Mirror, Mirror

My toenails curl at the sight of her. 

And yet, she’s there, waiting. I can feel her. I’ve covered the hallway mirror with a magenta plaid scarf as a pitiful attempt at sparking joy and self-control. The scarf is now slipping, and the glimmer of some oily inky hair teases me as I try to circumvent her on my way to the kitchen. Instead, I step barefoot on a pen cap, and bounce, rattling a disgruntled shoe bench, causing the sensitive floor to quake, tremors flowing up to the scarf. My feeble line of defense flops to the ground, and all is revealed - a repulsive morass of incompetence. 

Her amber-ringed eyes scrunch up in disgust, thin lips scowling at my stupidity. Of course you left a pen cap on the floor, she hisses, your house is a mess, a pit – landfills have more self–respect. You call this a home?

She scratches at her neck, her grubby chewed fingernails painting red arcs in the wrinkling skin. 

I feebly whisper, eyes cast to the coughing dog-haired carpet, a bygone stab at liberation, Dr. Linda suggested I take it easy on the chores….

EASY? She grimaces, pencil eyebrows piercing a skyful of vitriol, Oh you poor, pathetic child. Will you ever grow up? Running to others for help and your little validations? You’ve really let yourself go. Easy? No, this is undone. No wonder you’re failing at work. Everyone can tell you haven’t finished half of the tasks, constantly flying by the seat of your linty pants. 

I look down at my UNIQLO navy slacks, a little rumpled, a little pilled. I… I don’t have to listen to you…Pat says…

PAT PAT PAT she shrieks, curdling my mind, That’s all he ever does, pat pat pat you on your dreary little head, tells you everyyything is going to be a-ok – LIES! Where has that taken you? A sales associate at a dental marketing agency? Sounds like a wonderful way to spend ETERNITY. And where is this marvelous knight now?

I clench my fists, nerves tingling. PAT’S MINE, then throw the stupid scarf back over her horrid head, and storm into my filthy kitchen.

It’s when my skin tightens after the suds that I hear her again. My hair’s out of place, breath short and shallow, face flushed and sheening. Her soft sibilant whispers wind their way through the threshold and into my thoughts. I slide down the cabinet to the pliant floor, pressing my head against the lip again and again. Noo…no no NO.

And right on cue, she starts. She’s a little muffled, but still slices.

Remember when you broke your bosses’ mug… har-har…pathetic. 

I spring up. STOP.

And then you tried to make a joke about how if you got a raise you could get a new one for her…god, too embarrassing.

I take a pace to the hallway, and waver.

And everyone just stood there agog.

I try to turn around, ignore the itch. 10…9…8…

And you ran away backwards, tripping over your stupid sensible heels, rushing to call Pat like a little baby…

I grit my teeth and take the bait. I dash over the runner and throw the scarf to the floor. SHUT UP.

Oh darling, her wicked eyes gleam, You know I never will.

Remember when you microwaved shrimp curry in the office lounge.

And somebody asked you why you were eating when you hadn’t finished an assignment.

And you went on a spiral to everyone you knew asking if they thought you were fat.

Remember when you thought your client deck presentation was finished but you left three slides blank with the titles “asjfskfj”;“ugh”; “f this.”

And you spilled coffee on your laptop, thinking that would save the day, but they just switched the HDMI cable to another computer and you tried to pretend like it was a Gen Alpha meme-inspired marketing scheme, only to be reminded by Susan of course that the client sold dentures.

Inspiring.

Or that time when you sent in an assignment to the town hall three days late.

And all the “public schools” in the document were spelled “pubic schools.”

And your boss lost her cool, in front of EVERYone, calling you “absent-minded,” with "questionable judgment," BAS-ically irresponsible. A liability.

I shudder, my heart quickens.

See, it’s not just me who thinks this.

It’s everyone. 

Then of course there’s that time with the Reply ALL--

I clench my hands, then shove my face in my palms. I HATE YOU.

Ha, well you should only hate yourself dear. 

You’re the one who keeps doing such silly asinine things.

I spin around, and stare at the framed print of a Chagall painting, the one where he’s soaring through the sky with his wife, arm looped around her past her shoulder and to her waist, the village a distant memory. Pat used to say he’s whisking me away, and I wish he would do so now. But we’ve had a fight, and it’s been two weeks, and I don’t know where to go and how to–

That’s right, the needling returns, this time right under my left ear, never before so close. My skin prickles.

You’re utterly useless, she continues, this time flying to the left. I jump. 

And there’s no one here to help you. A hefty weight befalls my shoulder, and I turn around, confronting a silvery, slick being emerging from the mirror, its left arm attaching like suction cups to my own, the second looping around my waist, both pulling me close. Her soft, squelchy body oozes against mine, singing my body hair, and I try to scream but the oily locks, now a shining morass of mercury, wrap around my face, stuffing my mouth with a bitter, putrid substance. 

You like what you see, my sweet? Her rasping, rattling breath evokes notes of fetid possum and currywurst, and I choke, eyes tearing. Her nose and ears start to morph, elongating into a snout and two drooping ears.

There, there, she brays, You’ve been checking me out for years. It’s about time you accept me. I am you and you are me and this is our fate.

NO! I scream through my eyes.

Only, of course, one of us can prevail. 

Tears stream down my cheeks as her thin lipped mouth contorts, opening up into a massive, swirling inky vortex. The rattling gets louder, a wind whips up, the room starts bleeding into the gaping hole, like a fresh watercolor left in the rain.

Dr. Linda tried her best, bless her heart, Pat fumbled about too, but we all know how hungry we are…

I squirm, try to wriggle free, but I’m locked in place by … my belief in her existence.

AhahaHAHA it’s a little too late for that, don’t you think, silly girl, the creature draws me in closer.

My eyes twitch as I roll through my skills… Check the Facts…Opposite Action…Radical Acceptance…

Alright, go on then. Do your best.

I … uh… Don’t think you’re real. You’re a figment of my imagination. 

The creature grins slyly, barely a ripple in a hair.

Ok…um …uh, it is I who will eat you! I attempt to gnash and swallow the hair stuffed in my mouth, only to have my throat burn and teeth sear in pain.

She’s now laughing, the swirling vortex regurgitating bits of hallway clutter, solemn keys, dejected notes, a wry bench leg, only to be swallowed back down.

Ugh…um… I accept that you exist and I can’t change you and you’re a part of me and I may never feel perfect and adequate and appropriate and that maybe I need to lower my standards and and no not lower I mean ch- ch- chang-

She yawns, the massive hole, eating away at more of her face. She throws her glowing amber eyes deep into mine and I feel the edges of my body erode with each of her inhalations.

Wait… wait….tell Pa–

She suctions her mouth to mine, and with a quiet squelch, I’m gone from your world, into the Mirage, that endless, putrid purgatory. Left to watch you go by, left to reflect what you give.

By the way---Is that what you’re wearing today?