Tamara, My Goddess by Samantha Memi

I was looking at a painting by Tamara de Lempicka when a woman came up beside me and said, Don’t I look nice?

Although surprised by the question, I was about to say yes when I realised she was talking about the painting, not herself. The woman who stood beside me was identical to the woman in the painting, the same red lips, pale blue eyes, white dress, hat, even the orchids were the same.

Are you related to the model? I asked.

I am the model.

But how can that be, the painting is seventy years old.

Follow me, she said, and beckoned with a wistful look and seductive smile. I had come to the gallery with my husband and daughter but they wanted to see the Impressionists and, at this moment, I wasn’t sure where they were. Feeling I wouldn’t be too long with the woman, I followed her. She went down a narrow staircase that I was sure hadn’t been there before. At the bottom of the steps she showed me through a door marked private, This is where I live, she said.

It was a room full of Tamara De Lempicka characters.

Come in, said a lady in green satin.

Have some champagne, said another in red.

My name’s Marjorie, said a woman in a white satin sheet.

The hostess, in a green Bugatti, said, Hi, I’m Tamara, welcome to our little soiree.

I felt quite at home.

When my husband and daughter returned to the gallery, they were struck by one of the paintings by Tamara De Lempicka.

That looks like Mum, said my daughter.

They never saw me again.

© 2013 Samantha Memi

Samantha Memi lives in London. Her stories can be found at http://samanthamemi.weebly.com/

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