The Girl in the Blue Dress

Colleen opened her eyes suddenly at the sound of a voice behind her.

              “What do you think?” she heard as a mirror was placed in her left hand. The mirror wore signs of age and travel. Its once golden sheen was tarnished and nicked.

              She looked at the shiny surface but did not recognize what was being reflected back. How did she get here? Who was this person in the mirror? She studied the lines across the reflected face, the gray hair. A scar on the left cheek. A cut? A scratch? She wasn’t sure. This woman staring back at her looked a lot like her grandmother, but there was something more familiar, something in the eyes. In her heart, she knew. She knew it was herself she saw, but her brain could not understand. It pained her to look at this reflection.

              “Grandma?” she heard the voice again. “Grandma, what do you think?”

              A young girl appeared beside her. Her hair was golden blonde, full and shiny. Her face radiated with no signs of age. She was smiling, looking for affirmation. The girl looked familiar but like a stranger at the same time.

              “What do I think of what?” Colleen asked, confused.

              Obviously, the wrong question. The girl’s face fell. “Your hair. Do you like the braid?”

              Colleen reached up and touched her French braid. It was well done, the way she had done it as a girl. But who was this girl? Why was she here? Why was Colleen here? The room was so unfamiliar. The walls were drab and dark despite the photographs that had clearly been hung to make it feel homey, but it definitely wasn’t home. It felt cold and distant. She had no memory of it. Her mother would be looking for her. She had chores and homework to do.

              Or did she? The girl had called her Grandma. She felt so lost.

              “Mom?” came another voice. Colleen looked to the other voice. A beautiful woman, probably the mother of the young girl. “Mom, it’s me. It’s Catherine.”

              “Catherine,” Colleen repeated as a warmth rushed over her. “What a beautiful name. My sister’s name is Catherine.”

              “Mom, I know," the woman said.

              Panic struck her. “No,” Colleen said emphatically. Then she yelled at the mirror, louder, “No!” She dropped the mirror on the floor.

              The young girl squealed with fear.

              “I have to go,” Colleen announced. “I have to get home.” She started to get up.

              “Mom, you are home. You live here now,” the other Catherine said.

              Colleen shook her head and opened her mouth to protest, but when she looked down, her hand was full of wrinkles and age spots, a gold band on her ring finger. There was a lifetime written on that hand. It wasn’t just the mirror that told this tale.

              Tears welled in her eyes as the flash of a memory came back. A cat and a truck. The girl in the blue dress. “She died, didn’t she? My baby sister died.” She looked to Catherine for confirmation.

              “Yes, Mom.” Catherine put a loving arm around Colleen and held her tightly. “Aunt Catherine died when you were just girls.”

              Colleen was sobbing now. “I should have kept her safe. It was my job.”

              “There was nothing you could do, Mom. It was an accident.”

              “I could have stopped her. I could have made her stay in the yard. If she hadn’t chased that cat.”

              “It’s okay, Mom. Why don’t you come lie down and get some rest? You’ll feel better after some rest.”

              Colleen nodded as her sobbing settled. The idea of rest sounded good. Maybe she would understand what had happened if she got some rest. She allowed Catherine and the younger girl to help her to the bed. Hee back ached, and her feet moved slowly. It suddenly felt familiar. Had they done this before? Had they had this conversation before? They tucked her gently into bed and kissed her on the cheek.

              “Come on,” Catherine whispered to the younger girl. “We’ll come back tomorrow. Maybe it will be a good day.”

              “I hope so,” came the reply. “It makes me so sad to see Grandma like this.”

              Me, too, thought Colleen, still confused. In moments, she was asleep.

              “Colleen! Colleen! Wake up!”

              Colleen turned over and opened her eyes. She smiled at the sight of her sweet sister who was anxiously shaking her awake. Her sister’s eyes were bright and shining. Her hair, full and blonde, was tied into a big bow atop her head. Colleen glanced around her joyful childhood room. Bright colors on the wall, her dresser in the corner with a familiar, shiny golden hand mirror resting on top.

              “You have been asleep all afternoon! Come play with me.” Catherine urged.

              Colleen looked down at her youthful skin. “Yes, Catherine, let’s go play. I had the strangest dream.”

              Catherine’s face scrunched up. “What kind of dream?”

              Colleen thought back, trying to bring back the memory. “I can’t remember now. How strange.”

              The two girls headed out into the front yard still in their Sunday dresses from church earlier in the day. Immediately, Catherine started hunting for the neighborhood cat, Ollie. She hollered after him as if he would recognize his name.

              Eventually, they found him at the magnolia tree by the road, scratching his tail along the bark.

              “There you are, Ollie!” She ran toward him, but he darted toward the road. “Ollie!”

              Catherine took off after him in her little blue dress. Blue dress. The hair on her arm stood up as a memory or a premonition or something flooded Colleen’s brain, and she sprinted after her cat-chasing sister.

              “Catherine!” she screamed.

              Colleen grabbed the back of Catherine’s blue dress and pulled her back from the curb just as a truck came speeding by. Catherine fell into her arms, knocking them both to the ground. Colleen held her sister tight, catching a glimpse of Ollie staring back at her from the other side of the road.