Mike Lee EYES IN THE MIRROR © Mike Lee At first he met her in a café, strangely drawn to her as though he knew her yet he couldn’t recall where he’d seen her. But he knew he had somewhere. His career was as an artist and photographer, and working in the Soho – but not recognized and not ‘discovered’ – well not yet at least. But then he met her, beautiful yet in a simple way, and knew that if she’d let him paint her he might build a clientele who’d buy his work. He couldn’t put his finger on it, but he knew she was a movie start or socialite or someone, somehow famous. But she said no word and gave no clue, and he declined to bring it up…at first. Theyd see each other over coffee in a small café and, over time, they built a friendship. She admitted that she liked his work, especially his photography of people which she thought had style and was unique. He couldn’t see it since, to him, his prints weren’t any better than the others in the galleries. She insisted though that his were better. All the while, deep in his mind, he felt he’d seen her somewhere in an ad, a magazine, or on TV, but could not think where. When he finally brought it up she just ignored him, changed the subject as they walked down to the café. It was nagging him and so he mentioned it again. She sat transfixed and didn’t speak then slowly raised her eyes and said, “Okay, you win. You have – you’ve seen me – and yes, I am famous; maybe too much so.” “What do you mean?” he asked her. “I’m not who you think I am. I’m more than me. I’ve lived before – three times in fact – first over two, three thousand years ago when I was Helen and I lived in Troy” she stated. He stared and he waited for the laughter, but it didn’t come. Her face was serious, her eyes were locked on his and he asked, “You are kidding, right?” But she continued, “Then in Florence, I was asked by Michelangelo to pose, to sit and have my portrait painted. I was not a noble woman, but a simple girl and yet he thought me beautiful. He called it ‘Mona Lisa’ and he paid me very little.” He stared at her and realized that’s what he had seen and knew; that she indeed looked like the painting. “You do look like her” he said and she responded, “Look like her? I am her! I have lived three times; twice famous and now just a peasant girl. I’m now nobody.” He listened, but he shook his head. She didn’t appear crazy, but her dialogue was beyond weird because she was so serious. He said, “Come on, let’s go back to my studio and let me shoot some test prints.” They stood, she picked up her things and both climbed up the steps into his loft. She went into the bathroom to arrange her hair and dress herself wrapped in a shawl. He fiddled with the light stands and reflectors, set the tri-pod and attached the camera. But he didn’t notice when she crossed the room and sat down on the bench and faced him. When he looked up, he was stunned. His jaw dropped, couldn’t speak, for there before him sat the Mona Lisa; not a copy, not a woman who looked somewhat like her, but the real thing in the flesh. He pulled down the green screen, knowing he could crop-in Michelangelo’s pastel background and set the lights to match the painting and fired off a few test shots, all perfect. She was her; she was the Mona Lisa. His was loss for words, but finally he spoke, “I just can’t believe it. You are her; you are the Mona Lisa.” “Yes” she said, “I told you. I have lived before – three times – and I’ve been famous more than once.” “But how” he asked, “and why? I thought all people die and life is over. How’d you live not once but three times?” “I’m a goddess from Olympus and my father is the god named Zeus. He gave me power to live life, but by my choice to live three times on earth and I chose Helen, then the Mona Lisa.” “But why, now, you’re just a common girl?” he asked, “Why not choose someone else who’s famous like an actress, movie star, whatever?” “Because I am tired of the attention and the fame, and wanted to know how it felt to be nobody – just a no one – to fit-in with common folk” she answered. “Are you happy?” he inquired. “I guess” she answered, “maybe not. I do not know. I’ll live this life, this one last time and then go back and join my father, and live out forever with the gods and watch the world from Mount Olympus.” For some reason, what she said did not seem silly or concocted and he realized he believed her. When he turned around to pull the film, he looked up in the mirror and she wasn’t in reflection yet she sat there right behind him. Then he realized she was not what he had thought – a human – but indeed she was a goddess who had first been Helen, Mona Lisa, and was now his friend. She smiled and asked, “So do you want to get a pizza?” He was speechless and he thought, ‘I’m having lunch with Zeus’ daughter!’
Posted on: Fri, 21 Nov 2014 06:21:37 +0000
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