Page 28 - WTPO Vol. VII #5

The Freckled Woman (continued from preceding page)
What was he seeing? she thought. What was he think- ing when he ogles my face and body?
Victoria walked behind the sculpture so that he could more easily see her.
Andrew did not change his focus, as if Victoria was invisible.
Victoria intentionally fell to the ground and gave a sound as if she hurt herself.
This fake fall brought both the guard and Andrew to her aid.
“Are you OK?” Andrew said
“What happened?” the guard asked.
“I’m fine,” Victoria said. “Nothing. Just clumsy.” Victoria stood up and brushed off the floor dust. The guard jumped back.
“It’s incredible,” the guard said. He motioned to Andrew. “Look. Look at her. She looks exactly like the sculpture.”
Andrew stared for a minute at Victoria, squinted his eyes, and ran over to the sculpture, then back to Victoria.
“Are you aware?” the guard asked Victoria. She nodded.
“I don’t think so,” Andrew said. “There’s a similarity, but the sculpture is different.”
The guard asked her to step inside the ropes and stand next to the sculpture in the same pose. Victoria obliged. The guard then took a photo with his cell phone.
“What’s your name? I’m going to tell the curator and the critic about you.”
Victoria gave her name.
“You’re identical!” the guard said. “How could that be?”
“No, she’s not,” Andrew objected. “The face, I agree, has some common features, but I’m sure the rest of her is not the same. I mean, the sculpture has freckles and a perfect body.”
“Well, I have to close, but this is amazing,” the guard said to Victoria. “Please come back tomorrow when the critic is here. He’ll be blown away. I mean, the newspapers should hear about this.”
After they left the gallery, Victoria said to Andrew: “I’m Victoria,” and reached out her hand. “Andrew,” he replied and shook her hand.
“You come here often?” Victoria asked.
“All day, every day,” Andrew said. “I’ve been waiting for this show for a long time. I’m...well...I find ‘The Freckled Woman’ extraordinary.”
“The work is extraordinary. And I think you’re right, by the way. We are different. I mean, the sculpture and me. ‘The Freckled Woman,’ after all, is a sculpture. I’m living.”
“She’s more than that,” Andrew said. “She represents everything.”
Victoria nodded.
“Anyway, I gotta go,” Andrew said. “Maybe I’ll see you tomorrow. Goodnight, Victoria.”
“Goodnight,” Victoria said, as she watched him walked down the street and into the darkness.
~
Victoria told Becca what had happenedat a late-night drink in a bar.
“He actually said that?” Becca asked. “He’s obsessed with her,” Victoria said.
“‘She represents everything,’” Victoria added, trying to duplicate the way he said the words. “I, however, lack the freckles and the perfect body.”
“Hey, I’ve kissed posters on my wall,” Becca said. “How old were you?”
“Good point.”
They ordered some guacamole and chips and changed the subject to Becca’s decision to get a tattoo. After a half-hour of Victoria assuring Becca she would survive the needles, the conversation returned to the gallery.
“You going back?” Becca asked. Victoria nodded.
“I can’t help myself, I want to look at myself, and I want to see what people say about the sculpture, well, about me. And the sculpture itself has a hold on me. Every comment in some sense is about my face and
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