Friday 8 June 2012

The Ugly Duckling


Daniella nervously stepped back to take a better look at herself in her full-length mirror. She had chosen to wear a black knee-length dress and her favourite high-heeled black shoes that allowed the tiniest bit of her red toenail polish to peek through the open bit at the front. It was the customary Valentine's Day colour, after all. She leaned forward again and looked closely at the face staring back at her. Her face was fuller than it had been in years and her once defined cheekbone structure was barely visible. Her brown, almond-shaped eyes were framed by dark, angular eyebrows. Daniella didn't understand what Jason saw in her, but he must have thought she was mildly attractive if he asked her out on this particular day. She took a deep breath and dabbed some lip-gloss onto her lips. This date was a big deal for her.
 
At twenty three, Daniella had not dated many men. She had always been made to feel as though she was unattractive to them. Of course they had never told her this directly. No, that would be cruel. But growing up, her best friend, Andrea, had helped her understand this - that she just wasn't pretty enough and that unfortunately, the boys just didn't like her. Daniella could recall many times as a young teenager when she would be walking home with Andrea, and Andrea would try and coach her to help her with this problem. "You have to change the way you look. You're always frowning. It makes you look really ugly," she would say. "And change the way you walk. It's weird. You always look so stiff." On some days, she would try and get Daniella to work out with her, pushing her to do as many sit-ups as she could. "If you stay fat, the boys will never look at you. You need to work out every day of the week. I think that until you can lose the weight, you should wear long tops to cover your behind." Daniella continued to listen to Andrea's words of advice, working hard to lose fat that she could not see but had been told was there, desperately wanting to be attractive.
 
A couple of years into high school, Daniella moved away to another school and eventually lost touch with Andrea. As the years progressed, she continued to struggle with her body image, always hearing Andrea's words in her head. The situations Daniella would find herself in seemed to reaffirm what Andrea had told her all along. Daniella would meet men and develop a liking for them, but the attraction was never mutual.
 
One day, while Daniella was in her second year of college, she had received a phone call from Andrea's close friend, Terry. Andrea had taken seriously ill and
been admitted in a hospital two hours away. As Daniella sat in the bus en route to the town where Andrea had been hospitalized, she recalled how Terry and Andrea would discuss her as they walked in front of her on the way to school as teenagers. Terry would say something like, "What's up with her? She's so strange. Why is she always so serious? And what is up with her tagging along behind us like that?" To which Andrea would respond, "I don't know what to do with her. Just look at how she walks, rigidly clutching on to her book bag like she's in the military or something!" And then they would howl with laughter as the tears would well up in Daniella's eyes.
 
When Daniella had gotten to the hospital, Andrea had seemed overjoyed to see her and had hugged her ever so tightly. Daniella had felt remorseful about the grudge she had held for seven years and had genuinely wished her friend a speedy recovery. Terry had also seemed much nicer than Daniella remembered but just as Daniella had begun to feel at ease, something had happened that made her feel like the awkward thirteen-year old again. Terry was trying to get Andrea to guess who she had met on the bus earlier that morning. "Come on, Andrea - take a guess! She was on the bus with her younger sister. You were in her Engineering class.?" Andrea had continued to look at Terry blankly. "Okay, I know you'll figure it out now - who is the ugliest, pudgiest girl we both know?!" It was at that point that Andrea had exclaimed, "Daniella!!!" and had burst out laughing.
 
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Daniella snapped back to reality when her cell phone started to ring. She held her breath as she reached for the phone, praying that it wasn't Jason calling to cancel their date.  The name 'Zara' flashed on the caller ID display. Zara was a girl who had moved in next door to Daniella, whom she had become close friends with. Daniella answered the call and heard Zara's voice on the other end of the line. "Hey Dannie! Why don't we go catch a movie or something? I can't be home on Valentine's - it's too depressing." "Er… I have plans tonight, Zara - I'm going out for dinner with Jason," Daniella replied. Zara sounded completely surprised, as though she didn't believe it. "You mean on a date?" she asked incredulously. "Yeah, I know. Even I'm having trouble believing it," Daniella responded as her stomach fluttered. As Daniella hung up the phone, she thought to herself how strange it was that she had plans on this day when Zara didn't have a date. Zara was a beautiful girl who accustomed to having men flock around her.
 
