What the mirror tells

Alice turned 75 a few months ago. Her gnarled fingertips run along the side of the blade. Life felt so empty. Should I do it? She doubted. 

She hid the blade under her mattress.

It wasn’t the first time she intended to finish with everything. When Alfred passed away, after 50 years of marriage, she didn’t want to keep going.

Waking up and touching the empty space on their bed caused her intolerable pain. His scent permeated the whole bedroom, his closet, and their bathroom. She didn’t even remember for how long she cried hugging his pillow. 

Her loneliness was in part made bearable because of Cecilia’s visits. Her grandmother had passed away a long time ago, but she appeared to her in dreams, giving her comfort and solace. The same way she did when Alice was a little girl and scraped her knee.

          But somehow she survived the pain of losing her husband. She had to, for Sara,  her only child. It sounded funny to think of Sara as a child. She was a 36-year-old married woman. Alice loved her, as mothers do; unconditionally. It’s a blind type of love because whatever you go through you keep loving.

Alice did love her husband very much, but her love was conditional. The condition was based on mutual respect which meant no fooling around. She kept that promise and she wanted to believe Alfred did too.

She shook her head as if that gesture could put away her thoughts. She made her way to the porch to water her potted plants when Sara’s car approached the driveway.

“Hi mom, how’re you doing?” She kissed Alice’s cheek.

“Hi baby, am good. It’s great to see you”, she gave her a hug. “How are you feeling? Your tummy is getting bigger.” 

“I know,” Sara said, caressing her abdomen. “Am fine but so thirsty, Mom,” she licked her lips.

“Let’s go inside. I made some fresh lemonade.”

They entered the kitchen, Sara sat, elbows on the kitchen table she looked around. “Mom, this place needs some keeping up. You have to replace the appliances, you should paint the ceiling.”

Alice smiled, offering her daughter a glass of lemonade. She grabbed a chair and sat facing Sara. “I know this kitchen would look better with new appliances, but I don’t really need them, love. Everything works fine”

“Mom, since Dad passed, this place is falling apart, but if you don’t want to keep it up, that’s fine. It’s your house after all.” 

“Am happy here, don’t worry about me. How are things going with you?”

“Good. The babies are growing well. I still can’t believe am having twins. Soon I won’t able to drive anymore.”

“That’s not a problem, I’ll take you places.”

“Thanks, Mom.” Sara inspected her hands carefully. “I don’t know how I am going to cope looking after twins. People said it’s hard having one baby, never mind two.”

“I’ll help, you know.”

“Yeah, I know. But I’ll need you all the time,” she looked at her mother, pleading.

Alice sighed, and took Sara’s hands in hers, “everything is going to be fine,” she said.

“Mom, when the babies are born I’d like you to move in with us, for good. You should sell this house,” she said the phrase in one breath.

“What?” Alice’s eyes grew larger.

“Think about it. You could help me, you’ll have your money. We’ll be a large family. You know Christian likes you, he’s a good husband.”

“Love, I don’t want to move. My memories, my things are here. I’ll go to your place every day to help with the twins. We’re not too far away. I’ll stay with you for a while when they are born but I don’t want to sell my house. Sorry.” 

Sara’s face dropped. “I thought I could count on you,” she said and stood. 

“Of course, you can, but don’t ask me to leave my home.” 

Sara made her way out. “That’s fine if that’s the way you feel”, she said and slammed the door.

After mulling over her situation for weeks, Alice felt compelled to do what she thought was her duty; to stand by her daughter. It was a painful process to get rid of the things she loved, but in the end, they were only that, things. She‘ll carry her memories in her soul.

With a heavy heart, she moved to her daughter’s home. Life is all about adjusting to changes, isn’t it? I believe that’s how the saying goes, she thought. 

Sara was waiting for her at the main door. When Alice got out of the car, her daughter waddled to her side, “Hi Mom, thanks for this.” she kissed her cheek.

“You’re getting big and beautiful,” she said, hugging her daughter.

Alice’s bedroom was ample, lots of light filtered through large windows. “I’ll be just fine here,” she said out loud.

Time went by quickly. Sara had a normal delivery. The babies were a bit early, they had to stay in the Nursery for observation but they were released in a few days.

It was challenging for Sara to look after her twins, especially in the first weeks, but having Alice by her side made everything easier.

After her maternity leave was over, Sara had to return to work. Alice looked after her grandchildren, it was exhausting but she felt content to help the family by providing child care. The boys grew up happy and healthy under their grandmother’s supervision.

When the boys turned three years old, things started to change.

As Alice was folding the boy's laundry, Sara approached her. “Mom, we have to talk,” she said. Her daughter’s serious aspect concerned her.

“What about it, love?”

“It’s about your room. You’ll have to move to the smaller bedroom by the kitchen. Sorry, Mom. The boys need more space; too many toys, I guess.”

The request took Alice by surprise. ”But that room is not big enough to hold my things,” she said.

“You’ll have to make do, Mom. I wish we had a larger house but we don’t.”

That was the end of the conversation. The next day, Christian and Sara helped her to move her furniture to her new bedroom. The things that didn’t fit were given to charity.

The following year, Alice’s living arrangements had to change again. The boys kept fighting for space, so she had to give away her bedroom. This time there was no other room available but a narrow den beside the laundry room. The space was tiny, there was no window, no closet, just enough capacity for a single bed, a bedside table, and a small drawer.

Alice had no choice but to move.

The older she got she realized she wasn’t included in the family affairs. It’s not like Christian or Sara were mean to her. They were polite but distant. The boys minded their own business and ignored her. At the table, the family talked over her, without asking for her input. She felt lonely and displaced.

No one noticed she didn’t eat properly. Because of her weight loss, her clothing hung loose as if it didn’t belong to her. Some days, taking a shower felt like a big task, so she didn’t. At times she preferred to stay in bed most of the day. But nobody in the family seemed to notice these changes.

Well, if no one notices me, I better be invisible, she thought.

The first time the revelation happened, it took her by utter surprise. She was reading a book on the porch; when she got up to make herself a cup of tea, she glanced at the large mirror in the hallway. There was no reflection.

She froze, feeling rooted to the spot, she looked at the mirror once more. A gasp got caught in her throat. Panic flared in her chest. She squeezed her eyes shut. When she opened them her image was nowhere to be seen.

A primal scream escaped her mouth filling the surroundings. She rushed to her room and closed the door. Sat by the side of her bed, grabbed the mirror on her nightstand table, and searched for her reflection.

 Instead of her features in the mirror, she distinguished the foggy image of her grandmother. Alice heard Cecilia’s voice clearly, “My girl, don’t be scared. Remember when you were little? You always came to me in your time of need because you knew I could grant you anything you wanted. That’s what I’ve done now. You have become invisible.” Before the image disappeared Cecilia’s voice said, “I’ll be waiting for you on the other side my girl, whenever you’re ready.” 

Alice smiled at the empty mirror, she left it on her bedside table and lay down on her bed crossing her hands on her chest waiting for Cecilia’s call.

          The blade remained hidden under the mattress.

THE END