The Woman in the Mirror

It’s a month before Marcie and Karl’s 40th wedding anniversary, and Marcie has been planning this trip for a year. She has danced through the past 90 days with glee, like a 16-year-old with a new car. Because Marcie loves planning events, and she has worked tirelessly through every detail, and every family member’s schedule, she is confident that Mary Poppins, herself, would proclaim this itinerary “practically perfect in every way.”

Marcie is getting a facetime call from her daughter Victoria. “Hello sugar!”

“Hi Mom! Little Emma wants to say hi to Gigi.” Marcie’s screen fills up with the little peach-like face of 2-year-old Emma.

“Emma! I’m so happy to see you.”

“Gi-gi Gi-gi Gi-gi!” Little Emma enunciates with satisfaction in her smile.

“Victoria, I’m glad you called,” Marcie’s voice turns to business. “I want to submit the selections for the excursions by the end of the week. What have you and Chris decided about the Loch Ness Monster trip? And what about the castle tour? Are you taking Emma or leaving her with the childcare center on the ship for these two? There is no cost for her to go on the excursion or go to the daycare, but we would have to book her for the childcare while there is a spot.”

“Mom, I’m sure it’s not going to be a problem to get her into childcare. Don’t stress about it please. But, anyway, Chris wants to take her to everything. He says who knows when she’ll get a chance to travel to Europe again. So, I mean, she will have no recollection of any of this, but I guess it will be good to show her the pictures, so she knows she was there with us, every step along the way…” Victoria slightly emphasized those last give words in a manner only her mother would notice.

Marcie knows Victoria is going along with Chris’ preference; she would much prefer some time away from the baby. But it’s a decision, which is a good thing in Marcie’s book, and she checks off that one with pleasure.

The dining room on the ship is selected, with seating for 15, including the babies, every night. In Marcie’s mind this trip, these 14 days together with her family of 15 in Western Europe is the culminating crown in her life. If she dies the day after the trip, her life will have been complete. Kyle, and Peter, Victoria and their children will have a memory to last a lifetime. And Karl will always remember the incredible

vacation he and Marcie made for their family. Marcie is looking forward to the family photos the ship’s photographer will capture to guarantee this event will be remembered for generations. She leans back in her wicker patio rocker, closes her eyes, and feels immense contentment, her dream is coming to fruition, and it is more than she could have asked for.

Marcie and Karl married at age 22 with no money in the bank. Kyle was born 18 months later, and then another 18 months later Peter arrived. Five years and two miscarriages later, Marcie and Karl finally held their only daughter, Victoria. Her arrival was a true victory, thus, her name, and her parents and brothers cherished her.

Living in central North Carolina, the coast was never more than 2 hours away, and Marcie and Karl lost count of how many weekends they loaded the kids into the van and drove to the beach on a Saturday morning, returning Sunday evening, sandy, sunburnt, and parched for lemonade. Monday mornings came all too quickly.

Karl had grown up on a farm. He had never taken a family vacation in his own childhood, and he didn’t have any expectations of weeks away sightseeing around the country or lounging at a resort. Marcie, conversely, was raised by her stay-at-home mother and her attorney father. Spring break was the Virgin Islands, summer vacation meant sharing a large beach house with cousins, aunts, and uncles in Cape May, and there had been one or two ski trips to Colorado, and several trips to New York over Christmas break.

“It’s actually happening,” Marcie shares with Karl over dinner.

“Of course, it is! We have paid for it and planned it. It is definitely happening, dear.” They click their glasses of cabernet in celebratory enthusiasm.

Marcie got up early the next morning. It is time to do a little shopping, some cute dresses for the granddaughters, and a special dress for her for the evening of their anniversary. She is determined to stay on budget as she walks into her favorite formal boutique.

“Hello Marcie! You must be so excited!” The shopkeeper and her long-time friend, Kim, greets her.

“Yes, ma’am I am. I’m looking for something special for the anniversary dinner! I’m thinking navy blue, but I am open to suggestions.”

“Of course! While you look around, I will pull some options in your size and start a room for you, sweat heart.”

Kim’s shop has that incredible music playing over the speakers, that kind of music you hear in a good grocery store that makes you want to stay all day, forget your to-do list for the rest of the day, and just enjoy picking out various ingredients. She wonders if some marketing guru has created the mix. She could stay in her all morning until she finds the right dress. For the first time in months, she is relaxed. She has checked off all the boxes, and this time is just hers to enjoy the pleasure of finding a dress that sums up her 40 years of marriage, her children, and the glorious trip ahead.

Marcie picks a navy beaded, fitted cocktail length dress in her size 4. Yes, she has worked out, fasted intermittently, lost 15 pounds and 2 dress sizes. It was worth it.

“Marcie, I have put three in the dressing room for you. Shall I add this one too? asks Kim.

“Yes, please!” And she heads to the dressing room for the moment of truth.

Hm. Marcie peruses Kim’s handpicked selections; lavender floor length strapless, fitted, and classic cut, black above-the-knee with spaghetti straps, and a stunning navy floor length chiffon. The last one seems to be calling her name… “Marcie Joanne Smyth, I was made for you.”

Marcie pulls off her skirt and top, pulls on the navy-blue gown, it’s light as a feather. She cannot remember the last time she wore chiffon. Before she turns around to face the mirror, she cleverly reaches her arms around her back and zips up all by herself. She does a slow sachet as she turns to see the mirror. Will this look as good as it feels?

It is impossible for Marcie to be prepared for the image awaiting her in the long mirror of the plush dressing room.

