Noticeable Qualities - Miranda O’Sullivan
That was the thing, there was something off about her. Not something so obvious, or something so clear to the naked eye that the old neighbor lady on her porch could’ve noticed when she ran by. It was something that I didn’t quite know what to think of.
Maybe it was her smile that was too lax. Too sagging around the edges where it pulled down her teeth into an unintentioned frown. A grimace without heat behind it. Uncomfortable, even. Or actually maybe that was because it was too taut. It rounded out the corners until all her teeth glared at you. Her gums peeked out around her chapped lips and her nostrils flared until the dry skin under her concealer poked through.
You know, in general, her makeup seemed thicker, more caked on; though I hate to say it that way. Like her concealer never seemed to exactly match her face, like she wasn’t aware that it was the brand that oxidized too much. Or maybe she got the old formula before they rereleased it since so many people complained that it oxidized too much. That probably didn’t help the dryness of her skin. I don’t know what she was trying to cover up–her face always had a natural smoothness that didn’t need all that stuff on it anyway.
I guess you could only really notice it up close though. Like her mascara; it was a little much. It framed her dark eyes really nicely and made them pop, but if you stood a little too close to her you’d notice that they clumped together. I think she put too many coats of that waterproof stuff on–it’s extremely drying. The very tips of her eyelashes stuck together and made one mega lash that should’ve been separated. Or if it was intentional then it didn’t look intentional, and I can tell the difference now.
I mean if she’s happy then I’m happy. It’s just that I can’t put my finger on it. It seems that even the way she is, is different. She either walks too slow or too fast, too ahead of people or too behind and never at a comfortable pace until her calves cramp up and the cycle repeats itself. I think she thinks she speaks too loud or laughs too often, won’t speak up but also won’t shut up enough. I catch her picking at those dry spots or accidentally smearing mascara across her under eye. I want to reach out and hold her hands so she’ll just stop for a moment and look at me. Maybe then I could soothe her irritated skin or the wrinkles between her brow and cradle her face as I do now.
Miranda O'Sullivan is an English major at UAlbany and has been previously published in ARCH. She's excited to be an editor for this semester's issue. Sometimes she enjoys photography, drawing, and reading too.