The Potion

           Charlotte Brubaker, a thirty-five-year-old runway model, was receiving less and less calls lately for modeling jobs. According to her agent, the clothing designers were seeking younger models.

           Since the age of fourteen, Charlotte had dreamed of being a model. She collected issues of fashion magazines and practiced the poses and facial expressions of her idols like Claudia Schiffer, Kathy Ireland, and Cindy Crawford.

           Not surprisingly, she was named Prom Queen in her graduating year, with Chuck Lawrence as Prom King. However, Charlotte had no interest in Chuck, or any other boy for that matter. All she wanted to do was focus on her career as a model.

           Her first modeling gig came soon after high school. It was for a department store magazine. They were looking for models of all ages to pose in some of the store’s clothing line for a photo shoot. It didn’t pay much, but by the end of the first month of the magazine’s release, she began to be recognized.

           Charlotte’s father tried desperately to convince his daughter to go to college so she could get a “real job,” but she had her mind set, and chose not to go to college at all. Her mother, on the other hand, was very supportive of Charlotte’s decision.

           Her big break arrived when she turned twenty, and a local scout was in town searching for new talent. His name was Brian Milner, and he worked for Ford Models out of New York. They were searching for the “next top model” and spent one week in Charlotte’s small town of Pinerville.

           Brian was responsible for finding some of the best-known models in the country and was well respected amongst his peers. Most of the talent that he signed, made the cover of some of the top fashion magazines like Vogue and Elle.

           On the day of her audition, Charlotte was very nervous. She knew what kind of influence Brian would have on her career, so when she saw him for the first time, she began to bite her lip nervously and her palms began to sweat.

           Brian could spot her nervousness and asked her to pretend he wasn’t there. He wanted her to picture herself walking along the streets of Paris, gazing into the windows of the many fashion boutiques that lined the Faubourg Saint-Honoré district. She pictured boutiques from designers such as Versace, Saint Laurent, and Hermes, and a smile suddenly lit up her face.

           Charlotte closed her eyes and spun around freely throwing her arms out to the side as she twirled. She opened them again and walked along the runway that led out into a darkened room. When she reached the end of the platform, she paused, place one hand on her tilted hip, and spun back in the other direction.

           After each of the models had their turn on stage, they were asked to gather up front. The lights were turned up, and Charlotte watched as Brian conferred with his associate. Brian then stood up and approached the stage.

           A list of names was rhymed off, but Charlotte’s was not among them. She felt downhearted. Suddenly, she heard the words that changed her life, “All those names that I called are dismissed. To the rest, I congratulate you, and I will see you back here at 10:00 AM tomorrow.

           Charlotte turned to another of the successful models and hugged her tightly. A tear of joy formed in the corner of her eye as she saw her dreams coming to fruition.

           The following day was the beginning of Charlotte’s runway modeling career. She arrived fifteen minutes early to make a good impression. One girl who showed up five minutes late, was locked out of the rehearsal.

           They began the day working with a choreographer who showed the models the proper way to stand, walk, and simply, present themselves the entire time they are on stage. Charlotte had no idea that being a runway model would be so gruelling, but she kept smiling, and when she wasn’t smiling, the choreographer reminded her to do so, just without showing teeth.

           Once the choreography was mastered, the ladies began being measured for the clothing they would be wearing. The design showcase would be taking place in New York three weeks later, but they needed time for alterations when the models arrived in New York.

           Charlotte had never been out of her State before, let alone anywhere as large or busy as New York City. She felt her anxiety building up on her once more. Her father didn’t help matters much; he just kept complaining about how it was going to cost too much for a flight to New York plus hotel while she was there. He settled down when Charlotte explained that living expenses were covered by the agency, and they only needed to pay for transportation there.

           Charlotte’s mother was so excited, that she began playing Frank Sinatra’s, “New York, New York” repeatedly on her last day before flying to “The Big Apple.” Many of the neighbors gathered in the street to see her off. She felt like a celebrity all of a sudden.

           As the plane landed at LaGuardia Airport in Queens, New York, Charlotte was in awe of the number of people walking around. There were more people in the airport than there were in her entire town.

           A limo driver was waiting at the airport for Charlotte and the other girls that were on her flight. He held a cardboard sign up that read, “Ford Models” and led them to the super-stretched limousine parked outside. The girls climbed inside and took a seat. The driver announced that he would take them first to their apartment, then would return the following day to bring them to the Ford Agency.

