Tissue Flowers

Finding beauty...

Her name was Summer. When people noticed her, they unconsciously looked down on her either in pity or disgust. The children in our grade seemed to avoid her, especially under the baking sun during recess; for every time they uttered the ‘s’ of ‘summer’, she would whip around to see if anyone was calling out for her. She was my partner in school. When my teacher assigned me to work with her during class, she’d shot me a glance with an unreadable mask implanted to her cool, distant face. I translated it into: I’m dumping her on you, be nice to her.

 

 Summer was a diva. She loved clothes and shopping and gossiping about cute boys. I was uncomfortable with the topics she named but reading books with her was even more unbearable. Her reading level was in the negatives and her heavy tongue made it hard for her to detach words. She’d always be distracted by the littlest things�"a flap of a paper, a booger in my nose�"and would always, continuously, to the point of me getting irritated- make me a tissue flower and tuck it behind my ear. “There, you’re bootiful,” she’d say. 

I longed to get away from her. Since most of the kids our age isolated her, however, I found her trailing behind me all the time: in the classroom, the cafeteria, the playground, the bathroom, and even my own home. I let her barge into my house one day, unable to haul her back to wherever she lived. My mother wasn’t like my teacher. She treated Summer the same way she treated her own daughter, showering her with hugs and scolding her when she said inappropriate words. Summer drank all the orange juice and attention under my family’s roof. When my father stepped into the picture, however, Summer started to cry-bawl�"weep. Her tears poured over her cheeks so much that I was afraid she was going to lose all the water in her body. The kid eyeliner she had used for herself washed out and I saw the real Summer.

 

“I miss daddy,” she shrieked in hysteria, “I hate him. I miss him!”

 

My mother and I comforted her with silence whilst my father left the scene.

 

When her tears ceased to come, she was in my arms, cradled like a baby. “He’s run way ‘cause of me,” she’d blubbered, and a single, crystal tear fell from her lashes. Her voice was a rare whisper when she choked out: “He said I’m a ugly.”

 

She was torn,

Shattered,

Hurt…

…desperate to hide herself, to shield her image with the artificial.

 

 

I felt a rivulet streaming down my cheeks. I slipped a tissue out from its box. Instead of handing it over to her, I formed and molded a flower with it and tucked it behind her ear. I wiped away the blackened tearstains from her eyes, revealing the natural glow to her pale face. I still remember what I said to her six years ago. “But I think you’re beautiful.”

Author's Note

100% true story.

Reviews

[Chocoholic]

This is a really beautifully written story :) Loved every second of it

[Blue Moon Ice Cream]

Really poignant. The story unfolds very well, and the ending is beautiful. It can be intriguing to wonder what is behind the facades that some people put up...

[Patches I'm not so new..]

This may be a true story--- I don't doubt that it is and you have written it well It drew me in deeper with every word I read---- However onther than the arthor stating that "Summer" was told by her father that she was ugly(which, by the way he never should have said even if it is true) that is hardly reason for him to leave I feel that something isn't being revealed--- perhaps martial troubles between the couple. Whatever it is it leaves a question in my mind that begs an answer.

[Coyote Poetry]

Thank you for the amazing story. You brought me in with powerful description of the girl. I like how you set-up the story. Allow the character to grow and leave the reader with a positive ending.
"I slipped a tissue out from its box. Instead of handing it over to her, I formed and molded a flower with it and tucked it behind her ear."
A excellent story. Thank you.
Coyote