Ugly

by Margaret McHeyzer

  I deserve what I got. He’s my husband. He wouldn’t cheat on me. He twisted my arm around behind my back and broke it. It was an accident, I know it was, because when he dropped me off at the hospital he said it was an accident and he didn’t mean to hurt me – he just lost his temper because I said something to upset him.

  The doctors didn’t have to operate because they said the fracture didn’t require surgery, just a cast. Trent said he couldn’t stay with me, because he was helping a friend get ready for a party. He told me I could do it on my own, and he also said to tell the doctors and nurses I was running and tripped. I said what he told me to say. They didn’t believe me, but I insisted and convinced them.

  One of the nurses came in on the sly and tried to talk me into saying Trent beats me. But he doesn’t. Because he’s not a bad person, he just wants things done in a certain way, and I get punished if they aren’t done how he likes them. I make him angry, and it’s then when he hits me. See it’s my fault, not his. And this hospital visit, well this one was an accident. But I told her, I’m just a silly woman who’s clumsy. She believed me after that.

  While I was resting, after they had put a cast on my arm, a nice-looking man wheeling the food trolley came in to deliver a tray to the bed beside me. He looked really familiar, but I couldn’t place him. But I know I knew him. He offered me something to eat, but I didn’t feel hungry. I tried to remember who he was, and when I closed my eyes to rest, I remembered where I saw him before. He was the man at the deli that one time. His stutter was unforgettable. Remember, the man who held the door open for that girl who was coming in? I think his name was Max. I remember how he was really nice to that girl, and I remember his stutter, too.

  Anyway, I’m going to try extra hard from now on. Trent always tells me how much of a disappointment I am to him. So now I’m going to try and make him proud of me. He also told me I look like a fat piece of meat. So I’ll be starting my diet tonight. I need to get down to eighty pounds. God, I’m so fat.

  Bye diary.

  Ps: I can’t wait to be the best wife in the world for Trent. He deserves the best. He loves me so much.

  It’s my twenty-fifth birthday today and I’m spending it alone in the hospital.

  Curling up on my side I can’t help but let the tears fall. Losing the baby this time was hard. The hardest one yet. Maybe because I was just under half-way there at sixteen weeks, or maybe because I was hoping this time it would be different.

  “How are you, Mrs. Hackly?” an older nurse asks as she comes through the door.

  All I can do is cry. The heaviness inside me doesn’t ever lighten. I can’t look at her; I can’t even make eye contact. The hurt rolls through me, the absolute abyss of misery overtaking every part of me.

  “Have you eaten today?” She asks as she walks around the side of the bed, and gently smooths my hair away from my face. I’m a complete mess, worse than a tragedy.

  Trent dropped me off at the hospital after I woke with blood-soaked sheets. I don’t know why I miscarried this baby. Maybe I shouldn’t call it a baby. If I just say a fetus then it seems more impersonal, like it was nothing more than a mere heavy period.

  The day before yesterday I did the stupidest thing ever. I just won’t learn and I don’t know why I keep pushing Trent’s buttons and making him mad. I had an extra bowl of soup at dinner without even asking him if he wanted it.

  He’s on his residency at the hospital two counties over and his hours have been crazy. He comes home and tells me to give him quiet, I try but sometimes I might sneeze or cough and that sets him off.

  “You know, if a child is what you really want, you should try again,” she offers as she continues to pet my hair and stroke my back.

  I look up at her and give her a weak smile. She’s being kind to me, saying beautiful things, but I know it’s only her job to pretend to care. “Thank you,” I respond. Then I curl further into myself and don’t want to hear anything else she has to say.

  “You have to eat something, gain your strength back so you can go home and try again.” I simply nod. What she doesn’t know is Trent told me I’m not allowed to eat anything, because it’s too expensive and we can’t afford it.

  “I’m okay,” I whisper. “Not hungry,” I add. I’m not famished, I have no desire to eat anything. All I want to do is stay curled in this spot until the day they release me.

  “You’re skin and bone, sugar. There’s nothing to you. You need to eat something.”

