Unpretty
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Consequences III: So Damn Unpretty free porn video
Consequences III: So Damn Unpretty
By Myria
Still angry, I slammed the door to my apartment closed and stormed into
the living room. Tossing my coat over the back of the couch I sat down and
kicked off my heels - my feet were killing me. Dammit, why did things have to be
so complicated, hadn't I been through enough? I grabbed a tissue from the box on
the end table, nearly knocking over the lamp in the process, and, heedless of my
make-up, wiped my tears.
Guys, Christ! They could be such a pain in the ass sometimes! And yet so
nice other times. Though I'd tried for most of my life, I knew I'd never
understand them. Never understand him. Things had been going so well, and now
this. Our first fight, and over what? So stupid.
I felt stupid.
I got up and walked to my bedroom, unbuttoning my blouse as I went.
Tossing my blouse on the bed, I took of my earrings and necklace then walked
into the bathroom and washed my face. Drying my face with a thick towel, I stood
and looked into the mirror. Same old me. Long mousy brown hair, small intense
eyes, too big of a nose, mouth that didn't smile enough. I could pick out every
flaw with the precision of a surgeon without even thinking about it.
So damn unpretty.
The phone rang as I walked back into the bedroom. I ignored it as I
removed my skirt and stockings and changed into a negligee. It was probably him;
he probably wanted to tell me what an ass I'd been. Never mind if I had or not,
he could talk to the machine.
I went back into the living room and plopped back on the couch. I should
get a drink, I thought. Yeah, get good and potted, that's the ticket. Nah, what
would be the point? Besides, the pills and booze don't mix so well, too hard on
the 'bod. Stupid 'mones drove me frickin' nuts enough as it was without getting
wasted.
The shrill ringing coming from my purse made me jump. I reached over and
grabbed it, opened it up and took out the cellphone. I could see by the caller
ID that it was him, he didn't give up very easily. I was half tempted to ignore
it, for that matter I was tempted to heave the damn thing through the window.
But no, I flipped open the cover, catching the glowing green of the display
lighting up out of the corner of my eye as I put the phone to my ear.
"Hello?" I said.
"You okay?"
"Yeah," I replied, "why?"
"You didn't answer your other line."
"I was in the shower," I lied.
"Oh."
I didn't say anything, waiting for him to take the lead. I could almost
feel him getting tenser.
"Look, I wanted to apologize for..."
"You didn't do anything," I interrupted.
"I ruined our evening."
"Yeah, well, it's no biggie, okay?" Even he had to know that was a lie.
"I just hate it when you dis yourself."
"I think I'm entitled," I replied, feeling myself getting a little angry
again.
"I don't."
"You're biased," I said, stating the obvious.
"Maybe, so? I care about you, Tanya, I don't like to see you cut yourself
down like that."
"You embarrassed me." There, it was out in the open.
"It embarrasses you when I say that you're pretty?"
"Yes."
"Christ! Why?"
"Because it's not true."
"It is true! Why would I say it if it wasn't true?"
"Maybe because you want to get into my panties?" I said, not realizing
until it was out how cruel that sounded.
"That's not fair."
"Maybe, maybe not. Look, can we not fight about this again?"
"Okay. I'm sorry, I don't want to fight with you."
Not knowing what to say, I said nothing.
"Why don't I let you go? I'll give you a call tomorrow or something,
okay?"
"'Kay," I said, flipping the cover on the cellphone closed and cutting off
anything else he might have wanted to say.
I set my purse and the phone on the floor, and then arranged a throw
pillow against the end of the couch. I curled up on the couch, half leaning and
half lying, and turned on the TV. I flipped through the channels, wondering if
he really would call or not. Even odds said I had heard the last from him I ever
would.
That was just fine by me.
+++
The air was cold, the night bright with a full moon, the stars shining
like I hadn't seen since I was a kid. I was in the dessert somehow, the ground
sandy powder with rocks and boulders and anemic scrub brush strewn about like
afterthoughts. I was still wearing my negligee, the thin satin and lace
providing next to no protection against the light wind.
There was a flickering light just over the small hill not twenty feet from
me so, not knowing what else to do, I headed in that direction. When I got to
the top of the hill I could see a fire blazing on the other side. Suppressing
yet another shiver, I walked towards it.
