"Does that sound anything like Stella?" I ask Carl.
"Now that I have had a few years to think and reflect, I would have to say that Stella was really her version of Cassandra. But unlike Kenny, Stella chose to inhabit her."
"I think that's a line that Kenny was afraid to cross."
"It probably would have been too costly for him."
"What do you mean?"
"He didn't want to lose himself in his own invented idea of himself, or herself, maybe."
"And Stella?"
"She just didn't give a fuck. About anybody. To her, she was Stella, and had absolutely no concern what other people would think. But she was also profoundly lonely, and that was the price she had to pay. Which I think is also why she adopted me for those three years I was a rent boy in Amsterdam. I mean, she had friends, lots of them, but they were more like acquaintances, or, shall we say, an entourage. She did have quite a loyal following. But at the end of the day, or night, she would be sitting alone with me, either at her kitchen table or in the coffee shop. Several times she would tell me that I was really her only true friend. That I alone seemed to know her and accept her as herself."
"As Stella?"
"No. Stella was a fabrication. Her own fabrication, maybe, but still just and only that, a fabrication..."
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