Escapism

What have I done?

Hands trembling, Clarice made her best attempt at gingerly placing her fork on the table. She scanned the room.

Do they know?

All it took was one bite to realize that something was amiss. Her heart pounded in her chest, clashing with the sounds of cutlery against porcelain plates. Air swirled with the scent of buttery sweet potatoes topped with marshmallow goodness—just like the ones mom used to make.

She had forgotten why she was here and instead allowed herself to get caught up in make-believe plans. She thought she could start over, make a new family, or even steal an existing one. But how could she forget about who was waiting on the other side? How could she forget that she was a mother herself?

Clarice glanced at the small boy to her right. He was not hers—not really hers. The man on her left placed a hand on her shoulder, “Is everything alright, my love?”

Ever so slightly, she turned to face her supposed husband. His eyes felt deeper than the ocean, tempting her out to sea, only for her to inevitably drown once he found out the truth. Maybe she could tell him she’s feeling ill, perhaps he would believe it, even if only for a second—a second was all she needed.

Her feet carried her quicker than her racing mind as she rushed through the restroom door. She needed a mirror. Grappling with her dress, where the seamstress had promised pockets, Clarice reached for what she had kept with her all this time.

She unfurled a roll of tape and haphazardly slapped it onto the bathroom mirror to form a makeshift border. It would only be a matter of time before someone would come to check up on her and find this inexplicable scene. Once Clarice framed the mirror with blue painter’s tape, she gazed at her reflection as it distorted until all that was left was a floating pair of eyes. They stared, narrowing at the sight of her. Clarice pleaded, “Please, please, one last time. I know the next one will be right,”

Despite the mirror’s lack of face, the eyes expressed their exasperation at Clarice’s request. Suddenly, a shadowy hand pierced through the glass, wrapping its fingers around Clarice’s delicate neck. Perhaps this was the final straw. Maybe the tape was growing weary of her requests; after all, she was the one person who had used it the most. A shocked gasp escaped her lips as the hand retracted, dragging her body through the mirror and into complete darkness.

***

Clarice had been a long-time abuser of many things: the tape, painkillers, animals, and worst of all, her child. She neglected him. Left him for dead. The tape knew this all too well as it watched her leave her son behind while promising to find a better mother for him. There had to be a good family for him, just not in this world—not in this lifetime.

She probed through the work bag of her deceased husband. He was what some might call a lawless man. The limits of this earth were nothing to him, and he always yearned for more than what it could ever offer. She knew of his guilty pleasures—of his desire to use the tape. It had been passed down in his family for generations, a secret held closely to their chests. In fact, the only reason she knew of it was by accident.

He had been careless, reckless even, as his hands became used to this sacred routine. He would pull back the coats and heavy knits in the closet to reveal a hidden mirror. He would whisper to it and vanish to an unfamiliar world. She waited on the other side for his return, eager to confront him, only to learn his loyalties lay elsewhere.

A woman bearing his unborn child would wait for him every week to appear from her mirrors in whichever world. The women were everywhere—there was no end. Two of them were Clarice, but her in a different lifetime, raised under other circumstances. Never once had she anticipated that her husband would leave her for an impossibly better version of herself. He rattled on about how each Clarice was considered an upgrade from the one he married in this life.

The world fell away from her. Within months, she succumbed to multiple vices and allowed the sorrow to engulf her. Rather than reaching for the tape, she escaped this world through any other means. She lived in her head, in a fantasy where none of this ever happened. Her little boy deserved better parents than whatever this disappointing duo had to offer.

She sent her husband away—imprisoned him in whichever world of his choosing. From that day onward, she regarded him as dead. However, as penance for his disloyalty, she demanded he leave behind the blue painter’s tape he cherished. From then on, she became no better than the man her husband was. Her escapism expanded to include the shameful tape she so disdained.

***

“Danny, honey, mommy is going to be right back—when I am, I promise I will be a better mommy,”

Danny swallowed and unleashed a deep sigh of dissatisfaction. His mother was never around, whether physically or mentally. He was quite talented at cooking himself a meal by the age of six and feeding mom all her pills by the age of seven. He learned the right way to crush them up and gently dust them like garnish atop her food. He knew the exact time it would take for the meds to kick in and how long he could play video games before his mother was suddenly aware of the world again.

She was too busy dulling her feelings ever to acknowledge his, leaving a shameful hole in his heart.

He didn’t expect her to come back this time. Actually, he had hoped that would be the case. It might be easier, he thought, to abandon these duties that he figured were normal, only to find out his friends’ mothers were nothing alike.

