Coffee-Colored Eyes

Adelaide was usually more beautiful. She sat cross-legged on her scratchy, brown throw rug in front of her full-length mirror in a trance-like state. The reflection of the dollar store fairy lights that hung from her ceiling left a soft glow against the top perimeter of the glass. The bulbs were getting old now, so the light was gentle and warm and seeped through the darkness that surrounded her. She scooted closer to the mirror and watched as her eyes darted around her face, examining what she saw. Her pupils were dilated as she strained to see in the dim light. The deep cut over the right corner of her mouth was less noticeable than yesterday when it was fresh, but it was still a bright red and danced around angrily each time she spoke or smiled. Her gaze shifted upwards as she inspected the now purple, golf ball-sized bruise atop her left temple. She sighed deeply, and hunched over, getting as close as possible to the glass, her breath fogging up the mirror. She made intense eye contact with herself and focused on the unavoidable; the blood vessels of her left eye formed vibrant streams that weaved around her iris. The bruise she could easily cover up and the same with the cut on her lip, but her eye would be tough to disguise. Her dark circles consumed her already inky eyes and the poorly lit room cast shadows down upon her, leaving her with less of eyes and more of gloomy pits. She gently ran her fingers across her face and shifted her head from side to side to take in all of the angles. Adelaide thought that she typically looked like a decently attractive girl, but not tonight. She balled her fists and pressed them into her closed eyelids until in her darkness she saw splotches of colorful, zig-zagging star patterns. Throwing her hands down at her sides, she glanced over her shoulder at the clock mounted on the wall next to her bed. 3:37 am. Sprawling out her legs and arms, she flopped onto her back and inhaled deeply until she could take in no more air, diaphragm fully extended, and then barely parted her lips and let the air slowly escape. She drug her fingers along the rigid stitching of the rug, getting goosebumps from the feeling of the strings slightly catching underneath her fingernails. Her fan overhead blew around stuffy air, and it rustled her long strands of auburn hair across the ground. A thin chain around her neck lay askew on her collar bones and she fiddled with the pendant fixed in the middle, the cool silver pressed between the pads of her thumb and middle finger. Engraved on the small circle of silver was a tiny heart; it was nothing special and kind of cliche, but she liked it for its simplicity. As Adelaide traced the grooves of the heart with her middle fingernail, she studied the ceiling, thinking about nothing in particular. She suddenly winched as she was shifting her necklace, it hitting a raw spot on the back of her neck that was a result of the slender chain being dug into her tender skin the night before. She gingerly felt the sensitive area wondering if it would be noticeable to others. Maybe she would wear her hair down for the next couple of days until it healed.

Vertebrae by vertebrae, she sat up slowly and in a seated position, drooped her head into her hands. After a couple of moments of hesitation, she pushed herself up to stand. Ambling over to her bed, she thought about just laying on top of the sheets, for it was far too warm to sleep under the covers tonight, the first truly warm night of spring. The fan gave her no reprieve and the tiny window on the sidewall was just letting in stagnant air and the cacophonous sound of crickets. With only about three more hours until she had to be awake for work, she decided to just lay down and wait to be blessed with some amount of rest. As she drifted slowly off to sleep, Adelaide hoped that maybe in her dreams she would receive some sort of hint as to how she could escape from, the one that gave her cut and bruise, for she had no lifeline to turn to. Nestling into her many patterned pillows on her stomach with her head cradled in her arms, she watched with heavy eyelids as one of her fairy lights flickered and burnt out, making the glow of her room a little less comforting.

