Boss Lady

Forever Young

Simone was an absolute mess when I got to André's house on Harrison Street. His tastefully decorated home felt horrifyingly empty without his boisterous presence. As I walked inside, a sense of deja vu crippled me reminding me of all the conversations we had had in this house. All the sensational articles he had written about up and coming designers in the Times that had made their career. But above all, he was most beloved for his integrity and passion for his vocation. His articles from various newspapers and magazines framed the walls, yellow and crinkly and perfectly preserved.

Simone wrapped me in a wrenching hug.

"He is gone, Sana. My Andre is gone.", she said with terrifying finality. How could this be real, how could a man who had been so loved by all, simply cease to exist one day, leaving an empty space and so many broken hearts in his wake.

"I can't even say 'I'm sorry' because that makes this real.", I said clutching her hands tightly.

She laughed mirthlessly. It rang hollowly in my ears.

" I should never have married that man, I swear much less twice.", she said with a watery smile.

I had to laugh a little at that. Simone and Andre were one of those tres scandalous love affairs of the fashion circuit. Simone had been one of the most famous black models of the nineties, dominating every runway she walked. Andre was the darling of every after-party with his witty jokes and charming smiles.

He had been married when they started their whirlwind romance. What followed was a very messy and public divorce from his first wife. Simone and Andre had fallen madly in love and eloped in Paris. Divorce followed three years later and then they reconciled and got married again. Only to be divorced for the second time.

But, they had both grown up by that time. After their split, they still remained friends and Andre loved regaling their story at every dinner. I knew he loved her still. He had admitted that much to me. But, that man wasn't meant for marriage.

"We are all fools in love, Simone.", I said.

Technically, Simone wasn't his wife anymore but she when had formality mattered in the heart of love. She was still his widow.

" He would have loved this, you know. Us laughing about him. He wouldn't have wanted you to cry.", I said tentatively. She place her head on my shoulder with regal grace. Even crying, she was magnificent.

"The hospital staff said that he refused to be put on ventilation till the last moment and he made all the nurses fall in love with him. They're all coming to pay their respects tomorrow.", she whispered.

"He was very easy to love.", I said reminiscing that easy smile.

I asked something that had been bugging me for a long time.

" Why didn't you call me, when he was hospitalized again?"

Simone sighed, sniffling.

"He didn't want you to worry. He was being hospitalized nearly every other week. But,he followed everything you did and he wrote his last article from the hospital in your honour of running the marathon. He was so proud of you, Sana. He wanted to call you the moment he came home. He thought he would come home."

And on those words, Simone broke down again, crying in despair for the man who had left her with a bleeding heart.

"I am terrified, Sana. How can I address so many people tomorrow when I can barely keep myself together", she wailed, all dignity lost to grief.

"You don't have to...", I said, my throat heavy with regret.

" I will arrange for everything. No one expects you to be okay.", I reassured her.

The entire staff of the house stood by quietly. I asked them to field all calls and not to disturb Simone.

I excused myself to make some calls to my agents in New York. They promised to make all the arrangements for the funeral. We would likely to have 800 to 1000 guests coming tomorrow. Given André's popularity, I wouldn't be surprised if the number was more.

Condolences poured in from directors of fashion houses, magazine editors, independent designers. This was a terrible loss for all of us.

I called Jules on FaceTime to watch my heart sleep peacefully. She had gathered all the kids together for a sleepover so Josh wouldn't feel alone. Overnight journeys were hard on us. Without their unconditional support, raising him would have been impossible.

That night, I took a bottle of expensive wine from André's mini bar and got shitfaced. Grief was an ugly thing to bear without backup. I would have liked to talk to Ethan but he was busy at the hospital and I didn't know how to approach him after the radio silence on his end since that night. Perhaps he regretted what had transpired between us that night.

But I couldn't find it in my heart to be angry with him at all,not when I myself had a shit load of baggage. I simply hoped he would tell me one day.

"I can't sleep.", Simone said, her eyes red with crying. She wore a black satin robe and slippers.

The unflappable Simone le Blanc didn't look so invincible now.

" I can't either.", I said giving her a hug.

"What shall we do? I have no more tears left to cry. I feel sick. ", she asked on a sigh.

So, I did the only thing that André would have wanted us to do. We went to his office opened all the old albums and celebrated his life through the immortal pictures. We got drunk and had one of his ridiculous Cuban cigars, vowing to ourselves to never let him go. His presence lingered in the woodsy smoke. His warmth filled the office space. I could feel him watching over us. Smiling at me and Simone.

"He gave me a chance when no one else would, Simone. He wrote the most fabulous articles on our brand and what it stood for. I owe so much to him and now that he is gone, I couldn't even thank him one last time. I couldn't...", I trailed off in shame. The thing was I hadn't even thought of him in the last few months. I hadn't had the time and now there seemed to be all the time in the world and no one to say the words to.

"He didn't want your gratitude, Sana. He wanted you to be a rebel. He loved writing your story. He loved telling everyone how proud he was of his surrogate daughter."

I laughed.

"Don't tell me he took credit for that too."

"He did. He told everyone you were his long lost daughter."

We read his old love letters to Simone and laughed hysterically at the many witty puns. He was charming and sweet and he lived on through his words. He had written and written....like it was his life. He had known how to live, how to laugh. His memorial was proof of a full life lived. He had never feared death, simply pitied the devil who would receive him. At the end of the night, we had cried and laughed so much that I felt weariness settle on my bones. My head lolled against the wooden desk and I remembered,

"Every mortal will taste death. Only some will taste life."

Oh, and how he had tasted life! Perhaps more than I ever would.