Content Warning: This short story contains mentions of suicide and may be upsetting for some readers.
Description: Damien begins blogging to document his relationship with media personality Querida, determined to break down all barriers to be with the woman he loves.
My name is Damien, and I am honestly the luckiest man alive.
My girlfriend is the greatest beauty the world has ever know. She is yours in magazine spreads, and cute commercials, but in every other aspect, Querida is mine.
It is maddening. I awake to the sun, blinding me to everything but her coy smile. She holds a pillow, in the way she holds me, tightly in her lap, and with great enthusiasm.
Every day, the same smirk, the same stray curl above a cocked eyebrow, the same endless ocean of eyes on my pathetic, worthless wreck.
But she loves me, oh yes, she does.
So much so that she’s taken to following me round the house as I go about my day. Sitting on my bedside table, pinned against the wall in the lounge, perched happily on the kitchen counter, and always with a smile.
I feel guilty sometimes, having her all to myself, when I know so many of you adore her, for her charms and her talents. Her manager calls me a menace, but I don’t think much of a man who wants to sell her to public like some kind of trinket.
I wanted to share my experiences with my girlfriend, because within her, there is a kindness that isn’t often found in this cold, unfeeling world. It is in every stray hair in her hair brush, in every lipstick smudge on a lucky tissue, in every pore of her magnificent body, and it has dripped into me. I know how fortunate I am, to have her in my life, and I know so many would kill for the chance to get a candid glimpse of her, so I will share, just a little, as her kind nature insists.
She is so peaceful when she sleeps. I always thought myself to be nothing of consequence to the world, until I learned that my watchful eye caresses her to sleep far better than lavender could ever hope for. I am her solace, a quiet haven in which she doesn’t always have to smile, and twirl and perform. I am home, and she is that for me too.
She is so maddening, and she is so mine.
I was very pleased to see some of your responses to my first post. Querida has taught me that there will always be people trying to tear you down, but for every hater (I love when she uses that word, it’s so cute), there will be ten people who appreciate what you do.
For those that don’t see that I’m trying to do a nice thing, I’m sorry for you. I hope you find something to do that doesn’t involve harassing happy people online. For those that do enjoy my blog, thank you, and I hope I can help you to see the intelligent, charming and sweet individual that lies beneath the pretty portrayal the media shows you.
Good morning everyone. Querida asked me to let you know that she is very grateful for all of your support in her career, but as you will have seen on her website, she is a little bit irritated with people arriving at her home in the hopes of meeting her. I understand you must be envious of someone like me, with so much access to her, but you mustn’t invade her privacy like this. I will continue my chronicles, so that you can all get to know her a little better, but you must promise not to go to her house, unless you’re invited, like me.
Her manager contacted me today, he’s a terribly rude man, to be honest. He only cares about making money from her, he doesn’t care about what she needs as a person. He doesn’t care about all of you either. I tried to explain to him that my website provides you with an insight into her life, which also circumvents the possibility of you invading it personally, leaving Querida and I in peace, but he just said I had to stop.
He says that using her likeness is illegal. He reduces her to the term likeness. He treats her like a gadget, or a bag of sweets. She isn’t a real person to him, just an item for sale, but I know that she is so much more than that, and I won’t let him stop me from telling you so.
He also says nothing here is true, and I don’t need to tell you that he is in fact lying. Why would I lie? What would I have to gain?
It is her birthday. The little one is twenty one. I’ve got cupcakes to celebrate. One each. She says, to anyone who asks, that she’s watching her figure, and every time, I softly whisper “But darling, that’s my job.” A hopeless joke, but one that has served me well over the years.
I’ve thought a lot today about our origins, how two became one and a half. I’m still broken, but she is enough to carry us over and make us something more, so I’m sure it balances out somewhere, but just in case, I go with one and a half.
Lace in London. The dress should have gone way past her knees, but her legs said no, and I was thankful to them. The first time was broken, but beautiful, as I tripped on my words, and a stray wire on the floor. I thought I should ask for her name, or her drink order, but elected to sit in silence, across the bar and not bother her. The rest of the room was doing a fine job of that anyway.
She called to me though. That night, and every night, and I answer with tremors in my voice. Her mere presence is a public service, and I am so fortunate to be the public she serves the most.
She loved her birthday, and she loved the cupcakes. I had them sent to her office, and she has put a picture on that website of hers. A coy little caption too!
“Wonder who got me these? Whoever it was, I love you! X”
Oh, she knows. She must know, and she showed me her gratitude last night. With closed eyes and a shuddering hand, I was all of a sudden so aware of how much she loved me, and as my shallow breath returned to me, I wept, her smile reaching the corners of her beautiful mouth and rushing on to mine. It felt almost like a kiss, that tender stare after love, and I will treasure it, as if it was.
If this is how I am repaid, I shall make her as many cupcakes as her precious heart desires.
A busy few days, sorry for not writing. I know a lot of you are eager to know Querida better, and this is probably the closest you will get. I know how lucky I am to be in her life, and I want to share that with all of you, because she makes me want to be kinder to the world around me, and is there any better kindness?
She said the funniest thing, this morning. “Stop calling me.” It was early, and she was working, but I could hear a hint of longing in her voice, as if she wanted me to call forever. I didn’t, unfortunately for her, as I knew she was working.
I tweeted her instead. She tweeted seventeen times, this morning, each sweeter than the last. You might think I was upset I didn’t receive one, but I have her all to myself so much of the time that I won’t begrudge all of you the simple pleasure of 140 characters.
