A word to Mona Lisa

Just as the elevator doors were closing shut, I heard a voice from the lobby.

“Hold the lift!”

I could hear the loud footsteps rushing towards me.

“Don’t!” she says. “If other people want to come, they can use the other lift. Why should we hold doors for them.”

I instinctively pressed the button to open the doors even when she had asked me not to.

He flung himself into the opposite corner of the huge lift. I try not to look at him. He is panting slightly as he leans back towards the wall.

“Tenth floor, please,” he says.

I press the button on the panel and then stare back at nothing into the space so that I can avoid her scornful look.

“Thank you,” he adds with his deep, husky voice.

“Welcome,” I mumble tilting my head towards him. I know she would be angry if I looked at him and had a conversation, so I avoid looking at him. I stare at everything in the elevator from the buttons to the door to my reflection. I want to ignore her, but she always makes her presence felt.

These mirrors in the lift are appreciated by me only when I am well groomed and when some good looking person from the opposite sex is in the lift. I look at the mirror and put some strand of hair to the back of my ear. I can see her looking at me right back through the mirror. She points out to me that I have something under my eye.

She whispers, “I think you did not clean off your make-up properly from last night’s party.”

“I have cleaned it well. I know for sure,” I respond.

“Then you must start wearing make-up cause your dark circles are more than visible.”

I start noticing my dark circles, which then leads to the lines that have been developing on the skin. It does not even take me a few moments to notice the curly, messy hair and the eyebrows which are in dire need of threading. I look at the crease on my “brand” less shirt and try to straighten it up by pressing my hand against it. I rub the top part of my shoe against my trousers to make them shine and dust off the tiny donut crumbs from my lips. Trying to clean up the mess and to look my best from it.

I look at her now. She has that grin on her face. She comes closer to me, looks me in the eye and says, “I hope you understand that I know you better than anyone. I see you every day, I’m with you every day, and I know, only I know what you really are. You may hate me, but I have a habit of always speaking the truth. You are an ugly, stupid, good for nothing, clumsy, little girl who will never amount to anything or please anyone as long as you live.”

She has a habit of saying the truth and then feeling bad for having said that, so she shuts up leaving silence behind. I do not feel bad because it is the truth, and I have heard it before. But every time I hear it, I freeze.

“Excuse me,” he interrupts.

I move away from the door and smile at him. Listening to a voice other than hers especially after she speaks, makes me smile.

“Just so you know, your smile is beautiful,” he says.

Even though this was the last thing that I should have done, I eagerly wait for her to speak. She smirks, “Obviously, he might just be saying this since you opened the lift door for him. Your smile is not that beautiful.”

The door is about to close. He slides his hand between the closing doors and leans inside the lift. “I mean it,” he says before he leaves finally.

Before I can say something, she thanks him.