My Past and the Smile

            Another dull day...I look in the mirror again; the gash was still bleeding, just above my left eye.  I wipe it away with my hand, and my mascara wipes away, too.  I push some hair back over my face to cover the wound, and I leave the dark room, blowing out the last candles to leave the room pitch black.  As I walk silently into the front room, I look at the pictures on the side opposite from me.

 

            They meant nothing at all.  I looked at my mother and father's wedding picture, with an inner grimace.  The fake smiles in that picture I see everywhere.  My mother had the same damn look when she shot my father and his new girlfriend.  She had that same f*****g smile when she died that night, in the hospital beside the man whose life she stole.  It's been four years since I left that place, and came here.  I can still see my mother's smiling face as she is swarmed by the police, her hands stained with my blood.  I can still see the scattered bits of my father's skull, and the empty twelve gauge shell which was released into it.  I can see her f*****g smile everywhere.  In the children, in the young couples, in all of them...I hate to smile.

 

            I kept my hair pulled over my eye, hiding the gash.  I came to school, even though I'd gain nothing.  I see it everywhere, the smile, and the emptiness behind it.

 

"Hey, Alex!"

 

            I didn't bother look back, because I knew who it was.  The stupid f**k's been pissing me off for years, flaunting his ignorance with mock friendship.  He was with the typical group of four, and they all surround me as 'friends'.  I could feel the hatred burning my face hot, and I grew angrier with each passing second.  The b*****d speaks.

 

"Hey man, can I borrow your mascara?"

 

            The others laugh as if he'd said something funny.  I force myself to smile, but I was clenching my teeth so hard that it hurt.  I fingered the razor blade in my pocket, thinking of the endless possibilities.  That I chose not to act pissed me off even more.  Still, I force myself to smile.

 

"Yeah, sure.  Here you go,"
"Thanks man, my girlfriend needed this!"

 

            More laughter.  I stop smiling and continue on my way.

 

"Sure, Jeff.  Just be sure you bring it back."

 

            Jeff and his crew turn away.  I hear them say it, like they've done for the past two years.

 

"Man, he's such a f*g!"

 

            One of them look back, and I flick my hair from over my shoulder, and turn away as I hear even more of their snickering.  I laugh to myself.

 

"Stupid a*s b*****s..."

 

            The bell for lunch rings, and we all leave the classroom similar to ants.  I go to the bathroom and look in the mirror, staring at my reflection for a short while-then I'm decisive.  I reapply a coat of lipstick, turning my lips jet black.  I leave the bathroom, intending on going home, but I see her.

 

            Alexia was as beautiful as ever, her unscathed skin almost seemed to glow.  Her deep blue eyes each like jewels, her radiant smile enticing me.  She was talking to some guy, and he too was smiling.  I pondered for a while if it was her boyfriend, then naturally, I grew envious.  This guy was pretty big I admit, so I wasn't going to just say anything to him.  It'd have been more trouble than necessary, so I sit and try to read their lips.  Suddenly, his voice booms out.

 

"What the f**k'd you say, b***h!?"

 

            He raised his hand to hit her, and something in me snapped.  Before I knew what I'd done, I knew he was on the ground, and my fist was tingling.  I was breathing hard, and all I could see was his eyes looking up at me, crazed.  I could feel eyes staring at me from all directions, and then I knew instantly what was about to happen.  I braced, and collected my composure, as it wasn't the best time to collect my thoughts.

 

            I looked out the corner of my eye at her, and she looks right back at me, her expression makes me feel guilty momentarily, before everything begins and I block it out.  I lean back out of a punch, and throw one of my own, hitting the guy in the nose.  I keep going until he's down, his face covered in a smear of blood from his busted nose and mouth.

 

            I had no doubts that I could win, because I'm used to fighting.  Maybe it was my small size that pushed him to fight me.  Maybe he was so pissed he never noticed that I downed him twice with only four punches...

 

            She noticed.

 

            I half figured she was disgusted with the fight.  She was gone by the time it was over.  I immediately left the cafeteria, I had no time for suspension, and I wanted to talk with her.  This had been the first day she'd ever seemed to acknowledge I'd existed, and I left one hell of a first impression.

 

            On my way out of the cafeteria, I passed Jeff.  I hear him speak as I run pass:

 

"Damn, he runs like a b***h, too..."

 

            I ignore him as I raise my pace, trying to catch her.  It wasn't long before I found her sitting outside a classroom in a dimly lit hallway.  Although intent to find her before, now I was hesitant, I was afraid.  What was I going to say?  What should I say?  I asked myself the same question for the past three years...ever since I'd first laid eyes upon her.

 

            I hesitantly approach her, acting without thought, eliminating the chance of backing out.

 

"Umm...Hi..."

 

            I sounded like a f*****g' loser.  I felt my face turn hot, but I knew I couldn't walk off like I never said anything, because I know she heard me.  She was looking dead at me, or maybe she was looking through me.  Her once soft, seemingly delicate eyes seemed to pierce through my skull and gaze at my thoughts.

 

"Why'd you start the fight?"

 

            Her words startled me.  I didn't know the answer...

 

"What, some kind of vigilante?"

 

            I sighed at her silence, then spoke more seriously.

 

"I had to defend myself, or he was gonna kick my a*s,"

"But why'd you punch him?"

 

            I didn't respond.  I started to, but I lost my words before they started.

 

"Thanks.  But next time you wanna help me, try and do it without your fists."

 

            Despite the fact that I felt like I was on trial just moments before, when she smiled, I found that I was smiling too.  It felt embarrassing, but it felt good too.  I knew I was still blushing, and I was sure that she saw it, so in an attempt to make things move faster, I asked her,

 

"What was that guy's problem, anyway?"

 

            Her smile fades, and her pretty face suddenly seemed aggravated, to my dismay.

 

"He was flirting.  Not actual flirting, but feigning interest.  He thought it was hilarious.  Somewhere along the line, he asks me if I wanna f**k."

 

            I was surprised to hear her say that so clearly, so easily.  It may sound stupid, but I never expected to hear such a thing escape her delicate lips.  She continued as if she never said a thing.

 

"I smiled, and told him he'd have a better chance f*****g himself.  He gets offended and...well, you know the rest, don't you?"

"Uh...yeah,"

"Why don't you sit down if you aren't going anywhere?"

 

            She smiles slightly, and signals for me to sit beside her.  My heart jumps into my throat, and numerous chills spread through my spine.  It only dawned on me now that I had no f*****g experience with women.  My mouth was dry suddenly, as I sat down beside her.  She smelled nice, not too thickly of perfume like I was expecting.  I absorbed everything up to this point that'd happened.

 

"What are you trying to hide behind that eyeliner?  Don't think I don't see that cut, either.  I know what it's from, too."

 

            I'm sure she saw me jump, as my mind momentarily froze.  I started to feel nervous as she leaned over me, and began speaking in my ear.  What she says however, deflects any humor I might've been finding in my tiny little imagination.

 

"You dropped your razor in the cafeteria, but I got it.  I'm not giving it back, since you don't need things like this.  We should talk later, the bell's gonna ring soon."

 

            To my surprise, she hugs me for a moment, but I'm too shocked to respond.  It ends quickly, and then she leaves, without saying a word.  Then, part of everything that'd happened dawns on me.  The bell rings as she passes out of sight into the quickly gathering mass, and I noticed something:  Not a single person acknowledged her.  One thing we had in common.