Invisible Women

The Cold Outside

Once, when I was old, I knocked on a door because it was snowing. Because it was cold, I was wearing nothing but tatters and fragments, and when the door opened, I asked to enter. I was very old back then and could barely walk and yet somehow, I managed to travel quite a far distance simply to knock on this door. When the door opened and a maliciously smiling girl appeared, I found myself suddenly energized. Her eyes were fire, and looking at me, I was warm.

To the small girl I said, “It’s cold out here, outside.”

The child looked just beyond me. She barely bothered to notice that my lips were once again beginning to chatter, and although I wanted nothing more than to push her down and run towards the flickering fire behind her, I smiled the kindest smile I could.

She said nothing.

To the small girl, I repeated, “It’s cold out here, outside.” I said, “Dear child, won’t you let me into your house? It’s quite warm in there I can tell. From your eyes, I can tell that there is warmth tucked directly behind you, if only you’d let me come in.”

The child continued to look beyond me. I was certain that she did not flinch when I began to speak. This, I am quite sure, is no small feat because it has been a great while since I have had the pleasure to engage in oral hygiene. It is nothing personal. There is, in fact, little more that I would like than to be able to wrap some floss around my fingers.

I looked at this small girl with her vacant face, her eyes passionate about something entirely not me. I wanted to kill her. I wanted her to let me into her home so that I could do so without the neighbors noticing.

Once again, I tried, “I am an old lady, dear child. Can you not see that I am shaking, even now as I speak I cannot stop my teeth from banging violently together?” I extended my hand towards her.

I reached and I reached, and I was certain that eventually, either my limbs would extend no further or I would be able to touch her, but my hand kept moving forward and we never did intersect. Nor did she move. It was the strangest thing, how this child avoided my touch, a touch that we both knew would be lethal.

And my arm, by this point of acknowledgement, must have been nearly four feet long. It was a piece of salt-water taffy, only not so sweet or edible.

Finally, when my arm had reached its limit, the girl looked to me and said, “Old lady, you may enter my home, but only if you take out all of your teeth and both of your eyes. Then, you must peel away the nails from your fingers. When all of this is done, knock once again on my door, and I will come outside and strip you of your impure rags and bring you into a warm stew of bath, and there, I will clean you with my own small hands. After you are clean, I will set you by the warmest fire, and there, we will feast.”

I looked at this girl. There was nothing left in her eyes, but she did not avoid my gaze. So I began, one tooth at a time.