Sitting in front of it the fire was warm and comforting, but seemed oddly
out of place. There was no campsite around, no building, no tent, nothing. No
sign of people or civilization anywhere that I could see. Just the fire and a
pile of wood and dead scrub brush. Why was the fire there? Who'd started it? Why
weren't they around? Screw that, how had I come to be standing in the middle of
the dessert shivering in my nightclothes? Especially considering there wasn't a
dessert within a thousand mile radius of my home. I hadn't been in a place like
this since I'd been a kid.
"You're doing it again."
I tried not to jump too obviously. It was a girl's voice, standing behind
me. I spun around and looked at her and for the first time in my life literally
felt my jaw drop. I'd been expecting someone must be around, someone had to have
started that fire, but the last thing I'd expected was to see a little girl,
maybe ten years old.
"Doing what?" I asked.
"Pushing him away," she said, both her voice and expression more serious
than any little girl had a right to be.
"I don't know what you're talking about."
"Don't you?" She asked, and then walked up to stand next to me. "The fire
is warm, isn't it?"
"Yes."
"And pretty. Is that why you were drawn to it?"
"I was cold," I said. "Do you know how I got here?" I paused and looked
around. "Or even where 'here' is?"
She frowned. "Don't you know?"
I shrugged. "The dessert, I guess. Maybe the high dessert in California.
Maybe Utah or Nevada. I don't know, could be a lot of places."
"No, silly, this is my place."
"Oh."
"Don't you know who I am?"
I looked at her closely in the firelight. There was something distinctly
familiar about her, but I couldn't place it. "No."
She crossed her arms and pouted. "You don't know?"
"No," I said with a shrug.
"I'm you."
I looked at her again. Same brown hair, if a little longer, same eyes,
same... What kind of trick was this? "You look a little like me," I granted, "me
when I was a little girl. But you can't be me, I was never a little girl."
"Weren't you?" She smiled and put her arms behind her, when she brought
them back in front of her again she was holding a doll. "Do you remember her?"
I took a deep breath. "Yes."
"You took this from the trash when you were five, your sister didn't want
it and she threw it away."
I wiped tears from my eyes. "Why are you doing this?"
"Is it so painful to remember?" She asked, her face sad.
"Yes."
"I know, but we have to talk." She sat down next to me, the doll somehow
gone.
"Why?"
"Do you remember this place?" She asked with a wave of her hand. "Do you
remember how you used to love coming out to the dessert? So peaceful, so quiet.
You could imagine yourself being totally alone in the world."
"I remember," I said with a sigh.
"Do you remember how you wished you could run away, come here to be alone
forever? How you dreamed of it, peace. Being where you could be yourself with no
one else to tell you otherwise."
I nodded, I remembered only too well.
"This is my place," she said, "a place you created in your own head. It's
where you sent me when things got too painful."
"Oh god..."
"It was hard, hard for both of us. When you sent me here you sent all that
pain here too."
"No, please," I said, shaking my head.
"All those years, so much pain. But I took it all, I'm strong. We're
strong. You knew I never went away, couldn't go away. I'm you, you're me, why
can't you accept that?"
"I never meant to hurt you."
"I know, you did what you had to do. But that wasn't without consequence.
All those years, if only you could have let me out. I know why you couldn't, but
now we're paying for it. All those years, so much pain, so much anger, so afraid
to let anyone close for fear that they'd find out the truth. So afraid that
they'd see me."
"That's all done now," I said defensively.
"Is it? Then why are you doing it again?"
"Doing what?"
"Pushing him away."
"What does that have to do with anything?" I demanded.
"Everything. What are you afraid of, him or me?"
"I'm not afraid!"
"Aren't you? I'm changing, are you willing to see that?"
"Changing?"
"Yes," she said, and in literally the blink of an eye she went from being
a ten-year-old girl to being fifteen. "I'm growing up." Another shift and she
was twenty-one. "I'm not a scared little girl anymore." Another blink and she
was my age. "I've grown up, we've grown up. You just have to accept that. You
have to stop running, stop running from yourself."
"I've no idea what you're talking about," I said defiantly.
"You're not just a product of your pain."
"I told you, I'm past all that."
"I know you keep saying it, but do you believe it? You've come so far, no
longer the little girl inside when everyone saw you as a little boy on the
outside. Now you're a woman on the outside, when are you going to let yourself
be a woman on the inside?"
"Stop it!" I demanded.
"I can't," she said in a voice so quiet that I barely caught it over the
noise of the fire. "You've come so far, why aren't you happy? Why aren't you
complete? When you buried all that pain you buried me too. You have to let it
out to let me out. That's the price for what you did all those years ago."
"I did what I had to do."
