The Man Without A Face

He entered the store with a slow stride, finding his way to where he could place his order. People stared, and stared more when they thought that he might not be able to see them stare. His face was striking, resembling melted layers of uneven wax and plastic, his eyes cratered with skin, his left eye two inches below the level of the other.

I was not proud of my reaction. When I first saw him, I was horrified. An overly warm greeting but served with a cold heart for I could only think about the physical difference between us. Would every place that he walked into for the first time- would he hear the hesitation in voices of those that served him? Or the gasp of someone who happened to look up?

We became part of his routine. In getting his daily coffee he allowed us to know him. I felt as if I had the opportunity to reclaim my humanity. I no longer thought about how different we were but enjoyed seeing the ways we were similar. Both fathers. Both working to provide. Both wishing to exist, to live. Both in unguarded moments riding the bus, sarcastic.

Sometimes I see people that have suffered an accident, an attack or have lived with a condition that many of us would find difficult to bear. At times you see fear or shame in the eyes of these individuals as if they are still comprehending how to push forward.

He never cowered or hid. His voice was gentle but he would not accept excessive help, nor tolerate anyone's pity. Neither feeling a need to explain or what would have been truly horrific, to apologize. Treat me differently and I will kick your ass was always implicitly in the air. We could fill his coffee with milk and put a lid on the cup- that was all he needed, or wanted. He appreciated that but no need to help with the door, or the way back to his job, or on the bus.

He is at peace with who he is, and for anyone this is a huge step. Know who you are, to the core so if the skin peels, it will not affect the soul, the mind, the being. I first saw him as one less than me and felt sorry, frozen in pity- but he was moving, moving with a cup of coffee to provide respite from the work day. Fuck you, if there's a problem- it's your problem. We all have burdens to live with- he was not hiding- he is living, beyond existing, moving forward. The problems that people have with his appearance are worthless to him.

Vibrant as a dimmer on a light switch are yesterday's memories but however illuminated can not be altered. He is living for this day. I can hear his laughter.