Ruination (reupload)

Lady Madonna

Autumn 1970

Mari looked at herself in the mirror, watching her reflection as she made a small turn, just trying her best to convince herself that she looked alright. Her hands smoothed over the freshly pleated fabric of her long red skirt, tending to the fabric just one more time to make sure that it was immaculate. The white short-sleeved dress shirt was tucked as neatly as she could manage into the waistband of the skirt, but it always seemed to cause little imperfections, little seams or imperfections she just couldn't seem to work out no matter how many times she tried. After her outfit was finally pristine, or at least as good as she was going to make it, her eyes drifted back up to her hair for the fifth or six time, making sure that no stray hairs had fallen out of place since the last time she'd checked. Mari was so absorbed in her own beautification that these little nagging anxieties drowned out the sound of footsteps traveling up the stairs, keeping her from noticing that she wasn't alone until her mother finally spoke up and broke the silence.

"You almost ready sweetheart?" Her mother questioned, leaning casually against the doorframe with her arms lightly folded over her simple dress. She'd actually been standing there for some time, quietly watching as Mariana pulled on sweater after sweater only to take them off, increasingly dissatisfied and frustrated with each option. It wasn't difficult to tell what had to be going on in the younger woman's head, even if it was just because the woman's own feelings mirrored her daughter's. If she stepped any closer, she was sure she'd be able to hear the thump of the teen's rushed heartbeat in her chest, the same worried pounding echoing from behind her own ribs. She could only imagine how hard this must be for Mari, walking into the lion's den as it were, but it was a completely different form of agony to have to sit back with a refined smile and watch her do it.

Looking at her daughter's clothes, both those hanging in the closet and those discards which had been half-heartedly strewn across her bed, the other woman could see a variety of different outfits which Mari would likely agonize over before ultimately discarding as well. But for today, there was only one thing that she could wear. Now having her presence acknowledged, the older woman walked past Mariana, reaching into the closet to retrieve a long-sleeved pastel pink cardigan.

"I know I probably don't know what's popular among the kids your age today... but I think this should work." The smile on her lips appeared ever so slightly forced, but still filled with the same love and reassuring warmth that Mari had come to know and rely on. The cardigan itself was a familiar sight to Mariana, albeit something she hadn't worn in a long time; it had been a gift from her grandmother, one of the few things left around the house that could still trace its roots back to her. After her passing it had been hard to reconcile the feelings of loss with the bright cheery pastel of the sweater, but now, feeling a very different kind of weight pressing down on her, the sight of that pastel pink somehow managed to calm her racing heart even if only a little bit.

Mariana watched as her mother placed the now empty hangar back up in her closet before closing the gap between them, gently wrapping one arm around her shoulder to give the girl a comforting squeeze.

"You look just fine." The sound of her mother's voice was soothing, but even hearing it from within her familiar and comforting embrace, when she felt the plush fabric of the cardigan being placed into her hands, she found them to still be trembling.
"Thanks Ma I'm just-"

"No no no." She interrupted.

"Don't you get in your head about it. You are beautiful, you are strong, and today is gonna be just fine." Her mother's tone was stern but loving, spoken loudly in her ear with the kind of confidence and certainty that both of them wished they were truly able to feel in that moment. Mari listened to her words and nodded, looking down at her feet as she started repeating the words in her head over and over. She tried to commit them to her memory and soul, engraving them like a mantra, but each time she repeated the words in her head all the other thought roiling around inside her head kept drowning them out anyway.