What Once was Sacred

What Once was Sacred

The line was long. I hated long lines. My throat would tighten, and I would forget to breathe. I could feel my skin crawling where others neared me. I would withdraw into myself, much like a turtle into its shell. I felt an ache, a longing to time jump to the point where I was home, wrapped in white linen sheets with a vanilla candle filling my bedroom with serenity.

I took out my phone and looked into the camera. My luxurious blond hair filled the screen, my rosy apple cheeks, my long lashes. I breathed a sigh of relief. I was safe, I was present. I was me. Pretty, educated, and loved. I was going to make it through this line. My sacred ritual came through again, giving me enough courage to move through the line with ease.

An hour and a half later, I had made my way to the counter. I frowned at the woman. An impulse to yell at her rushed to the surface, “Why don’t you have any more employees?”. But I resisted. I knew that she wasn’t in control of the whole DMV operation, but it didn’t help that the irritation had been building within me for the last hour.

“Hi there! How can I help you today?” The woman asked with a chipper demeanor. I resented myself for thinking badly of her before. She was plump, with silver grey hair and hazel eyes. She looked a lot like my second-grade teacher, who made me flip my card to red for recutting my paper money to be perfectly symmetrical.

“I need a new ID photo. I just turned 21.” I offered sweetly. I impressed myself with my acting skills. They always came in handy when I needed them.

“Oh, congratulations! You must have had a fun night, pretty girl like you.” She smiled brightly, and I mustered up a similar one. “If you’ll just follow me down here, we can take your picture.”

I walked promptly towards the camera, my head held high. My back was as straight as an arrow. I had done my makeup perfectly for this occasion. My lips looked pink and plump. I reapplied my gloss one more time and peeked into the camera. It made me feel beautiful, posing in the lens like that, getting to look at my mannerisms.

“Alrighty! Three…two” Click. She took the picture before I could properly smile.

“No! That won’t do!” I spat. I could feel my pulse quicken. She didn’t even get to 1 yet. What was she thinking? Didn’t she do this like 50 times a day?

“Oh… I’m sorry, hun. Would you at least like to see it first?” She asked, flipping the camera around. I hadn’t been blinking but my lips were curled up to a 45-degree angle, my head was tilted to the left, and a strand of my hair had been standing straight up.

“Absolutely not. Take another one.” I waved her on and repositioned myself.

I could feel it; this was my picture. “Three…two…one,” She snapped the picture at the perfect time. My body warmed with glee. This was going to be the hottest driver’s license picture ever.

She turned the camera, and it was everything I wanted and more. My eyes sparkled sapphire blue, my teeth shone brightly amidst my mauve lips.

“Great, thanks!” I commented and stood up quickly, wiping my lap off with my hands. The woman looked apprehensive. But I shot her a look of disgust and made my way back to the counter. “Jealous wench,” I muttered under my breath.

Once my paperwork was all wrapped up, she told me that my ID would be sent to me within 5-7 business days. What was I supposed to do without an ID for 5 days? Mine had already expired. Whatever.

The drive home was full of fun; my favorite artist had come up with a new album, and I stopped to get an iced green tea at a local cafe. Once I got back into the car, I sipped my drink with excitement. I pulled out my phone, ready to show my friend Shanice the exquisite blowout I had done this morning. But as I looked down into the screen, I noticed something written in small black cursive on my forehead. I tried to rub it off, but it wouldn’t go away. I scrubbed harder with the sleeve of my shirt, and I even tried to pick at it in case something had dried on there.

I pulled my head in closer to examine it further. What the hell was it? Checking in my rearview mirror, I couldn’t see anything. So I checked my camera again, maybe it was something on the lens? I flipped the screen and snapped a picture of my dashboard, and sent it to her, accompanied by a text saying, “Do you see any writing on this?”

Her text bubbles popped up immediately, “Ya!! Weird filter. Send it to me.”

