Jean DeBout

Darlings,

I'm terribly sorry to have left you dangling for so, so long.  It probably made you quite nervous. I received a cryptic message about C.C.S. (to reveal his name would put both our lives in jeopardy) and had to rush to China to tend to him.  Since my last trip to Rome, I refuse to fly, and the boat I was on turned out to be a little slow, more of a steady paddle, really, but I made it to China in time.  I saved C.C.S.  

Once word got out that I had returned to China, people were begging me to complete one more photo shoot, which turned in to two, then three, then four, then five, then six.  It was all, "Sweetie, please, you're so pretty! Sweetie, you are a beauty queen.  Pretty girl, please do this.  Gorgeous, please do that. Sweetie, Sweetie, Sweetie!"- just like the old days.  I couldn't let my people over there down, but it made my stay longer than I intended. If you visit China sometime in the next decade, you'll surely see my pictures splattered all over Beijing and Shanghai.  Don't ask me to do any photo shoots here, though.  I am through with that bullsheet.

The last time, I promised to tell you about the love of my life, Jean DeBout.  It breaks my heart even thinking about him.  I'm a lady of my word though, so get ready to hear the saddest story of a lifetime.  

When I fled to Paris many years ago, I didn't know a single soul.  It was a rough go, even for a pretty little girl like me.  The streets always seemed wet and really good stinky, but I was all alone.  I knew very little French at the time and it was difficult to figure out where to stay (It was impossible!) and where to find good food.  Poor little old me, I was wasting away to nothing.

One particularly vivid night, I was wandering the docs, letting the tears slip from my enchanting eyes and splash into the Seine.  "Mademoiselle" I heard from a dark shadow over my right side.  Always on guard, I snapped around just as Jean DeBout was emerging from the shadows to stand under the single lamp post.  "I cannot help but wonder why an exquisite creature such as yourself is lingering on the docs.  Come, I've just prepared dinner.  Dine with me and tell me who you are."  

Since my taut little belly was grumbling, it was impossible to resist such an offer.  Plus, he was really, really, really cute.  We talked all night and into the morning, which was good for me since I was homeless.  Ever the gentleman, while Jean DeBout escorted me from the docs back to the streets, the sun was rising, setting a glorious glow over the city.  I knew then that I was in love.

We were inseparable after that, except for the times when Jean DeBout had to work the boats.  He was an impeccable sailor, ready to go at a moment's call.  Sometimes, he would sneak a boat out for me and we would journey up and down and around the city on the Seine.  We would picnic on the boat. Every night he serenaded me with his beautiful voice and little guitar.  It was so romantic. He wrote and recited poetry to me. He introduced me to his friends, taught me French, cooked for me, took me dancing, we had so much fun. Through his love, the once cold Paris felt like home.  

Jean DeBout and I were a dashing couple.  He always looked so handsome with his red and white striped shirt, blue scarf tied just so, and black beret cocked perfectly over his right ear.  His mustache was to die for.  I was so jealous, but also really proud.  It was a thin, little line above his lip and curled up just enough on the ends to make him look like he was smiling.  I wore my beautiful black fur coat; what could be better? As you can imagine, when we went out, we got noticed, especially me. 

Remember I told you about my accidental first photo shoot?  I don't think I'd mentioned that I was sought out when I was with Jean DeBout.  I mean I wasn't with him that night (another story), but I was with him. After that first photo shoot, quite quickly my career as a super model took off.  Jean DeBout was really excited.  He loved to be known as Sweetie P's boyfriend.  When he wasn't working the docs, he accompanied me to my photo shoots.  We even had a few smashingly successful contracts together.  Well, it seemed like the more I got booked, the more I got booked.  Soon, everybody wanted a piece of Sweetie P.  It was exhausting, but Jean DeBout was my savior.  He could look at my outside and my inside.  He kept me grounded.  We understood each other and were deeply in love. 

Eventually, unfortunately, my success got to Jean DeBout.  He didn't believe that I could love him, but I did with every hair on my beautiful fur coat.  When Jean DeBout didn't show up for a big gig, I knew something was horribly wrong. About halfway through the shoot, when I couldn't bear his mysterious absence any longer, I took off to the docs.  I got there just in time to see Jean DeBout sailing away.  "I'm sorry, Sweetie" were the only words I could make out as I watched the love of my life drifting away.  Against my better judgement (I have never voluntarily committed an act like this since), I lept into the water in an attempt to catch up to the boat and prove the depth of my love.  It was no use.  Jean DeBout was gone.

As I was climbing back up to dry land, I noticed that the locket Jean DeBout had given me, the one that I always wore and never took off, the one that had my only picture of the two of us, had slipped off my neck.  That's another smart reason to dislike water.

The only images I have left of Jean DeBout are the ones in my memory.  The last time I saw him was when he was standing on the deck of the boat, his blue scarf fluttering in the wind, looking so handsome, and so lonely.  I don't know what happened to him or where he went.  I've been all over the globe and neither spotted nor smelled him. It's like he vanished.  

Sure, I've had many loves since Jean DeBout, but I never loved any of them the way I loved Jean DeBout.

Yours truly,

Sweetie P.

P.S.  Do you still think I'm pretty?