Querida is in a horrible mood today. She has decided she isn’t talking to anybody, and nothing will change her mind. I’ve tried talking to her, and I called her from the set of her photo shoot. I was just across the road, waiting for her to finish, giving little waves and sending kisses.
“You must smile darling, or tweet more. People miss you.”
She just cried as I spoke, and I told her I had some cupcakes for her. She must be watching her figure again, because she didn’t have any. I watched her, from my car, across the street as she fell to the floor, overcome with sadness. Perhaps, I have been sharing her too much, she just needs a few days alone with me, and she will be fine.
I don’t mean to brag, but I’m really the only comfort she has. Everybody wants something from her. Photographs, endorsements, autographs, money. I’ve never wanted anything but to adore her, and she can see that. It must be why she can be so free and so vulnerable with me. She cries, she undresses, she sleeps as if I wasn’t even there, and I quietly adore her, without drawing attention to myself, because it is what I was made to do.
Perhaps the rest of the world should try that approach. Love her dearly, but love her quietly, so you can hear all the ways her soul sings.
Today, we are playing a game. I’m thinking of it as a test of my love for her. If she wants me to prove it, that’s fine, because I’d do anything, for her.
She is a very playful girl, when she’s in the mood. I can’t count the times we have played hide and seek, or a joyful game of kiss chase. I normally always let her win, because the relieved smile when I don’t catch her melts my heart more than a victory. Besides, I don’t need to win, because I’ve already won the greatest prize I could ever have, her love.
She has changed her phone number, and challenged me to find out her new one. I’m ever so excited about the thought of my prize. We’ve played this game before, and it’s one I can’t resist winning.
I found it. She was so overjoyed to hear my voice that she accidentally hung up, and turned the damn phone off. She is so ditzy sometimes. I love that about her.
I was walking past her house, trying to go unseen, as I had some more supplies for cupcakes with me, and I wanted it to be a surprise.
I couldn’t stop myself from peeking in the window though. She was sleeping, and I almost dropped the eggs and flour at the sight of her beauty, and I was struggling to hold them before I’d even seen her. Keeping my balance, I sighed. She must be exhausted. It isn’t easy to be loved. Not just by me, but by everyone.
I’m sure she would love to move in with me. Unfortunately, she has to stay in her current home, as it has security to keep out overzealous fans. That’s how I know she loves me, of course, because I have found it easy to bypass, as if her love guided me past the cameras, over the wall, and onto the ledge of her window. There is no way I could do that if it wasn’t intended for me to be able to get in.
I left after a little while, but not before taking a few pictures, because she loves to see how beautiful she looks when she sleeps.
There is nothing left.
I’m never buying the papers again.
Everything, and I mean everything, is lost. She has left me, for some idiot footballer. I have been in a state of shock since my last update. She never phoned, or sent a text. She just let me see it in the tabloids.
We didn’t even argue. I was making her some cupcakes when I saw, and they are all burned now, so at least we have something in common.
I just don’t understand. I can’t understand. Everything was going so well.
He won’t know how she likes to be called every morning, or how she likes to change her routes to work for the mystery. He will just use her, just like everybody else, just like all of you.
I’m seeing her tomorrow. Despite all we have been through, I’m as nervous as the first time I saw her. I thought about taking more cupcakes, but I know how distracted she can get, and we both need to focus on more important things.
I have seen her, so vulnerable. Tears tarnishing her face, and I still adored her, even more than I thought possible, and more than she ever expected. I know she is thankful, and I know she never meant to hurt me, but she is so naive to the world, and there is so much that she couldn’t possibly know, so I can’t blame this on her.
I think it was that manager. He never liked me. He thought she should be with someone famous, like her, but I know her, and I know she isn’t superficial like that. I’m the only one who understands her, I know I am. I see everything she tries to hide, all the truth they edit out in the magazines. She needs me.
We will talk, and we will work it all out, and I’m sure everything will be fine. I forgive her.
Breaking News – Suicide at starlet signing
Horror struck the excited fans of media personality Querida today, as an unfortunate and harrowing ordeal unfolded.
What should have been the triumphant launch of her new perfume descended into chaos during the initial meet and greet session. Initially, it was uneventful, with fans posing for photographs and having items signed by the model, and everyone seemed in good spirits.
This all changed however, with the approach of super fan, Damien Christian, who has gained infamy for his blog devoted to the star, in which he falsely gives the impression he is in a relationship with Querida. Christian was previously issued with a restraining order, ordering him to keep a distance from the star, and with a cease and desist letter in regards to his blog, due to the libellous claims that he purported to be news.
Christian approached the table, and Querida’s seemingly permanent smile vanished, as her security team surrounded her. It would have been challenging for even the most experienced and astute security team to predict his next action. Damien Christian took a step closer to the table, placing down several bottles of the stars perfume, and then pulled a knife from his pocket, slitting his throat before he could be stopped.
Screams filled the air as he fell across the table, blood pooling over the glossy photographs and pens, as Querida wept openly, and hysterically.
There was initially no indication for his savage display, until other fans checked his blog, and discovered a harrowing post that is believed to be written while he was waiting in line to meet the star. The post has since been removed, with the entire blog finally being taken down by the hosts, but below is a short extract.
“There is nobody in the world like Querida, and there is nobody in the world that loves her like I do. I will make her see that.”
© Jennifer Juan 2016