Daniella took one last glance at herself in the mirror before she settled down in the living room with a magazine to wait for her date to pick her up. About ten minutes later, the doorbell rang. Daniella took a deep breath, adjusted her dress for the umpteenth time, and opened the door. To her complete surprise, it wasn't Jason who stood at the door, but Zara. "Oh, I'm so glad I caught you before you left the house," Zara said as she pushed past Daniella and made her way into the house. "I have absolutely nothing to watch and I was hoping to borrow a movie from you." Daniella glanced nervously at her watch, thinking that Jason would be arriving shortly and she really did not want them to be late for their dinner. But Zara was already flipping though the booklets that held the movie disks. As Zara sat cross-legged on the plush rug, Daniella couldn't help but notice how effortlessly pretty she was. She was dressed casually in a pair of shorts and a tank top, wearing just a hint of eye makeup that made her hazel eyes pop.
 
The doorbell rang again. As Daniella opened the door to let Jason in, Zara jumped up and walked over to say hello to Jason. Zara had never been too fond of Jason so it surprised Daniella when Zara stood on her tiptoes and leaned in to hug Jason. It was then that Daniella realized that Zara was wearing possibly the shortest pair of shorts she owned. "Jason, you don't mind having a seat for a few minutes while I pick out some movies, do you? Maybe you can help me go through these movies," said Zara. Jason barely looked at Daniella as he settled down into a comfy armchair, holding the movie booklet in his hand. Daniella watched helplessly as she saw him grin at Zara as he seemed to completely forget that Daniella was even in the room. She then watched in utter dismay as the vivacious Zara settled down on the arm of the chair, swung one perfectly toned long leg along the length of the arm as she flicked her hair back and flashed a dazzling smile at Jason who said, "Maybe we should just stay here and all watch a movie together"...

Thursday 1 March 2012

High School Hunk

The sniggering from behind her grew louder as Carla positioned herself amongst her teammates on the volleyball pitch. She felt the tears well up in her eyes. She couldn’t make out exactly what the boys were saying, but she knew they were making fun of her. They always did. It was usually TJ who got all the others going. He always said the meanest things, but they were witty and would make the whole class laugh – even Carla’s best friends. He was, after all, the high school hunk. Being a fifteen year-old girl was awkward and difficult enough without having the most popular guy in school tease her every chance he got. To make matters even worse, Carla had had a crush on TJ since the sixth grade. At some point during the ninth grade, he seemed to have made it his mission to pick on Carla for his amusement and had been doing it ever since.

Carla looked through the watery pools that filled her eyes and lifted one shaky arm to serve as TJ and his buddies continued to jeer at her. The volleyball launched barely a foot in the air and descended right in front of Carla. The boys burst into laughter as Carla hurriedly wiped away a tear streaming down her cheek. The last thing she wanted was for them to see her cry. It would just make their day. She tried to tune out the words that she heard wafting her way in between the sounds of the cheering squad as she tried to concentrate on the large ball hurtling back and forth over the net. “…Thunder-thighs… Hahaha… ” It was all she could do not to burst into tears right there in the middle of the volleyball pitch. “Watch out!” someone yelled. Carla snapped back to reality but it was too late, she felt a hard thump on her head and fell back as the ball bounced off the court. As an outburst of guffaws ensued from behind her, Carla buried her face in her hands and began to sob uncontrollably…

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Carla boarded the empty, dimly lit bus and took a seat right behind the driver. She hoped that if they didn’t notice her as they got onto the bus, it wouldn’t trigger them to make fun of her. She was miserable. This was their last overnight school trip to the coast and she had been looking forward to it for months, but TJ and his posse had stepped up their torturing of Carla the entire trip. They had been drinking that night and Carla could only imagine what might be in store for her on the bus ride back to the hotel. “I just have to get through tonight and then we leave to go back home tomorrow,” she thought to herself. “Just one more night”.

