Mirror

A film project with a friend

The sound of rushing water was the first thing he heard. It caught him off guard, loud and insistent and intrusive.  He frowned, looking at his grizzled visage in the mirror and wondered just how he got here. Not here, as in this point in his life, but the bathroom. He didn't remember getting up out of bed, putting on clothes, any of it. Yet here he stood, clad in long flannel pants and a white undershirt that had perhaps seen too many sunrises, gazing at himself.  I was dreaming again, he recalled as he watched the steam rise from the collecting water in his sink basin. The dreams were painful and whereas a normal dream dissipated much like the water vapor swirling over his sink mirror,  this one lingered.

A bright, crisp day, the last of a fading summer threatening a chilly fall. Wind played with fallen leaves as he raced through the park. He'd jogged this trail several times before, learning every curve, every hidden hill, mastering the trail while improving his time and form. Two miles in ten minutes, a personal best but he knew he could do it. Just stay focused, push, push.....he urged himself harder onward and picked up his pace. His feet catching those billowing leaves as he thundered ahead. He couldn't worry about anything else, just stick to this personal goal. The last hill was just before him, the last and largest of all that were on this path. It dominated his forward view as his swift steps brought him closer to the base. It was the biggest hurdle to his time. So steep, one misstep could send him cascading down it, and too slow a pace and he would miss his mark. 

A shift in the wind brought the scent of perfume to his nose, pleasantly floral and intense. He let his eyes drift slightly just to catch where the scent was coming from, and was surprised to see a woman running beside him. He hadn't heard her overtaking him as he focused on every step he took, but now here she was keeping stride with him. She startled him and he felt his feet jumble, his footing lost on an errant leaf, and down he went. It was a spectacular tumble. All poise and grace of a practiced runner and athlete gone as his body flopped down the hill. He skid to a halt and lay prone on the ground, chest heaving as the air his lungs greedily craved ravenously filled him. Stunned, he lay there as the pain from his fall radiated throughout his body, not quite diminishing the pain he felt for missing his goal.

"Can you hear me? Are you alright?" He stared at her as she tended to him. The warmth of her touch was welcome against his face even though he was hot and slick with sweat. She didn't seem to care, her eyes locked on his for a moment before she looked him over.

"I'm so careless, I shouldn't have snuck up on you like that. I've just seen you running here, wanted to meet you. You seem so focused. Now look..." She pulled a small pack from a pocket on her vest. The scent of her perfume and his sweat were cleansed from his nose as the distinctive odor of antiseptic assaulted him.

"I'm fine," He said gruffly as he tried to sit up.

"You have some cuts, your lip is bleeding pretty bad. Just let me help, please," Her soft plea and calming demeanor caused him to ease up. No sense in rushing things, if this beautiful woman wanted to take care of him.

She'd gone with him to the hospital, watched as he got stitches, and apologized all along the way. It would have been annoying had she not been so sincere and endearing, and it certainly helped that her eyes were made all the more alluring when she smiled. She helped him home and forced him to take her number, a more forthright woman he'd never encountered. And as he gingerly tucked himself into bed he found his last thoughts were of her.

But now here he was in his bathroom. He leaned in close to the mirror and rubbed his face, his hand caressing a faint scar on his chin from his ill-fated fall. He smiled then as he touched it, remembered the dull pain as the last stitch was removed from his face all those months ago, and thought of her again.

This time his mind wandered to a party with friends. It was several more months since their first meeting; their relationship now calm and comfortable. Her hand laced his as they wove through the party saying hello to everyone. Laughing and smiling they made their way from one group to another. They parted at times, her laughing and excitedly talking with her friends while he kicked back and caught up with his. Their eyes would meet occasionally across the room, knowing glances shared between them. He loved when she looked at him like that. When the low lighting would shine off her brilliant ebony skin, her hair kissing her shoulders, and while to everyone else her body language just said "I'm happy," he could catch her eye and know she was happy....with him. That made his chest swell, made him proud and he reclined back in his chair and half listened to his friends talk sports while he continued to watch his lovely woman.

And now he leaned forward and stared at his eyes in the mirror. Blurry at first, once closer he saw the angry red crags of veins which proved how fitful sleep was for him. Perhaps that's why his dreams were so vivid. He'd read somewhere that sometimes in the last few moments of sleep things seemed more clear in dreams. Trying to clear his mind he leaned down to the sink and splashed the running water on his face. Just the feel of the water on his face was refreshing. Warm and relaxing, he shrugged his shoulders and grabbed his toothbrush. He'd used the same brand of toothpaste for years, a habit built on top of a phobia from childhood about mixing toothpastes. He couldn't be certain, but he believed that whenever he did so it weakened his teeth. He brushed carefully, methodically, cleaning his mouth and attempting to scrub the bitterness of the memories from his mind. But it wasn't an easy task. It was hard to think that someone he felt so intensely for was now no longer a part of his life.

As he brushed his teeth he felt the pain of missing her. So sensitive and caring, she added a warmth to his life that he hadn't found anywhere else. Even as he listened to the sound of the bristles against his teeth he was struck by the silence of his apartment.  He missed the sound of her in the other room, getting dressed or listening to her favorite podcast. He missed the delicious aromas of the English Breakfast she swore by before running in the morning.  He missed the scent of the perfume she wore, regardless of what she was doing, and how the scent lingered in whatever room she walked through.

Another brief memory flash, a time in which they had argued about it. A silly argument about perfume that was more about hurting one another than any actual issue.

"It just bothers me. It gets in my nose, on my clothes, and just lingers.  I smell it all day and so do my friends."  He told her.

"So you have a problem with it now? You used to like it." She countered

"Just sayin. It's everywhere. Maybe you could not wear so much. Or maybe so often."

"Why? Don't want other people smelling me on you? Want to pretend that you are single?" A simple baited statement, and he knew it.  They argued some more, she now changing the subject from perfume to accusations of infidelity. It was clear she was baiting him, and rather than avoid it he let the argument continue. He didn't confirm or deny, instead he played the game and let her hysterics carry her right out of his life.

He grabbed the cup on the sink and rinsed his mouth. Sighing, he splashed cold water on his face.  He remembered that day she left, coming home one overcast day in June to find her standing in the kitchen with her bags already packed. She told him she was leaving, that she was done with his cold distance, his cheating, all of it. He didn't stop her, didn't put up a fight or point out that he'd never cheated on her. He just stood aside and let her go.

Now, as he stared at his face in the mirror, he saw a man haunted by regret. What was the point of your pride if you were always alone because of it. Compromise was at the heart of any relationship, and now that he was alone.  He'd gone from loving her to wanting peace away from her. Now all he had was an empty apartment. There was no laughter in the other room. No smell of breakfast from the kitchen. No enticing lingerie strewn across the bed. No sweet perfume scent indicating she was nearby.

Turning off the light, he left the bathroom.