Fake Smiles

I never really thought my life would end here, in the middle of a park.

It seems so mundane for such a magically dark moment. Endless leaves falling over me, burying me in a shallow grave. Unable to move any part of my body, I look up hoping my gaze might catch God’s eye and somebody will rescue me. But then I remember, I never really believed in God and I was probably doomed. All the moments in my life adding up to one intangible second, his warm body, his arms wrapping around me like a large, thick blanket, my mom waving goodbye to me on my first day of kindergarten and my son looking up at me, the way he always looks up at me, crinkling his nose and giving me one last crooked smile. How could this all mean so little?

And then I heard my heartbeat stop. It was like falling in love, slowly and then all at once. 

park2

265 days earlier….

As I walked out of Waterloo station I could see the tree roots breaking through the cement as if God was trying to cut through our version of heaven. Cement streets, square boxes, fake grass and fake smiles. If I could have created my version of heaven, it definitely would not have included wall to wall skyscraper buildings and funeral black hexagon-shaped chairs that ‘provide back support.’ As I continued down this deathly street of prisoners in Gucci suits, I spotted a big, hefty, real smile in the crowd. You could always spot her. Bright-eyed goldilocks, carrying a leopard print purse and wearing high heels to give her a lift from her natural 5’ foot viewing platform.

“Sweetie! I’m so so so so so so so happy to see you!” She gave me the kind of hug you give someone at Heathrow after not seeing them for fifteen years.

hug

“Why haven’t you answered any of my text messages?” she said.

“I thought our dinner last night was sufficient enough not to have to reply to your twenty-one messages this morning.” She never knows when to stop.

“So I found out today that Prince Charles loves Crunchie’s just like me!”

“Are you kidding me? How is this worthy of being said out loud?”

“It was in the paper.” She goes on. “Sweetie, why do you pick such average men? YOU could be dating Prince Charles for god’s sake.”

Just because she raised me doesn’t mean she knows who I am, or my taste in men. I don’t think anyone really knows who I am. And for that matter, I don’t think anyone really knows who anyone is. It’s too hard to define someone. Mostly because of the lies, but also because the only real part of a person is their subconscious, which by the way, is extremely random. One day you’re happy jumping around the kitchen, the next day you’re kicking your boots in the sand, or so they say.

lonely

“Mom, I don’t pick average men. I pick men that treat me right, cook me food, listen to me talk, and all that, you know, sweet stuff.”

She laughs a large chuckle, almost as if she is eating a ham sandwich and drinking milk at the same time. We continue walking until a man abruptly cuts us off. He stops 5 inches in front of my face.

“Hi.”

Of course my mom has to pipe up, “Oh hello, what’s your name?” with a wide smile and sparkling eyes.

“Daniel, Daniel Bond,” he responds.

I look at him in disgust and whisper, “Are you serious?”

“Olivia, stop being so rude! It’s just a joke!”

The annoyingly attractive man locks eyes with me. He is wearing a grey suit, has fluffy brown hair, blue eyes, and the typical ‘I am the shit and I know it,’ face. I cannot take another second of this.

suit

“Sorry Mr. Bond, we have a lunch reservation in the next ten minutes and I don’t want to miss it.” I grabbed my mom’s arm and dragged her a few steps forward when all of a sudden she pulled me back.

“Olivia, I’m not ready to leave. This young gentlemen who, by the way, is being very sweet, looks like he has something to say. Go on, sweetie.”

“Um, I’m not sure if I should say.”

“It’s okay, Olivia won’t be rude anymore.”

“Well, uh, you left your purse on the train and I picked it up for you. Here you go.” He hands me the purse.

My face burns bright red.

Like I said, you never really know someone, but it’s all around us. 

hey

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Think of this as an unfinished poem, a bit of creative I have thrown together which may or may not have entertained you. What do you think? Give me your honest opinion.

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17 thoughts on “Fake Smiles

  1. Personally, I think this could be book deal worthy material. Really enjoyed it! This deffo needs to be continued x #globalblogging

  2. I’m a creative writer and I loved this!. I can see the mum and daughter in my mind’s eye. For me they are at the Melbourne station.
    I would definitely read more and you have me entertained. Share some more with us!

  3. This bit got me:
    “I don’t think anyone really knows who anyone is. It’s too hard to define someone. Mostly because of the lies, but also because the only real part of a person is their subconscious, which by the way, is extremely random. One day you’re happy jumping around the kitchen, the next day you’re kicking your boots in the sand, or so they say..”

    Especially the last sentence. You’ve summed up how I’ve been feeling for the last few months. So true, does anyone really know anyone?
    Loved it.
    #GlobalBlogging

  4. OK so honest opinion here. I was disappointed it ended, I was actually enthralled and honestly I am quite fussy. I could really see this going somewhere, keep writing, keep entertaining you do it brilliantly #globalblogging

  5. Wow, you had me sucked in there for a moment. Until I realized it was done and I wanted more! That’s always a good sign! This is great Meagan! Definitely looking forward to part 2.. Please share it with us!! xoxo #GlobalBlogging

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