Page 17

Zoe

BOSTON

The cemetery is empty, almost as empty as my heart.

Nothing went as I expected when I returned home. The guilt still consumes me, but it competes with how much I miss him, and I hate myself for it.

How could I be so stupid?

Besides being who he is, he treated me like a prostitute when he allowed that woman to give me money like she did.

God, I’m so ashamed!

Is she used to this? To dismissing his dates?

I push those thoughts away. It doesn’t matter. It’s none of my business.

“Hi, bestie. I didn’t do very well on our first trip. The ship was fun, even though I didn’t meet that many people. I’m still the same: shy and antisocial.”

I sit on the floor by the headstone and gather some dry leaves.

“Anyway, I took a bunch of pictures with you, and they look amazing, but I haven’t had the heart to develop them yet. I don’t feel like doing anything lately; I think I’m depressed. I didn’t tell Mom what happened at my first job or later in Barcelona. Her health isn’t doing great, and Dad is afraid the cancer is back, but I’m so sad, Pauline.”

I wipe a tear that runs down my cheek.

“I’ve been back a week now and should have come to visit you, but I was . . . I’m still dying of embarrassment. I did a very bad thing, and first of all, I need your forgiveness. I read somewhere that friends forgive each other no matter what. Would you be able to do that for me?”

Someone walks by holding a girl by the hand, and I get distracted for a moment.

Has the little girl, like me at her age, lost a family member?

A bird sings in the distance as if forcing me to focus on what I came here to do.

“I know you are with me all the time, following my steps from heaven, Pauline, but even so, I feel obliged to ask for your forgiveness personally, even if I have already done it in my prayers. He introduced himself as Xander Megalos, and I have no idea why. It wasn’t until later . . .”

I take a breath because I’m choking.

“After we slept together, I found out he’s the same man who hurt you in that accident. I was so angry with myself back in Barcelona, but thoughts are a crazy thing. When I landed in Boston, I wished it was all a mistake, bestie, because I fell in love with him. The night we . . . No, you don’t need to hear that. I’m getting lost in what I really need to say. I just want you to forgive me.”

I can almost hear her voice, as if she were still alive, saying that, yes, she forgives me, because Pauline was the best person who ever lived. I didn’t get to see her again until shortly before she passed away. When Mom Macy adopted me, it was my first request: to take me to visit my friend. But by then, it was too late.

“I looked for your mother the day before yesterday. I couldn’t eat or sleep properly because I needed confirmation. I wish it weren’t true, but she showed me a photograph, and even though it happened many years ago, Xander’s . . . Christos’s face is unmistakable.”

I take tissues out of my bag to dry my eyes.

“I wish I could tell you that I hate him, Pauline, but I can’t. I can assure you that I hate myself for not being able to hate him. I’ll make a confession and a promise: you asked me, as a child, to become a model and travel the world as if I were you; I only agreed because I wanted to see you happy. I loved to see your smile, but I never wanted that for myself. Modeling in front of people and traveling everywhere . . . isn’t my dream. I want a house in the country. Someone who loves me and who I’m in love with . . .” And even now, in front of my friend’s grave, it’s his face that comes to mind when I say that. “. . . and lots of kids. A home no one can send me away from.”

I blow away some flower petals that insist on staying on her tombstone.

“But I’ll agree to one thing: first, I’ll make your dreams come true, then mine. I met a woman, as you may already know, on my way back from Barcelona. She’s something of a model scout, Pauline, and she invited me to audition. I called her yesterday, and she’s going to send me a ticket so I can go to New York to do this test on camera. I can’t guarantee that it will work or that they will hire me, but at least I’m trying to make your dream come true.”

I get up, ready to say goodbye. It’s already getting dark.

“I love you, Pauline. We haven’t talked much since I grew up, but you, your plans, and the desire to carry them out to make you happy are what kept me from giving up whenever I was rejected by my adoptive parents. I couldn’t give up because we made a pact. And I say, as sad as I feel now, I’m not going to throw in the towel because I’m doubling down on my promise. I will do what I can to be famous and travel the world with you.”

BOSTON HOSPITAL

Fourteen Months Late r

“Are you sure you really want to stay here, Zoe? I can book a hotel near the hospital. I don’t mean to be insensitive, but there’s a fashion show in a few days, and you can’t afford to show up with dark circles under your eyes.”

I take a deep breath, trying to calm down. I know she didn’t mean it in a bad way; it’s just her job.

After the test I took in New York, and I was accepted, Bia Ramos, whom I later discovered is Brazilian, became a good friend. No matter where in the world I am, if I need to talk, she always answers with comforting words.

Like now, after my mother had a serious relapse, she came from Oceania to give me some support.

“I’ll be fine. I just want to be close to her for a little longer. As soon as she falls asleep, I’ll get a hotel. I can’t leave my father alone.”

“Okay, baby, but will you call me if you need to?”

“Yes. There’s also a son of my mother’s childhood friend, a professor at Massachusetts College whose come to visit her, and Dad asked me to meet him.”

“You’re unbelievable, Zoe Turner,” she says, running the back of her hand across my cheek. “Currently, one of the most recognizable faces in the world, the one any man would cut off an arm to take to dinner, is also the sweet girl who greets a family friend at the hospital like any ordinary person.”

I look at the floor. “I’m simple, Bia. Don’t fool yourself. All the glamor they surround me with or the clothes they dress me in have nothing to do with the real Zoe.”

“So why all this?”

“Because I made a promise to someone very special. Now I thank God for getting into this world because it’s what allows me to pay for my mother’s hospital expenses.”

“And if it’s up to me, you’ll earn a lot more.”

“What do you mean?”

Bia and Miguel, her right-hand man, became my agents. She doesn’t provide this service to any other model, but as soon as I got in, a rogue agent scammed me, pocketing far more than he should have on my payments .

“Now is not the time to talk about this, but we have a seven-figure contract on the way. They want exclusivity.”

“I won’t model for any other brand?”

“No, not even photograph, but believe me, you won’t need to. For now, enjoy your time with the lovely Macy and your daddy. Then we’ll talk. You know, if they want to buy your pretty face, I’ll try to squeeze every last penny from them. Now I need to go.”

I’m sitting in the hospital hallway, checking my work messages, when a shadow falls over me.

I look up and see a very handsome man watching me.

I don’t want to sound cocky, but that’s not unusual; my face is well-known these days.

“Good evening, you must be Zoe.”

I turn my head to the side, wondering how he knows my name, but then I remember the visitor Dad was expecting. “Yes, it’s me. And you are Mr. Mike Howard?”

“Just Mike, please. It’s bad enough that my students call me that.”

“I didn’t mean to offend you,” I say.

“I wasn’t offended, Zoe. I just don’t want to look so old.”

“You’re not,” I say sincerely. “Oh my God. I think I’m making it worse. I’m really bad at socializing.”

“Don’t apologize. With me, you can always act like yourself.”

I smile, believing it. I also believed many of the lies he told me until it was too late.