I shook my head and aimed for another selfie. As I flipped the camera, I saw it again in a thicker cursive than before. And there was another one, on my chin. I zoomed my camera in, and written on my forehead was “Bossy” and written on my chin was “Narcissist”. What kind of filter was this? Or was it a prank? Either way, I decided to forget the selfie.

I sped home. I couldn’t seem to push the brake down far enough. As I pulled onto the route, a beige Buick was going about 40, 15 below the speed limit. People like this shouldn’t be allowed on the road. If you’re not comfortable enough to drive the speed limit, you shouldn’t be driving at all. Withstanding about 10 minutes of torture, I laid on my horn and sped past, flipping them off as I did so. It was a little old lady with white hair and a small dog in the front seat. “Figures,” I groaned and rolled my eyes.

Once I got home, I unloaded my shopping haul. I had gone to the mall before the DMV, and couldn’t wait to post my haul on my socials. I had gained quite a following over the last year; it had been steadily growing since I posted my “Go to Pilates Class with Me” video in March. It had received over 400,000 views.

I swung open my bedroom door, and after about 3 seconds of sitting on my bed, my mom barged in. “Hey, sweetie! How’d it go at the DMV?”

I hated when she did this. Didn’t she know that I had to talk to people all day? I just wanted a little peace and quiet. “Fine, Mom,” I responded grumpily, continuing to scroll through my phone.

“We’re having pork chops for dinner, should be ready in about 30-45 minutes,” She smiled, pushing her hands against my door frame.

I groaned. I hated pork chops. And 45 minutes? It was already 6:30. “Why can’t we eat dinner at 6 like other families do? You don’t even work.”

My mom made a grimace that I'd never seen before. Her teeth were almost bared, but she kept her composure as she said, “Let me just go down and finish,”.

Finally, I was alone. I ran into my private bath and touched up my makeup. Just a little more mascara and blush. I lined my lips with a honey pink color that matched the blush shade. I took my soft bristol brush from Paris and combed through my silky hair until it shone brightly in the bathroom lighting.

I wrapped myself in my ballet slipper pink robe and sat down in front of my vanity, ready to unpack my goodies. I had several bags from Ulta and Sephora. My YouTube channel had generated a bit of revenue, which was great because my dad said I needed to at least contribute a portion if I was going to spend my allowance on his credit card.

I had spent $237 at Sephora, which made a bit of a dent in my savings. But I was starting college in the fall, and needed it if I was going to become a sorority sister like my mom. All the products sat in front of me, and I couldn’t help but beam down on them with pride. Liquid blushes, bronzer sticks, highlighter, and an eye shadow palette. It was all so glorious, I almost licked my lips with anticipation.

Flicking my camera on, I stared into the lens, smiling brightly. “Hello, my lovely ladies! I have quite the haul for you, so make sure to like and follow for more content. Now let’s get into the video.” I cooed. The words almost felt authentic in my mouth.

About 40 minutes later, I finished the video and turned off the camera. I’d knocked it out of the park again! I didn’t even have to refilm, I was that good on the first take.

“Honey! Dinner’s ready!” My mother shouted from downstairs.

“I’ll come down when I’m ready!” I yelled back, grabbing my camera with hunger.

Peering into the little screen, I saw a gorgeous young woman with scribbles all over her face. Again, there was the word “Bossy” etched on my forehead, and “Narcassist” on my chin. But now, to add to my horror, there were three more words written across my cheeks and nose. “Impatient”,

“Selfish” and “Arrogant”. A lump the size of Australia formed in my throat.

Sprinting downstairs, I thrust the camera screen into my mother’s eyes, and she looked confused. “Is that a new filter? I don’t care for it very much. You look like a rapper.”

“Are you kidding me? OF COURSE IT’S NOT A FILTER! It’s on my face!!” I spewed out, tears leaking out of my eyes now. I’d never been this overwhelmed. My palms began to sweat, and I felt woozy.

“Elizabeth, there is nothing on your face. You need to calm down.” My mother soothed, taking the camera out of my hands and peering into the lens again. “Maybe something’s wrong with it?”

