Smile.
BY MANNY
Picture him. A young man, mid-twenties, good-looking, with a whole lot of charisma and a winning smile. A smile that will raise him from the depths of deep shit, one that will earn the trust of a child, one that will woo the women, and then piss them off a moment later.
He can work wonders with that smile, and he knows it.
He laughs through that handsome grin and those gorgeously imperfect teeth. He angers. He lies, too, more than he should. He tells the truth, sometimes, when it really means something.
Like now.
He's charmed this beautiful woman, he's used her and lied to her, and now he wants to tell her the truth. And she won't have it. She's lost faith in him; to her, he's just another smooth-talker, and she hates him for that. She hates him because she fell for his charm, because she was a victim of his smile and a sucker for his lies. And now she won't hear him out.
He tries one more time to be honest with her. "I love you," he says. "Please believe me." But he's said it before, when he didn't mean it, and she's heard it before, when she thought he did.
She is silent. She remembers a time when he wasn't sincere, and she refuses to forget.
So he smiles at her, sadly this time, takes his coat and walks out the door. He wants to take back back the lie and smother her with the loving truth, but it's a little too late for that.
And she stands, frozen, and although he's already gone, all she can see is his face. She prays to God to change him, to make him capable of truth, but she knows it won't happen. At least not while he's with her.
And his winning grin? All that's gone. Erased. Replaced by one that's lost, but there's a strange hope entwined with his sadness. He thinks that perhaps losing this woman might have a cleasing effect on his mouth. A hell of a price to pay for learning how to tell the truth.
More than anything, though, he wishes he could tell her that he does have the capacity for truth, and that it is hidden only behind a lying, losing grin. He wishes he could tell her, "I'm sorry," but his lips are stubborn, too.
But he still has one hell of a smile, and with it, he can do anything he pleases. Almost.
BY MANNY
Picture him. A young man, mid-twenties, good-looking, with a whole lot of charisma and a winning smile. A smile that will raise him from the depths of deep shit, one that will earn the trust of a child, one that will woo the women, and then piss them off a moment later.
He can work wonders with that smile, and he knows it.
He laughs through that handsome grin and those gorgeously imperfect teeth. He angers. He lies, too, more than he should. He tells the truth, sometimes, when it really means something.
Like now.
He's charmed this beautiful woman, he's used her and lied to her, and now he wants to tell her the truth. And she won't have it. She's lost faith in him; to her, he's just another smooth-talker, and she hates him for that. She hates him because she fell for his charm, because she was a victim of his smile and a sucker for his lies. And now she won't hear him out.
He tries one more time to be honest with her. "I love you," he says. "Please believe me." But he's said it before, when he didn't mean it, and she's heard it before, when she thought he did.
She is silent. She remembers a time when he wasn't sincere, and she refuses to forget.
So he smiles at her, sadly this time, takes his coat and walks out the door. He wants to take back back the lie and smother her with the loving truth, but it's a little too late for that.
And she stands, frozen, and although he's already gone, all she can see is his face. She prays to God to change him, to make him capable of truth, but she knows it won't happen. At least not while he's with her.
And his winning grin? All that's gone. Erased. Replaced by one that's lost, but there's a strange hope entwined with his sadness. He thinks that perhaps losing this woman might have a cleasing effect on his mouth. A hell of a price to pay for learning how to tell the truth.
More than anything, though, he wishes he could tell her that he does have the capacity for truth, and that it is hidden only behind a lying, losing grin. He wishes he could tell her, "I'm sorry," but his lips are stubborn, too.
But he still has one hell of a smile, and with it, he can do anything he pleases. Almost.