Artificial Beauty

Tuesday.

The brightly colored fabric flowers on my bed stand were mocking me. You know not my pain… I thought to them.

I glanced up at the tear-away calendar that the nurses updated every day. Tuesday, the 7th of Nov. Tuesday. It was like the wallflower of all weekdays. Everybody paid attention to Monday, it began the week; Wednesday was the middle of the week; Even on Thursday you could say “It’s almost Friday!” But no. Tuesday was my day. It was disowned by its family, the rest of the week. I got up, wincing at the cold of the tile, and took the day off. I put it with all the others in the shoebox. I picked up the pencil from inside the box, and erased the four written on the top. “Five. Fifty-five.” I said aloud. Fifty-five weeks I spent here, along with every other day. Fifty-five weeks since I had lived with my parents, and my brother.

The thought of my brother made me perk up a little. He came every week on Tuesday, at 1. Frankie was the only one in my family who still loved me. He’d come and bring me gifts, things like CD’s of bands nobody had heard of, and new books to read.

I looked at the clock. 11am. If I want breakfast… I better go down.

— — —

I drummed my fingers nervously on the arm of the metal chair. I glanced at the clock again. 1:57. I went back to drumming. 1:58. I ran my hands through my hair. 1:59. I looked out the window. 2:00. It’s okay… maybe he’s in traffic. Or… maybe he lost his keys. He didn’t forget about me. No, no, no. He wouldn’t forget.

I left the room, and went up to the receptionist at the front. She was hard to look at, with her pink nail, and matching pink suit, with a horrible fake rose pinned to it. Another flower. Stop mocking me!

“Yes?” She asked, clearly wanting me far from her station.

“Have you gotten any calls from Frank Iero?”

She glanced at the computer monitor. “No.”

I walked back to my room, trying not to accept it.

By dinner time, though, I had to.

He wasn’t coming. He forgot about me.