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Stories I Wrote (Excerpt)

by Alvin Abram  

  Flight

Miles away from Toronto, the twilight rays of the sun reflected off the windows of the train as it sped westward through the Rocky Mountains, leaving a ribbon of white smoke behind. Margo Booth stared out her window, watching the sun slowly meet the horizon. She had spent most of the previous day and this day as she was now, with thoughts of regrets, of her bad luck, of decisions she had made that were now beyond change. She was also full of feelings she wanted to cherish. The train entered a long tunnel and the single bulb over her head blinked into momentary darkness. She closed her eyes, sighed and cast her thoughts back, back to the beginning, back before her flight from Matthew – to a life she could no longer have.

      The ballroom resounded with the sounds of music and excited voices. Buyers of fine women’s apparel gazed avidly at the runway, praising the garments on the models as they paraded before them. As the last one left the stage, the music beat a familiar rhythm, announcing that Margo Booth, Phillipe deNeuf’s top model, was about to appear wearing the designer’s most stunning creation of the year.

      The curtains parted and Margo, tall, slim, skin the colour of milk, stepped onto the runway wearing a white, strapless, chiffon, cinched-waist evening gown with a full skirt. Her slender fingers moved sensuously, her full lips were parted just enough to show even, white teeth and her eyes sparkled with excitement She seemed to float to the end of the runway, made a half turn, another half turn and then one more. Her slender hips swayed provocatively as she returned to the curtain, did a pirouette, swirling the hem of her gown above her knees, exposing shapely calves and smooth thighs. Her smile broadened, and then she disappeared through the curtain opening. The audience went wild with appreciation and behind the curtain the makeup staff and dressers added their accolades, knowing the show had been a huge success.

      “You were absolutely marvellous!” Philippe said, throwing his arms around Margo. “Marvellous, marvellous, marvellous!”

      She smiled. “It’s your turn, Philippe,” she said, dropping a kiss on his forehead, then pushing him through the curtain. The applause regained its pitch, and Margo ’s smile widened.

      “You seem genuinely pleased for him.”

      Margo faced the speaker, a handsome man, wearing beige trousers, a black turtleneck sweater and an expensive gold chain around his neck.

      She knew immediately by his clothes that he wasn’t part of the staff. “You’re not staff,” she said. “How did you get past security?”

      He only smiled.

      “I’m sorry,” she said, “you shouldn’t be back here.”

      “If you’re sorry, why must I leave?” His eyes were laughing.

      “And who are you?”

      “A dedicated admirer of yours.”

      “Well, dedicated admirer, you’ll still have to leave the stage.”

      “I could get someone to vouch for me, if it will make you feel better.”

      Margo shook her head slightly, “No, that won’t be necessary. I believe you.” She glanced at her watch. “If you’ll excuse me, I must change into something more casual and mingle with the buyers.” She stepped around him and went into her dressing room at the end of the stage. As she closed the door, she glanced back and saw him watching her.