Zenita was lying carelessly at the beach, being bathed and bleached by a thousand rays of the sun. She occasionally sipped from a cold glass of martini. Empty martini bottles lay cluttered to one side. Her vacation in Playa del Carmen was going on enjoyably.
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It had not been up to eight months since her potraits started filling the front pages of British tabloids and television. Her ascent to fame had been so sudden and explosive that the world could not but take notice. That fair, foxy and beautiful teen with the honeyed, golden voice that sent darts through the hearts of all who heard it. So far her five albums were topping both British and worldwide music charts, and she was enjoying this awesome newfound status of being the centre of the world, so to speak. She derived some sort of pleasure reading about the tabloids' scribblings about her professional and personal life. She only didn't want then to take it too far.
That was ten years ago. Today, the 15th of March, Zenita sits in her living room, distraught and miserable, with paper towels containing white powder all over the table. She is presently having her 9th bottle of wine and she doesn't seem to particularly care about her current lifestyle. All that mattered was that it provided an easy escape route from the harsh realities of being a celebrity who had ruined her life.
She had always thought the world of entertainment, especially her fans expected too much of her and this placed an emotional strain on her. Not to mention the pressure of having to deal with the heartless babblings of tabloids which never let her private life alone. Sometimes the things they said, cut through her heart like a sharp knife. She had slipped into self-consciousness and depression. Drugs and booze were the easiest escape route and she took it with all pleasure.
The world which had adored and worshipped her now viewed her as a devil. The papers had succeeded in bloating her frailties out of proportion. And it all started when she had lost her temper and delivered a very hot slap to a fan who had approached her for an autograph very disrespectfully. She was obviously drunk that night, and she woke the next day with the guilt of her action crushing her like dead weight.
Then that careless, image-tanishing remark she had made at an interview about the Prime Minister. If her first error caused her trouble, the second sealed her fate.
Since the start of the fall of her once glorious career, she had cut all ties with her fiancee, Aaron, they barely spoke, and when they did it was a brief phone-call affair. This was a man Zenitha had once loved with her heart and soul, but now her negative experiences had changed everything.
Zenita met a young man one night in a bar where she had gone to drink quietly and cool her head. She was in disguise and so was not recognized as the queen of hip-hop as she was once called in her glory days. The young man, in his late 30s, came in casually for a drink, and at once drew Zenita's attention. Zenitha could see something angelic and intensely humane about the man that stood before her smiling in a friendly way and greeting.
"Hi," he said, with a most charming smile. "I'm Bret Anderson, but you may call me Bret."
"Zenita."
the smitten young woman replied.
They sat together at a table and Zenita ordered drinks, and while they drank they conversed as if they had known each other their entire life.
"I think I recognize your face from a television interview," There was a thrill in Zenita's voice. "You are a psychologist right?"
"Yes. I'm one of the few lucky ones that became hot cake upon graduation. The very day I graduated, I was walloped with a whole lot of job offers, most of which people would kill to get."
Zenita articulated her wonder and Bret continued.
"I'm very popular in my field, though popularity is much more suited to you entertainers, whose job involves a whole lot of publicity. Especially you. Awash In Fame was your second album, right?" Zenita nodded pleasantly. "It's my most favorite of all your albums, and the first I listened to. Back then you were indeed the best of your kind."
Zenita felt very flattered. She decided there and then that she liked him. The evening wore on pleasantly.
After some moments of more conversation, Zenita said:
"Can we see again sometime, I have Important schedules to meet up with before the day ends. Can I have your number?"
It wasn't like Bret to give people his number on their first meeting, but the young woman that stood before him seemed a stunning exception.
"As you wish dear young lady."
They exchanged numbers and parted.
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The more they got to know each other the more strong the bond between both grew. The type of affection Zenita felt for Dr. Anderson was so sincere and genuine that there was no romantic affair between, yet they were powerfully bonded to each other.
She was fiddling with a pen and trying out lyrics for a new music video she wanted to coincide with her birthday when Bret came in. He sat down gracefully. Zenita offered a drink, and sat down again to her music composition. They talked afterwards and both decided Zenita should begin therapy at his hands to help her overcome her addiction and depression and help her remold her public image.
It worked. Within six months, Zenita was becoming brand new. It didn't take long for her to conquer her addiction and overcome her depression. She was also learning how to handle pressure that comes from fame. Dr. Anderson was doing a very wonderful job, and Zenita was getting her life back.
Her first public appearance since her inglorious public mistakes that had wrecked her career was a music concert in London. The crowd that attended surprised Zenita, and so was also their acceptance of her. Bret had helped her win back the confidence of the entertainment world by a very ingenious tactic.
Little by little, her career was getting it's head out of the mud, and soon the old days were coming around again. The day her album, Just You And Me Again had come to the top of the charts, she had wept like a baby in the arms of Bret. Her sobs were that of disbelief at the incredible turnaround that had happened in her life and also that of gratitude to the man who made it happen.
Today Zenita is 72, and a grandmum. Her lovely husband, Bret Anderson, passed away some 15 years ago and nostalgia still suffocates Zenita's heart whenever she thinks of him. The man who was with her when she was at her worst and who helped her win back all she had lost, the man she will ever be grateful to till the end of her life. She often finds herself telling her grandkids about their wonderful grandad, and how they lived together in the good old days, and whenever she does so her heart breaks and the tears come to her eyes.
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She has numerous wonderful memories of their life together as a couple but most importantly that of him helping her repair the damages in her life and career seemed the most memorable and the most dear to her. She had only one hero in her life and his name was Bret Anderson. Her dear late husband, Bret, was her redemption
The End.
Thanks for reading.