(thanks to Sarah Lynch-Walker)
By the way, this is purely fabricated. Sarah’s words reminded me of Gertrude Stein, which reminded me of Alice B. Toklas, and as usual, something melancholy resulted. – Amy
Alice awoke to music. Bright sunlight slanted through the curtain. Sitting up hurt her head, but she sat up anyway. Gertrude burst into the room and whisked a book from the bedside table. Almost as an afterthought, she leaned over and kissed Alice. “Leo and Pablo are here, and Pablo’s brought a marvelous girl with him.”
Alice nodded sleepily. Marvelous girls always excited Gertie. “Who’s playing the piano? It’s lovely.”
Gertie beamed. “Yvonne.” She swept from the room as quickly as she’d come.
Oh, lovely. So Picasso had brought her another nubile young thing. Another offering. Good for Gertie.
She found the foursome in the salon. Pablo was leaning back in a wing chair, sketching a voluptuous young blonde whose finger tripped lightly along the keys. Leo had just decanted some wine. Gertrude sat near Pablo, chattering a mile a minute. Alice smiled.
Leo held up a glass. “Hair of the dog, Alice?”
She gulped greedily. Whiskey burned her throat in a pleasant sort of way. “Merci, Leo.”
Yvonne finished playing and leaned forward, her breasts resting gently on the keyboard.
Gertie patted the arm of the chair next to her. “Come, Yvonne, sit. Leo, bring Yvonne a glass.” He brother poured a half glass of white wine and handed it to the young woman as she passed.
Pablo grunted and began another sketch. Leo draped himself across a divan, amused as always to watch Gertie work her magic on Yvonne. Despite Gertie’s small stature and dumpy frame, she had little trouble impressing pretty young things. After all, she was a celebrity.
Yvonne relaxed into the chair. She wore dark trousers and a sweater that clung to her skin. She wore no shoes. Her toenails were pink and perfect.
Alice poured herself another whiskey.
Yvonne listened politely as Gertrude read some of her own poetry, and commented that she was familiar with Gertrude’s “continuing present” concept. She turned her head to look at Alice. “I’ve read some of your poetry, as well, Alice. I like it very much.”
Gertie’s eyebrows rose. “Is that so?”
Alice blushed and tried to divert Yvonne’s attention back to her beloved. “Trifles, really. Gertie’s poems, however…”
Yvonne’s eyes lingered on Alice’s strong cheekbones, the peachfuzz mustache feathering her lip. “You are beautiful, Alice. Not pretty, but very attractive.”
Gertie beamed. This new turn of events pleased her. “Alice, you must show Yvonne your collection of Pablo’s early sketches, in the boudoir. I think she might like the charcoal of you.”
Yvonne was beautiful… And it would clearly please Gertie. Alice nodded her assent and motioned the younger woman to follow. The only consequence would be her own misgivings, later. For now, she would live in Gertie’s Continuing Present. Why not.
She could hear Pablo’s soft chuckles all the way down the hall.
Copyright 2006 Amy Frushour Kelly. All rights reserved.
Reproduction by any means prohibited without prior written consent.