She Stands in Pallor (rewrite)

She stands in pallor; veils black and scarlet adorn her in homage to Valentino. That Italian, whose death marked the mid-point of the 1920’s, that decade of freedom, defiance, the Scopes Trial, and the Leopold and Loeb murder. Valentino, who had made the tango infamous and given sensuality to the Middle East on celluloid, had broken the mold of star and created a supernova of sorts. How she would have wept at his funeral, if she had been alive in those days! What would she have given to be clasped in his arms as he rocked her in dance athis peak of life! And all she had of him was flickering images and silver photographs, shining like windows into an inviting glade forbidden to her. 

And, all she had of love was her soul mate, though second fiddle to Valentino, Noah. He had come to the grave site, dressed as crisply as Rudolph might have been. His sandy hair and blue eyes are notdark as Valentino’s, but his virility is unquestionable to her. This mourning for her beloved icon marked their engagement. In Noah, she had no flickering celluloid fantasy, but a flesh and blood being in love with her. Rudolph’s eyes would never light for her as Noah’s did. 

Finally, she drops the rose petals of deepest red upon the grave. Nature itself mourns the beautiful, she ponders. The tree branches dapple light on the petals, like half seen moments and years dapple reality on human beings. Mortality shakes her senses and she inhales sharply; she has said goodbye to Valentino and is ready to clasp Noah’s hand. The ceremony will now begin in a field nearby.

Natalie had no close family, in her opinion, and had taken to making the preparations for her gown quite alone. She had wanted no bridesmaids, though she had a few friends. Over the velvet ecru corset, she wore a tulle scarf of brightest white, so long it covered her chestnut hair and stretched downward to towards her feet when fastened and swept backward. She swept powder across her brow and made up her face to be somewhere between the vamp Vilma Banky and the innocentMary Pickford. Long stemmed roses of white and blood red wrapped in black velvet made up her bouquet of sorts. Her bare feet moved forward on the red runner and she flounced down the aisle to her groom.

She could not remember the ceremony, but Noah had kissed her in a hot finale. The Hollywood air blanketed them outside as they drove down the Boulevard in her impractical light blue convertible. The beach cottage’s round bed lays waiting for them and they plan to spend most of the week entwined in each other there.

Noah seems less interested in the bed for now and they decide to head for the beach. She pouts at first, but Natalie’s love of the sea envelops her as she plays in the salt water. Noah sits in thought on sand, looking at the sky. He grasps wet sand randomly as if lost in a dream. She thinks to look for him after swimming for a while, but he has moved from the spot. At times, the play of shadow from the clouds ominously frames his face, but Natalie shakes off the foreboding and practices her excellent backstroke.

She forgets her new husband for a bit, enjoying the sun and salt spray on skin. Floating, she feels careless and free. Her white lace swimsuit evokes Marilyn Monroe more than any silent screen siren and she attracts some glances from the men. Finally, she feels ready to return to the beach cottage and perhaps think about dinner arrangements. Steak or seafood? Visions of upscale restaurants play out in her head. Fine dining can always comfort her with its fantasy and glamour. 

She finds her beach shoes and towel after retracing steps on painfully hot sand, but not her man. Wearily sitting, she decides to return to the cottage and hope to find him there. Unease plays about in her and produces an anxiety she cannot push down. Even the beauty of the ocean seems dangerous at this moment. Has her obsession with Valentino blinded her to the man she’s married? Or, is she just seeing shadows?

The bright pastels of the cottage belie her worries. Good heavens! Noah is wearing an apron, cooking seafood! She clasps him in her arms, all is right again. His lanky, athletic form looks oddly at home in a kitchen, as if he is a master chef. How wholesome this new husband is and how silly of her to doubt him! Is this honeymoon bliss?

“Took you a while to notice I was missing, didn’t it, darling?” he remarks, casually, but with an edge of hurt. 

“I thought you might be walking the beach or needing space. I didn’t know you were going to surprise me!” 

“Oh, Life is going to be nothing but surprises for you.”

He brings out a green concoction, an “apple-tini”for her. His years as a bartender have worked their magic on the drink. Sipping, she sits down to a feast. He’s remembered candles, low lighting, and elegantly folded napkins. Somewhere between the stuffed crab and the scallops, the alcohol seems to go quite to her dizzying head. She must get up….oh, is she fainting? Noah seems to flash in and out of focus, but he barely reacts to her. How off kilter everything seems, and she sees Noah smiling before she can think no more…

…….

Her head feels as if stuffed tightly with cotton. Upright, she feels the rough ropes tightened against her. The sound of tango music beats in her ears. Noah’s disciplined body traces the steps perfectly with his beautiful partner, Claudine. Her perfectly muscled legs follow his steps in grace. His black trousers and Spanish jacket lined in red look impeccable. Natalie’s feelings of jealousy comingled with rage threaten to drive her insane, and her body shakes involuntarily against the ropes. Noah and her niece are a couple? They have betrayed me! She silently screams. This dance is nothing more than rubbing salt into her fresh emotional wounds and they both know it! Claudine is even wearing Natalie’s own black shawl with roses and tassels. The music stops and the blonde applauds her own dance with girlish glee. 

Noah leans his leering face at her, immobile in the chair. “Oh, stop shaking darling. Enjoy our tango! I’m much better than Rudolph. Claudine has taught me so much in dance. And all we want from you is a signature on a few documents and all this unpleasantness will be ended. I’m sorry about the brevity of our marriage. Did you think I was in love with you? Darling, for god’s sake, look in the mirror and stop your vain foolishness. You are not pretty enough to pull off your vain obsession with beauty! Valentino would not notice you for a moment. You are no competition with Claudine, the picture of youth and beauty. And, honey, work on your posture when you dance! You had but one asset: your trust fund. And we mean to make full use of it.”

She summons up enough rage to spit in his face. Grabbing much of her hair and twisting it, he gives her an obscene look. “Careful now, Natalie. I’ve got so much incriminating material on you. Remember everything you wrote to me? All those stories you told me of how you were expelled from the university? Give up, be a good girl and sign some documents for me.”

Noah suddenly looks stricken, as Claudine has bashed him over the head with a vase! Still, he charges forward, but Natalie and Claudine gasp as a seemingly disembodied, though perfectly formed hand, grasps around the vase and solidly bashes Noah again! Claudine screams, hardly processing a perhaps ghostly intervention. Natalie passes out again as she feels the ropes being loosened. Has the hand of Valentino come to aid his devotee? For a moment, the air carries the scent of roses.   

…

In November, she visits the Valentino gravesite once more with her niece in tow. The girl has saved her from a fiend and she is only grateful. Claudine had become suspicious of Noah at a family gathering and pretended to work with him to protect Natalie. She now watches as Claudine scatters petals of white and pink. She wears the shawl of tassels and roses, a gift from her aunt. Claudine has even gone to Valentino movies at special showings in Hollywood with Natalie and, though still not quite a fan, is coming around. 

Love has eluded Natalie, as it had so many times before. She feels nothing for Noah, no doubt suffering in his prison cell. If only her Valentino could be flesh and blood!  Real men seem to pale in comparison to the Sheik himself! 

A man approaches the Valentino grave with his own floral offering. Natalie cannot contain herself; he is the spitting image of a young John Gilbert, that grand star doomed by the advent of sound in film, and he’s also paying homage to her idol! She makes her way to commence their fateful encounter. From the corner of her eye, another form seemingly dressed as an Argentine bull fighter, stands near the grave of Valentino. Later, she could swear it was a shadow of Valentinohimself and that the ghostly eye gave her an impish wink. He must have been saying goodbye as Natalie embarked on a new love.