Lovely

I thought today was going to go down as the worst day in my entire life. Over the past few weeks there had been things, little things, that were just building up to come together in a culmination of a crap storm and make me vulnerable to a final death blow. First the car, then my job, then bills. The list didn’t seem to have an end. So I went for a drive alone so I could just cry—don’t judge me. Ladies, you know we do our best crying behind the wheel. And we still have a lower percentage of accidents than men.

It was one of those moments where I decided not to care about what I was wearing, the state of my make-up, or the diet that I liked to pretend I was on or perpetually starting the next day. I was hungry and wanted something fattening and terrible for me. So I pulled into the nearest chain store coffee and donut shop and got out with my keys in one hand and my wallet in the other. My face was red, my eyes were puffy and my hair was windblown. I looked like the definition of a hot mess. And I could not have cared less.

Getting to the glass front door, I saw a group of elderly people inside at the small tables, sitting with their styrofoam cups of coffee and brown paper bags with dark oil stains from the donuts hidden within. As I reached for the door to pull it open, one man from the group caught my eyes and stood. I thought nothing of it until I got in line and realized he was still staring at me and still standing. All it took was a glance his way and he was shuffling over to me, blue pants pulled up over his rounded stomach and held there by white suspenders. I swallowed hard and tried to ignore him. Old people freak me out.

“Excuse me.”

Putting on my best guess at a fake smile, I turned to him and said hello. His ball cap used to be white but had been smudged by time and years of handling. His striped shirt was lined with pastel roads and tiny little prints that I’m convinced were hamburgers. And his glasses, silver and wire-rimmed, sat cookedly on his crooked nose.“May I ask your name?”

I glanced around, hoping he was asking someone else, except there was only me and the high-schooler behind the counter who was waiting to take my order. And it was clear he was looking at me. I swallowed again and tried to convince myself that he was just a harmless old man and not a psycho killer wearing a wrinkled mask. “Violet,” I finally heard myself saying.

“Violet,” He smiled as he repeated my name as though it was the sweetest name he’d ever heard. His eyes closed momentarily and I glanced at the girl behind the counter who only shrugged at me. Some help she was. But he opened his eyes after a quick moment and offered me the most genuine smile I’d seen in my entire life. “You are lovely.”

For a second I was stymied. First, who in their right mind would say something like that to a stranger? Second, who uses the word ‘lovely’ anymore? My grandpa, that’s who. Still, I managed a tight smile and a muttered “thank you” not caring how insincere it sounds or how uncomfortable I must have looked.

“When I saw you reaching for the door,” he continued unprompted, “I thought I was twenty-five again. You look so much like my Elizabeth when she was young. All wild hair, beautiful green eyes and determination. It was like I was watching my wife walk through those doors. My heart stopped for just a second and it was wonderful.” He reached out and I surprised myself by accepting. His hands felt like well-worn leather: soft, smooth, and supple. He sandwiched my fingers between both of his hands and looked up at me with honest eyes. “I haven’t felt that way in ten years.” I smiled sympathetically, not knowing what to say. But I didn’t need to say anything yet as he added, “Thank you for helping me remember her when she was still young, happy and healthy. I hope your husband realizes what a treasure he has in you.”

“I’m not married,” I managed softly, and the old man winked.

“I can’t see you staying that way for long.” He squeezed my hand and I felt the bones beneath his thin flesh. “It was a pleasure to meet you, Violet. Maybe now when I dream of Elizabeth, I will remember her the way she was when we were young and carefree.” He looked at the girl behind the counter. “Whatever this young lady wants, you put it on my tab.”

“You got it, Robert,” said the young girl.

“Robert.” I said his name and he smiled warmly. “Thank you. For coming over, for talking to me. And for the coffee, of course. But mostly for what you said. I haven’t been feeling pretty or anything at all lately. Especially not lovely.”

“You are,” he promised, “and you have so much to offer this world.” He pressed thin and chapped lips to the back of my hand before letting me go. “Don’t let anyone tell you different.”

They ushered him away then, his group of friends and a young social worker. She smiled apologetically at me, but I watched Robert leave without acknowledging her. I’m lovely. I’m lovely. I’m lovely. And suddenly I wanted to cry again.

“That’s the first time I’ve seen him smile,” said the girl behind the counter.

“That’s the first time I’ve ever felt worth anything to anyone else,” I admitted softly. It was a hard thing to realize, but it was the truth. I got my coffee and skipped the donuts I’d wanted just minutes ago, then headed for my car to drive home. I am lovely and I have something to offer this world. And I won’t let anyone tell me any different.