The shrill sound of a blue jay’s chirping snapped Adelaide out of her blissful, short-lived sleep. Her eyelids fluttered open slowly, squinting as the sun hit her right across the face and illuminated her eyes, transforming them from their coffee-brown to a more golden tone. She warily turned her head to the wall to see the clock read 6:50 am. Five minutes before her alarm would typically blare at her. She rolled over as if she were working in slow motion through sticky honey, her head still muddled and feeling groggy. Her left temple pounded, the dull ache demanding to be felt. She let her feet dangle off the side of the bed for a moment, wiggling her toes and cracking her ankles, allowing the cool morning air now drifting in through the open window to get her skin prickly and awaken her senses. Stepping down off her bed, she gradually made her way to her floor-length mirror to see what the damage was and if those couple hours of sleep miraculously healed her and brought her back to her normal self. Much to her dismay, as soon as Adelaide stepped up to the mirror, she was greeted with the screaming red of her left eye. Filled with defeat and overall frustration, she rustled her hands through her big mess of hair and let out a groan. With a yawn and a slight squeal, she shuffled her way over to her ancient, white dresser that her grandmother had tried to restore and paint for her years ago. Her grandmother used to paint in her free time, and although she was never that great, the family always treated her pieces like priceless artifacts. She smirked slightly to herself as she brushed over the tiny purple flowers on the handles of the drawers, remembering the way her grandmother’s smile lit up after showing Adelaide the final product of the dresser. Her grandmother was the only one in the family who would constantly call her by her full name, Adelaide Elizabeth, and she used to hate it, thinking it was a mouthful. All she wanted was to be called ‘Addie’ and have a nickname like all of her other friends. But now, she would give anything to hear her be called by that name one more time. It held a sense of loving that nobody else seemed to have for her.

Yanking open the top drawer, she grabbed a pair of basic, tan corduroy pants and paired them with a just as boring white button-down. Pulling off her old tee shirt with a gaping hole in the right shoulder and some worn boxer shorts from a dingy thrift shop downtown, she shivered as the cool morning air caressed her skin. It was that time of year where the mornings were cool, the afternoons were filled with full sun, and the evenings were a little more bearable, but not really. Not having air conditioning didn’t help the fact that Adelaide would continuously wake up in the middle of the night drenched in sweat, her tee-shirt constantly clinging to her damp skin like a wet cloth. Even when it wasn’t scorching hot, it was not uncommon for Adelaide to wake up covered in her own sweat from the nightmares. Working her way into her pants and button-down, she wished she could wear one of her favorite sundresses and not have to deal with being covered up and hot all day long, but the private school protocol says otherwise. She grabbed a large hair clip off of the top of the dresser and tossed her hair up in a messy bun of sorts. After a slight hesitation, she remembered the raw spot on the back of her neck and quickly undid the bun, letting her loose curls fall upon her shoulders. Readjusting her necklace and fixing her collar, she made her way over to the mirror yet again. She snatched up her makeup and went to work on the cut on her lip and atrocious bruise, trying her best to look like she wasn’t attempting to cover up some suspicious injuries. After layers of foundation and concentration, Adelaide tossed her makeup onto her bed. Pushing some stray strands of hair that had fallen into her face behind her ear, she examined her work, getting as close to the mirror as possible, her breath fogging up her reflection yet again. The cut was now barely noticeable aside from a slight outline, but the bruise however was a sorry excuse for a cover-up job. Seeing as now it was 7:30am, she decided that this would have to be enough. Before flinging open her bedroom door, she hastily grabbed her wristwatch, car keys and phone, and managed to claim a too-green banana from off her kitchen counter as she made her way to the front door. She slipped on her black flats and took one last glance at herself in the square mirror hanging next to the front door. Adelaide was usually more beautiful. One more deep breath and she made her way down the two flights of stairs and out into the lot where her tiny-yet-trusty red hybrid sat waiting for her. Typically, Adelaide liked the way her car was like a little beacon of light amongst all of the monotonous gray and black cars, but today all that that glaring red reminded her of was the cut on her lip that was starting to burn a bit from the foundation. 

The warm and crisp April air is what really awakened Adelaide. Before she was trapped in a trance of the darkness and stale air of her bedroom, but now something new blossomed inside of her. She paused with her hand resting on the car door handle and lifted her chin up to the rays of sunlight streaming in from between the brick buildings. She decided that this was going to be her day. Regardless of her battered face and shining bruises left from the fist of a man she never really loved, she decided that today she was going to claim her beauty. She was going to stop lingering in the shadows of her own sadness and self-hate. She was going to have her time in the sun, stretch her arms wide and embrace the life she was given. Bit by bit, a smile grew across her face and split the cut on her lip a little wider. Her hair gleamed in the morning light and made a glow around her that was something angelical. The warmth on her skin and the sweetness of the air gave her the will to mentally climb out of her mental hibernation. Her mind was blank, but she knew that there was something inside herself that was dying to climb out of her cave. With the honk of a horn, she brought her head back to Earth, yanked the door handle open, slid across the leather of the front seat, and slammed the door with a satisfying, booming sound. That was her period, her final punctuation mark on her late nights and gloomy days. Today she was going to become Adelaide.