Behind the Looking-Glass

“I am a mirror.” 

The doctor crossed her legs and scribbled something down onto a worn, leather notepad. Brows scrunched together for a moment, wrinkling into the shape of a frown on her forehead. I’d been seeing her for a few weeks now, but this was the first time I was taking it seriously. The way she scribbled with that pen made me think the doc was on the same page. Honest words, candid words, have a particularly sour taste when they leave your lips. Why? I haven’t the faintest idea, but perhaps the taste is just something foreign. Rare foods surprise the tastebuds the most, and god knows it’s been a while since I’ve given myself a taste of the truth. My truth. It must sound different, too, considering how quickly the good doctor shifted into a new gear. 

“That’s interesting Gavin,” She looked up from her writing. “Perhaps, if you wouldn’t mind, could you expand on that a bit?”  

“Not quite sure how else to describe who I am,” I picked at my nails, though there wasn’t much nail left, just stubs at this point. “And if I did, I probably wouldn’t be a mirror anymore. You know what I mean?” 

“Yes and no.” The doctor leaned back, flattening her skirt. I gave my best effort not to look as she did, but movement draws the eye, and it’s a hard habit to shake. There was no sexual curiosity between us, but it only takes a moment to make things uncomfortable. “Can you give me an example of why you think you’re a mirror?”

I leaned back this time, deep into the reclining chair. Sweat bulled its way through the pores of my scalp and began a slow descent with the assistance of gravity. “Well, there’s Lilly for starters. She was wild, beautiful, but most importantly, spontaneous. A wild child, real sparkplug, as my dad had called her.” An image of a red-headed girl glowing in the sparks of the light show behind her popped into my head. I smiled. “We went to a concert for a band I never heard of before—Rufus something or another, couldn’t even tell you their name, to be honest. But for summer, they were my favorite band. Because it was her favorite band.” 

“I see,” the doctor jotted. “And you didn’t like the music at all?”

“I don’t know,” my brain felt knotted. “Possibly? Lilly loved them, though.”

“Right, but you don’t know if you did?”

“It’s hard to explain, doc,” I picked at my nails furiously. “I liked them then when I was with her and when she liked them. But did I—Gavin—ever like their music? I don’t know, and that scares me.” 

“And this fear...is that where the mirror comes from?” 

“Yes.” I licked my lips, but my mouth had gone dry. “Can I have a glass of water?” 

“Of course, Gavin.” She got up and poured me one from her desk. “So, you reflect the people who you are with, am I tracking?” 

I nodded and took a sip and let the cool liquid seep in. The doctor watched me with curious eyes.

“I never really thought about it until our first few sessions, but lately, it’s all I think about—am I just an imitation of the people around me? Not knowing the answer to that question scares me, doc. To my core, it scares the hell out of me.” 

“I can imagine why,” She closed the notepad and looked me straight in the eyes. The crow’s feet at the corners of hers offered an inherent sympathy. “Taking on the likes and dislikes of the people you date isn’t uncommon, but that doesn’t make it any less frightening. It’s a loss of self, and that can take its toll.” 

“But that’s the thing; it’s not just the people I date.” My throat started to swell up like airbags filled with a gaseous form of sadness. “It’s everyone. The people I work with, my friends, my family, the guy at the bodega down the street. I can’t help but offer them a reflection of themselves. I can’t stop.” 

“And why do you think that switch won’t turn off?” 

“Because I know it is easier to connect with someone when you have something in common.” Something wet left my eye, its trail drying up as it moved down my face. “It’s easier to be liked.” 

“So you become a mirror,” the doctor smiled triumphantly. “A mirror to placate those around you, reflect the things they want to see, and ensure that you are liked.” 

“Yes.” The tears flowed now. A Damn must’ve broken inside me. “I’m afraid that whoever I am beneath the mirror, well...I’m afraid they won’t want to look at me. People like looking at themselves.”

“Gavin,” she reached out her hand and gently squeezed my shoulder. “You’ll never know that unless you get rid of the mirror. If people don’t like what’s underneath, that’s their problem.” 

“But...but what if there is nothing underneath?” The words crawled out between sobs. “That another thing that’s bugged me. It’s been so long since I even looked. What if the cabinet behind the glass is empty?” 

“Forgive my British, but that’s rubbish.” She squeezed again. “You’re a good guy, Gavin. Underneath your mirror is a good man. I think it’s time you get to know each other. Then, introduce yourself to the world.”

“But how do I do that?” 

“That’s something you need to figure out.” The doctor sighed. “I can’t tell you who you are. If I did, that would just be another reflection, wouldn’t it?”

“I guess so,” I said, nodding. “God, when did this even start? I’ve been thinking about it since our last session, “who is Gavin?” And once I thought of the mirror, I started to think about how long it’s been there, you know? Like, I can’t remember the last time I did something for me, on my own accord. What if I never did? Would that mean I never really existed? That “Gavin” is a mirror of comfort for all those around me, just to make their lives easier? God, I must sound like a lunatic.” I was shaking by the end of my rant. My whole body, moving to the tune of the misery in my mind.

“That’s a rabbit hole that you should never have gone down. It will only lead to your fears and not to your truths.” The doctor had straightened up and spoke with confidence he hadn’t heard from her in all their sessions. “Gavin is real. You are real. And you’re not alive just to appease someone else. Who you are is buried away right now, but I promise you,” she took his hand and squeezed it like his shoulder, “I will help you find him.” 

“Thank you, doc,” I wiped away the waterworks on my face. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.” 

“It’s my job, Gavin. I just want to help you find happiness.” 

“I know,” I replied. “And I couldn’t be more thankful. You’re the first person who I’ve talked to about this, and it just...it feels great to say the words. It feels even better to have them heard.”

The doctor’s smile stretched from ear-to-ear as if those words were a trophy she could hang on the wall. A noble peace prize for psychiatry in the form of a sentence. She scribbled something furiously into the notepad and looked back up at me.  

“Would you mind if I wrote a paper about you? Your name would never be mentioned, but it would be something that could offer others in my field help for patients like you.” 

“Of course, doc,” I smiled, big and bright to match hers. “Anything to help.” 

She inhaled deeply, staring at me, that smile growing even more prominent. 

Perhaps she was admiring herself in the mirror.