In the Mirror
THe haunt PROJECT IS PRESENTED IN PARTNERSHIP WITH WRITERS SA, AND IS SUPPORTED BY ARTS SOUTH AUSTRALIA.
fiction by Thu Hoang
She stirred awake. The quilt had slipped to the side of the bed, exposing her chest and one arm to the freezing night of the Adelaide Hills. She tugged it up and curled into a foetal position, trying to get warm.
Sighing, she snuggled up to her seven-year-old daughter, breathing in the heart-warming scent of sunlight and baby shampoo on her hair. Lately, there had not been enough time for her daughter. Her job as a software system analyst often required her working after hours, at times on weekends. I need time for her.
It could have been minutes or hours since she had woken up. Another long day ahead. Sleep!
But her cups of tea to get her through the work could not be ignored now. She tapped the touch lamp and wrapped herself in the fleecy dressing gown. Leaving the bedroom door ajar, she made her way down the corridor, guided only by the faint glow diffusing from the bedroom. Passing the large mirror on her way back, she vaguely noticed that her reflection appeared bigger. Taller? Wait! That face! Her breath caught. She blinked and found only soft shadows draping around her own reflection.
She made her way back to bed, her eyes half-closed, feeling as if her feet did not touch the floor. I haven’t seen him for years. She still could not remember when or where she first saw his face. It must have been from a painting—the features are so perfect! Echoes from the voice of her 16-year-old self unlatched a long-forgotten door in her mind, setting free the memory of recurring dreams, where details faded like mist at sunrise, only the impression of the striking face remaining. Her final years at school. Uni and other momentous exams. Break ups. The strange dreams returned more often during her sleep-deprived times; sometimes even during the day, when she thought she had caught glimpses of his face from reflective surfaces. Why now? She curled up under the quilt and found herself walking into a familiar mist.
✷
It was bright and surprisingly warm for a late winter’s day when they went to the Adelaide Zoo that Saturday. Her chirpy daughter skipped around, her excitement at new discoveries continuing on their stroll through the Botanic Gardens.
They stopped by the local library on the way home and lingered until almost closing time. Noticing a smiling face beside hers in the mirror as she helped her daughter put on her coat, she smiled back and turned. Where did he go? She looked down the hallway and glanced back at the exit behind her, catching only gusts of wind blowing in from the street. She could not shake off the strange feeling as they hurried out.
✷
It was her second evening at the crowded bus stop. Her car had broken down and there was still no news from the garage. Shivering in the damp air after another day of heavy rain, she watched in despair as the rows of slow-moving red and yellow lights reflected from rivulets on the sloping street. There was still no sight of the bus. I’ll be picking her up late again.
‘Terrible weather, isn’t it?’ came a man’s voice next to her. The reflection on the watery glass panel at the bus shelter showed a vaguely familiar face.
‘Yeah,’ she nodded, unsure who he was.
Her bus arrived; he stayed behind. On the way home, she recalled seeing that man in the library the other afternoon. She could not shake the feeling that she knew him from somewhere else. She saw him a few more times, once at a café, another at the hairdresser’s and at some local shops.
✷
She was drying her hands in a restroom at the Royal Adelaide Show when he appeared at the door.
‘I’m sorry… the men’s is on the… other side.’ She blushed. What is he doing here?
‘I know. I spotted you at a distance and followed you here.’
The hand dryer was still whirring loudly. Words jumbled in her head and refused to form a simple question.
Unlike his usual self, he was not smiling. There was an intensity in his eyes she had not seen before that sent a heady rush through her. She held her breath in the sudden, charged silence.
Please don’t speak.
He turned and left abruptly.
What have I done? Have I missed something? She was unsure of her part that led to this unexpected encounter. Yet there was an undeniable thrill at his confession, one that she had not felt since her younger days.
Why does he look so familiar?
The door creaked on her way out. What I am I to do when I next see him?
✷
She poured the lavender foaming bath oil under running hot water, inhaling the fragrant steam while the tub was filling, anticipating the knots and tensions in her body melting away. She undressed and surveyed herself in the full-length mirror.
She sighed, seeing outlines of too many bones from her cheek to collar and limbs, but sadly few curves where there should be. She noticed heavier shadows also gathered around her eyes. Got to sleep better! And gain some curves before summer!
Absorbed in her thoughts, she startled when another face appeared next to hers in the mirror. It’s him! She squeaked and grabbed the towel.
‘What are you…’ She swung around furiously.
‘Just … watching you. As usual,’ he said mildly.
‘U … sual?’ Her disbelieved eyes searched his calm face. He nodded.
‘How?’ Her mind whirred. She remembered his sudden exit at the Adelaide Show. Was there any sound when he left?
