Anne Fortunate (A Short Story)

My name is Anne Fortunate. I am an accomplished artist, blogger, and author at my current age of twenty-one. I have been named by the Times as 27th of their top 40 most influential women in the world. My latest novel, The Secret Life of Kelly North, is on its 19th week being the number one bestselling book as recorded by New York Times.

Some people say I already have everything I have ever dreamed of. Some people call me The Lucky One basing from my last name. I think they’re right. I am lucky. I have the perfect life, perfect self, perfect relationship.

My days are made of endless interviews, promotions, and shootings for my commercials. These are the times my life is perfect.

But my nights… they are a different story altogether.

When the spotlight is gone and when the cameras are off, my world is plunged from being Anne Fortunate to Just Anne. My world at night is just around the four corners of my apartment at Upper East Side. There are no more eyes watching me, just the twinkling stars in the night sky. I have no one else besides my reflection in the mirror. My pillow is the only thing seeing my tears. The wind coming from the windows is the only thing drying them.

And as I lay on my king-size bed every night, I’m starting to doubt if I’m really lucky.

If I have everything I have ever wished, why do I feel there’s still something missing in my life?

The world knows me as Anne Fortunate: the artist in the towering billboards, the blogger of whilemyinkdries.com, and the author of several bestseller books. Take away all that and I am nobody. Take away all that and I am nothing.

Who was I before the world told me who I should be?

Is this what I really want for my life?

I am The Lucky One, but why do I cry?

The world awaits Anne Fortunate every day and the more I become her, the more I lose sight of who I really am.

Tonight, I will go to the annual Oscars Academy Awards Night where I am a nominee for Best Actress in the film, The Girl in the Shadows. If I win, it’s my third Oscar trophy and according to my manager, the odds are in my favor yet again.

I am in my room putting my make-up on when the telephone rings. The caller is unknown. His voice is garbled and ominous.

“Anne Fortunate, this is about your mother. This morning, she left a letter in my care to be delivered to your apartment. You will find it on your doorstep.”

The news is not a surprise to me. My mother and I were never in good terms before. I found no emotion as I picked up the fancy cream-laid paper. But when I read the carefully-written words, I found myself crying with all the emotions I buried.

My dear Anne,

It’s been years since you left home. I know we fought before you took the train and I’ve tried many times to reach you to say how sorry I am. I have always supported your dream to live in New York but as your mother I couldn’t let you go so easily. I am worried for your safety. You were only sixteen then, and living in a big, old city is as scary as getting lost in a big mall.

Five long years has passed, my Little Anne. Watching you grow in the television is the only thing I could do. My letters to you have always been returned. My voicemails have always been unanswered. I guess the wound I caused has never really healed until now.

I have pancreatic cancer, my sweetheart. I am already in its last stages. My hands are weak and my love for you is the only thing that keeps me going to finish this letter. I feel I have few hours left before I meet my Maker and I am spending my last moments thinking how I first brought you home from the hospital. I remember how it felt when I held you in my arms. I remember how it sounded when I first heard you laugh. Watching you grow into a beautiful lady is the biggest achievement being your mother.

Anne, I want you to know how proud I am to see you marry your dreams. I tried to persuade you to stay for fear of losing you and look where it had gotten our relationship. I am sorry for trying to stop your dreams but seeing you now, I know you made the right choice.

I have always wanted to live in New York, I had the same dreams you have, and the only thing that kept me from leaving is because of fear. You are very brave to pursue the dreams I never achieved. For that, I am proud.
I am dying, Anne. Before I lose my breath, I’ll say this one last time: I love you, Anne. Always have, always will.

Mom

The world, I know now, is wrong. I am not lucky as based from my last name. I am unfortunate, as my entire name suggests.

Walking back to my room, my entire life is crashing down.

Blinded by guilt and remorse, I took a swig from the brown vial I have always kept in the nightstand. As I lay on my bed in my perfect dress, my tears flow, spilling my mascara. I guess I will never receive my third Best Actress trophy tonight.
As I wait for the poison to take effect, I know who I am now.

My name is Anne Fortunate but I have always been my mother’s Little Anne. My life is spinning perfectly…

…but tell me, what happens when it stops?