           The model apartment was located in a mid-range hotel and was shared by Charlotte and three others. Her roommates were Brittany, Amber, and Alicia. Alicia and Charlotte got along well, but Amber and Brittany acted as if they were better than their two fellow models.

           Charlotte was starving when they arrived, so she went to the refrigerator to get a snack. All she found was a case of water and some raw vegetables, so she grabbed some celery and cut it up. Alicia joined her and cut up some carrots. The remaining two chose not to eat because they were watching their weight.

           Amber already looked so thin that she nearly disappeared when she turned sideways, and despite Charlotte’s jealously of Brittany’s stunning looks, she did not believe Brittany needed to lose any weight.

           Later, after discussing the lack of food in the apartment with one of the more experienced models, the girls were shocked to find out that food was their responsibility and expense. The Ford Agency did not want “fat models” according to someone who had worked with them for over a year.

           When they arrived the next day at the agency, Brian met them at the entrance and led them to the studio where they tried on the clothing for the show. A seamstress tucked and pinned all the trouble spots and told them that they should be ready for another fitting the next day.

           When the day of the fashion show finally arrived, the girls were given final instructions by the choreographer and the designer. The announcer introduced the designer and the fashion line, and each of the models took their turns walking the runway. After they finished their first walk, the models quickly changed into a second outfit and headed back onto the runway.

           Charlotte walked out for the final bows and felt a rush of excitement wash over her as the audience began to cheer. From that point on, there was no looking back.

           As the years went by, Charlotte’s popularity had increased, though she struggled at first. She didn’t need to worry about gaining weight because she couldn’t afford to buy groceries. Brittany was getting the most work out of the four roommates, but she still kept her food consumption to a minimum.

           By the time Charlotte had turned twenty-five, her popularity began to decrease. She was told that there were new up-and-coming models who were making a splash in the fashion scene, so she needed to settle for the smaller shows instead.

           On the evening of her thirty-fifth birthday, Charlotte was hanging out with Alicia, who had since retired from modeling and went back to school to get a degree in business administration. She only modeled for the occasional magazine if the money was right, otherwise, she was managing a department store in Manhattan.

           They met at Crown Shy on Pine Street for cocktails and a bite to eat, and Alicia insisted on picking up the tab. Charlotte didn’t argue, because her bank account wasn’t exactly overflowing with cash anymore.

           While they sat there, Charlotte noticed a man sitting in the shadows across the room. He appeared to be staring at her, and it was creeping her out a little. Moments later, the waiter arrived at the table with two more drinks. When Charlotte insisted that they did not order any more drinks, the waiter said they were compliments of the man across the room, the one staring in her direction.

           Not wanting to seem unappreciative, she raised the glass to say thanks. The man stood up and started walking toward them. He appeared to be in his forties with a chiseled chin and muscular physique. If she wasn’t worried that he could be a serial killer, Charlotte would have been attracted to him.

           The man introduced himself as Alphonse Ribeiro and asked if he could join them briefly. Before Charlotte could say no, Alicia welcomed him to sit. She obviously did not get the same serial killer vibe from him.

           Alphonse admitted that he recognized the two of them from their modeling career and asked how things were going now. Charlotte, without thinking, blurted out that the industry believes she is too old to be a model now.

           Alphonse told her that she looked wonderful for her age, and then asked her if she could guess how old he was. Charlotte guessed forty-five, and Alicia guessed thirty-eight. The man replied that he was sixty-eight-years-old. The two women were shocked and didn’t believe him until he showed them his birth certificate.

           Charlotte asked him what his secret was, and he said it was a secret potion the was passed on through generations in his family. He said that his ancestors were gypsies in Russia. During the cold war, his ancestors sought asylum in the United States. He was born in June of 1954 in Nebraska and raised on a farm. When he got older, he found the journals of his great, great, grandmother and her directions for making a youth potion.

           Alphonse admitted, at first, he did not believe such a think could be possible, but then he tried to mix up a batch for some laughs one day. He said it smelled like shoe leather and tasted like cough syrup, but he drank it down, hoping it wasn’t going to kill him.

           He felt no immediate difference at first except for an upset stomach, but by the next morning, after looking in the mirror, he could see a change. There seemed to be less wrinkles around his eyes, and the spots on his skin began to fade.