"I know, but now you have to face it. You have to stop running away, stop
pushing everything and everyone away. You don't have to be empty inside anymore,
you don't have to keep me locked away here in this place, and you don't have to
feel all that pain that you've buried so deeply."
"That's not true, I don't feel that way."
"I know you don't believe that. I know what you're problem is you know."
"What problem is that?"
"You're afraid. You're afraid of succeeding. You're afraid of your own
success. That's why you're afraid of me."
"Bullshit," I spat, now well and truly angry. "I'm not afraid."
"Sure you are. You're terrified. That's why you got so angry when he said
that you were pretty. What if it's true? Worse yet, what if you believed it and
it wasn't true?"
"How do you expect me to feel?" I said, my anger evaporating into sadness.
She reached out and gently put her hand on my knee. "You have to believe
in yourself sometime. You have to stop burying it all. Let it out, let me out."
"How? How can I change the way I've been my entire life?"
"You've changed the way people see you, haven't you?"
"That was the easy part," I said with a sigh.
She smiled. "No it wasn't. It took more courage than you'll admit, but I
know. You've come so far; you've only this bit more to go. I know how hard it's
been, but you can do it."
"I'll try," I said.
"You'll succeed," she said, and then once again she was that ten-year-old
girl.
"You have more faith in me than I do," I said.
"I am you, Tanya," she said and then was gone, her words an echo in the
crackling of the fire.
+++
The sun was streaming in through the bay window when I woke up. I sat up,
trying to stretch out the crick in my neck from sleeping on the couch.
What a strange dream. Or was it a dream at all? I felt odd, almost
relieved. As though a great weight had been lifted. She had been right, I was
afraid. I had come so far and yet I was still so afraid. Afraid of my own
successes. Afraid that it could all be somehow be taken away from me in an eye
blink.
All those years ago, all that time ago I had shoved it all down so deep
inside that I thought it would never come back. I had no choice, nothing else I
felt I could do. I couldn't stand the look my mother had given me when I'd told
her I was a girl. All the taunts of my siblings, my peers. All the pain, the
loneliness, buried, buried so deeply.
That doll, I'd played with it alone in my room when no one was home.
Hidden it under the bottom drawer of my dresser. Never letting anyone know, my
secret. Myself, my secret. The little girl I was hidden away where no one could
ever touch her. Hidden so deep that I hoped I could forget her but knew I never
could.
So alone.
And now, after I'd come so far? Now I had to pay for something I'd done
when I was so young I didn't, couldn't, know the consequences? It didn't seem
fair somehow.
I cried, I cried long and hard. I wanted to rail at the heavens, to scream
out my pain, but I couldn't. So I just sat there on my couch crying quietly to
myself.
She was right, so right. I was scared. I couldn't believe in myself, which
was so risky, so all I'd been doing was running away emotionally. Still running
away the same as I'd done all those years ago. I couldn't keep running forever,
could I? There had to be some way I could believe in myself. But how?
I don't know how long I cried, it seemed like a short eternity, but
finally there were no more tears, I was cried out.
After a while I stood and went to the bathroom, getting a drink of water
and looking in the mirror. I was a mess, hair all askew from sleep, eyes puffy,
cheeks red. I shook my head - Stop it! - and ran the water for a hot bath.
I sat in the tub and let the hot water relax me. I thought about how it
had been for me all those years ago, stuff I hadn't thought about, purposefully
had avoided even looking at in my mind's eye, for so many years. So much water
under the bridge, was I going to let that always hold me back? I'd not let
anything stop me from transitioning, from transforming my life in ways that few
people could imagine. Maybe it was time to put some of the past to rest, to try
and let it go.
After I'd showered and done my hair I sat in front of my vanity and stared
at my reflection. I was no great beauty, never would be any more than I would
get to be that little girl. But was I so damn unpretty? Was I the sum of my
flaws, physical and emotional?
Maybe... A little make-up, a nice dress, was I really pretty like he'd
said?
I felt the fear that thought created, for a change recognizing it for what
it was. I didn't fight it, instead letting it flow over me and through me. For
perhaps the first time in my life I faced that fear instead of fighting it. In
facing it, in knowing it for what it was, I won a victory. A small one, to be
sure, but a victory nonetheless.
I stood and went to the phone, picked it up and dialed his number. I had
an apology to make; hopefully I hadn't already pushed him entirely away. I knew
it wasn't over, wasn't all done. I had to face it all and let it all out before
I would finally be whole, but it was a start.
Somewhere inside I sensed a little girl smiling.
Fin
Copyright 2000 By Christina Myria Kenyon
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