The Eyes Are the Best Part

by Monika Kim

There are some things that you can never truly escape. Not really. Maybe that’s why, even now, she’s stuck in the past, long after everyone else has moved on.

More than anything, he hated that everything in his life served as a reminder of his failures. I don’t blame him. Maybe because I know what it’s like, to live a life so defined by want. That’s why I was able to recognize it in him—it was what I had been feeling for so long.

What is the truth? The truth is that men like George seldom notice things unless they are directly involved in them.

Men like him are stupid and oblivious, convinced of their own self-importance.

As later experiences would confirm, to deal with a man like that, a man like George, you have to pull the rug out from under him. Not all at once, of course; a small tug here, another one there. You don’t back down when he tries to wield his power. Instead, you trip him up by slipping him little lies. Correct him whenever you can. Confuse him. Make him feel foolish. Men like him hate being wrong, hate being embarrassed, hate not being in control.

And when you take everything from him, you can say what these men say about us: He was asking for it. He was begging for it. He must have wanted it, since he didn’t fight back.

How do I explain to her that the home I miss isn’t a place? It’s a time when my life made sense. When things made sense.