           It said in the directions for the youth potion, that you needed to drink one dose, once per week for as long as you choose to look young, so after one week, he took his second dose. The changes were more defined this time. His sagging skin was now taut against a more muscular physique.

           Charlotte and Alicia had a difficult time believing such an absurd story, but in the back of Charlotte’s mind, she wondered if it would work.

           After telling his story, Alphonse excused himself, but told Charlotte if she wished to discuss it further, she could give him a call, and he handed her a business card. Charlotte left the card laying on the table as Alicia paid the bill. As they stood up to leave, Charlotte secretively slid the business card into her purse.

           After a few days of more rejections from the agency for modeling gigs, Charlotte scavenged through her purse until she found the card. She locked herself inside her bedroom for privacy and gave Alphonse a call.

           They agreed to meet in front of a bistro in town. Charlotte was the first to arrive. The air outside the bistro was frigid. She shivered uncontrollably until a black Cadillac pulled up beside her. The passenger window rolled down and Alphonse called from the driver’s seat for Charlotte to get in out of the cold.

           She was reluctant at first, being they had just met, but conceded. The leather seats were heated inside the car, and in warmed her body quickly. Alphonse handed her a flask and told her to try it that night when she arrives home. If she felt that it worked for her, then they would discuss a price, but the first bottle was free.

           Later that night, Charlotte stood in the bathroom looking at herself in the mirror. She studied the lines on her face, then looked down at the flask. She thought, “What the hell” and drank back its contents.

           The taste was horrific, and she nearly vomited it all back up again. Washing it down with some tap water, she hid the flask and walked back to her bedroom.

           The next morning, Charlotte woke up and immediately went to the mirror in her room. She turned on the light overhead so she could get a better look. Surprisingly, she could see a slight difference. Ecstatically, she called up Alicia and told her what had happened. Alicia told Charlotte that it was all in her head.

           After a few days, the youthfulness continued to progress, and Charlotte called up her agent to arrange a meeting.

           After seeing her sudden change in appearance, her agent asked if Charlotte had a procedure done. When she told him no, he insisted that she go to a casting call that afternoon for a photo shoot in Manhattan.

           She was back in the sights of designers and agents once again, so she needed to get in touch with Alphonse to get another batch of the potion. He claimed that the cost of the potion was going to be $650 per flask. Desperate, she agreed and bought another flask which nearly drained her bank account.

           After another week, Alphonse wanted another $650, and once again, she paid it, but this time, she had to borrow half from Alicia.

           By the third week, Charlotte was looking like she was in her early twenties again, and was receiving work daily, but when she tried to call Alphonse for another flask, he was not answering her calls. She was out of potion, and the effects would be wearing off soon.

           After two days of trying to reach Alphonse, she had to assume he wasn’t coming back. On the eighth day since her last dose, Charlotte looked in the mirror inside her bedroom. She was devastated to find that not only had her wrinkles returned, but she appeared to be older than before.

           She tried once again to reach Alphonse, but still no answer. Unsure of what she should do, Charlotte turned on the television news. A few minutes later, they spoke of a homicide in Manhattan. The decomposing corpse of a man was found in a stairwell. Police were going to rely on the coroner for more answers to his identification and cause of death.

           Charlotte went off to the location of her photo shoot, but when she arrived, the photographer told her she was no longer needed. Outraged, she demanded to know why, and he said that it was because she looked too old. Charlotte left the location and headed back home. She had the house to herself, because the other girls were off at their own fittings or shoots.

           Frustrated with the discrimination and stereotyping in the modeling business, she cried herself to sleep. Later that day, one of her roommates arrived home and knocked on Charlotte’s door. She had heard about what happened at her photo shoot and wanted to console her.

           When she didn’t answer after the second knock, the girl walked inside. Laying on the bed, covered with a blanket was Charlotte. She walked over to the bed and began to shake Charlotte by the shoulder, but she felt cold to the touch.

           The girl turned her face-up then jumped back with fright. In Charlotte’s bed was a rotting corpse resembling a shrivelled prune, but more of a grey skin tone. At the same time on the TV beside the bed, the police had identified the corpse found in the stairwell. He was identified as sixty-eight-year-old, Alphonse Ribeiro. Cause of death appeared to be natural causes, but the accelerated aging could not be explained.