The sounds of chattering and laughter drew nearer and before long, the rest of the group boarded the bus as well. Carla shrank into her seat as TJ and his friends stumbled to the back of the bus. Carla’s friends, Sandra and Nina followed suit. They had been hanging out with TJ and the crew so Carla had spent most of the trip alone. As soon as everyone was on board, the bus driver set off towards the hotel. As TJ’s drunken voice filled the bus in its deep bass, occasionally joined by chuckles and giggles from the rest of the group, Carla silently prayed that TJ would not pick on her. She could hear Sandra relating a mildly funny story about their Math teacher, imitating his oddly high pitched, nasal voice which prompted a bout of booing from the boys for her feeble attempt at an impression. “Oh, stop it,” I heard Sandra say. “Carla can do a better impression of him. Carla?! Where the heck are you?” Carla did not flinch, hoping that if she pretended she was asleep, they would leave her alone. “I think she’s hiding from us,” said one of the boys. “Haha, I’d hide from people too if I looked like she did! Hahaha!” said TJ, rolling with laughter. “Can you imagine what might have had to mate to make something that looks like THAT?” As TJ proceeded to brutally and crudely detail possible options to answer his question, the tears flowed freely down Carla’s face as she stared forward into the dark night.

After what felt like an eternity, the bus pulled up to the entrance of the hotel. Carla was the first to jump off the bus. She tore through the lobby and down the hall to the room she shared with Nina and Sandra. Sobbing, she struggled to open the lock with her trembling hands and finally swung the door open. She shut the door behind her and walked into the ensuite bathroom, still crying. She looked at her streaked face in the bathroom mirror, her bloodshot, puffy eyes swollen from days of crying. How could one person make her life this miserable? She gazed down at the sink and caught sight of the razor that Sandra had used to shave her legs that evening. Carla’s sobbing slowly subsided. What if she could put an end to her misery? She had seen people attempt to slash their wrists in the movies. Carla shuddered. She didn’t have the courage to end her life. She heard her mother’s voice in her head, “When you’re fifteen, everything bad seems like it’s the end of the world. But you get through it, and things get better.” Things had to get better. Carla was at the end of her tether. TJ had put her through months of continuous misery, bullying her about the way she spoke, the way she walked, the way she looked, the way she did virtually anything.

Carla splashed some cold water on her face and patted it dry. She took a deep breath and moved towards the bathroom door to unlock it when she heard a voice. It was Nina. “You have to apologize to her, TJ. She’s really upset.” “Carla?” Sandra called out. Carla wasn’t prepared to face TJ just yet. She needed a minute to compose herself. “Carla?” This time is was TJ’s deep voice. “Hang on,” Carla replied in a shaky voice. Then she heard TJ say something in a low voice and burst out laughing. She could also hear the girls trying to suppress their laughter. It was all too much for Carla. She burst out the door and ran down the hall towards the common area.

She turned towards the pool area outside and didn’t stop running until she had gone past the empty sun-beds and through the little gate that led out onto the beach. She could hear the waves crashing into the beach in the dark and felt the strong wind on her wet face as she continued to run down the length of the beach. It was late. Most of the beach hotels’ patrons had retired for the night, and the beach bars had closed for the night. Carla’s heart was pounding against her chest as her feet sank into the wet sand, one after the other, bits of it flicking back up and hitting her bare calves. She had been running for about ten minutes and had just passed the last hotel on the strip. It was much darker now that there were no hotel lights illuminating the beach. She stopped and bent over, resting her palms on her thighs, panting as she caught her breath. She could still hear the waves as the tide moved in. The wind was strong and her hair blew fiercely around her face. She stood upright and looked around. It was almost pitch dark. Carla hadn’t thought about how unsafe it was to have come out this far so late at night. She was about to turn around and make her way back to the hotel when something in front of her caught her eye. A few meters from where she stood, three shadowy figures were moving stealthily towards her across the sand in the dark. As fear gripped her, Carla slowly turned around and started to walk briskly back towards the hotel when she stopped dead in her tracks. Another five shadowy figures were moving rapidly towards her. Carla looked over her shoulder at the three men drawing in on her and then towards the five figures advancing on her as she let out a blood curdling scream…

Saturday 14 January 2012

Mr. Musau

The following short story has been shortlisted to appear in Chicken Soup for the Soul - The Power of Positive scheduled to hit bookstores in the U.S. in October, 2012.

