Smile

Smile

Written by: David Cseh

Translated by: David Cseh

         A mangled-faced boy ran through the city, bathed in wintery twilight, hiding a sad grimace behind his tear-stained hands. His brown, wavey hair billowed, his schoolbag thrashed and rattled on his back. Trees and bushes whisked past him, tiny stones crackled beneath his feet. He almost slipped when he stepped on a larger one. He didn't fall, the grimace on his face only deepened, with a small, indispersible half-smile beneath it.

         The doves that rested calmly on the eaves of one of the houses beside the park watched him quietly, humming. It was a routine matter, the boy running here. The left side of his face was mangled and filled with scars. The corners of his mouth cursed him with an eternal half-smile. But when he ran, only sad and angry expressions flitted across his face. Day after day he ran like this, sometimes other boys chased him, who shouted, laughed, teased. They spoke of his face, about how terrible and ghastly it was. Then they left him alone, and he just ran on.

         The boy now sat down on one of the ornamental, green benches gasping for breath. He wheezed loudly, fresh tears gathered in the corners of his eyes. He began to sob soundlessly.

         How he hated it! His entire life was sheer torment, the school, the college - everything! The teasing, the other boys' cruelty, being alone. He didn't have friends, with whom he could have shared his pain, all the boys were either disgusted by him, or stayed away from him, because of his pursuers. He was so lonely...

         The doves sitting on their eaves watched the stooping, sobbing boy. Nothing's changed, everything happened as it alway did. Suddenly they flew up into the air, and made their was toward the park. Nothing interesting awaited them here, so they retired for the night.

         The boy cried quietly and placed his bag full of his books beside himself, on the bench. The teachers kept their distance as well! As if he was sick... or crazy! They never asked him to answer their questions, or gave him assignments. Maybe it's better this way, he thought. At least he doesn't have to stand before the whole class.

         The boy with the mangled face raised his gaze, and swept it across the park. He was alone, all alone. He sighed. Luckily, because he didn't want to explain to anyone. It had happened, not only once, that a police officer came over to him, and asked him what was wrong. All of them, when they saw his face, paled and hurried away, embarrassed. As if they were responsible for the boy's hideousness. Or they didn't want others to see who they were talking with.

         But the pedestrians weren't any better, either. Mothers squealed when they saw him, and floated by with their little girls hidden behind their skirts. Men watched him, humming, or laughing, or looking down at him. The boys laughed at him every time, and the girls didn't even notice him.

         The boy knew that this was to be his fate for as long as he lived, and resigned to it long ago. People didn't see beyond his face, only his family members knew him truly. They knew his real face. But for the strangers it was easier to see the world as black and white. He was ugly. Grotesque. So he must be bad, according to them. They didn't assume that he might be an everyday boy as well. They couldn't comprehend that gray existed as well, in an infinite amount of shades between black and white.

         "Excuse me, young man..."

         The mangled-faced boy looked up. A woman stood before him, a kind-faced, chubby lady, with her shopping for the day in her hands, two heavy sacks. She was smiling tiredly, a flush decorating her face. She puffed.
"Could you help me? I live nearby... But I can't carry these any farther...
The boy stood immediately. His parents brought him up well, at home, where no one cared about his face, he learned everything. How to use the knife, the fork. He could even use the salad fork easily. His family was more than wealthy. Pity that didn't help him with his face.

         "Of course, Ma'am."

         He adjusted his bag on his back, then stuck out his hands. The lady smiled thankfully, and gave him the two sacks. Wow, thought the boy. These are heavy!

         "Thank you, young man. Please, call me Miss Beth. How can I call you?

         The boy bowed his head respectfully.

         "Please, I'm William. But call me Will, if you want.

         Beth's eyes twinkled.

         "Of course, Will.", she gestured toward other side of the park. "Can we go? Those sacks aren't too light, I know."

         Will nodded and they set out without a word, with Beth on the boy's left side. While they talked, the night finally swallowed the sun entirely. The streetlamps shone, flickering, their yellow light brought shadows across the grass, the trees, the walls of the buildings, their windows.

