Mirror Mirror on the Wall

A lustrous glass reflecting one’s soul frozen in time”

The mirror, polished glass encase with a frame entirely with gold leaf paint, hangs on the wall in my mothers’ room, a testimony to the many years adorning its place here in our home. A gift she told me when I was too small to imagine my mother involved with anyone else besides my father. Yet, as I recall, it was a troubled time for me, the youngest in our family. My older siblings, Marlene and Derrick, appear to understand the ‘grown up’ things, ‘You’re too young,’ Marlene said in her condescending voice. ‘No, I’m not, emphatic to head upstairs to my bedroom, the one we had to share.

She, ah, what can I say, being the mirror image of our mother, the way she smiles entering a room, a most flirtatious twirling of her hair, bare skin that glitters in the sunlight. While I, on the other hand, a tomboyish hair cut, chop short at the curve of my neck, freckles like spots, climbing sun-drenched arms to my flushed face, sweat beads across furrow brows. I gaze towards that cursed thing from the squarely positioned chair next to my mother's bed. Her paper-thin skin stretches over miles of worn-out bones, lungs laboring for the most negligible intake of air. I find that my breath matches hers, as an offering to my mom so she can breathe more easily

“Hey, sis, what’s up?” Derrick grabs a chair, flipping it around to sit.

“Shish”

“What?”

“Mom’s sleeping. Please be quiet.”

“Well, aren’t you the protective one, sis, ”ruffling up my hair

“Someone has to”-

“And that someone has to be you, right?”

“Yeah”

Derrick, uh, he’s, the kind of person who can sell the “Brooklyn bridge’ to an unwilling person, his eyes oval, memorizing, enticing an unexpected person. A type of person to boulder through any obstacle standing in his way, unlike mother or father. Yet, at the same time, compassionate and understanding. I had often thought that he might have been the son of the mystery man our mother spent the summer with before I was born. In either case, Derrick has been there whenever I needed him, and now it seems that we both depend on him, if only it will be for a week.

“R-r -Raven?” she said, gasping for air

“Yes, momma?” my breath kissing her cheek

“B-bring me, bring me-my the mirror.”

“Momma, you need to rest.”

“Child”

“Yes, momma”

           ‘Don’t look. ’A tiny voice echoes somewhere deep within my mind, ‘I won’t.”

           “Ah, go ahead and look. You might be surprised by what you see.” another voice hiss

“No”

“No, what, little one?” Marlene asked

“Um, nothing”

“What are you doing?”

Getting mom’s mirror,” I said, my foot on the step stool, “What does it look like?”

“Why?”

“R-r-raven” words escaping with every breath

“Coming, momma”

“R-raven who, who is?-

“Mom, it’s me, your favorite, Marlene.”

“M-Marlene?’

“Yes”

“Where's, where's”-

“Right here, momma.”

A faint smile, tears form in the corner of her dim hazel eyes, cold and clammy fingers are touching my skin. I shudder at her touch, desperate to pull my hands away, but I didn’t. She leans closer to me, gasping for air.

“I, I can’t see.”

“Momma, it’s here, your mirror, it’s in front of you.”

“I, I can see my child.” Icy fingertips are combing through the remaining whisk of silver hair, “I, I’m beautiful. See my luscious thick blonde hair?”

“Yes, mamma, I do.”

“N-no one is as- as?”

“Beautiful as you, momma.”

“Child, I, I g-gone to- to rest.”

“Rest, momma”

“You better put it back,” Marlene said, as though I am a little child.

“You needn't worry. I know what to do.”

***

“A gift for you, my dear sweet Melody,” Derrick Eugene said. His warm embrace pulls me closer to his chest, and I hear the beating of Derrick's heart, relinquishing myself to him. I haven’t known him for long, yet there is something, oh, I don’t know, special about him. The way his eyes look at me as though I am the most beautiful woman in the world.  For the first time, I felt as though I am alive. 

“Penny for your thoughts,” he chuckled, his lips caressing mine, soft and gentle, at first, then passionately, we lost all track of the time. It felt so natural, surreal that after years of longing to be ‘loved,’ I never wanted to leave him. However, nothing can stay the same.

“Mel?” Howard's voice sounding distant, “Are you there?”

“Huh, um y-yes, I, I’m here.”

“I was able to get away from work, and I wanted you to know that I’m on my way to the hotel.’

“What? You’re coming here?”

“Yeah, why?”

“Oh, um, n-nothing, I, um.”

“Mel, what’s going on?”

“Nothing. I look forward to seeing you.”

That was the hardest thing for me to do, telling Derrick that we can’t see each other again. The look of disappointment, oh, I wish I didn’t have to say goodbye to him, but my husband Howard was on his way to my hotel room.

“My sweet Melody, please keep your gift,” kissing me good-bye

I want to say that we had never seen each other again. However, fate has its way of bringing people back together, and our love for each other grew every time we were together. It was not easy for Howard. He never understood my love affair with Derrick. It tore him apart, however. I was happy with Derrick. Yet, there was a small part of me that did love Howard. And it was that part that brought us back together again.

Though at times, I would fantasize what my life would have been if I had stayed with Derrick, However, I have his gift, a beautiful mirror encase with gold, a mirror that in some way captures my soul, the ‘real me”. I find myself transfixed, gazing into the mirror. My reflection is so beautiful. It’s no wonder that both men find me attractive, ‘Who wouldn’t?”

“Mel?”

Yes, Howard, what do you want?”

Dear, little Derrick’s hungry. Can you come down and feed him?”

Can’t you do it? I, um busy right now”

“Mel, what are you doing?”

***

“This stupid thing,” I said,

“What’s the matter, sis?

“I can’t get it back on the nail.”

“Here, let me,” Derrick said

“Thanks”

“So, have you ever gazed at your reflection in the mirror?”

“No,  Why?”

“No reason, just being curious,” Derrick said before ambling out of the room. His simple question left a bland taste in my mouth, There was something behind it, but I didn’t have time to figure out its meaning. My main concern is about momma right now, and I’ll deal with him later.

The shadows from the afternoon started to cascade across my momma’s bed. She is struggling with each intake of breath. It’s the only time I knew when my momma didn’t have something to say. She had always voiced her opinion at one time or another. It pains me that her voice is silent. I long to hear her speak once more.

‘Momma,’ I said, leaning closer, listening to her labored breathing.

Her eyelids flutter for a brief moment, and then she takes her last breath, ‘Oh, momma.” Tears are welling up in my eyes. As I lean over and tenderly kiss her forehead. “She’s gone” those words are more challenging for me to fathom,  An emptiness that I thought I would never experience again, and now all that is left is her mirror.

I stroll over to the mirror, gingerly I lift it down, ‘go ahead look. ' A voice hissed inside my head

I found myself gazing into the polished glass, intrigued with its reflection that the person staring back wasn’t me. The woman in the mirror is the perfect image of Melody, my mother.

Crash, the glass shattered onto the floor, her image broken into tiny pieces, the spell had ended today, the exact day that Melody, my mother, died.