The 8x10 of Darcy O'Dell Ch. 01

"So, Jeff, your turn."

How much did I want to talk about Darcy? As little as possible—it still hurt. I filled her in on the various steps in my career so far and updated her on the Belmont people she knew. I suspected that wouldn't be enough.

"Love life?"

Deep breath time. I talked about Darcy in the vaguest terms I could.

"How did you meet her?"

It was embarrassing to confess that I had come in behind Steven on yet another of his former lovers.

She laughed. "I think I see a pattern developing here, Jeff. How long were you with her?"

"Four years."

"Sounds like it was serious. What happened, if you don't mind saying?"

I did mind, but this was Mink asking. I felt like I still owed her, so I gave her an outline of my time with Darcy, including her leaving. I left out anything having to do with sex.

"Marshall Field's? We lost one of our best buyers to them when I was doing the Foley's catalogs. She was really sharp. I loved the stuff she selected for the store. It really gave the art department a creative boost when we got to feature her merchandise. I even got calls from her complementing me on the way I presented her things in the catalog."

Before Mink could say her name out loud, I jumped in.

"Darcy O'Dell. She's the one. The same person I was with. Small world, eh?"

Why hadn't I made the connection when Mink mentioned her catalog job? Sanger-Harris had been renamed Foley's after the buyout. Was I even listening to her? Was I disoriented by her long, dark hair and cocktail dress?

Mink offered her sympathies about Darcy. We stood up to say goodbye, but she burst out with excitement.

"Ooh! Ooh! I almost forgot to tell you. I found some old photos in the archives atCity that were taken by Tim! Excuse me—Timothy. He's really talented. I wish we could get him to do more for us, but he's moved way beyond the regional magazine world. I think he's been doing fashion shoots all over. Maybe I'll cross paths with him someday—if I ever make it to New York."

I walked Mink to her car. I wished her the best, insisting that she was well on her way to success. The goodnight hug was followed by a kiss, which briefly turned sensual when my hands caressed her slender bum.

"Sorry, Jeff. We can't have a quickie. Not even for old time's sake. I've got someone waiting for me at home. You're going to have to solo tonight."

"Who's the lucky guy?"

"Actually... it's a girl."

There was no way I could hide my reaction to that.

"Hah! You should see the expression on your face. Priceless!" She put her hands on my cheeks and gave me a quick kiss. "Sorry, honey. Am I the first girl you've poked that's gone to play for the other team?"

I nodded.

"I haven't sworn off guys forever. I guess that makes me bi. I've gone back and forth, but it's been girls only for some time now. If you can believe it, I'm actually the femme."

"So your partner is...?"

"Butch. You bet. She fucks me like a man."

With that, we shook hands, got in our cars, and drove away.

* * *

Later that year I was taking a walk through City Park one weekend when I heard a woman call out my name. It was Connie O'Dell. Sitting in almost the exact same spot the day we had our first meet-up in the park. We'd never been that close, even during my best years with her sister. I had no idea what had happened to Darcy after her departure—she had chosen to break off communications completely.

As I approached I could see Connie was about six-months pregnant. She was sitting on a blanket that was strewn with the accessories of motherhood: diapers, binkies, toys, sippy cups, coloring books. I thought: what's wrong with this picture? Where are the kids? Or the father for that matter.

"Hi, Jeff. Come sit with me.

"My husband took our three young ones for a ride on the kiddie train. I was having a rare moment of solitude."

"Is this the baseball fan I never met?" Seemed impossible—the World Series had started that week.

"No," she smiled. "I dumped him long ago. Right after that incident with Steven. You probably didn't know, but the skank that took Steven into my sister's bed was a cousin of my boyfriend at the time—not really my friend.

"I guess you'd like some updates on Darcy."

Was she kidding? I had been an emotional wreck in the years since she left. Maybe I'd hear some things I didn't want to, but I was desperate for any news.