  “Not hungry.” She must be delusional if she thinks I’m skinny, they weighed me when I came in and I’m eighty-three pounds.

  “You had a dilation and curettage, you need your strength to get through this. An operation like that is only minor, but your body needs to heal and it can’t heal if you don’t eat.” Her voice is so sweet and gentle. She’s really trying her best, but what she doesn’t understand is I’m not allowed to eat.

  “I’m fine, thank you,” I say and close my eyes. This will give her the very clear indication I don’t want her here any longer.

  “If you don’t eat, the doctors may not allow you to leave,” her voice holds a slightly harsher tone.

  But I ignore her. She stands beside the bed, and right now I want her to leave. I don’t need pity. I don’t need the sadness in her eyes, because I have enough of that sloshing through me to last a lifetime.

  “I’ll send one of the aides in with something for you to eat,” she says in a quieter voice. She knows I can hear her, I’m simply choosing to ignore her because it’s easier.

  The door opens and closes and I’m left alone. Not totally of course. There’s a woman in the bed beside me and she’s been chatting since the moment I was wheeled in. She got the idea once I turned my back and didn’t respond.

  “You okay?” she asks me. “I know how tough losing a baby can be. I’ve lost three, and now I can’t get pregnant.” Her voice is wispy, as if she’s talking to herself then to me. “My husband says we can try again, but I don’t think I’m ready. It’s just too much pressure.”

  I open my eyes and blink the fat tears away. They cling to my eye lashes for a split second, before they fall and wet the pillow beneath my head. I try and draw in a deep breath, but all I seem to attract is more hurt.

  Shutting my eyes, I want her to stop. I want the world to just freeze and never move again. I don’t want to be here, but I don’t want to go back to our apartment either. I’m not sure I can face Trent. He’ll see the hurt in me and I’ll see the immense disappointment in him.

  Thankfully, it’s not long before the woman in the other bed stops talking. And now I’m left to my own thoughts. Maybe it’s better when her voice is constantly chatting, because for those moments I’m not consumed by my own self-hatred. I don’t know. I don’t know anything anymore. Why am I even breathing? What’s the point to my life?

  The door creaks open, and I hear the tell-tale sound of the food cart being wheeled in.

  “La-ladies,” says a confident deep voice, despite his stutter. There’s a serene tone to it, like a beautiful, calming chime. “I-I-I br-brought y-y-your d-d-dinner,” he stutters, though his voice is still strong and peaceful.

  I turn to look at him, and immediately his eyes focus on me. My tears have eased, but not stopped. He gently brings his eyebrows together and slightly turns up one side of his mouth. I sit up in bed and focus on him.

  He’s still as beautiful as I remember him from all those years ago. His face still holds the mystery and beauty of an expertly-crafted statue of ancient Roman times. His hair is thick and dark, and beside his dark, captivating eyes there are small lines.

  “You-you haven’t or-ordered anything,” he gently says to me.

  I’m completely spellbound by him. It’s not a lustful attraction toward him, more like he’s a beam of high-intensity light shining down and its brightness holds me captive.

  He’s older than me, maybe by ten years, maybe less. He has broad shoulders I can’t help but pay attentio
n to, and his eyes are hauntingly perfect. “Are-are you hungry?” he asks me again.

  “I’ve ordered,” the woman on the bed beside me pipes up and says.

  “Y-yes, I-I have y-yours here.” He pulls out a tray and takes it over to her side table and wheels it up to her. I watch their exchange, she smiles and her cheeks turn a slight pink.

  “Thank you,” she replies.

  Fluently he replies, “You’re welcome.” As if he doesn’t have a stutter. “For you?” He smiles at me, and his warmth travels the entire length of my body. My arms erupt into goosebumps, and the hair on the back of my neck rises in anticipation of his next words.

  “No, nothing for me, thank you,” I respond, but I want to keep him here and pamper myself with the sound of his smooth drawl.

  “Y-you have to e-eat.” He stands tall and looks at me.

