The tragedy words could write

If words could kill, then she’d be dead by now. But if words could stir the heart, then he’d be right here by her side again.

But as non-threatening as words are, they have such power over us..maybe not physically but words can hunt us–our minds, our soul, our conscience. They leave such eeriness that can either be so sweet or so bitter, so beautiful or so dangerous, so lovely or so deadly.

She never spoke when Mrs. Q was near. She always carried a timid smile with hopeful eyes but Mrs. Q’s cut like daggers through her. She’s not smart or pretty, not even athletic. But she loved this boy with a love so true that she broke herself in the process.

She stretched her hand to shake his mother’s. But Mrs. Q’s gaze was too cold that it sent chills down her spine. Mrs. Q didn’t like her. She went on and on and on about how her son should marry the girl with the good grades, bright future, decent family, and perfect life. Mrs. Q kept bragging about how there are so many other fish in the sea and how they could all be the better wife for her son.

But she loved him too much to face defeat. So each night, she studied her books and talked in front of the mirror, practicing French and Latin and all those classy language for the rich.  She remembered every mean word Mrs. Q said to her.

Insolent little farm girl.

No more pigtails and overalls. She bought heels and an expensive blouse to match her fake accent. She got a job so horrid that no wonder it paid her well.

Pitiful monstrous ugly-duckling.

Not anymore. She straightened her bushy hair of curls and tied it to a sleek pony tail. She bought make-up from the little extra savings she had. It killed her to waste such money for low-quality cosmetics but she kept thinking of him..and how she needs to impress his mom. And how she needs to be the perfect girl.

Poor.

She can never change that. It was reality. But she could hide it. She could pretend. She could act. She could lie. And she did.

Sunday morning after mass, they went out for brunch and it went so well that Mrs. Q was convinced that she was the one. But the boy only frowned..as if dazed from the massive change.

When he walked her home, he looked her in the eyes. “Why?” was all he asked.

And wept was all she did as he walked away.

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