November 19, 2003

I Found My Beauty

It took me over again, two days ago. My enemy. I locked myself in the bathroom. I looked in the mirror and couldn't find beauty. My body felt heavy, bloated, embalmed. I wanted someone to find me, drain my pus-filled skin. I sat on the closed toilet seat in my green satin pajamas. I wrapped myself in bubbles, wanted to worry about no one, but the pictures wouldn't leave my eyes.

I see a man who loves me, kisses my scars. I pushed his sadness away, hoped I could be happy then. My heart still mounted that black winged horse.

I see another man from whose happiness I feed. I suck joy from his words. I can't help wondering if I'm exposing him to my craters, hope he doesn't fall in. He should be under the kitchen table laughing with his three year-old nephew, drawing with chalk.

I see my little sister, nineteen years old. Dropped her classes this semester. Lives in a layer of dirt. Wild mice in the walls. Dirty litter boxes. She escapes her new home with a bowl. Smokes until there is no stress.

I see the porn star, the smirk in her eyes. John and Zak try to "enlighten" me, to show me that porn never hurt anyone. I try to see what they see. I see two people having unprotected sex. "But they've been tested. She's gotta be on birth control." I see a woman whose career is fulfilling man's lust. "But she makes more money than all of us." I can't help wondering about her future as the camera focuses on her waxed vagina. What if she has children? Will she proudly tell them what she's done?

I see a homeless woman trying to sleep on the beach. It's three o'clock in the afternoon. She stays near the parking lot as if the ocean doesn't welcome the likes of her. Families walk along the waves. John, Zak and I play catch, our baseball mitts sandy. I want to feel joy from this playful throw, but I can feel the woman's eyes on my back. She stirs restlessly. Her bedroom is my playground.

The picture bubbles were pierced when the phone rang. The hard toilet a haven to my softness. I made myself stand up, take a shower, eat, spend the day with my sisters. We spoke of dreams, the future, none of us fulfilled where we were.

I drove home last night. Got stuck in traffic. Wanted to be alone in my room. I opened the front door and was greeted by the man who loves me. I didn't stop to hug or kiss him, kept unloading my car. He stood by my side, helped me silently, a faithful dog waiting patiently. When I finally faced him, I expected to hear his fears, his doubts. I waited to hear the blame. None of that came. Instead he thanked me. He felt that if it weren't for me he wouldn't have come this far and said even if we didn't work out he was grateful for the time we shared. I cried at the words. We talked like the old friends we are, and I loved him again.

Today I woke up. The mirror still shows my swollen neck, my crooked nose, my unused body. Today I smiled. I see beauty. I had been looking in the mirror, waiting to see what my friends see in me. I laughed. How could I have forgotten? Three days ago I convinced two grown men to play hide-and-seek. A six-foot three-inch man tried to hide under a blanket.

Today I found my beauty, not in my mirror, but in the eyes of my enemy.

by E. M. Soos

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