  I look over to the woman sitting on the bed beside me and actually notice her. She’s possibly slightly older than me, with wiry dark hair and blackened circles beneath her eyes. I look back at him then back to the woman. “I’m not allowed,” I whisper, hoping the words are loud enough for him to hear, but not her.

  He stands still for a few seconds. Maybe he’s trying to decipher the words I said and in what context I meant them. He takes the few steps over to the separating curtain and draws it closed between the beds. The way he’s quietly done it is not scary or intimidating to me. It’s like he’s protecting me, not allowing another to see the broken part of me.

  “A-are you h-hungry?” he asks as he sits in the chair beside the bed. I don’t say anything to him, I just wrap my arms around my chest and find a sudden chill touching me. It’s not cold in the room, but he’s unnerved me in a way I’ve never experienced before.

  “I think so,” I answer honestly, as I continue to look into his almost black gaze.

  He looks at me, and his stare travels to my left hand where he sees my thin wedding ring on my finger. “The d-doctors n-need you to eat before they dis-discharge you,” he whispers as he sits forward and rest his elbows on his thighs and looks down at the floor.

  I look behind me, but the curtain is masking my view of the lady in the bed beside me. “I’m not allowed,” I softly sigh, almost like it’s a guarded secret only a few highly trained operatives have the privilege of knowing.

  He looks up at me, and in that one intense second, in that simple and plain exchange, I see it. His eyes hold pity for me. They’re so consumed with tenderness and warmth, but I know he’s looking at me with disgust and trying to mask it, so I feel something other than the useless, ugly girl I am.

  “Please, don’t,” I mutter in the smallest of voices. “I’ve never been one who enjoys sympathy.” I look down to the blanket and move my hand to pick at a loose thread. He doesn’t say a word. He just keeps his eyes on me, watching me, seeing something no one has ever noticed before. My hurt. My pain. My imperfection.

  I’ve lived a life of hiding. Hiding behind the exterior others see, hiding inside myself, just being one in a universe filled with many. But the way he regards me, tells me he’s seeing something I never want the world to know.

  “Please,” I whisper again, trying with all my might to raise each and every one of my walls.

  The seconds draw out, time has stopped. I fidget because his stare is uncomfortable. He sees through me, as if I’m made of a thin, exquisite piece of paper originating in the fourteenth century. His focus penetrates directly through to my soul. “Please.” A teardrop escapes and it reminds me just how stupid I am. Why would he be concerned for me? Why would he even bother? He sees a dumb, ugly girl who’s nothing but damaged and alone.

  “M-my name is M-M-Max, p-pl-pleased to meet you.” He waits for me to tell him my name.

  “Lily,” I answer him, though I know the moment he leaves, he’ll have forgotten me as quickly as he would seeing the first fall leaf drift from the tree, baring its soul as it awaits winter.

  Max doesn’t extend his hand to me. He doesn’t do anything else except stand and walk over to his food trolley. Why would he? I’m less than nothing. He takes a tray out, brings it over to me and places it on my bare table.

  I look up to him and tilt my head to the side. “I’m not allowed to eat,” I say in a quiet voice. He gives me the most sincere and gentlest smile before turning to walk away. “Max.” He stills the moment his name flickers past my lips.

  He turns back and winks at me before he says with perfect pronunciation, “What food?” With that he leaves, taking his food trolley out and going on to the next room.

  I’m left gazing at the door.

  I once thought he was a true gentleman, someone who saw a woman and knew how to treat her.

  But now I’m convinced he’s something much more. Now I know he’s an angel.

  I’m back at work today. Trent told me I was allowed to stay home and recover for three days after I left the hospital, and I did. But I think he wanted me to do two of his assignments which were due, because the first morning before he left for his residency he woke me and told me he’d leave work on the kitchen table and to make sure it’s done by the time he got home.

  It was a difficult assignment and I’m not even sure if I got it right, but he said he was happy with it when he got home. The next day, he left another. This was easier, but considering I don’t understand much of medicine, he said I did well and he should pass. He also told me if he failed, it’ll be my fault. He said it in that low voice, which tells me it’ll be in my best interest for him to pass.