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I stared down at the newspaper that lay on the table in front of me, idly drumming the red ballpoint pen in my hand against my coffee mug. I had been looking through the job vacancies section but none of the openings listed seemed to fit what I was looking for. I looked up and caught my reflection in the window – sitting at this desk, in my perfectly tailored charcoal-grey business skirt suit.  You would have never guessed that that was the image of me sitting in a men’s high-end clothing store in a mall. What was I doing here? I didn’t belong. I looked around at all the men’s suits hanging neatly in rows, the expensive fabric almost shimmering under the lights that shone on them. I had recently found myself out of a job and had taken up the position of store manager for this up-scale clothing store as a temporary solution while I searched for work in the corporate world that I was better qualified for. It had only been a month and my frustration at not finding another job had been growing steadily.
My attention turned to a well-dressed woman who had just walked into the store, pushing a man in a wheelchair. At once, one of the store attendants rushed towards the man in the wheelchair to greet him. “How are you feeling, Mr. Musau?” he asked. The man stared blankly ahead of him as though he had not heard the question. He was also well-dressed but he slumped in his wheelchair, and had on his face a look of resignation. I had heard about Mr. Musau from the store attendants – he was a regular customer at the store and a good tipper. He had recently suffered a stroke and nobody had seen him for about six weeks.
The woman wheeled Mr. Musau over to the table where I had stood up from my chair, and said to me, “I’m going to pick out some new shirts for my husband. I’ll leave him here while I look around.” I nodded and smiled as she parked Mr. Musau’s wheelchair at one end of the table. “Hello there, sir,” I said as I sat down again. Mr. Musau did not respond. I was starting to feel a little uncomfortable. Silences made me uncomfortable and I usually ended up babbling away in spite of the lack of response.  
“My father had a stroke four years ago,” I blurted out without thinking. Mr. Musau continued to stare into space. “He had a blood clot in his brain which caused the stroke,” I continued “He was in a wheelchair too after that and had partially lost the use of his right leg. He had also suffered memory loss. It was incredibly difficult for him to go from being the head of the household to being dependent on my mother and me. I think he even became depressed when he got home from the hospital, and wouldn’t speak much for a few days. Then, as though something in his head had snapped, he began to behave differently. He wouldn’t allow us to do anything for him unless he had tried to do it himself first and been unable to. A couple of weeks later, he began to push himself to try and stand up from his wheelchair and walk a couple of steps at a time. He would sometimes fall down and we would have to help him up, but he always got right back up and kept trying. My father has always been a determined man. Every week, he would make it farther and farther from his wheelchair without losing his balance. Eventually, he did away with the wheelchair and was able to walk on his own without any assistance. He was back to being completely independent!” Mr. Musau had not even glanced my way the entire time that I had been speaking. “It’s incredible what the power of the mind can do, Mr. Musau,” I added softly.
At that moment, Mrs. Musau walked up to us with a bag in her hand and said to me, “I hope he hasn’t been a bother. Thank you for keeping him company.” “Not at all, Ma’am,” I replied. “Have a great day! See you later, Mr. Musau,” I called out as Mrs. Musau wheeled him out of the store.
A few weeks after that meeting with Mr. Musau, I was offered a job with one of the corporate firms I had applied to, and joined them immediately. Glad to finally have found my niche, I moved on and seldom discussed my short time spent managing the clothing store. As for Mr. Musau, I had completely forgotten about him. That was, until one Saturday, a year later when I got an unexpected call from the new store manager at the men’s clothing store. The manager said that a Mr. Musau had been asking for me for months and had finally persuaded the manager to retrieve my contacts from their system and call me so that he could speak with me. Was this really the same man who would not utter a word for the entire duration that I was with him?
Bewildered and caught off guard, I agreed to speak with Mr. Musau. “Hello?” His voice was unexpectedly steady and strong. “Hi there, Mr. Musau!” I said, taken aback, “How have you been?” The steady voice replied, “I have been trying to contact you for many months now,” he said. “I need to tell you something. After my stroke, everybody around me, including my wife, was treating me like I was already dead. I prayed every night that God would take me and relieve me of my misery and the situation I was in. And then I met you. You spoke to me as though I still mattered, even though you may have thought I wasn’t listening to you. You inspired me with your story about your father and how he used positive thought to reverse his disability. I would like very much to meet with you and your father.” With a lump in my throat, I said, “Of course, Mr. Musau. We can come and see you at home if you like – it may be more convenient for you.” The words that ensued from the other end of the line were ones that moved me a great deal. “My dear, I want to show you what your words have done for me. Thanks to you, I can now drive myself or walk to wherever it is convenient for you to meet! I want to thank you in person for helping me to realize that it was up to me to make sure that I did not waste away.” As a tear escaped and rolled down my cheek, he asked, “Isn’t it indeed incredible what the power of the mind can do?”