Life of a Pearl

In front of me is this gawky, self-conscious teenager standing slightly crooked, while looking for something ahead of her. She is intricately observing the surface of what could be rolling hills and valleys cream colored with splashes of red and brown. Her expression is set in a puzzled, but overly-calm state as if that was her natural demeanor. Squinted eyes, furrowed brows, and a slight smirk cover her façade with either an intentional or not sigh, following with biting of her lower lip.


She realizes to some sadness and loss that her own reflection will never change no matter how much she tries. Her boring, dull brown eyes will never change with her clothing, her skin will rebel against her at the most inopportune times, and her lips will never seem perfect. She won’t even mention her least favorite facial feature, knowing all too well that the only change that could ever happen there is surgery and a long recovery she is unwilling to give-in to.


At this point I had a clearer view because she starts to straighten up and fix herself for school. Like most days, she debated on the choices between make-up or not, whether her hair should be up or down, or if the accessories coordinated with the outfit. She typically went with the navy eye liner with black mascara, no eye shadow. She reserved those for when she went on an outing or she felt like adding color to her eyes. Today her hair was up for the weather looked promising of a storm and that her hair would find a way to imitate the lightning strikes, while the humidity picked at her hair like cotton pickers pick at cotton trees. Her jewelry pieces for the week were classic and I certainly approved: were pearls and a simple necklace to match. Her bracelets, however, expressed her inner child as well as the things she believed in. There was always at least one on her wrist, whether it was the one she never took off, with the childish, plastic beads or her gold, thin one that her sweetheart had given her. She also never hesitated to have multiple bracelets on, no matter if they match or not. She had no discrimination toward those things or other people for that matter. Her choices of clothing where quite limited due to the fact that she went to a private school. Today was the same monotonous, washed out, yellow, three quarter sleeve shirt that always made anyone look a bit bigger than they were. Her pants were khaki with pockets that were useless to anyone for the cut was right at the hip and to get anything out was like trying to fit your hand in a hole that was two sizes too small.
She was lucky nevertheless. She had the sweetest friends anyone could ever ask for and a sweetheart that everyone would die for. Her parents had given her the dream car that she had been nagging after. Plus she was well known in the school.


Each high school day began with her least favorite class with the most interesting friends: English. Everyone there had a story to tell and a secret to keep. Her crew was known as the B-lock crew, and it was four in total. You see this crew was made of up of the most secretive, seventeen year old girls you would ever meet. Each girl had a different quality that made her fit into the group. The most talkative girl was also the most scandalous, thus every Monday was dedicated to her stories of the weekend. She was average height, pale, classic blonde, and a little more meat than the average teenage girl would ever want to be. The next one also had similar features, but she was thinner with more honey tones in her hair. The last one, her favorite, was of course, red-head. She was crazy, but friendly and always had a comment to say. She was the pinnacle of her life right now because she was the one that got her with her sweetheart.
So they all discussed and plotted regarding each male they were after while relaying their latest novel reads which always made the stories a bit more interesting when the girls experimented with their flavor of the week. However, our self-conscious brunette never dreamed of doing such things with her sweetheart, no matter how tempting it may seem. She was of course the innocent one of the group, the baby. She never minded because she enjoyed the stories, and the piece of advice she would give was always a keeper and useful to each girl.


These girls always brought her back to when she was just like them. I remember the time when she was emotionally abused by her ex-boyfriend. She didn’t feel any bigger than an ant, but she could not see that abuse because she thought she was in love. She thought that if she gave herself to him, piece by piece that everything would be fine. She was wrong because he was a jealous and envious man that refused to let her have her friends. After this tragedy she was lost as a person. She was nothing more than a shadow on a wall or a ghost that no one believed in. She couldn’t find a way out of her own dilemmas and refused to deal with them, so she dealt with everyone else’s problems. On the other hand, her current boyfriend pulled her out of the slums, out in the open, and into the light.


This past night stood against the rest, is the night that she broke free. All this week she was bombarded at all sides with projects and problems that piled up too high for her to break free. She knew the weekend was coming and that’s all she could hope for. Friday night finally came and she was able to see her baby, her sweetheart. He gave her the sweetest butterfly kisses all over her face that melted all her problems away. Later on, things got pretty heated which sent her into a panic attack. She remembered those nights that her ex-boyfriend abused and that she could never be as attractive as her sweetheart thought she was. As he was reaching for her shirt, she sighed a small phrase,” I’m scared,” and she looked away. She was turning bright red like a tomato and trembled a bit. He froze for a second and softly called to her. Realizing she wasn’t budging, he just simply sat behind her, wrapped his arms around her, and held her close. Didn’t ask for anything, put his head next to hers, and whispered in her ear,” When you’re ready, I’m ready. You’re beautiful just the way you are. I love you.” He helped her reorganize herself, but never let her go, still giving her soft kisses on her forehead.


That night shattered all the insecurities and doubts that were ever put before her. She was whole again like if nothing was ever missing. No longer was she lost and alone. She now didn’t have a need to examine herself for flaws and imperfections. She was beautiful just as she was. She became me and I became her, a pearl. Although I’m only a small pair of pearl earrings, I am simple and beautiful. Like me, she is stunning and unique. No one else is like her and no one ever will. She is beautiful, not because her sweetheart said so, but because he respected her and loved her for her.