I pressed my lips together not sure where he was taking this.
“Do you trust me?” he asked and I nodded my response. “Describe yourself.”
I inhaled and blew out a long breath. “Ezra, I can’t do that.”
“Pretend I’m not here and you’re all alone talking to yourself.”
“But—”
“Just try it.”
“Fine.”
It was hard finding the words to do what he requested when I had nothing good to say about myself. In my head, the image was vivid, I could picture every flaw on my body. I swallowed down a hard knot forming in my throat. Ezra’s hand skimmed over the skin of my face, calming me.
“Talk to me, baby, I want to know what you think.”
“I have straight black hair, past my shoulders. Dark eyes that are too close together, my eyebrows are thick and my lips are thin—almost like a line was drawn on my face. My ears are too far behind on my head. My nose is sort of okay, it’s pointy but a bit stuffed at the bottom.
“My neck is too short. My boobs are big, huge actually. I have no waistline and my hips are wide. My butt is the size of a bus and my legs are disproportionate, and my thighs are much larger than my calves. My body is covered in stretch marks and I’m fat. My arms are flabby and so is my stomach.”
It was depressing hearing myself utter those words aloud and I was aware of how I sounded, but I was being honest.
“Can I open my eyes now?”
“Not yet. I’ll tell you when.”
I think I laid there, waiting for about thirty minutes, but it felt like forever, before he told me to open my eyes. When I did, the first thing I wanted to see was the drawing. He rolled off the bed not allowing me to look at the paper. I treaded behind him until he halted in front of my full-length mirror.
“I want you to look at the girl in the mirror,” he said and I did. It was the same image I saw every morning. “Did you get a good look at her?”
“Yes, Ezra,” I said melancholically, expressing my annoyance. “I’m well acquainted with her.”
“Now look at her.” He handed me the piece of paper he sketched on.
As I fixed my gaze on the paper, there was a silence to my soul. My blood chilled, the coldness bringing the synapses firing in my brain to a complete standstill. Part of it was pain. Part of it was shame. And part of it was being forced to stare reality in the eye.
The pain, however, smothered all other emotions throbbing within me, quickly building towards wrath. I blinked and a tear fell landing on the page, smudging the outline of the drawing. There was a scream of agony that rippled from deep within, forcing its way from my mouth. It was as if my terrified soul had unleashed a demon.
How could he do this to me?
“What the fuck is this?” I snapped, nearly balling the paper up to shove it in his mouth. “Is this supposed to be funny?”
I blinked faster, sending tears streaming down my face. The swelling in my throat grew larger, engulfing me in suffering. With one hand, I swiped angrily at the tears, but more tumbled down my cheeks.
“Calm down, Christina.” He raised his hand to touch me. I backed away.
“No, I won’t calm down,” I roared. “Fuck you, Ezra. Leave!” He perched both his hands on his hips and stayed put. “Did you not hear me? Get the fuck out of my house.”
He didn’t move. There was a look of compassion across his face almost as if he felt what I was feeling. That only aggravated my fury.
With shaky hands, I lifted the paper and gave it another glance. My stomach twisted.
I tossed the paper at him and then launched myself in his direction. With clenched fists, I punched his chest and at the same time tried to kick him.
Easily he grasped both my wrists with his hands, crossed them over my body and wrapped me in a deep hug. I continued to wrestle, kicking my feet and twisting as roughly as I could.
“Calm down, Christina,” Ezra begged, “just listen to me.”
“I don’t want to hear anything.” Salty droplets rolled down my face and dripped from my chin, drenching my dress. “Let me go.” I sniffed. “Let me the fuck go.”
“Okay. Okay …” Slowly his grip slackened. “I’ll let you go.”
When he released me, I added all the strength possible and swung my hand in the direction of his face. The open-handed smack was as loud as a clap when it stung his cheek, leaving a red welt behind. He saw it coming, yet he didn’t stop me.
The impact hurt more than I’d anticipated. I pumped my fists to ease the ache.
“I opened up to you and you do this to me?”
Ezra massaged the side where I hit him. “Christina this isn’t to make fun of you. I would never. Ever. Do such a thing,” he whispered in a soft tone. “Hurting you is the least of my intentions.”
He bent, picked up the paper and held it in front of my face. “Look at it. I drew what you described. Exactly, how you described yourself.”
I stared at the paper numb like the world was slowly disappearing before me. Or maybe it was me who was fading away. I was void. The black hole in my heart, the one deep inside my soul, slowly took territory, absorbing me completely. He was trying to prove that this deeply flawed image was all in my head. That I provoked my own suffering and worse, that I was indeed crazy. The confrontation was shredding me apart.
Ezra
I waited for the storm in her eyes to abate. My intention wasn’t to hurt her. I anticipated she’d be upset, just not that much. She was tiny but had one hell of a swing and to be honest, I deserved it.
I held the paper before her. Her eyes welled with tears and her bottom lip trembled as she examined the drawing closely.
The tip of her nose was red. Her face etched deeper with sorrow the longer she looked at the picture. She was miserable and the worst part of it was that I’d caused this sadness. All I wanted was to show her that the image she had of herself was far from the truth. But seeing her breakdown like that made me realize what a mistake I’d made.
“I’m not crazy,” she mumbled.
Fuck. I hurled the paper, accepting the fact that this was indeed a fucked-up idea.
“That’s not what I meant. I promise. I know you’re not crazy Christina, and I’m sorry for all of this. I thought if you saw that you don’t look anything like the person you described then … I don’t know.”
“I know what you were trying to do, Ezra. Don’t you think I know this? Don’t you think I know this is all in my head? I’ve been told this before in therapy, by my friends. Believe me. I. Know.” She swallowed and rubbed her chest, sneering as if she were in pain. “Seeing that—that drawing forced me to face my fucking problems.”
With caution, I paced forward closing the space between us. I held on to her by the shoulders and turned her to face the mirror. “You are beautiful.”
She broke down again, sobbing and lowered her face. I stood behind her and raised her chin. She had her eyes clenched and refused to look.
“Christina, you are beautiful.” She shook her head and tears seeped out of the corner of her eyes. “Open your eyes.”
“No,” she said, through gritted teeth.
I wrapped my arms around her and she sobbed even louder. I pressed my lips to her neck and let her cry until all she had left were dry hiccups.