You do not matter. Coolly, roll up your tights while looking down. You are down, like the woman you are. Frown. Push your wrists into your fat thighs. Look forward and sigh- not too loudly, but noticeable. Get noticed. Dig your fingers into your tights, into your fat flesh. Rub your hair. Ask: “How does it look?” Wait for a laugh. Get up. Head for the door. Walk slowly towards the bathroom. Avoid the cat. Duck. There may be flypaper at any moment. Swat along the wall in the dark for the light switch. Let your fingers graze the dirty tile until you miss the switch. Find it. Light. Latch the door. Step towards the sink. Turn on the water. Let it run for a while. Begin to cry. Make terrible faces in the mirror. Become more conscious of how you look when you cry. Let it run. Comb your hair. Do it painfully. Cry while combing your hair. Flush the toilet you didn’t use. Pretend to wash your hands. Dry your face, with your hands. Unlatch the door. Turn off the light. Dark. Don’t forget about the flypaper. Duck a bit. Open his door. Prop your body up against its frame. Look at him. Let him see the wetness around your eyes. Look down. Frown. “Where are we going to go?” Do not answer. Look down. Go into the room and pick up your bag. Gather your things. Look busy. Say: “ It’s okay. Don’t worry about it.” There is silence. The television is on. It flashes in your peripheral. Slip on your shoes while looking concerned. “She will be here for two weeks.” You do not ask why. You do not matter. Say: “ I have to go now. I’m going to be late.” Pick up your cell phone. Look busy. “Would you like a ride?” Pick up your shoulders. Look relaxed. Say: “I’ll just walk.” There is silence. The television lights up the dark room like fireworks. You look at him and say: “I am ready to go now.”
-Bex
The Junction Journal 