Le Revre (Picasso:The Dream)

D.K.M.D

This is just a story I wrote.. Good or bad... Send feedbacks yes?
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-Marie-Therese Walter, One of Pablo Picasso's many mistresses. She was seventeen, he was forty five when the affair started. And he was still living with his Russian wife, Olga, who was a Ballerina. -
I slumped down next to her portrait, removing my shoes from my blistered feet. Wiping the sweat and tears off of my face, I pulled my legs closer to my body.
-She had one daughter with Picasso, However, the affair had ended when Olga learned that Marie was pregnant with Picasso's child, Maya Picasso.-
Make the pain go away. Please. Please.Please.Please.I had ran to my art gallery in London. I ran all the way from the ghastly place to my art gallery. That place where my life fell apart.
That place where my so-called 'Lover' hushed me aside, careful not for us to be seen by his new 'lover'. He hid me in the curtains and came back.
-During the affair Marie was the subject of a few paintings. Her presence was only known in Picasso's paintings. Their daughter, was also a subject of one of his paintings.-
He seemed jittery. ''Gia.....'' My heart stopped. This was what my friends had been telling me about.... This is it. He stopped looked at me worriedly and cautiously said ''I know things...haven't been exactly working out....'' My body grew numb. ''This....separation would only make us stronger you know that right?'' He asked me uncertainly.
-Marie grew jealous when Picasso had another mistress Dora Maar, a photographer. She and her daughter moved away from Picasso after he had a new mistress-
His eyes were worried, his face was scrunched up. He was so beautiful but.....
''We were going to...we were going to g-grow old together.'' I finally said shakily.
''Gia...''
''We were going to h-have ki-kids...''
''Gia please...''
''We are g-going to get th-through t-this...''
''No, you know we can't Gia, you know that.'' He said sadly.
''Yes, we c-can P-please, we could t-try all o-over again, j-just p-please....''
He was speechless he just shook his head. Anger riled up in me.
''So you finally decided to leave me for some stupid bimbo? Who is she then? An actress? A supermodel?'' I sneered, i tried to keep my voice firm.
His head snapped up, suprised but he slowly pointed behind the curtains to some blonde woman I didn't really give a crap about.
''I gave you every thing I have, every part of my soul , my heart and this is how you treat me? I tried everything, I did everything for you and...and you left me for some stupid assed bimbo who frankly I don't know and who I don't really give a crap about.'' Rage was consuming me. But grief was consuming me even more as i struggled to keep my voice firm. He looked alarmed, worried that I was going to explode in front of his lovely girlfriend to be but I don't give a damn. ''Gia... Let's talk outs-''
''NO! I'M DONE WAITING! I'M DONE WITH THE PATIENCE WITH THE 'OH GIA!' I SPENT 5 YEARS WAITING FOR YOU TO HAVE THE BALLS TO ASK ME TO MARRY YOU ,FIVE YEARS ! DON'T YOU KNOW HOW LONG THAT IS? BUT FOR THE PAST 4 YEARS YOU'VE BEEN OFF WITH SOME OF THOSE OTHER WHORES BUT DID I COMPLAIN? NO! WHY? BECAUSE I LOVED YOU! I BUILT YOU'RE CAREER, GAVE YOU A HOME, STOOD BY YOU AND THIS IS HOW YOU REPAY ME? I HAVE ALWAYS THOUGHT YOU WERE BETTER ! THAT YOU WERE DIFFERENT. I HAD LOVED YOU BECAUSE YOU WERE DIFFERENT BUT I JUST REALIZED YOU WERE THE SAME! YOU ARE THE SAME WITH THOSE STEREOTYPICAL ASSHOLES WHO THROWS GIRLS LIKE CRAP BECAUSE THEY'RE.NOT.GOOD.ENOUGH. I'M SURE AS HELL NOT PERFECT BUT I.AM.WORTH.LOVING.'' my breathing was ragged. My voice was hoarse. People started to stare now, but I didn't give a damn.
-Even after their affair, when Picasso was with his other new mistresses he continued supporting Marie and Maya financially. Marie never did become his wife, even though she desired to be-
''I'm sorry-'' He started.
''I don't need you're fucking pity, you're pathetic'' I spat and walked out of the ballroom. Leaving him stunned that I just cussed at him.
So here I was, crying my eyes out next to Marie's painting. We are so alike. So very much alike. Though we were different. So very much different. She was beautiful and a model. I am plain, boring and a author.
But still, we were alike.
We loved, cared and gave everything for the man who dumped us. For the man who we thought loved us.
My jaw clenched. I don't want to be another Marie-Therese. I am going to be strong and move on. Hell, I wasted 5 years of my life with that pathetic excuse of a man and damn right I ain't gonna waste not even a second of my life. I stood up, grabbing my heels and walking back to my apartment. That stupid assed man missed out something big, but I didn't. I can spend my life without that sad excuse for a space thank you very much. I'm going to be stronger because I'm not Marie-Therese Walter.
-After Picasso's death, Marie hanged herself in the the garage at Juan-les-Pins.-