“No, mom, you don’t understand! It was happening earlier too, watch!” I whipped out my phone camera and took a selfie. Looking down, I cringed and cried harder. “Vain” was written in between my eyebrows. “HELP!! What do I do about this?” I looked down into the camera once more. What was once sacred was no longer. It was tainted.

My father slammed the front door with fury. “What is all the yelling about? I just got home.”

“DAD, look!!! Look at my face!” I pushed the phone into his hands, and he shook his head.

“You kids and your pranks. I just don’t get it, Elizabeth. Don’t you ever get tattoos or you're cut off.” He rumbled, pouring himself a scotch.

“No, Walter, you don’t understand. It’s in every picture.” My mom gave him the camera and looked terrified. It seemed she was just as mortified as I was.

My father’s face dropped. “We’ll get this fixed. I don’t care how much it costs. My daughter will not look like this when she goes to UNC. It’s a disgrace.”

** 4 months later ***

It had finally happened! I had been recruited to join Zeta Tau Alpha at UNC. The process had taken over a week, of personality tests, coffee dates, and even a themed event where we all dressed up as cheerleaders and had to learn a routine. I had been in competitive cheer since I was 5 years old. My double back handspring was a crowd pleaser, and no one else could do a full split.

We joined together on the front steps of the sorority house. Tonight was bid night. My pulse had been racing all day. I spent 475 dollars on a bubblegum pink dress from Revolve and got my hair blown out at the local salon. I’d gotten my nails and toes done with a French manicure, and my lashes had been curled so many times I’d lost count.

“Ladies, ladies file in! It’s time for pictures!” A boy with a huge camera, almost bigger than him, announced in a squeaky voice. Must have been a film major, bleuchhh.

I could feel myself taking over the picture; the girls around me didn’t come close. The pledges had to stand in the front, but at 5’7 and 1/2, I towered over them and knew I’d be the shining star of the photo.

“Alright! I got a bunch. Who–who should I send them to?” He stammered. There was no doubt that this was intimidating for him, being surrounded by all these beautiful women.

“That’d be me, Isaac.” The president called after him in a flirtatious voice. It was Mimi, and she was the only one who good rival me in looks. She had hair so golden it looked like she’d dyed it in sunlight. Her eyes were a light green, and she had thin tan legs so long that all of her dresses looked mini. I hated her already and couldn’t wait to take her place.

An hour or so later, we filed into the banquet hall, squealing with glee. I sat with Christina and Lynn, two girls who I knew would make it. They just had a certain quality about them. And their dresses had to be almost as expensive as mine.

Mimi made her way over to the mic. I suppressed a snarl. My pulse was quickening with every second. “JUST SAY THE DAMN NAMES ALREADY!!!” I wanted to scream.

After several minutes of introductions and niceties, she began to read off the list. “Annabell, Catelyn, Christina, Fiona…” I tuned out the rest of the names. I

thought I was going to pass out. All the blonde rushed out of my face. There was no way. THERE WAS NO WAY!!! I did that routine better than anyone out there! The girls wanted me, I know they did. There had to be some kind of mistake; there just had to be.

Once everyone jumped up and celebrated, a ton of girls started exiting the room, looking utterly depressed. I made my way over there, “Soooo sorry to hear about that, Elizabeth. I thought you were a shoo-in.” Lynn called after me, her bitchy little eyes filled with pity.

The walk towards the exit had to be the worst minutes of my life. I was so embarrassed that I started to blush. My eyes were filling with tears. I’d have to drop out. There was no way I was going to college without being in a sorority.

As I made my way down the steps, a red-haired girl tapped me on the shoulder. “Hey, I need to talk to you. Now.” She seemed so angry; it had to be misplaced. As if my day could get any worse. “That little prank you pulled? Not OK! We had to scrap all of those pictures, and we’ll never get them back. Our social post is going to be so lame because of you. I hope you're happy.”

This was the second time today I was absolutely shell-shocked. “What prank?” She tilted her phone towards me and zoomed in on my face.

I let out a gasp.