Mary Alice Monroe - Girl In The Mirror

Gradually he lowered the manila chart and raised his gaze. It was as though a searchlight had been flicked on and was scouring every inch of her eyes, her nose, her lips and the awkward line of her deformed jaw. Charlotte didn’t feel embarrassed by the scrutiny because Dr. Harmon studied her with the cold focus of a clinician.

Then, as suddenly, his expression changed. The intensity dissipated, and a slight, practiced smile politely took its place on his face. Charlotte sat up. The interview was about to begin.

“Good morning, Miss…” He looked again at the chart.

“Godowski.”

“Ah, yes. Thank you. Miss Godowski. Your general health seems to be in fine shape. I’ll give you a complete exam, but I don’t anticipate any worries there.” He looked up again at her with a benign expression. “Suppose you tell me, in your own words, how you would like me to help you.” Dr. Harmon folded his hands neatly upon the desk and looked at her with a bemused expression.

Looking at his face, a face so baby smooth she wondered if hair ever grew on it, Charlotte was at a loss for words. “I…” She stammered and looked away. “I would think it’s obvious.”

The doctor only offered that same faint grin in reply.

She clenched her hands tightly in her lap. What could she say that he didn’t already see? He cocked his head as a prompt. Taking a deep breath, Charlotte blurted out the truth that hovered at her lips.

“I want to be beautiful.”

He furrowed his brows and pursed his lips in concern.

“I see,” he replied.

Charlotte flushed. Of course he saw, all too clearly, and no doubt he thought she was crazy. She shifted her weight, mortified to have released her innermost secret. “Well maybe,” she amended, plucking at her dress with trembling fingers, “maybe just sort of pretty?” She could hear her mother saying, “We’ll make her pretty, no?”

Dr. Harmon’s expression altered to reveal compassion. “Maybe,” he conceded. “In fact, quite possible.” Studying her face like an artist would a blank canvas, he continued. “There are changes I could suggest, but I’d like to hear your thoughts first. What specifically would you like to see done?”

Charlotte took a deep breath, blinking. He hadn’t laughed at her. He hadn’t said her dream was impossible, rather, he’d said “possible.” Did he have any idea how much hope he had just given her?

“Well…I guess…let’s see…” she stammered out. Then, raising her gaze to meet his, she said firmly, “My chin.”

“What about your chin?”

“I want one,” she said more boldly. “A real one that curves out from the jaw and rounds out under my lips. And now that I mention it, I’d like a jaw, too. One that rolls at a right angle from my neck. A separate entity, not the mountain slope that I have now.”

“And the rest? Your nose, your eyes, your cheekbones?”

Charlotte thought a moment. “No,” she replied. “God gave me those. They reflect my mother and my father, and I accept those as part of who I am.”

“Very good.”

He smiled, and Charlotte felt enormously relieved. That was obviously a right answer. She began to relax a bit, unclenching her fingers. She was aware that Dr. Harmon noted in that steel trap of a gaze every movement she made.

“How long have you been unhappy with your chin?”

“Forever. I used to think God shortchanged me on my face.”

“Shortchanged? That’s an interesting way to put it.”

“When I was a little girl, I believed that God made each of us separately, like a sculptor. The rest of me is just fine.” She blushed and laughed shortly. “I figured God ran out of time and had to push me through, leaving my chin unfinished.” She looked up, relieved to see an amused smile on Dr. Harmon’s face. “A child’s reasoning, I know,” she continued. “But I haven’t found another excuse yet. It just feels so…unfair.”

She paused, choosing her words. “I’m not looking to change all of me, Doctor,” she said in earnest. “I’m just asking you to finish what God started.”

Dr. Harmon didn’t speak for a moment. He seemed moved by what she had said.

“I’m pleased to hear that you don’t want me to change everything. That would be unrealistic. What you have is a congenital flaw in your jaw. It’s a rare condition, and correction will involve a long, sensitive procedure. The jaw will be cut and repositioned, bone grafts will be considered, and in extreme conditions such as yours, artificial implants are inserted to augment size and thrust of the jaw and chin. Simply moving bone is not enough. And follow-up with an orthodontist. It is, however, doable, and frankly, you have come to the right doctor. I specialize in craniofacial surgery.”

“I heard that. I also heard that you were the best.”

A flicker of satisfaction crossed his face, but he had the grace not to confirm the compliment.

“How does your family feel about the operation?”

“Family?”

He glanced at his chart. “It says here you live with your mother.”

“That’s right.”

“Is there anyone else important to you? A significant other?”

Charlotte sighed. “There’s only my mother.”

He raised his brows, determined that she would speak.

“I haven’t told her yet.”

His brows rose higher. “Why not?”

“I don’t believe she’ll approve.”

“Sometimes relatives don’t understand how important it can be for someone to have a particular operation. Nonetheless, it is important that you discuss it with her if only to determine the degree of support you can expect.”

“I can do this alone.”

“Miss Godowski, after any operation there is a physical and psychological stress that may affect both your stamina and mood. That is only natural.”

“I’m very fit. I have great stamina.”

“By this I mean many people feel blue and down for a while. You will need some support. I encourage you to talk to your mother. Honestly and frankly.”

Charlotte nodded in compliance. “I’ll try.”

“You will let me know her reaction?”

Charlotte nodded again.

“What if your mother opposes surgery? What will you do?”

Charlotte looked up and met his gaze squarely. “I will still have the operation.”

Dr. Harmon narrowed his gaze. “This operation means so much to you?”

“Yes. It means everything.” She forced herself not to shrink away from his questioning gaze.

“Why?” he pursued. “Why now? Usually women who are born with your condition have surgery at least by their adolescence. You are—” he again checked her chart “—twenty. What prompted you to seek help now?”

The image of Lou Kopp flashed in her mind. She couldn’t tell him that. Definitely not. And if she was honest with herself, Lou Kopp wasn’t the only reason why she wanted change. Truth was, he was just the tip of the iceberg, the proverbial last straw.

“I guess it just took me longer to grow up than those other women,” she replied slowly. Then, thinking of her old dreams, she added, “I used to believe that beauty was in the eye of the beholder. I had to. If I didn’t, I’d have to give up the dream that someday, someone would see beyond this face and love the person I am inside.” She looked at her shoes and her shoulders slumped. “I finally figured out no one will give me a chance with this face.”

“By give you a chance you mean…”

“Love me.”

“Ah, I understand.” Dr. Harmon tapped his fingers together. “And you believe that this operation will make someone love you?”

“No,” Charlotte replied, wise to the trap. “I know my face alone won’t make someone love me. That’s why I said ‘chance.’ All I want is a chance.”