trick everybody. The priest begantotalkand,afterafewminutes,BonniehadbecomethenewMrs.Clayton,wantingto holdontothatmomentinhermemoryforalleternity.
PARTFOUR
THEREISALWAYSMOREINTHEAFTERLIFE
There is always more in the afterlife; I thought to myself as I looked at each one of the paintingsIhadfinishedformyfutureexhibitionsinNewYork.Ionlyhadanotherweektogo beforeIreturnedtothecityofskyscrapersthatIhadchoseninanotherlife.ThatlifethatIstill feltasmyown,despiteeverything...butMarkwouldnotexistinthatlife...atleastnotinmy world and I could no longer imagine him not in my world. Since my mom had died, he had been my main support. Without him, it would have most probably taken me much longer to recoverfromthatsadandterribleblow.
ChristinecametotheworkshopintheafternoonofthethirdofJanuarytotakemypaintings.
I was even more nervous than I had been with the exhibitions in Kutztown, given that New Yorkwasmuchmoreresponsibilityforme.TheAgoraGallerywasexpectingusonthetenthof January,aswasCeres,inChelsea,alongwithotherartistswhohadcontactedme,interestedin my work. As the days went by, my nerves calmed down, as if, from somewhere beyond and justlikeshehadpromised,mymomwaswatchingoverme.
On the ninth of January, before leaving for New York where I would spend five days, I went to visit my mom’s grave. She was buried next to my father, just like she had wanted.
Seeingthemtogether,unitedbythecoldstone,Ifeltchills.Ihadalwaysseenpeopleinfilms speaking to the graves of their dead loved ones and the scenes were always beautiful but...
Whatdoyousaytotwocoldstoneswithwordswrittenonthem?Isimplylookedatthemand criedinsilence.Ifmylifehadbeenstrangeoverthepastmonths,italsowasatthatmomentin whichIfelttwohandsuponmyshoulders.Ilookedbehindmeandsawthattherewasnobody there, just emptiness and silence. I smiled and nodded, knowing that my parents were there withme.ItwaspreciselythenwhenIbegantobelieveinsomethingmore,thatdeathisonly anotherstepandnottheendofeverything.Iwalkedoutofthecemeteryinpeaceand,strangely, surroundedbysomuchdeath,Ifeltmorealivethanever.
IhadarrangedtomeetChristineatfiveintheafternoonandtocallMarktosaygoodbye,he surprised me with his sudden idea to go to New York with me and accompany me to what would be the two most decisive exhibitions of my life. His novel was moving on quickly, accordingtohim,Iinspiredhimmorethanhissolitudeandhedidn’tminddistractinghimself forafewdays,althoughhislaptopwenteverywherewithhim.
SeeingtheskyscrapersagainthatIhadsaidgoodbyeto,twomonthsearlier,smellingthe smoke, the pollution, listening to the frequent and annoying beeping of the cars and the other noisesthatweresodifferentfromtranquilKutztown,feltlikegoinghome.OnlythatInolonger feltthatNewYorkwasmyhome...andtheonlyreasonIlikeditwasbecausethere,amongall ofthosepeopleandthebusystreets,wasmylittleMatt...onlywithanothernameandthechild ofanotherwoman.IcouldseehiminthefacesofallofthechildrenthatwalkedpastmeandI continuedtowonderabouttheworldIhadchosenandthathadendedupinsomekindoflimbo, untilanewmovethatIhopedtodosoon.AndthenIlookedatMark...him,withoutknowing that I was from a fate where it looked like we were not made for each other, the day would comeinwhich,asifbymagic,Iwoulddisappearfromhislife.Magic...
BeforeheadingtoMark’sapartment,whereweweregoingtostay,wewenttotheAgora GallerywhereChristineandIcontemplatedmypaintingswithawestruckexpressions.Itwas artanditwastasteful.Withrefinedandeleganttaste.Thepersoninchargeofthegalleryknew herdemandingandexquisiteclientsverywellandhadpulledouteverythingfortheoccasion.
NothinglikeKutztown.NewYorkwasindeedadifferentworld.