‘Have you noticed that you’ve only seen me in a mirror?’ he prompted.
Library. Café. Hairdressers’. Bus stop. Restroom.
The strong brows framing the wide eyes on the striking face.
She felt weak as mist lifted from her memories. Not dreams or illusions. He was there! Yet he was only there when she spoke to him. Is he…?
‘You’re right,’ he said simply. ‘I died years ago.’ His voice dropped lower. ‘And I have been following you for a while.’ An anxious look was in his eyes.
She gripped the towel rail. Her mind was in overdrive. Her heart raced. Am I supposed to be frightened? It was more like the thrill before giving herself to the freefall of the bungee jumping. Something heady coursed through her veins.
‘I don’t look like a scary ghost, do I?’
Her breath hitched at his lopsided smile. She laughed, feeling at ease with his banter and the strange sense of familiarity. As if they had known one another for years.
‘Have your bath before it gets cold,’ he gently urged.
His tender look set her heart fluttering. She stepped into the tub and removed the towel as she sank into the warm water. Hiding herself under the soap bubbles, she blushed at the thought of his having seen her bathing and other times … Her body heated up and he smiled as if he was able to read her thoughts.
There was something magnetic about this man and the mystery surrounding him. His serene look only heightened her curiosity. Her heart leapt at his profile as he leaned forward with an amused expression. An exact image resurfaced in her mind. She was on the upper level at the Art Gallery of South Australia, when she caught the reflection of the profile of a man leaning toward the same display she was viewing. She stepped aside to give him room, only to find no one there. I was in Year 12! Like an old string of coloured lights being switched on, scattered memories of unexplained sightings and strange dreams dotted through her younger years flickered to life. It had been eighteen years since the Art Gallery’s encounter.
‘How did we first meet? Why I haven’t I seen you for some time?’
‘It was at the State Library. You were 16.’ A faraway look was in his eyes. ‘You came in with your friends and I followed you out. I kept away when you dated, but you broke up with your boyfriends. Then you married. For some years.’ He sighed and a shade of sorrow dulled his eyes.
‘I went away time and again but nothing helped. Seeing you was enough for me. I’ve never wanted to jeopardise your life. The other night in the library, you seemed stressed and I forgot to hide myself. You didn’t seem frightened, so I risked taking another chance to see you.’
She pushed down the lump in her throat. Something shifted in her. Cracks widened in the solid structure that been holding her together. Its collapse shook her. Her heart was broken for the lonely years he had endured. She had never known such devotion.
They were each lost in their own thoughts.
He stirred. ‘The water must have gone cold. You should go to bed.’
She barely slept that night. The following days passed as if in a dream. She often saw him near mirrors. He seemed happy at times and contemplative at others. Yet there was always a patiently waiting look in his eyes.
✷
The pale strip of sunlight was fading fast in the empty canteen. Shivering, she wrapped her hands around the coffee mug, hoping the hot drink and cold air would help her get through the afternoon slump. She looked up at a sound to find he was there. His reflection seemed kaleidoscopic from pieces of coloured glass on the bar counter.
‘Are you ok?’ His concerned eyes roamed her face.
‘I’m… just a lot of work to get through,’ she whispered.
‘Can you take some days off?’
‘I will soon.’ I need work to not think of you…
‘I’m worried for you,’ he said simply and bent down to kiss her.
She held on to the chair when he let go but there was little strength in her shaking hands. It was as if a sink hole had opened beneath her, knowing she had fallen for someone she could never be with. Her chest was heavy, her mind was light. Her heart sang and cried at the same time.
He dropped on his knees and held her hands. An indescribable look was on his face.
‘Did you… feel me?’ He was breathless.
‘Yes…’ It sounded like a sob.
‘How… after all these years…’ he whispered feverishly.
Incredulity and ecstasy shone in his eyes. For a moment, it dissolved all thoughts from her, leaving her only with the indescribable joy of his kiss.
Voices and footsteps coming down the corridor brought her back to life. My daughter is waiting for me.
‘See you soon,’ he whispered to her parched lips.
He came to her that night. In front of the large mirror, he held her and the world she had known evaporated. When their lips were not enough for what they had for one another, they gave their all to be closer, only to crave more with each touch of their skin. Their whispers and moans gave way to escalating rhythm as the tender exploration grew in fierce urgency. Giving and taking morphed into one and the same gift for each other, when they were fused and incandesced together. She wept as he soothed and memorised her face with his lips, and held her tight until her trembles subsided.
✷
She noticed at times her daughter drew bright and dark pictures, and saw the child move from larger-print books to smaller ones. Yet she did not know what was in any of them, nor did she remember what her daughter had shared about her drawings, her books, or her days at school. In fact, she did not remember when they last had a proper conversation. Her little girl had been occupying herself while her mother was lost in another world.
