I was jittery as an eighth cup of coffee. Third date. Time to reveal myself. I was falling for Tina and hoped it would go far better than it had with Aviana. I’d bought a shirt with a single pocket on the left breast for the occasion.
As I dressed, I thought back to when my parents first pointed out how I was different. That was nearly 25 years ago, but I remembered like it was yesterday. My folks had me stand in front of a mirror with Dad beside me. I didn’t notice anything at first. Dad raised his right hand. Mom told me to do the same. Then I saw.
Being little, I thought it was pretty cool. But knowing how cruel kids could be, my folks instructed me on what not to do when I started school in a few days. The restroom, they said, could be especially tricky. They were also careful about the clothes they picked out for me.
Nobody noticed the strange thing about me till I fell in love with Jenny Johnson in third grade. One day after school, she and I snuck off to Nichols Department Store. We found a deserted corner in the women’s clothing section, and I showed her. She said it made her like me even more and promised not to tell a soul. A few months later, she moved away, taking a piece of my puppy heart with her.
The other time I disclosed myself by accident. I got careless combing my hair in the boys’ room at Finkle Middle School, and little rat Bobby Jenkins noticed. He threatened to blab to everyone if I didn’t give him my lunch money every day. I did for a week before deciding to take advantage of being twice his size. I wouldn’t really have sat on his chest and rubbed dirt in his face, but he didn’t know that.
Caution became second nature as wearing only shirts with no pockets or two pockets. And I was careful of my hand motions in any public rest room.
#
There was no way to predict Tina’s reaction. When I’d shown Susan last year, she didn’t think it was a big deal. At first. But the more she thought about it, the more she had questions I couldn’t answer. We broke up by year’s end.
Aviana was different. She freaked immediately. I had to get a paper bag for her to breathe into. When she finally could talk, she accused me of being from another planet. It was the last time I ever saw her. I’m sure she told her friends. At least she hasn’t brought anybody around to see the “freak from Mars.”
#
Tina and I had a nice dinner. I was captivated by the candlelight reflected in her eyes. When she agreed to come back to my apartment, my heartbeat kicked up a notch.
Shortly after we arrived at my place, I asked her to come into the bedroom.
She arched her eyebrows. “You move fast.” She put her arms around my neck and began swaying. “Let’s dance awhile first.” I held her close and began easing us toward the living room mirror. It wasn’t full length like the one in the bedroom, but would do.
As we made our way, I told Tina about my great-great-great Grandpa Dillon. After Aviana, I wanted to establish my earthly origins. I explained that, according to family lore, Grandpa had accidentally set up camp in Iroquois territory. He was kneeling at a pond trimming his beard when a brave snuck up intent on giving Gramps a closer shave than he ever wanted. But the brave, when he looked over Grandpa’s shoulder and into the water, screamed and ran away.
Tina nibbled my ear. “Well, that’s fortunate for Grandpa,” she whispered “and you, too, for that matter. But what’s it got to do with —”
“Look.” We were at the mirror. I stood in front of it. I wondered if Tina noticed the shirt pocket on my left breast was also on my reflection’s left side. Tina was silent. What was she thinking? The blood pulsed in my ears. I raised my left hand. My unreversed reflection raised its left.
Tina gasped. I wondered if I had any paper bags. “My God,” she said. “I’m so relieved.” She nudged me aside and stepped in front of the mirror. After a delay of about a second, her reflection appeared. She turned around in a circle. As she finished, her image began its pirouette.
I was thrilled. “You have a strange reflection, too!”
She took a little bow, her image just starting to dip as her real head came back up. It was a little dizzying, but I loved it. “You call it strange?” she said. “In my family we call it magical.”
Tina went on to tell me about her Uncle William. His reflection was in the future. Not just by a second as Tina’s was in the past, but by a couple of years. One day, when he was in his forties, he was about to shave, and his image wasn’t in the mirror. Although it was a terrible shock, he at least had time to get his affairs in order.
The story about Tina’s uncle was a downer, but the rest of the night was wonderful. So were the following months.
#
And the next two years. Tina and I are expecting our first, a girl, any day. We have no idea if her reflection will be unreversed like mine, delayed like Tina’s or normal. I suppose it could even be upside down. Whatever it is, we’ll encourage her to be open about it. That might make her life more challenging sometimes, but we know she’ll be stronger and happier. Anyway, we’ll have plenty of time to prepare her before she starts school.
#
Update: Lilly is a beautiful baby, and, the doctors keep reassuring us, healthy. But her reflection…She doesn’t have one.
—
David Henson and his wife have lived in Belgium and Hong Kong over the years and now reside in Peoria, Illinois. His work has been nominated for a Best of the Net and has appeared in numerous print and online journals including Theme of Absence, Gravel, Moonpark Review, Bull and Cross, Lost Balloon, The Fiction Pool and Literally Stories. His website is http://writings217.wordpress.com. His Twitter is @annalou8.
Good story, David. Very likable characters with nice use of dialog.
Thank you, Roy.