She opens her eyes, focusing on her face, then her chest, her torso and arms, the long drape of the skirt towards her feet. It was made for her. The fit is perfect, the length is perfect. The color is perfect. “Oh my gosh,” and then, she is breathless.

“Marcie, I’m glad you noticed. This dress was made for you,” the words come from the reflection in the mirror.

Marcie feels faint. She must sit down. She sits back on the baby blue tufted bench. But the image in the mirror is still standing. Marcie’s heart begins to race. Can Kim

hear this “person” talking to her from the mirror? Is this a person? Is it herself? It sure looks like Marcie Joanne Smyth.

Marcie whispers in a frantic but slow refrain, “I don’t know who you are or how you are doing this, but I am the wrong person to pull this on. I do not talk to spirits, I go to church, I am a mother, a grandmother, I am a normal woman. I do not believe in ghosts. I… I…”

The image in the mirror interrupts, “Of course, Marcie, I know all this. Please relax and listen to me. This is very important.”

Marcie, sits straight up, stunned. The woman in the mirror knows her name. Well heck of course she does, it’s her own flippin reflection! Except it’s not! She’s talking to me and I’m not talking.

The image speaks again, “Marcie, you must not go on this trip. You must cancel it. I know you have trip insurance, and I also know it won’t cover it all. But you must cancel it.”

Marcie’s straight posture rounds to a slouch. Tears form in her eyes. Her lips tremble, “Of course I have trip insurance! I’m not stupid. But I cannot cancel a trip of a lifetime.”

Marcie in the Mirror remains fixed, “I am you – from your future. Your future will not be guaranteed if you go ahead with this trip.”

There is a light tapping on the dressing room door. It’s one of the salesgirls, “Mrs. Smyth, Kim asked me to check on you. How are you doing in there?”

Marcie in the Mirror is gone. Marcie in the long blue dress, sitting on the tufted bench feels sick. She is trembling, but she responds, “ I’m ok.”

“Well do you like the dresses Kim picked? May I bring you anything else, maybe another size?”

“No, thank you,” is all Marcie can mutter. Lordy, what is going on here. A woman in a mirror, who happens to look exactly like me, is telling me not to go on this trip. A trip, I have painstakingly planned for a year, a trip my entire family is looking forward to. She couldn’t decide which was more unsettling, the idea of canceling her trip, or the fact that an image in a mirror had spoken to her. Her heart raced; perspiration dripped from her face. “Oh shit! I’m sweating on the dress,” she thought.

Okay, Marcie’s sense of organization took over. “First priority,” she thought, “I must take off this dress.” She reached back, unzipped, slid it off, and placed it back on the hanger. Okay. Deep breaths. Next, she put on the clothes she had worn into the store 20 minutes ago. Then she focused on her face in the mirror struggling with all her might to ascertain what she had seen a moment ago. Marcie waited, she sat and just breathed until it returned to a normal rate. She mustered all the saneness she possessed, picked up her purse and opened the dressing room door, walked past any salesgirls, shoppers, and maybe Kim, and walked straight to the front door and out onto the sidewalk. “Good job, Marcie,” she gave herself positive reinforcement. “You did it, and you can drive home.”

Once home, Marcie pours herself a glass of cabernet. She closes her eyes and practices her yoga breathing. She contemplates what has happened to her. Was this a warning from a ghost? Or from her “future self” as it stated? Was she suffering from stress and falling victim to delusional thinking? The pressing dilemma: was this warning to be heeded or was it a farce, period.

She does not know how long she sat in this condition, but what seems like years later, she hears Karl’s car pull into the garage. She checks her phone and sees 2 missed calls from Victoria, and a text from each of the boys. Her son Peter’s text catches her attention. “Hi Mom! Just want to tell you what an amazing job you’ve done with this trip. The kids are so excited, and Peter Junior is telling all his friends he is going to see the Loch Ness Monster. Love you mom. “

Kyle’s text, “Hey mom, how many dress-up outfits do we need to bring? xo”

Marcia decides to say nothing to any of them about the strange occurrence at the dress shop. Marcie in the Mirror be damned, there is no way she is cancelling this trip.

It is one month later, the day Marcia Smyth has been planning for has arrived. Like the scene from “Home Alone,” Marcia and Karl’s home is full of slumbering family members when their phone alarms simultaneously go off at 5:00 am. Every adult in the home is up and at it like elves on Christmas Eve. Older siblings wake younger siblings, everyone dresses in carefully laid out clothes, carries their bags to the foyer and sits at attention. Two Black Uber X Suburbans pull up right on time, and, unlike “Home Alone,” Marcia calls roll once all are in their seats. No child left behind in this family!

At CLT, family members file out, grab their bags, and proceed to bag check and then on to the gate. It is happening. About a minute before boarding, Marcia has Karl

hold her coffee, and she pops into the lady’s room. Every stall is in use except the oversized handicapped. Marcia grabs it, uses the toilet, washes her hands, and glances in the mirror for a quick once-over and freshens her lipstick.

“Hey there, I warned you. But I see you decided to . . .” Stunned, Marcie sees herself in the mirror speaking to her, and she abruptly cuts of “Marcie in the Mirror” mid-sentence.

Oh no, she thinks, I am not letting her get to me this time. She turns sharply, walks through the stall door, out the bathroom door, down the corridor. Karl hands her the cup of coffee. She picks up her hanging bag, containing her navy gown, corrals her family and walks down the ramp to her international flight, followed by her husband, children, and grandchildren.