WhenIfoundoutwhereMarklived,Iwasstunned.ItwasveryclosetowhereIhadlived withStuartandMatt,onlythreebuildingsdown,ontheUpperEastSide.Hisapartmentwas justaswonderfulasminehadbeen...withprivilegedviewsoverCentralPark,itwasadream home. Spectacular. While Christine settled down in the guest room, also surprised by our host’sgoodtasteindécor,MarkandIsatontheterracetocontemplatetheviews.
“IpreferKutztownmuchmoretothis...”Hesaid,gazingdownatthebushytreesofCentral Park.“IthinkI’mgoingtosellthisapartment.”
“Really?It’sverylovely.”
“Youdon’tseemassurprisedasChristine.”
How could I tell him that I had lived in an apartment close to his that was even more ostentatious?Forhim,IhadstayedinKutztown,inoneofthetown’soldhousesandIworked inashackonthesamefarmthathadalwaysbelongedtomyfamily.
“Iwasverysurprised...”Ilied.“Howisyourbookgoing?”
“Good.Theexhibitionwillbefantastic,you’llsee.Alloftherichpeopleontheareawill wantoneofyourpiecesintheirhomes.”
“Doyouthinkso?”Iwouldhavewantedthemformyhome.“Youdon’tthinkthey’retoo dismal?”
“No... The colors are dark but that’s in fashion at the moment. Besides, they perfectly reflectthesituationyouhavegonethrough.I’venevertoldyouthis,butIadmireyou.Whenmy motherdied,Ididn’thandleitwaswellasyou,andIwasluckytohaveyouwithme.Doyou rememberhowharditwas?Youwerealwaysthereforme...”Hesaid.Hiswordsechoedin my mind like sledgehammers. I was always there, with him... a bad time I had never experienced.ThatMarkremembered,butIdidnot...
“I’mhandlingitwellthankstoyou,Mark.ButnotadaygoesbythatIdon’tthinkabouther andregretthedifferencesthatwehadsometimes.WhatcanIsay...that’slife.”
“Life...”Hesighed,withon
eofhissmilesthatalwayscaptivatedme.Ikissedhim.
“WhatwouldyoudoifIdisappeared,Mark?”Idaredtoaskhim.
“Iwoulddisappeartoo.Forsomereason,wearedestinedtobetogether,Noraandweare incapableofbeingwithouteachother.Justlook...aftertwelveyears,we’retogetheragainand itisthebestthingthathaseverhappenedtome.GoingbacktoKutztown,seeingyouagain,and beingabletobewithyou.”
Hiswordsmademethink.Ifoneday,Ireturnedtomyworld,IwoulddivorceStuartand, alongwithMatt,IwouldgoandsearchforMark,evenifIhadtogototheendoftheworldto findhim.Evenifhewasjustthatboywhohadthrownthatbasketballatmyfaceandlaughedat me... even if we didn’t have anything in common and we led completely different lives. I wouldfindhim.Wewouldstartafresh.
“Doyoubelieveinparallelworlds,Mark?”
“Parallelworlds?I’veseensomefilmsandreadabitaboutthesubject.It’ssomethinglike differentworldsallexistinginours,right?”
“Iimagineitdependsonthedecisionswemake,wegodownonepathoranother.Imagine thatyoudecidedtoneverreturntoKutztown.Orimaginethatwehadneverdatedandyouwere onlythatboywhothrewthebasketballatmyface.”Isaid,Marklaughed.
“That’sabsurd.”Hereplied,laughingharder.“Ican’timagineanyworldwithoutyou.”
“Why was he so darned romantic? Why did he have to have an answer for everything?
There was a fine line between love and hate, and I had crossed it. Not expecting it, so suddenly...thankstoBonnie.Ihadalotofthingstoholdagainsther,butotherthingstothank her because she had made me open my eyes. In a somewhat evil way, of course... out of her owninterest,wantingtotakemyplace...butattheendoftheday,theopportunityofbeingwith mymotherduringthelastdaysofherlifehadbeenablessing.Theadrenalineofbeinganartist wasexcitingandhavingfinallyfoundtruelove,Stuartwasnotthemanofmydreams,hadbeen the best thing that had happened to me in a very long time. But I couldn’t forget Matt, and becauseofthat,Iwantedtostrangleherandsendherdirectlytohell.
