On the Wall

Oh, the humans are stirring. The sun has risen and I’m heated with its rays. Will this day be different? Perhaps not, as the yawning older man makes his way into the room. Eyes heavy, skin dry, hair unkempt, he renews himself with the sink in front of me. When he looks at me, I see the ached lines of age deepen. When he runs his fingers over his chin, the coarse grinding of hair against finger echoes. He looks at me with unease. I feel uneasy. He doesn’t like the look of me, it seems. I can’t help it. I stand here with the truth and that’s the only way they like it.

He leaves and not long after, the woman rushes in. I remember both of them would look at me differently. When they both stood in each other’s arms, their smiles would shine. They would take sneaky kisses and pinches. I had seen their love bloom, wilt, bloom and repeat. It seems the petals are starting to droop again. She’s using a new moisturiser though. Exciting. The last one wasn’t suitable for her. Swipe, swipe, wash.

I miss when they looked at me with pride. When the love in their eyes was fresh, the house was livelier. I heard the others rattle around in glee and I too felt giddy. It was adorable. Pure. Nowadays they tend to keep to themselves. But I see it. I see the way his looks linger on her face, not her naked body with the change of her clothes, but her furrowed brows and pursed lips. I see the way she sighs when she leans on his shoulder and he pretends to stay busy at the sink. Insignificant movement just so she can rest her head and let her eyes close for a moment, a minute, away from the kids, away from life’s beck and call. He thinks it’s not obvious. It is.

She leaves, no renewed vigour but defiance. The woman leaves pursuing the day’s quests.

It’s empty again. It takes quite a bit of time before the girl walks in. With only beauty in mind, she proceeds to apply her meticulous routine. One, two, three, four and more products. Perhaps she had told the woman what to apply. She seems rather the expert, carrying the confidence of one. When she looks at me, I feel the glow of beauty. With Aphrodite’s blessing, I blush as she applies red powder across her cheeks. My eyes widen as the mascara wand brushes up. I feel the rivers of youth run its course along my body, the animation of young wonder lifts my spirits. It’s a shame she doesn’t see the same. Looking at the girl infront of us, we feel polar opposites. Her smile doesn’t reach her eyes, her hair doesn’t sit the way she wants, her eyeliner isn't symmetrical. I would love to be her but she seems to wish she wasn’t. With a huff, she takes her stuff and leaves. How unfair. When she looks at me unsatisfied, sometimes I feel like it’s my fault. But it’s not. She knows I’m telling the truth, it’s why she needs my help.

Hours go by sometimes, where the humans don’t need my help. At times, one will walk past and ignore me. Other times, someone will quickly use me to make sure their hair is sat right, their teeth are clean. The woman makes sure I’m clean though. She’ll wipe me down with an almost apologetic look. It’s alright. Being useful is what I was made for. I can’t tell them they look pretty, they look tired, they look upset. I can’t comfort them when they cry the grief away. The other objects in the room are there for that. I don’t get to feel and touch. But I see. I see the girl try on different clothes, match accessories, little pep talks to brighten her outfit. I see the woman wear a dress that hugs her so beautifully. I see the man run his hands over her, irresistible charm pulling him back into the marriage.

They don’t see the tears though. They don’t see the girl break down as she slams the door. Sliding down until she hits the floor and sobs into her arms, where mine can’t reach. Hiccuping, questioning, swearing, she’s a mess. Picking up her own pieces and placing them into indifference, she leaves. But I saw the quick glances with a puffy and swollen face. A mess. A blessing. She gets to try again.

Irritated mother, overwhelmed mother, the mother asks for space to breathe. And she locks the door before letting it out. She leans on the counter and looks up at me. I don’t have answers, I don’t have the comfort, I can’t tell her that she’s doing her best. I can’t tell her that her pain will be worth it. I can’t calm her troubled mind, but her hand lays on her stomach and I can only hope. Her watery smile, watery eyes, I know her hope is blooming. She will be happy again.

He doesn’t linger by me for long. Just for quick checks, making sure that he has placed professionalism first. Prim, proper, suit and tie, it hides the dishevelled mess he becomes when he feels the distance. He loves her. He aches without her. When she leaves the bed earlier than he does, he drags himself out. When she loops his ties round, his arms snake their way around her. She scoffs, he chuckles. They kiss. Bliss. But she’s not here right now. There’s a heaviness swaying in his heart. He was too mean. So mean. He hurt her, he hurt himself. He bites his lip, an apology. That will ease her heart. It won’t ease his heart. Loving man, do you know how your love makes her blush and hide her smile. I can’t comfort him, but I hope his love continues to brighten her days.

Today, the lights stayed dark. They had left with boxes in their arms. I didn’t go with them. My job stays here. I serve the house. I served them. I learnt a lot. I learnt that not every tear is filled with sorrow. I learnt that humans are filled with complexity beyond their means. Curious creatures, they lie to themselves but I show them the truth. They can not lie to me. In truth, I am king and in deceit they run dry. That is why they respect me even when I can not be cherished in their arms. My truth has hurt them, healed them, brought joy and laughter. I reflect what looks at me, my job is clear. Without a subject, my kingdom is in ruins. But perhaps these new humans will change their gaze on me. Does my truth mirror yours?