Merely Players - pt. 3

       It had been a particularly rough day, I remember it because I had to reapply almost half of my makeup before lunchtime.  I was all smiles, and perfectly…perfectly…fine when I emerged from the bathroom.  Fine was my mantra, and I repeated it to myself in the firmest tone I knew.  You're fine, you're fine, you're fine.  I took my tray and fell in line behind some other seniors.  They turned and we exchanged meaningless pleasantries and saccharine smiles. You're fine, you're fine, you're fine.  My tray was filled with food by Ms. Hummel, a retired bodybuilder with hands like shovels.  I walked to my usual table, the one in the back, on the right; the only red one.  You're fine, you're fine, you're fine.  And I almost convinced myself I was fine until my ankle gave way like a dry twig.  Until my tray flipped through the air, sending food flying in all different directions, covering me, the floor and even a far wall.  The wet noise of my body colliding with beef ravioli pieces, and the plastic tray clattering to the floor, resounded through the cafeteria.  Just a second of silence followed before the laughter;  cacophonous, derisive and absolutely engulfing.  I raised my eyes to behold fingers pointing, directing all eyes to my obvious failure.  On a normal day, I would have tried to shake it off, tried to laugh with them.  Except today was not a normal day.  So as I rose from the mess, and everyone turned back to their lunch, there were tears on my face.  You're fine, I choked, grabbing a nearby napkin.  I recited it over and over as I wiped away the stains from the linoleum, but the tears would not stop.  Reclaiming my tray, I rose and limped my way to the table, sobbing quietly.  Sitting heavily, I buried my smeared face in my hands, trying to quell the shaming waterworks.  I don't know how long I sat there with mascara rivulets trailing down my arms, but when the bench opposite me squeaked, I leapt in surprise.  The first thing I encountered were his eyes—a bottomless brown, like the legendary rabbit hole.  Could he see me? No, no, no, no.  I withdrew a little, trying to salvage what was left of my makeup.
        "Hey, hey," he grasped my hand, drawing it away from my face, "don't try to save it," reaching into his back pocket he drew out a rumpled kerchief, slipping into my palm, "Here, use this, it'll help get you clean."  I breathed a sigh of relief.  I thought he was talking about my makeup, but he only meant the ravioli grease.  Nodding a little, I sniffed and began dabbing at the zesty red blotches on my face.  Still he stayed, looking at me with those fathomless eyes.
        "I'm David by the way," he said, a concerned half-smile on his face.  I nodded, saying I knew who he was (an odd neighbor of mine, beginning at age eight).  But why was he talking to me? He chuckled at this, and promptly informed me that he had stood idle for far too long, and now he wanted to help me because...well, he loved me.  This sudden revelation, thrust into my subconscious like a dull blade, made me choke a little.  Infinite Eyes, in love? And with me?  Why had I not noticed this before?
         He didn't answer my question, only took my hand again, his smile widening, "You're dabbing. Don't dab, wipe! Wipe off!" Gently, he pressed the bandanna to my face and before I could react, he had smeared away a huge portion of my powders, lipsticks and eyeliners.  One stroke and my years of fakery and false identity were gone.  My heart stopped beating, and my throat closed up.  I couldn't seem to breathe.
         I sat frozen, like a terrified doe, eyes wide.  He could see me.  Oh, if only I could remember what I really looked like. I tried, but all I could remember were feelings of disappointment and regret.  He had fallen in love with my makeup and now it was gone.  Surely he wouldn't love me now, surely.  Trembling a little, I glanced away, not wanting to see the horror in his Wonderland irises.  There was a long pause where neither of us moved. Until…
         "I knew they were still here," he sounded like a triumphant archaeologist who had just unearthed a precious piece of history.  I looked at him confusedly as I his fingertips brushed my cheek, "your freckles," he said softly, "I haven't seen these since seventh grade," raising the kerchief higher, he wiped away Not Pretty Enough, "and there are those hazel eyes I love so much,"  he said, grinning crookedly.  As he continued clearing away my cosmetic cobwebs, he answered my question.
         "You know why you didn't notice my love before?" he asked,"It's because you were too busy making sure the whole world loved you—which is impossible by the way," he added, cleaning away the very last traces of makeup, "and how can a guy hope to compete with that?"  Now finished, David leaned back a little, admiring his handiwork.  As I looked at him, I couldn't speak, overcome as I was with wonder.  After a moment of silence, he reached across the table and his hands grasped mine, gentle as a whisper, but his bottomless eyes captured mine with ferocious sincerity.
         "I love you for you, not for how you are perceived, or how you want to be perceived.  I look at you and I see a fullness of beauty unmatched by anyone else I have met.  So many girls are beautiful, but they have grown so attached to their masks, to their outer appearance, that their beauty has grown hollow.  Never let that happen to you," he said sternly, squeezing my fingers, "Now that the masks are off, leave them off;  no matter how tempting it may be to take them up again, always remember your name…" My name.  Oh illusive shadow of the forgotten past!  At my lost and longing expression, he spoke again.
         "…Charlotte."  A thrill traversed my spinal column as its sound reechoed in my ears.  He said it with such conviction, like a benediction over me.  I leaned closer to him, so close I could see golden flecks in his irises.  I had to know—what did my name mean?
         "It means," he paused, gazing through the windows of my eyes, an elated smile lighting his face, "freedom." And with that, he kissed me.