As most children in his situation did, he wished to accelerate his childhood, to stunt its harmful impact. He craved meeting the adult version of himself who could take care of him and offer the love he deserved. Danny expressed this sentiment to the mirror after witnessing his mother jump into another world, leaving him to fend for himself.

***

Clarice woke up with a start. She found herself lying on top of a heap of garbage—so the tape has a sense of humor, she thought.

“Are you alright?”

She knew this voice.

She abruptly sat up only to be met face-to-face with herself. This version of her spoke tenderly, brimmed with empathy, and carried herself gracefully.

Maybe this was the world she was looking for. This woman could be the new mother who would right the wrongs in Danny’s life—one of them being herself.

Behind her, Clarice swiftly cut her hand on a jagged piece of broken glass and made a scene of her injury. Her sweet-natured doppelgänger expressed worry, insisting they rush to the hospital. This was it, everything was going as it should. If this version of her were all she hoped for, they would switch lives. Finally, her son could have a better mom.

***

The tape was not as cruel as those who wielded it. Those hollow eyes in the mirror studied the abandoned boy with pity, contemplating its next move.

Danny watched as a murky figure outstretched its fingers, its hand waving, persuading him to follow. The tape captured his pleas; now all that remained was for Danny to walk through the mirror.

After all, he was just a boy. He was a boy whose curiosity had not yet died and who was unafraid of what more could be waiting for him. He took hold of the hand without looking back at what little he was leaving behind.

Immediately after Danny entered the mirror, it flashed and spit out a familiar face. Clarice, or the version of Clarice that Danny’s mother had sent, blinked in disbelief. Her tender voice shook with horror as she soaked up her surroundings. She plopped into what appeared to be her home—disguised by unfamiliar furniture and a foreign emptiness. She had been displaced and utterly alone.

***

Clarice focused on her newly sutured hand. This was the right choice. The same hand had just shoved the unsuspecting, more wholesome Clarice through the mirror, flinging her into what used to be Clarice’s original world.

Please take care of Danny for me.

As if to exude its disgust, the mirror splintered and scattered across the floor. Clarice gripped the tape roll tightly; it did not have to approve of her, it just had to do as she intended.

A more enchanting version of her home came into view as she exited the hospital and rounded the corner. For such a modest woman, this home was anything but. Perhaps her husband in this life had finer tastes but appreciated a more modest woman. Great.

She fiddled with the door handle only to find it unlocked—guess sweet little Clarice was not expecting to be away from home too long.

As she stealthily entered her new home, Clarice felt a hand brush against her stomach.

“Honey, where have you been?”

The hot breath of her assumed husband tickled her neck. He laced his fingers together at the small of her back after twirling her to face him. Eagerly, he attempted to close the space between them with a kiss, only to be met with Clarice’s palm.

Something about this husband was unsettling.

He stroked his knuckles against her temple while lovingly asking what was wrong. Skirting around the question, Clarice responded with “Oh, just not feeling too well. Took a bit of a tumble,” she flashed her injured hand, "Where is Danny? Maybe he can kiss it all better,” she winked, presuming the other Clarice would recite something along these same lines.

The man stiffened, eyes bewildered. Together, they stood in limbo as the silence mingled between them, waiting on bated breath for someone to break it. A forced laugh of disbelief parted from the man’s lips.

“Where is my Clarice? What the fuck are you doing here instead? What did you do to her?”

Sure, she was a bad mother, but even bad mothers thought about their sons—especially at the worst of times. Her trainwreck of thoughts came to a screeching halt as Clarice spotted a small figure hiding near the doorway.

“Daniella, go back upstairs this instant. Daddy will be right there,” the man bellowed.

Oh, they have a daughter, not a son.

The fiery disdain in his eyes left no question—this was not a new husband, rather, it was the same one she branded dead many moons ago.

“Give me back my tape and my wife,” he insisted, anger blazing.

***

A sugary, earthy aroma brought Danny to his senses. Sweet potatoes.

He grew tremendously hopeful that his eyes would open and gaze upon his dearly missed grandmother. The same grandmother who had adoringly fed his mother, hoping that somehow the sweet potatoes would make her daughter sweeter. Instead, Danny choked on disappointment as he jolted at the sight of a grown man in desperate need of a shave.

They were both seated at a table, freshly roasted sweet potatoes adorning the center like a vase of flowers.

“You want more, kiddo?”

The mirror behind the strange man had already reverted to its usual self, leaving Danny alone in this new world. Carefully, the man plucked one of the steaming potatoes and placed it on Danny’s plate with a smile.

He could see it now. The man’s facial features vaguely resembled his own, but with smile lines etched on either side of his mouth. Whoever this man was, he was happy.

“Thank you,” whispered Danny, unsure if this was meant for the tape or for who he suspected was the older version of himself sitting across the table.