  The store has been crazy. I’ve got three cashiers off and it’s Thanksgiving in a few days, so it’s been extra busy.

  “Excuse me, ma’am, could you show me where the cranberry jelly is please?” one elderly gentleman asks me.

  “This way, sir.” I take him to the aisle well-stocked with cranberry sauce.

  “Thank you,” he says, as he tips his bowler hat to me.

  I smile at him, and go back toward the cashiers to see how they’re coping.

  “Excuse me, canned pumpkin?” a young girl asks me. She looks worried and stressed. “I forgot to get the pumpkin for my pie, and Mom told me to make sure I get to the store and get some before you sell out.” She lets out a long, drawn-out sigh and runs her hand through her light brown hair. “I’m so stupid,” she resigns.

  “No you’re not. Everyone forgets things from time to time. And I’m sure we’ve got extra.” I smile warmly as I lead her to the aisle.

  “Thank you, you’re a lifesaver,” she says, as she juggles four cans of mashed pumpkin.

  “You’re welcome.” I step away and go to check the cashiers and their need for change when I get a tap on the shoulder. I turn and come face to face with the dark, captivating eyes I saw in the hospital. “Max,” I cry. I feel my face burn with embarrassment as I look around me trying to see if anyone knows where I know him from. Of course my mind is aware that’s a completely ridiculous notion, but there’s a small part in my brain which screams in my ear, telling me everyone knows.

  “H-how are y-you?” he stutters as he stands tall before me. I notice just how tall he really is. I need to look up, to see his stellar, dark eyes.

  I fist a hand through my thinning hair and pull a few strands out. It’s something I’ve been doing when I get nervous, especially just before Trent is due to come home. “I’m good.” I steady the wave of fear cascading through me.

  “Y-you’re look-looking really good. Much be-better than wh-when I saw you l-last.”

  I feel the corners of my mouth tug up in a smile, and I can’t help but beam at his words. “Thank you, Max,” I say nervously shifting from one leg to the other.

  “I-it’s okay, y-your secret is s-safe with me.” He winks at me again. He’s done that before, and although I find it peculiar, I also like it.

  “Um…” I look to him and feel my bashfulness overtake the sane and logical part of my brain. “Do you need help with anything?” I stop for a moment as a thought strikes me. “How
did you find me?” Suddenly I feel exposed, because he’s somehow stalked me to here.

  “I-I live near here. J-just down the road. B-but I don’t like this st-store, it’s always t-too busy.” He chuckles at his own words, and I smile.

  “Hang on, when did you move here?” Suddenly, I remember the first time I saw him was back where I was living with Trent and his parents. Now we’re hours away and I find myself standing in front of the one man I actually think of as a gentleman.

  “I be-beg your par-pardon?” he questions in a somewhat agitated state.

  “I’m sorry, I should explain,” I say, then continue to tell him how I once saw him at the deli beside my old work.

  “I-I thought you might h-have followed me,” he jokes, then laughs.

  “I’m sorry, I must have come across as a stalker. Trust me, I’m not.” I look down, knowing for a moment that a miserable feeling of humiliation is pending. He’s going to tell me he’d never look at such a fat, ugly, stupid person so there’s no need to stalk him.

  “I-I wouldn’t m-mind someone as b-b-b-beautiful as you s-st-stalking me.” He chuckles again and I laugh with him. But I only laugh because he’s being gracious in not shaming me. Clearly, he’s just saying those words to be kind, nothing more.

  “Can I help you find anything?” I say, changing the subject. Not some silly ‘let’s feel sorry for the stupid, ugly girl’ conversation. No one in the world can think I’m anything special. Only Trent loves me. He always tells me how much he loves me, especially after he’s been angry at me.

  “N-no, ju-just saw you and I thought I’d say h-hi.” He smiles at me, and then adds, “Hi.”

  I feel like an idiot, foolishly thinking he may need anything from me. “Lily,” my boss and the second in charge, Dale, calls me.

  “I have to go. Nice seeing you, Max.”