         The boy watched the shadows, musing. If he could have, he would have been like them. Unworthy of anyone's attention. If he could hide in the darkness, no one would look at him, no one would laugh at him, no one would be frightened of him.

         Beth watched the boy's face curiously.

         "What is so funny, Will?"

         The mangled-faced boy looked at the woman. He wasn't smiling, he wasn't laughing. No, a sad expression greeted the woman.

         "Nothing's funny. I'm smiling, because of the scars only," he shrugged, resignedly. "I'm half-smiling..."

         The woman didn't look away, ashamed, neither did she look sad, neither did she change the topic, like the others.

         "And why would you smile?"

         The question surprised Will, more than a little. Why would he smile? A present? Soothing, lying nice words?

         "If I could be a shadow. If no one saw my face."

         The woman looked around thoughtfully.

         "Why? The shadows are worthless, they aren't beautiful either, they're empty. They don't laugh, don't smile, don't feel. You can do all of these."

         Will adjusted his grip on the sacks, moved his shoulders, his bag wanted to slide down.

         "Maybe, but they don't have problems. They don't have to worry about anything. They can take on any shape, they can change as they wish. They have their own beauty."

         The woman looked at the boy, at a loss.

         "But everyone has their own beauty," a smile lit up her puffy face. "You do as well."

         Will snorted, not impolitely, but incredulously.

         "Me? Inner beauty doesn't matter to people, they look at you and pass judgment based upon what they see. They don't open your soul wide. Everything is black and white to them. Nothing is gray."

         Beth didn't answer, she was scrutinizing the shadows.

         They left the park and continued their trip on a wide street.
"It's not far off," said the woman, and squinted at Will. "Is what others think of you that important?"

         The boy looked straight ahead, maybe he didn't even see the sidewalk. He was flipping through memories, searching through pictures.

         "Yes."

         He didn't explain, but stayed quiet, which spoke more than his words could have. His work, his goals, his dreams all depended and would depend on others. How will he live, if they turn him down, just because he's different...?

         "Sometimes I don't know, what to do with myself..."

         The woman watched the boy curiously. She didn't speak.

         "Life," the boy almost whispered. "Spins, turns without me and with me as well. Why should I get mixed up in it, if I mean problems for others? Pain for myself, for others...", he shuddered, disgusted. "Discomfort."

         Beth stopped. Will thought she did, because they've reached their goal, but the second he saw the woman's face, he realized that he'd thought wrong. The lady nodded, impressed.

         "Will, your more serious than most of my acquaintances. Why?"

         The boy watched the pavement, deep in thought.

         "I had to grow up."

         The woman nodded. They continued their trip.

         "We'll be there in a bit."

         Will walked on, wordlessly. It had been a long time, since he talked with a stranger like this, he didn't speak with his mother and father about his face anymore. Beth awaited answers to questions he hadn't given to anyone else. Just himself. His mother always soothed him, but didn't listen to him, if this came up during their talks. His father didn't even acknowledge his son's problems.

         "So you'd rather fade away amongst the shadows? Because of others, you'd disappear? You wouldn't fight?", the woman stopped again, rattling keys in her hand. "We're here."

         Will didn't know what to answer. As a shadow he could be free of his problems, everything would be more simple. The woman opened the building's gate, and looked into the boy's eyes.

         "You said that people only saw black and white. You'd become a shadow without a fight? So black that no one would notice? Without a protest?"
She smiled, her left hand brushed Will's scarred face. The boy shuddered, surprised. Even his mother didn't touch him there.

         "Smile. Be strong, and show your classmates, your parents, every stranger, just how different you are from the shadows.", strength and mirth shone through her eyes. "And whenever you feel like you need to talk to someone, come here."

         Will nodded slowly.

         "Thank you."

         The woman winked at him, took the two sacks, and disappeared in the

         darkness beyond the gate.

         Will then set off for home, since it was late. His parents may already be anxious for him. The streets yawned quietly, the stinging cold hardened his coat, his pants. The boy didn't pay them any mind. His thoughts spun around a puffy woman and their talk.

         And at the same time, a first in a while, he did a common thing.

         He smiled.