Only One Beauty by Paula Shene (the first e reader TXT) 📕

Manet's picture. I remember this moment well! It was a magical time fraught with anxiety. At least for me.

Madam - she insisted I call her Madam even though she was really my mother - said she was much too young to have a child my age. As if my being eight years old was going to make her dreadfully old or denying the fact would make her nubile.

One must understand Madam. She always, always, always got her way. She would pout, ignore, or yell to insure her way. I was thankful she did not hit because she had such a temper. She called it high spirits. Pshaw!

Papa had been away on business. I wasn’t sure exactly what he did but Madam said he was an important person and even had ‘Heads of State’ quaking in their boots. Double Pshaw! Papa was the most gentle of men. He would draw beautiful pictures that were so life like, it was as if the person could walk off the page. He said it was a hobby, something to make him happy; I wondered why Madam did not make him happy. Papa’s hands were always stained with chalk or ink. I wondered, too, if he cleaned them before he made those ‘Heads of State’ quake.

We were waiting at the rail station for Papa to arrive. He had been gone forever it seemed but Madam said it was only two weeks. Well, two weeks alone with Madam is forever! The only fresh air I get when Papa is away is when I take Pupple for walks. Pupple got her name because Madam kept calling her puppy but she would laugh and say the puppy thought she was a people; silly, if you ask me, but then no one asked for my opinion.

Pupple was Madam’s dog but I got to run like the wind with her when she needed to go out to pee or poop. Madam says I should walk quietly like a young lady and call it ‘ doing her business’ but Madam sure didn’t call it that when Pupple had ‘accidents’ inside the Maison.

I think I should be the one deciding to walk or run especially since I’m the one with the leash. So I walked while Madam was watching and when I turned at the corner, Pupple and I would race for Le Bois at the bottom of Avenue Foch where I must again walk like a young miss into this park which Madam says is a playground for the upper class. I must have a container to pick up after the puppy or I will not be allowed to enjoy the beauty of de Boulogne that so calms my spirit.

I wanted to go down by the tracks and watch the engine come chugging and puffing out the billowy white steam; huff, huffing, while pulling the cars that had all sorts of things to buy; even animals in their special cages. People travel from all over France and Papa said from other countries too; and I really, really wanted to give Papa a big hug when he got off the train but Madam said it was ‘too dangerous’ for Pupple; she might get loose and get squashed. The dog is not stupid but Madam did forget Pupple’s leash so staying on this side of the iron railing is probably for the best; but it is like being in prison with the iron bars.

Madam doesn’t worry about me getting hurt though because she said I am a forty year old midget pretending to be her daughter; but it wouldn’t ‘look proper’ if I went down by the tracks alone. So, here I stand trying to be quiet so Pupple can sleep and Madam can read. This is not easy. Today it seems like all the butterflies from Le Bois are fluttering in my stomach and I want to be running again.

Madam got dressed today in her ‘railway meeting outfit’ with her brown bonnet and coral colored flowers. Her black velvet choker matches the ribbon in my blond hair. Her dress of blue with the white piping makes her fair complexion and ginger hair look exquisite; so she says. She is so beautiful and I look like Papa. He is handsome but I am a girl and I want to be called beautiful; not handsome.

She did let me wear my favorite dress because it complemented hers. My dress was white and matched her frilly blouse. It is warm and that is good because my dress is almost sleeveless; just tiny caps for sleeves. I feel beautiful in this dress even though Madam says there is room for only one beauty so I must settle for handsome.

Papa traveled back to Paris with his friend and it was Papa’s friend who drew this picture. Monsieur Manet is what they call an Impressionist painter. He uses broad strokes when he sketches and paints. When people first saw this picture, they said it didn't make any sense but then, they weren't there that day.

Monsieur Manet is the same age as the railway system. Madam says the railway is in its infancy but I think anything over thirty years should be considered old. Maybe Madam thinks this is young because she is about the same age as Monsieur Manet and Papa.

This is a nice picture but Papa would have put my face in the picture. Papa says I am beautiful. Monsieur Manet said my big blue and white bow was needed to balance Madam’s figure but I think he agreed with Madam - only one beauty is allowed.

Text: Paula Louise Shene
Images: Paula Louise Shene
Publication Date: 01-31-2011

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