How long have I been like this? She slumped by the side of her daughter’s bed one night, decimated by the realisation that her coming to kiss the child goodnight must have been in the early hours of the morning, when she could only steal a kiss in the dark or just peer in from the door in exhaustion. The sight of the child’s rumpled bed covered with books and drawing pads spoke of her lonely nights when mum was no longer available for bedtime stories. Her chest racked with sobs, but no tears came to her hot, sandy eyes. For a while now, her days only seemed to begin from night fall, when she could see him.
I haven’t taken her out since the Adelaide Show! She cried into the child’s blanket, wishing she could hug her daughter and do everything her child loved with her. It dawned on her that she had been living in a shadow zone since their first kiss. Her days had since been reduced to to-do lists that she plodded through, to be awakened and alive in the embrace of night. Interactions and faces blurred and faded from her memory. Except for one.
This is no life for us. She snuggled in and hugged her daughter close, smelling the fresh baby shampoo in her hair along with the hot, salty tang in her throat and nose.
✷
He came to her again that night. Unable to contain her turmoil, she clung to him with the desperation of a shipwrecked soul hanging on to a lifeline. His tender touches could not soothe her. His lovemaking delighted and tormented her. She knew it would never be enough for her to endure the years without him after that night. He held her until her frantic heartbeats steadied.
It took all her strength to not beg him to stay.
‘My daughter needs me.’ She was breaking but fought hard to keep all her pieces within. We can’t see each other anymore.
‘It’s for the best.’ His calm voice belied the anguish in his eyes. He lifted her palms to his lips. ‘You both have so much to live for… It’s probably time I went to my final place.’
He cupped her face in his hands. What they had not said or given to each other was now plain on their faces. His face blurred as her mouth quivered. She closed her eyes when his lips stopped on her forehead.
Then he was gone.
She was in a stupor until the morning alarm rang. Joy and grief coalesced into a mass on her chest making it hard to breathe. Drifting through her last day at work before taking her leave, she went to dinner with friends afterwards. Once, her sluggish mind sharpened on catching reflections from a nearby mirror. She searched for the beloved face, until the stream of people and reflections became indistinguishable to her. I’m like a battery-operated toy about to run out of battery. She insisted on ordering another round for her friends; their cheerful company was much more preferable than facing empty mirrors alone at night.
✷
The hours stretched on in suffocating emptiness through her days on leave. Is this what an open tomb feels like? Lying still on the sofa, she watched the hands move on the clock, while lethargy crept from her limbs to her torso. She reached for books from time to time but could not understand what was in any of them. Walking seemed to be the only thing she could do, but she had to avoid most of the local places. Everywhere she went brought back memories of him. Would I have done anything differently?
Longer walks among the hills helped clear her mind. Early morning dew shimmered on broad dark leaves. Slant sheets of sunlight and the sharp eucalyptus scents from a broken branch reawakened her senses. Numbness gradually lifted, and with it, a return of the loss and grief that she had shut away on the night they said goodbye.
I welcomed his love easily then sent him away callously. Her throat constricted and her chest heaved. The path blurred in front of her.
‘Please,’ she gripped a laminated signpost, looking for the beloved reflection. ‘Please… let me see you just… once more,’ she sobbed. I love you.
She took to searching for him everywhere. Her eyes latched on any reflective surface only to find a more frazzled and miserable face than the last time she looked.
✷
‘How do you feel?’ Her mum’s worried face was above hers. A low, curved ceiling was just above her head. She closed her eyes, feeling a gentle rocking motion.
‘Where am I?’ Her muffled voice alerted her to a clear mask on her face.
‘You’re alright,’ her mum said, squeezing her hand. ‘Just on the way for a check-up.’
She was wheeled around for scans and tests at the emergency department. Lying dazed and hollow on the hospital bed, she overheard the nurses’ exchanges that someone had found her unconscious in a storeroom. She was discharged the next day with cautions on dehydration with low-blood pressure. The sad and worried look on her parents’ face was harder to bear. She wanted to reassure them that she was okay, but how could she tell them what had been going on? It would only add to their burdens to know of her inexplicable love affair and her fixation with mirrors since her lover shared what she could not have imagined.
‘Reflective surfaces only bring out my presence,’ he had explained to her, when she wondered why she had only seen his reflection in her youth. ‘Your speaking to me rendered me solid, and your touch brought me to life.’ His eyes misted as their lips met in his fierce embrace.
She had almost been sure of seeing his fleeting reflection in the storeroom mirror that day, but lost track of how long she had waited for him. He must’ve gone to the other side. She focussed all her strength on stopping the tears from coming, while trying to hold a steady image of her daughter’s face in her mind. But the sympathetic howling wind through the hills brought her undone.
