Meet Misha

26May08

Chapter 2

The mirror was cloudy and spotted. There were places where only black glass showwed and nothing reflected back…she stood there feeling empty and alone. She was tired of looking at herself in this nasty old mirror and wondering how many more days she would wait. She looked at the bumpy surface of the chrome faucet… she had decided long ago it was how most other people saw her… at first glance she was happy and attractive, but it you pushed on it with your fingernail, it cracked revealing a rusted decaying inside. She wondered if everyone thought in metaphors like she did, or if it was just another part of her strangeness. She smacked the mirrored front of the vanity with her palm and it swung open. She stood there like she had every day for the past month and looked at it… would today be it? Would she have the courage? Her hand tingled as she thought of reaching for it, but no muscle moved, her breath was slow and even… no this wasn’t the day. While it was a relief, it was almost as much of a let down… now she must wait another day and wonder if tomorrow her hand would do more than tingle. With a quick motion she flicked the mirror closed and walked out of the little bathroom. She walked to her window, the only one in the cramped apartment that still had clear glass in it. It was just behind the table where she sat and wrote her poems, it was the only place that had any thing other than the putrid yellow light of a weak bare bulb. Even at night she sat at that table. It seemed like the dark of the outside night, was better than the sulking gloom that filled the rooms of her apartment.
She dropped the towel that was wrapped around her and stood in front of the open window letting the warm evening breeze blow across her skin. There was no fear of anyone seeing into her window and observing this ritual, as her window faced an empty alley lined with skeletal remains of once respectable fences. She tipped her head back and imagined the wind was the breath of an artist after erasing a mistake from his drawing, blowing the little rolled up pieces of eraser off the page, into space. It was cleaning the day off of her; the uncertainty she always felt, the fear that she looked silly, the knowledge that people talked about how strange she was, all of it blew away in the warm breeze. With her eyes closed she just stood there with her arms out until the breeze waned a little. Finally she opened her eyes sighed deeply and picked up her towel. After dressing, she pulled out her supper. She had grown to hate the smell of ramen soup, so she started eating the dry noodles right from the package to avoid the aroma of the little foil packets when they were opened. She crunched her noodles slowly. And thought about her day. It had been no different than any other, nothing new… She stopped mid thought, and tried to remember… there was something different today… there had been a ripple in her day that was unexpected… Oh yeah, what was her name? She sat and thought about the short exchange of conversation they had shared and felt herself smile a little. “Maggie” she said aloud with a note of triumph. She resisted the urge to look around to see if anyone had heard her, she knew there was no one near. “Maggie” she said again quieter. Maggie had called her by name today. Sure she had seen the name tag, but she had taken the time to read it and she had treated Misha like she was actually present and human. That was a luxury Misha rarely experienced. People always seemed to pick up on her personality and avoided getting very close to her. She was used to people just saying
“Hey go catch the register will ya,?” or “Give me a hand over here…” But rarely did anyone address her by name… that would just be too personal and who knows… she might start talking to them or something. But Maggie had engaged her immediately. She had shown real interest in Misha and who she was. She complimented her on the quality of the coffee, and she smiled for real… not a pity smile like she was used to. She was glad her hand had only tingled today.
As she lay on the lumpy futon and tried to fall asleep she wondered if Maggie would come back to the coffee shop tomorrow, she hoped she would, and she hoped she would call her by her name again.

Misha woke up before her alarm went off. something  was different today. She walked into the back door of the little coffee shop and punched her timecard. She grabbed a broom and went out to the front to check for ciggarette butts on the patio. She felt lighthearted today. Light heartedness was not a feeling she felt often so she enjoyed every second of it. For most of the day she felt as if something had changed inside of her…she kept thinking about the woman she had met yesterday and watching the door for her to show up. She finally approached the huddle of her teenage coworkers who always seemed to be joking and laughing about something. “Jacob, remember that lady that came in here yesterday?” She started nervously. Jacob turned to look at her, his face full of sarcasm.
“Oh yeah, THAT lady, of course I remember.” He turned back to his cronies shaking his head and snickering at his cleverness. Misha stepped up to the univiting backs and started again.
“Her name is Maggie…she said she is a regular?” Jacob turned around again to offer his wit, but stopped when he met Misha’s steel blue eyes.
“Um, yeah I know er, what about er?”
“Does she come in every day?”
“Pretty much, why?”
“Nothing, I was just wondering… I haven’t seen her today.” Jacob turned back to his buddies. Misha could tell by the looks on their faces that he was mocking her to them. She didn’t care, they were punks and she didn’t need them. Thats how she had survived everyday. No matter how true or untrue it might’ve been, she didn’t need anyone, she was fine without them.

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