"She's in Los Angeles now. There've been major upheavals in the department store business: buyouts, consolidations, layoffs. Even Marshall Field's. When they got taken over by Target that was the last straw for her. Both our parents had passed away by then, so she headed out to California.

"She wanted West Coast fashion experience, so she took another position with a big department store out there: Bullock's. A buyer at first, then she became a personal shopper for them, and now she does that for a celebrity client base. She goes by her middle name now."

"Kathryn?"

"Actually she's 'Kate'. Lizzie and I teased her a lot about her name 'Darcy' when we were kids. Now she thinks the name is too childish. She said she wanted a one syllable first name anyway. I guess you can make a big change like that when you move to another part of the country. But Lizzie and I are certainly not going to start calling her Kate."

And I wasn't either. It felt like she was trying to erase the years we were together. "She may not be out there too much longer. The celebrity egos and pettiness are wearing her down. She's been doing some freelance fashion styling for Los Angeles magazine and theLos Angeles Times. Her plan is to move to New York and do that for the big fashion magazines back there. It's always been her strength: sensing what clothes people will want to buy. Her reputation is established enough for her to do this now, particularly with celebrities on her resume."

Why would someone who escaped the Chicago winters—twice now—want to return to a cold, snowy climate? I had no real interest in the fashion business itself; I'm just a dull numbers guy. Would I have held her back in her career if we'd stayed together? I asked Connie if she had Darcy's contact information.

"Uh... she just moved. I don't know it myself."

I knew that was a lie—she had a major tell when she said it. No point in calling her out on it. Was I supposed to threaten her until she finally told me?

"Oh, she did say she ran into Tim several times in L.A. He's a very sought after photographer in the fashion industry now. Didn't he used to be your roommate?"

Oh, yes he was. I really could have done without hearing about Tim and Darcy. She probably fucked him. There would have been no reason to hold back—for either of them. I obsessed about the thought of them naked in bed, doing all the things Darcy and I used to do together. Months later I still couldn't get that out of my head.

"Jeff, it was nice seeing you. But I need to get back to my quiet personal time while I still can. It's a precious resource for a mother."

I leaned over for a polite handshake, and that was that. As I walked away I wished I had never seen Connie. I was barely keeping the sad memory of Darcy at bay, and now I had to think about her glamorous career and the guys she was fucking instead of me.

* * *

As fate would have it, I accepted a job that required relocating to Los Angeles myself. Eventually I lost touch with most of the old Belmont group. Darcy/Kate's number wasn't listed, so I had no way to contact her. She may have already made it to New York anyway, based on what her sister had said. I did send Connie my new California address, hoping I might hear from Darcy someday. I got a few "look how precious our kids are" Christmas cards from them but no info about her sister. The cards weren't even signed.

Steven had moved to the San Francisco Bay area, but we didn't see each other very often. I'd occasionally run into some of the guys at college reunions or alumni events. Artie died of a heart attack; others were in parts unknown. No one had heard directly from "Timothy", but some claimed to have seen photo credits by him in magazines and newspapers. I sold the student desk before I moved.

CONCLUSION: Back to the Present Day Scanning Project (2001)

I didn't scan Darcy's 8 x 10; I put it back in the envelope. It wouldn't be fair to my wife, Gina. No need to have an old girlfriend gazing at me from the computer screen. Would you want your wife looking at the youthful face of some handsome stud who was boning her regularly back when? Didn't think so.

As my wife and I get on in years, Darcy will always be twenty. Like Dorian Gray's portrait, she'll never grow old in Tim's photo from City Park. Gina shouldn't have to compete with that.

* * *

Is this the end of the story? Would I ever see Darcy again? If she offered a quickie, for old time's sake, could I say no? Would I risk wrecking my marriage to Gina to have an affair with her? Would I leave Gina if Darcy wanted to get back together again? So who is this Gina anyway? The saga continues in Chapter Two.

* * *

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All characters and events are fictional; and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events, is strictly coincidental.