✷
Her strength improved after a short break and reduced workload. Spending time on weekends with her daughter and sharing bedtime stories again had helped lessen the irresistible force of the mirrors on her. Yet she soon found herself in the study late at night. It had become a comforting habit when she could not sleep, to whisper to her own reflection by the mirror on the wardrobe’s sliding doors.
One night she fell asleep on the floor. A gentle hand on her shoulder woke her. She blinked at the bright lights and sat up.
‘I was just looking for some paper—’
A sob cut through her hasty explanation when she found it was not her daughter but her lover kneeling beside her. His gentle hands cradled her face as his eyes caressed it. She cried as he hugged her. His lips moved from her hair to her cheek, soothing her as she clung to him.
‘I’m sorry…’
His voice opened the floodgates to the pain and grief that had accumulated since he left.
Please don’t leave me again. She pleaded, her chest and throat tight.
‘I won’t,’ he whispered fiercely, ‘not without you.’
A tremulous smile came to her tear-stained face. He kissed her again and the world disappeared around her. They made love until early morning, when all her pains and sorrows were dissolved.
They met again every night and whenever they could during the day. Despite her still functioning on a few hours’ sleep, her appetite returned and she was often ravenous. The bright spring days brought colours to her cheek and a glow to her complexion. She laughed and joked more often. Her parents and child were delighted to hear her singing again around the house.
✷
‘Please… just a little longer...’
She was crying into his chest, clinging to her lover in what could be their last time together. Waves of pain spread from her chest to her limbs. The exhilaration of their reunion had faded away in the harsh light of reality.
Her anguish and despair tormented him. He had forced himself to keep away, hoping she would be able to find happiness and rebuild the family life that he had robbed from her. But he could no longer watch her falling apart from the shadows. Nor did he know what was the best for her, seeing her wasting away and sinking deeper into a swamp of misery. For some time, there was no light in her eyes except when they met.
‘Would you come with me?’ The question came before he could stop it.
‘Where to?’ Her surprised eyes searched his.
‘To the… other side.’ Her expectant face spurred him on. ‘I once saw a woman bring her little son with her. He was inconsolable at her death.’
‘How…?’
‘They just held hands and stepped into the mirror together.’
Her daughter’s excited face. Fresh scent of baby shampoo and sunlight on her hair. Her mum’s loving eyes. Her dad’s crinkly smiles. Their heart-warming hugs.
Fragrance from the rose garden at night. Candle lights on birthday cakes.
Smells. Images. Sensations.
Heartache flooded through her. Fresh tears came to her eyes.
✷
She felt lighter after that night. Shreds of calmness and clarity began to sprinkle through her days. The murky stream of her mind that had been sweeping her away in its wild currents had steadied. Knowing a possible way out from their impossible love affair had provided an outlet for the relentless pressure of constant fear and grief.
Like the powerful sweeps of a lighthouse’s beacon reaching out to her at sea, watching her parents and child playing together one afternoon reawakened her to the joys and safe harbour she had left behind.
I will make it back to shore. One day.
I will let him sail away to his final place.
✷
Before knowing the possibility that they could be together, she had accepted their inevitable parting. The spark that came with her lover revealing a new path had set aflame a hidden corner of her mind. She thought it had been extinguished, yet the smouldering embers endured. They never mentioned it again, but still caught reflections of its growing flames in each other’s eyes. Mirroring and intensifying each other’s needs, they barely spoke but only made the most of their time together. As the urgency of his departure grew, they could no longer limit themselves to late night meetings in the study, but as often as they could during the day. At times, she unknowingly stepped closer to large mirrors. There was something magnetic about them that she could not resist.
Once she was in a restroom at work for over an hour. Concerned friends checked on her as she returned pale and somewhat unsteady to her desk. She reassured them. I’m not sick. Lovesick, maybe. But nothing is incurable. A smile remained on her dazed face.
✷
Some days later.
‘Sturt Police Station, may I help you?’
Her mum’s frantic final call that night was to report her missing after her message bank was full and none of her friends knew where she was. It was past midnight and the sympathetic officer assured her mum the police would start their search for her in the morning.
They arrived at her work the next day to investigate. They found her car was still in the staff carpark.
In the women’s restroom, they found her handbag and keys in front of the large mirror.
✷✷✷
Dr Thu Hoang is a Vietnamese-Australian writer. An author in Vietnamese, Thu had a collection of short stories titled Người Đi Tìm Bóng Tối (The Seeker of Darkness) and over 60 works published printed journals, anthologies and e-zines. Thu is currently the Short Story Editor for the peer-reviewed Social Alternatives journal.
