Mirror Image

CW: Psychological horror

Mirror Image

When Hailey invited Susan to a Halloween party, Susan’s first impulse was to decline. She barely knew the woman—they’d only met once, at a bookstore, where they’d been browsing in the same aisle. They’d struck up a conversation, discovering both were fans of Louise Penny’s Three Pines mysteries. Hailey handed Susan her business card, which contained just her name, Hailey DeMarco, her phone number, and a small drawing of a butterfly.

Susan hesitated when Hailey asked for her phone number, but she hated to seem unfriendly, so she scribbled it on the back of a crumpled CVS receipt. Then she made up a dentist’s appointment and scurried for the door.

“Let’s keep in touch!” Hailey called. Susan forced a smile and waved before escaping to the sidewalk. She had no intention of keeping in touch.

I’m not antisocial, she thought later. Well, maybe a little. She just didn’t feel comfortable in social situations, not yet, not since her breakup with David. They’d been married only two years when he’d asked for a divorce, saying “This isn’t how I want to live the rest of my life.” She’d been blindsided. He’d moved out the next day and blocked her and her family on social media. She’d finally asked an out-of-town friend to snoop on him on Instagram and discovered he’d moved to Hawaii and married a man. Well, that explained a lot of things.

This revelation made Susan question her grip on reality. It made her very, very cautious about forming new relationships, even with women. On the other hand, she worried she was becoming a recluse. She couldn’t stay home tutoring kids in English and reading mystery novels for the rest of her life. At age thirty-two, she was becoming one of those sad, solitary women who nibble the ends of bread and open tins instead of cooking, like characters in a Barbara Pym novel. Susan rolled her eyes at this idea. She didn’t live in the Cotswold’s; she lived in Pennsylvania, where people ate cheesesteaks and no one opened “tins.”

She was wrestling with these thoughts when Hailey texted the Halloween party invitation. Of course she wouldn’t go. Except, the party was in an exclusive private club in a renovated bank building, and Susan was dying to peek inside. She’d heard it was luxurious, furnished in Art Deco style. This might be her only chance to get a look.

Over the next few days, Susan decided to go to the party, then decided not to, even making a list of pros and cons. Exhausted from over thinking, she resolved to just go and get it over with. Annoyingly, it was a costume party. She and David had gone to one of those early in their relationship. He’d decided they should dress as each other, him as a woman and her as a man. In hindsight, probably a red flag.

Halloween night, Susan found herself standing in front of the tall, glass-and-brass door of the private club, dressed as Lucille Ball in “I Love Lucy.” She’d been tempted to just throw a sheet over her head and go as a ghost, but then she’d rummaged through a trunk of her mother’s costumes from years ago, when she’d acted with a community theater company. She’d come across a red wig, false eyelashes, and a blue-and-white polka dot dress and thought, why not? When she looked in the mirror, the reflection was jarring. Lucy looked back at her, and so did her mother. She lived in a retirement community in Florida now, and Susan missed her.

But now that she was in front of the door, Susan’s insecurities all came rushing back. She was turning to make a run for it when the door swung open and Hailey stood there with a big smile on her face, dressed in a wedding gown and veil. “Welcome to the party!” she yelled, grabbing Susan’s arm, pulling her inside, and slamming the door. “Love your costume!”

Trapped, Susan mumbled a greeting. The interior was lit by the glow of a hundred candles, and costumed people moved about in the shadows. Disoriented, Susan took in her surroundings: couches and chairs with curved arms and backs, marble-topped tables, a vaulted ceiling, giant bouquets of flowers, a white grand piano. It was too much to comprehend at once, especially in the semi-darkness.

“Wait till you meet the other guests!” Hailey said, leading her to the middle of the room. Susan felt a drink in her hand. Where did that come from? Even though she hadn’t had a sip, she felt lightheaded. But when she lifted the fluted glass to her lips, it was empty. What?

Hailey’s arm circled Susan’s waist, and she announced, “I want you all to meet our guest of honor: Susan Reynolds!”

Guest of honor? What in hell? That’s when Susan noticed that the guests’ faces were covered with masks on a stick, and each mask had a face on the front. There was something familiar about the mask faces, but Susan couldn’t quite pinpoint what it was until one of the guests stood right in front of her. She was dressed in jodhpurs, high boots, and a hard hat.

“I used to be a good rider, a horse lover, but I lost interest when I got to high school,” the person said in a girlish voice. The face on the mask was Susan’s fifth grade class photo.

Susan gasped and dropped the glass she was holding. It shattered on the floor and she staggered and stepped on it, but no one seemed to notice. Hailey grabbed her arm and steadied her. “Time to meet another guest,” she said, leading a stunned Susan to a woman perched on a white, fan-backed chair. She was wearing a long, pink, ruffled dress and had a wrist corsage of white carnations.

“I wanted to be prom queen, but my best friend got it instead. I never forgave her, and we lost touch after high school,” the woman said, holding a mask adorned with Susan’s seventeen-year-old face.

Susan’s head swam and she felt bile rise in her throat. Before she could say or do anything, Hailey dragged her to a guest standing by the piano. She was dressed in jeans and a Penn State sweatshirt, holding a mask that Susan recognized as her college-age self.

“I wanted to major in journalism, but my parents convinced me to get a teaching degree instead. I taught English and hated it,” the woman said.

Susan choked back a sob. She yanked her arm away from Hailey. “Why are you all doing this to me? Who are you?” She swiveled her head in panic, looking for a way out, but Hailey grabbed both her arms and faced her. For the first time, Susan realized that Hailey’s costume was the vintage-style wedding gown she’d worn when she married David. Hailey lifted her mask to her face and Susan saw herself mirrored there. She gasped.

“Why did I marry David when I knew deep down he was wrong for me? All my friends warned me. Why didn’t I listen?” Hailey said.

Susan finally found her voice. “I loved him!” she screamed. “How could he do that to me? He ruined my life!”

The rest of the guests drifted from the shadows, forming a circle around Susan. She recognized her face on a dozen masks, all different ages, some much older. “I wish I’d had a baby but now it’s too late,” her fortyish self lamented. A gray-haired, fiftyish version of herself bemoaned, “I want to write a book but I don’t know where to start.” An elderly version with white hair, using a walker, cried, “I thought I had so much time, but now I don’t.”

Then the crowd parted and Susan saw an ancient woman lying in casket. When the woman started to sit up, Susan screamed and bolted for the door. As she ran into the street, she heard the guests’ raucous laughter from inside.

Susan jolted awake, heart pounding, head throbbing, mouth like sandpaper. In a panic, she glanced around and realized with relief that she was in her bedroom. What a terrible nightmare! She never should have taken melatonin—sometimes it gave her vivid dreams. Pressing cold fingers to her forehead, she slowly climbed out of bed and stumbled to the bathroom, kicking a pile of clothes out of the way.

A blue-and-white polka dot dress, a red wig, and a stick mask with no face.