| the expansion room | |
| I am in a dark and closed and airless room. I can barely move or see or breathe. I am surrounded by people. I know them all by name or title fear or memory sight or smell or touch: father mother brother teachers judges viewers lovers critics boards committees colleagues husbands children friends They are addressing me, calling my name, expounding, explaining imploring, complaining demanding. I cover my ears with my hands. I wish them gone. They file out the door, one by one, still talking to me. Now the room is quiet. The air is thick with dust and expectation but there is light coming in from a small window. I can see a table, piled high with papers: certificates passports licenses diplomas tests report cards contracts leases deeds notes decrees registrations balance sheets tax returns tickets receipts recommendations applications evaluations acceptances rejections awards They are all mine. As I read each one it becomes blank. I stack the blank paper neatly on the table. Now the air is clear. I see a shelf behind the table. On the shelf are: a barometer a thermometer calipers a compass a clock a calendar a calculator a tape measure a ruler a scale As I touch each object its markings disappear, then it, too, vanishes. Now the window is open. I feel a breeze. I see a chair at the table. I try to sit in it but I can't bend my legs. I am encased in clothing, wearing all at once: a straight skirt high heels a narrow jacket a cardigan a pleated skirt a round collared blouse crinolines a taffeta gown white gloves stockings a garter belt a slip a petticoat a camisole a strapless bra a girdle underpants I take them off, layer by layer. As I drop each one it turns to dust and blows away. I sit down at the table. I pick up a mirror. I look at my reflection. I take off my lipstick, my eyeshadow, my nail polish, my earrings, my choker, my bracelets. I take the rollers out of my hair, the bobby pins, the barrettes, the rubber bands, the ribbons. I shake out my curls and my hair falls straight. I remove: my decorum my politeness my soft touch my sympathy my seductiveness my compliance my silence my desire to please My brow unfurrows my jaw drops my hands unclench my breasts sag my stomach relaxes my legs fall open I close my eyes. I smile to myself. When I open my eyes the room is spacious. The tile floor is cool to my bare feet. French doors open to a courtyard. I see the ocean. I smell jasmine. I expand into the room and out to the sea. | |
| Elizabeth Ingraham |