Everything That Matters

"Gabby, you go live in five. So be ready!" Kelly barked, looking frantic. I gave my show co-ordinator a reassuring smile, looking at myself for the billionth time in the huge mirror which was lined by too-bright, ugly yellow bulbs. I sighed, glancing about and surveying the scene around me. To say it was chaotic would be the biggest understatement of the year. Assistant designers shuffled about, looking geared up to murder anyone who dared to interrupt them. Make up artists waved their brushes like a magician would wave his wand, working their magic on the models, sitting in front of them. Hair dressers used complicated machines on the luscious masses of hair flowing down the perfectly toned backs of stick thin models perched on high stools and busy frowning into their cellphones, occasionally irritating them by spraying smelly liquids onto their heads.

My own hairstylist, Hilda, was currently fussing with my bun, sweating buckets and looking alarmingly red in the face. "Relax. It looks just right," steadying her hands, I said to her, in what I hope was a soothing voice. She simply shushed me like one would a five year old, ignoring my analysis completely and started curling my already perfectly curled ringlets around her bony fingers, her face contorted with an unattractive mix of frustration and nervousness. I rolled my eyes, deciding to embrace the easier option of just shutting up, and started toying aimlessly with my cellphone.

"Gabby, come on! It's time!" Kelly suddenly yelled from behind my chair. I jumped, majorly startled. "Take a chill pill, Kelly. You almost gave me a heart attack!" I snapped back, one hand on my chest. She had the grace to look embarrased. "Sorry," she mumbled, unnecessarily adjusting her mouthpiece. I made my way to the wings, adjusting my skimpy, jewelled bikini top, feeling a tad bit ridiculous. I mean, here I was, all dolled up in a teeny-tiny bikini, bang in the middle of December. Nobody said this was going to be easy the model in me chided as I gently shivered, so suck it up

I inhaled deeply as I saw the overly-bright lights of the runway coming into view, my inner model self jumping up and down excitedly for the umpteenth time at the prospect of being the showstopper. This heady excitement was something that had always appealed to me, something that kept me going. That and the seductive glow of the limelight, spiced with my serious enjoyment of the attention I managed to grab. Was this a hundred percent shallow? Without a doubt. But I couldn't help it. I just couldn't stop myself from raking in the constant admiration. I had fallen hopelessly in love with this impossible, glittering, dramatic world.

Snapping out of my happy little bubble with the sudden realisation that I went onstage in under a minute, I started handing my phone to Kelly, who had followed me anxiously all the way. Just as I was about to drop it onto her outstretched palm, my phone flashed. As always, curiosity got the better of me and I decided one quick peek wouldn't hurt. I noted with happiness that the text was from Jane, my best friend of seventeen years. I hit open, a huge grin plastered on my face. But as her words sank in, my breathing hitched. My mind suddenly stopped registering the incessantly thumping beat the speakers just behind my head were emmiting. A massive surge of home sickness attacked me, a wave of nausea arising deep in the pits of my belly.

I shook my head, the action making my stupid ringlets bounce madly and causing Hilda to whisper- yell at me, hoping against all hope that an action so silly could organise my wild thoughts. I dazedly looked back down at the screen, silently willing it to somehow alter the words it was so hell-bent on cruelly displaying.

But of course it didn't work. "Helen just died. I am so sorry, darling. Call me as soon as you get this," my screen unrepentantly informed me, ignorant of my desperate pleas. Before I knew it, Kelly snatched the phone from my suddenly-limp fingers, and pushed me with surprising force onto the runway. As I stared ahead, I could feel my heart beating furiously while just one thought kept on repeating in my mind like an eerie chant,

'She's dead.'

'She's freaking dead!' My fuzzled brain kept on repeating as I started walking the ramp on wobbly legs. I had reached centrestage now. I knew this because of the 'X' mark below my stilleto heels, which had been there ever since the rehearsal. I just stood there, glued to the spot, mindlessly staring at the 'X' mark. Out of nowhere, the reality of the situation punched me in the gut and I almost buckled over, my vision blurred with unshed tears. Slowly, too tired to even stand, I found myself sinking down onto the floor, as if in a daze.

By now, I could hear hushed whispers all around me. I could see the journalists scribbling furiously into their notebooks, their faces reflecting naked glee at having unexpectedly stumbled into a great gossipy story. I could feel the cameras flashing blindingly. But I just couldn't make myself care. "Get the fuck up, Rodriguez!" Kelly hissed from the dark wings.

But nothing mattered. I no longer cared that I was a showstopper for one of the biggest names in the fashion industry for the evening. The said fashion designer was currently very busy sending apologetic looks into the camera and turning every two seconds to glare at me murderously from his spot at the far end of the runway. I just sat there, numbly thinking how life could change from heavenly to unbearable in just a minute. And that's when I finally caved and started crying. And by crying I don't mean feminine, gentle sniffles. I basically started bawling my eyes out on National television, shoulders heaving, mascara running down my cheeks and snot down my nose.

I hauled myself up on shaky hands, taking extreme care to not look anyone in the eye. My nose was a huge red knob on my face by now, thanks to my elaborate and ongoing crying jag. I then turned and started walking back, silently chanting just one mantra, 'Must get back to the green room'.

I vaguely heard Ben, the designer, hissing something at my retreating back but I ignored him, rubbing my tears away roughly.

'Must get back to the green room.'

"But she's dead!" I wanted to shout at Ben who was now openly yelling at me to come back. Instead, I just chanted my mantra yet again. After what felt like an eternity, I stepped into the comforting darkness of the wings to find a red-faced Kelly yelling something at me. I simply snatched my phone from her hands, put on my coat and grabbed my purse. I started running towards the exit, wanting to get to my car. I finally reached the parking and could see my parked convertible. After what like an eternity, I slid into the driver's seat. I slammed the door shut and lowered my head onto the steering wheel, sobbing bitterly. I pulled out of the parking and into the traffic, rubbing my tears away so hard that it stung. I needed to do something. Anything. After all, Mommy just died.