We went for dinner at my favorite restaurant, and Matt’s favorite too, the Shake Shack, between 86th Street and Lexington Avenue, where they prepared the best burgers in the world...oratleastthat’swhatmysonalwayssaid.Christineseemedtoagreewithhim,asshe atenomoreandnolessthantwoburgers.
“Wheredoyouputitall?”Iasked,laughing.
“Ineedmystrengthfortomorrow...”Shereplied,takingabitefromherburger.
Mark saw that I wasn’t concentrated on my dinner. And I wasn’t, it was as if Mark and Christine were invisible and the burgers were not important, the only thing I did was look toward the door and at all of the tables where there were children, with the hope of seeing Matt... only that I knew that he had a different name in that world. There was not a trace of him...maybeinthatparallelworldthelittleboydidnotliketheburgersfromthe ShakeShack.
Christine and I went to sleep early to look fresh and wonderful on the day of the inauguration; while Mark decided to close himself up in his study full of books, to continue writing his novel at night. When he came to bed, it was five in the morning, and I knew that becauseIhadn’tbeenabletosleepmyself...Mynerveswereattheirpeak,notjustbecauseof theinauguration,butalsobecauseIwasbackinNewYorkandIcouldrunintoStuartorMatt...
orJohnorwhateverhisnamewas.Theirfaceswerestillstuckinmymind,Icouldn’thelpit...
andthequestion “Whoisthatwoman,daddy?” continuedtohurtmelikeknivesstickinginmy heart.
ThemuchawaitedThursdaytenthofJanuary2013arrived.Althoughtheinaugurationstartedat fourintheafternoon,ChristineandIwenttothegalleryateleveninthemorning,afteragood breakfast,togeteverythingready.Wehadlunchwiththeownerofthegallery,whowasvery excitedaboutmyworkandsheforesawapromisingfutureformeandincrediblesalesofallof
mypaintings. At fouro’clock, the peoplebegan to arrive andon their faces,I could see just how much they liked the abstract shapes and the dark colors of each one of my “children”...
thatwashowIfeltaboutthem...theyweremychildren,mycreations,lifeandsensibilityinits pureststate.AsensibilitythatIcouldnothavebraggedaboutafewmonthsbefore.Mygreatest pride was that each visitor walked over to congratulate me and praise me, as well as being interestedinthestorybehindeachandeveryoneofmypaintings,especiallytheonethatIhad decidedtocall“MOM”.Itwastheonlyonewherethecoloryellowstoodoutovertherestof thecolors,leavingbehindthebrownsorblacksthatwereverypresentintherest.“MOM”had light.Itwasnotperfect,butitwasinperfectharmonythankstoitsroundshapesandonecould sensethelookofhopeandoptimism,lookinguptowardthesky.EverytimeIsawsomeoneget excited at “MOM”, I couldn’t help but look toward the door through each even more people werearriving,andimaginemymomwalkingthroughit,despiteherillness,sothatshewould notmissanothergreatday...Inaway,shewastherewithme.
Markarrivedatfiveo’clocklookingathiswatchandsmilingatthoseinthegallery,until hefoundme.Likehealwaysdid,assoonashefoundmeinthecrowd,itlookedlikenobody elseexistedforhim.Justme.Ifeltlikethemostlovedwomanintheworld.
“I’msorry,Icompletelylosttrackoftime.”Hesaid,kissingmeandpickingupaglassof champagne.“Howisitgoing?”
“Great.Thepeopleloveit...especially“MOM”.”
“It’saveryspecialpiece.”Henodded,lookingatthepaintingwithabeautifulshineinhis eyes, which were somewhat red from having sat in front of the computer typing for hours.
“Wow,there’salotofpeople,isn’tthere?Great.”
