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Rated: E · Short Story · Drama · #1178465
Jordana was born a late bloomer.
                   Jordana was born a late bloomer. Some say she was also born with shortcomings. Jordana didn’t think that her eyes, permanently crossed at a young age, however, were part of those shortcomings. Crossed eyes provided her with the ability to see the world only through one angle - a 95-degree angle to be exact - because that was precisely the angle of her abnormally large nose that she was forced to always look down. When Jordana wanted to look to left or right, no matter how slightly, she had to move her entire head. It didn’t worry her that much. Her birthday was approaching and she figured that when she turned 18 her facial features would finally even out just like everyone else’s.
         Jordana was born a late bloomer. She was almost 18 and she still liked to play dress-up. On Saturdays she would don her favorite bejeweled dress her mother used to wear to evening banquets and head to temple. The dress was bright blue and soft as silk, and it still smelled like her mother. When she walked into temple her high-heal shoes would clack on the marble and her dress would swish. Everyone would turn their heads, and Jordana pretended they were admiring her Hollywood-like beauty. Her mother had been a Hollywood star before she died in a car accident. Jordana wanted to look just like her mother. People used to tell her she looked like her mother until after the accident.
         When Jordana finally turned 18 and her eyes did not uncross and her nose did not get smaller, she became very upset. And what made it worse: the matchmaker didn’t even come to visit on her 18th birthday. Of course, Jordana was born a late bloomer, so the matchmaker didn’t think she was ready to marry at the same age as the other girls. The matchmaker would visit each girl in the town on her 18th birthday and hold a séance to contact the ancestors on the delicate matter of marriage. The town would gather around as the matchmaker announced her decision. The matchmaker wore a red hand woven shawl that hung about her shoulders drearily, and massive black-rimmed glasses with lenses so thick they gave her the appearance of a fly. Jordana wondered if the matchmaker herself had a husband; even though her physiognomy had been distorted by time, Jordana doubted that she was ever prettier than she was.
         But Jordana didn’t need a matchmaker; Jordana was in love. His name was Ken and he was always very keen on what was happening in the world. One time they were watching CBS News together and Jordana noticed Ken staring so intently at the screen that his eyes began to cross. Jordana wondered if he sat watching the news long enough, would his eyes be permanently crossed like hers? The desire that he look like her punctuated her mind now and then. But more than anything, Jordana just wished she looked normal. She even wished it on a dandelion once, but then got angry and crushed the dandelion in her hand. What did it matter? Dandelions try so hard to be a flower, but even after they managed to look like one, they still smell like a weed.


                   It was a Saturday evening and Jordana was just getting home from temple. Ken was waiting for her on the porch of the Kiev Mansion. Ken approached her with a bouquet of red roses, but he stopped at the last step because he was a few inches shorter than she was and he wanted to look her in the eyes.
         “These… these are for you.”
         Jordana felt very scared, and she started to cry. She moved her head to the left so she would not have to look him in the eyes. “You cannot love me, I am not pretty.”
         “I… I th-think you are.”
         Jordana sobbed and sniffled. Her large nose was beginning to sting from the chilly air. Ken grabbed her hand and she followed him inside the mansion. “Let me show you something,” he spoke, now without a stutter, and lead her into the fireside room. They stopped in front of a portrait of a woman who did not look quite unlike Jordana.
         “Mom,” Jordana said. “I used to look like her. We were in an accident together. She died, and I came out with my eyes like this. She is so pretty.”
         Ken pointed his finger to the portrait. “You have her beautiful nose.”
         Jordana looked at the portrait again, and realized Ken was quite right.
         “Jordana, people tell me I look like a toad.”
         “That is horrible!” Jordana said defiantly. “And even if you did, I would love you anyway.”
         Ken smiled. “I know. Beauty would have loved the Beast even if he never transformed into a handsome prince.” He laughed, and looked up into her eyes. “How about we leave this town?”
         Jordana tasted her tears, salty with bitterness, and finally smiled. “Okay.”
         That night, after Jordana donated her gaudy dress-up clothes to Goodwill, she and Ken left Kiev Gates Town.

                   The next morning the matchmaker sought Jordana at the Kiev Mansion. She rang the doorbell. She knocked. She rang the doorbell again. She waited, but no one came to the door. You see, Jordana was gone. Jordana was born a late bloomer, and her petals were finally beginning to unfold.
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