Standing undressed in front of the mirror, Salinas looks at her feet, and fixes on her well-manicured polished nude toes. Her gaze goes slightly to her shins, then on her knees, her well-shaped legs; the hips widened by two pregnancies, her teenager children. Then she touches her breasts. In the left side a gap, a void, a dark scar scratching her skin. She moves down her head fast and takes two steps aside unable to face her reflected image. Feeling violated, mutilated, she cries.
Wretchedly she dries her tears with the back of her hands and sniffles. She puts on a light silk nightgown and wears a same color headscarf on her head. Her marriage, shattered by the suspicious of the disease, medical exams, doctors, surgery, hospital, chemotherapy, nausea, and hair shedding, needs to be revived. Her life cannot wait for breast reconstruction scheduled for three months’ time. Questions haunt her.
‘Does he still have lust toward me?’
‘Am I beautiful?’
‘How is it going to be?’
‘Are we ready to start again?’
The electronic gate noise warns her husband is arriving from work. His car enters and parks in their garage. Salinas’ heart goes out of tune.
She breathes deeply and walks to the mirror one more time.
Salinas thinks while she smiles to herself on trying to feel confident.
- It’s tonight!
Nenhum comentário:
Postar um comentário