WhenIlookedbackatthedoor,Isawhim.Stuart...Aselegant,distinguishedandarrogant aseverbutwithafuntouchabouthimthatcaptivatedpeople.Boastingwiththewayhewalked forhavingmodelledonthebestrunwaysintheworld,yearsbefore...yearsthatseemedtohave vanished from my memory. I couldn’t avoid staring at him for a few seconds that felt like eternity,whilehediscreetlylookedaroundhimexpectantlyandinawe;attentivetoeverything hewaslookingat.Afterawhile,Imanagedtogethisattention.Helookedatmeconfused,asif he recognized my face but didn’t know where from. Was it possible that, deep down, he remembered me? From another life, another world... or from the time that I knocked on his doorlikeacrazywomanandhedidn’tknowwhoIwas,becausethewitchhadalreadysentme tothelifeIhadneverchosen.IlookedbehindhimwiththehopeofseeingifMattwaswith him, even if he wasn’t my Matt. But behind him, the damned witch appeared, looking a lot differentfromhowIrememberedher.Underanelegantblackcoatthatshetookoffassoonas sheenteredthegallery,shewaswearingatightgreydressthatwasverysimilartotheonethat I had in my closet that no longer belonged to me. She walked over to Stuart and kissed him.
Secondslater,shesawmetoo.
PERFECTIONISONLYANILLUSION
After the wedding, Stuart and Bonnie’s lives consisted in travelling, going to elegant parties and dining in the most luxurious restaurants in New York. Frequently, Stuart felt guilty for leavingJohninthecareofanannyontoomanyoccasions,buthewantedtoenjoythefreetime that he had with Bonnie. She gave him the light and magic that he had been missing since Lucille had died. Bonnie, however, and despite hiding it very well indeed, hated each and every one of the events that she went to with her husband. As if she
were a puppet, she had neverbeengoodatsocializingwithotherpeoplewho,despitewepowerfulpositioninsociety, stilllookedatherasifsheweresomekindoffreak.Shehatedthelooksthatsaidthataman likeStuartcouldhaveendedupwithsomeonebetter.Betterthanher.Itstillhurther,butshe lovedthatmanlikeshehadneverlovedanybodyandthebestpartwasthathelovedherback.
Shedidn’tcarethatitwasreallyallalie...Stuartwouldneverwakeupfromthespellshehad puthimunderandsoshehadnothingtoworryabout.Everythingwasperfect,everythingwas anillusion,andeverythingwasjustlikeshehadalwaysdreamed.
BonniehadmanagedtogetoutofthepositionofexecutivevicepresidentoftheCompany thatnowbelongedtoStuart.
“Idon’twanttoworkwithmyhusband...Couplesthatworktogethertendtofightalot.You understand, don’t you, darling?” Bonnie said to him, while they were having dinner with a silentandsadJohn,whostilldidnottrusthisnewmother.
“I understand perfectly, sweetheart. We will find somebody else, although I doubt we’ll findsomeoneasgoodasyou...”
Bonnieannouncedtoalloftheworkersthattenthousandofthemweregoingtobefired.It wasnotanicemoment,butshewouldn’trememberitasoneoftheworstinherlife,giventhat noneofthemhadhelpedherwhenshewasanobodyintheparallelworldthatshehadescaped from.
The year 2013 arrived and Bonnie could finally celebrate it with HER family. She still didn’tgetalongverywellwithJohn,butshedidn’tcare.ShewouldconvinceStuarttosend him off to some far away prestigious school and then she would feel better. Time, all she neededwastime...Onthetenth,theyhadanewexhibitiontogoto.Stuartwasanartenthusiast andtriedtoattendmostoftheexhibitionsthattookplaceinNewYork.SomeonecalledNora Stewart,ofsomefameinPennsylvania,whereshewasfrom,wasexhibitingherpaintingsfor thefirsttimeintheAgoraGallery.EventhoughBonniedidn’tfeellikegoing,shedecidedtogo along with her husband. For the occasion, she chose a tight grey dress with a beautiful open backthatshowedoffherthinback,andablackcoatthatwastoowarm,butitwasterriblycold in New York in January, so she decided to use it. The driver left them outside the vast and luminous gallery where, from the outside, they could see it was full of people admiring the differentpaintingsandeatingthedeliciouscanapéswithaglassofchampagneintheirhands, allservedbywaiters.StuartlookedexcitedandenthusiasticandBonnie,behindhim,stillnot
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