Smoke and Mirrors
By: Saitaina A. Moricia

(All things in bold are song lyrics. The song is a country one I heard on the radio while writing the story.)

The woman wasn’t’ exactly beautiful, sure, she was cute, but no one could truly call her beautiful. She was a short brunette, with exotic eyes and a laughing smile, but she was also overweight.

Gayle looked up from her work sighing. She looked around the room at her other classmates hard at work. “A descriptive paragraph? How are we supposed to describe someone in just one paragraph?” Sandra mumbled under her breath, sitting next to Gayle. Gayle looked down at the paragraph, thinking it described her perfectly. She eyed her chubby fingers and sighed. There were times she could forget she was fat, believe that she was just like every body else, but then the real world came back to her every time she passed a mirror.

Gayle sighed hours later, watching her younger sister at the park. She hated being here, all the pain filled memories that this place held for her. A group of elementary school children walked by and started laughing at her. She felt her body stiffen, awaiting the coming insults. “Hey look! It’s free Wily!” One of the kids yelled laughing.

“That’s a movie you idiot!” A girl corrected him, “She’s Keiko!”

Tears flowed down Gayle’s face, though she tried not to show how much it hurt, but it was hard, always hearing a reference to a fucking whale.

Gayle laid in her bed, crying softly listening to the radio drone on.

I’m a little boy with glasses, the on they call the geek. A little girl who never smiles because I’ve got braces on my teeth. And I know ho it feels to cry myself to sleep. I’m the kid on every playground who’s always chosen last. A single teenage mother trying to over come my past. You don’t have to be my friend, but is it to much to ask….

Gayle didn’t’ know it then, but things would soon change for her, and not everything for the better.

Don’t laugh at me, don’t call me names, don’t get your pleasure from my pain. In God’s eyes, we’re all the same, someday we’ll all have perfect wings, don’t laugh at me.

Gayle would soon find an interest in writing. She would discover that it was easier to write her pain down, then it was to hide it away in her heart. Though her writings were often dark, and involved the death of her main character often, it was therapy for her.

I’m the cripple on the corner, you’ve passed me on the street. And I wouldn’t be out here begging if I had enough to eat. And don’t think that I don’t notice that our eyes never meet. I lost my wife and little boy, when someone crossed that yellow line. The day we laid him in the ground is the day I lost my mind. And right now I’m down to holding this little cardboard sign.

Her writing would soon become popular with other people, most whom shared her pain and dark nature. People related to her words because her stories are real.

Don’t laugh at me, don’t call me names, don’t get your pleasure from my pain. In God’s eyes, we’re all the same. Someday we’ll all have perfect wings…

Ten years later Gayle was at a book signing, one of many that week. She felt nervous about being in her home town after so many years away. She hadn’t changed much, gained a few million and a lot of weight.

She signed books for hours, finally getting down to the last three. One man held back nervously when it was his turn. But finally, after some prodding from Gayle, he handed her his book and a note. Gayle raised an eyebrow as she un-folded it to read.

“To the girl formally know as Free Wily,” It read. “Looks like you found your own part of the ocean, Congrats and I’m sorry.” She looked up at him, a tear running down her cheek.

Don’t Laugh at me….

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