Eyes in the Mirror (13 page)

Watching Over Me

Samara

I paced around my room in circles, trying to figure out what to do. Eventually, when my room started to feel too small, I began pacing around the house: the living room, the kitchen, the dining room, and my dad's empty bedroom, repeating the day that I had spent with Jamie in my head.

I didn't suggest the switch. I didn't force Jamie. It's my fault…of course, it's my fault. But I didn't mean for this to happen. I didn't mean for any of this to happen. What have I done? What is Dee going to do? Is she going to keep it? She can't keep it. What's she going to tell her mom and how?

Her mom will never understand this, that it wasn't the real Dee; she's not going to believe it. There's no way to make her mom understand. Why should Dee have to deal with this? I want to do something; I want to help. But there's nothing I can do. Well, maybe there is. At least I can take over the responsibility of telling Dee's mom and Jamie. It's hardly anything. But I guess it's something.

***

As I looked around Dee's room, I did my best to accept that this might be the last time I saw it. Even when we were arguing, I still believed that Dee and I would make up, that we would be there for each other. But I had screwed up big time, and it would be over after this. After this, I was going to have to stay in my own world.

Even from inside Dee's room I could smell fresh waffles in the kitchen. I opened the door and walked into the kitchen.

“I heard you up and around, so I figured I'd make breakfast. What do you want on your waffles?”

“Umm, oh, umm, I don't know. Whatever you think.” I watched her floating around the kitchen in her ratty blue bathrobe with yellow moons, her hair not done yet, wearing her glasses instead of contacts. “Can you, uh, can you sit down for a minute? I have to tell you something.”

She turned around, and I guess she caught sight of my face and sat down at the table with me without saying anything.

As soon as she sat down, I popped up and started pacing. I couldn't look at her while I told her this.

“I'm not sure…I'm not sure how to tell you this.”

“Just tell me, sweetheart. It's okay. Just tell me.”

“I'm…” I stopped pacing and looked down at the floor, taking a deep breath. “I'm pregnant.”

She pulled her glasses off and ran her hands over her face, rubbing her eyes for a moment and then looking back up at me. “I guess, uh, I guess I wish I was more surprised.” I hadn't realized that Dee's mom knew about what had happened with me and Jamie, but I guess she saw more than I realized. “You weren't careful? Safe? I can't believe that. We've talked about this, Lorna. You should've known.”

I had told myself that at least a dozen times over the course of the last night, asked myself the same questions. I had been on birth control for years, so it hadn't occurred to me to think about the fact that Dee wasn't. I knew that Jamie had been with other girls before, but he seemed to imply that he was clean. I should have asked explicitly. I always did when it was my body. Why was I so stupid with him? So careless with someone else's body? I couldn't believe I had let this happen to Dee. All I could think to say was, “I'm sorry. I didn't plan this.”

“Jamie?” she asked suddenly, looking up at me.

“What? Yes. Yes, of course.”

“Well, I don't know. I don't feel like I know you at all anymore.” She stood up and walked over to the waffle iron, which was now smoking. She pulled the plug out and took the burnt waffle off the iron, stuffing it down the garbage disposal. “I don't know what to say, Lorna. What are we going to do?”

“I'm so sorry, Mom.” I bit back tears as I watched her stomp around the kitchen. “But I really need you.”

“You got yourself into this, Lorna. I don't know what you want from me.” She turned back to the sink, turned on the water, and flipped on the disposal.

“Please listen to me,” I yelled over the disposal. “You once told me everyone has more than one face.”

She continued staring at the wall behind the sink, but she turned off the disposal. “I never told
you
that,” she said quietly.

“This wasn't me that did this. It was my…my other face. My other self. My irresponsible self. The self that I usually contain entirely. But the responsible me, well, I'm trying to fix it.”

I saw her tears falling into the sink, and I was so upset. I couldn't believe I had hurt her this way. I looked at her back. I couldn't believe I had done this to her, to her daughter.

“Please don't turn on me, Mom. I need you now more than ever. Please don't turn your back on me.” I felt myself get quieter and whispered to myself, “You don't know what it's like to not have a mother.”

She turned around and stared at me, furrowing her eyebrows and squinting to see me properly. She ran her hands over her face again and shook her head back and forth. “Neither do you, Lorna?” I almost smiled in spite of myself: she had allowed her voice to go up at the end of her sentence, something she had specifically warned me about the last time I was there.

“And I don't want to.”

She shook her head, but I could see that I had struck home. She walked over and put her arms around me, but I could feel her body still shaking from the news.

“How did this happen? What do you see in him?”

I wasn't sure how to answer that question, so I just pulled up all the things I had been forcing myself to pretend I wasn't thinking. “He's…he's a great guy. He's sweet and caring. And he worries about making me happy and comfortable and…and he loves me, Mom.”

She sighed. “You're sixteen. You really think you can recognize if he loves you or not? He's your first boyfriend. Don't get ahead of yourself.”

“He's not my—” I cut myself off.
He's not mine at all.
I sat there silently for a few minutes. This had been harder than I expected it to be. “If I'm not, umm, if I'm not keeping it, do I still need to tell Jamie?”

“What? Yes, of course. Of course you have to tell him. He doesn't know? You haven't talked to him yet? How long have
you
known?”

“I don't know, a week?” I had no idea how long Dee had known. “But Jamie doesn't know yet. I wanted to…I want to tell him today. I need to get it over with.”

“You want to get the talking to the boy you say you're in love with over with. Okay. Fine. Go. Find him, come back here, and we'll talk. Good, I need some time to think. Tell him that I want to speak to his parents. You two can't deal with this alone.” I looked at her for a moment but didn't move. “Go.”

Without saying anything, I turned and took Dee's coat and walked out the door.

***

I started walking toward the school, realizing that I didn't know where Jamie lived. I remembered the park he had taken me to the first day Dee and I had switched, and when I reached the school, I changed directions and tried to retrace my steps and find the park. There he was, pacing in circles and looking like he was waiting for someone.

I walked toward him. “Jamie!”

“Dee? What's going on? I haven't talked to you in…over a week. You've been avoiding me. Are you okay? Is everything okay? What are you doing in the park in this weather?” I smiled at the thought of Jamie worrying that snow on the ground would somehow hurt Dee.

“Looking for you. And I'm not Dee.”

“Samara? Oh no. Not this shit again,” he said, shaking his head and backing away.

“I swear this will be the last time. Dee asked me to talk to you about something. The time…the time you had sex. Well, it wasn't, umm, it wasn't with Dee. It was with me.”

Jamie stared at me for a moment and then pursed his lips and nodded. “I know.”

“What, you knew? You knew the whole time?” I tried to suppress the little jump in the pit of my stomach.

“I don't know. Maybe. I guess I suspected that day but I was excited. You guys switched back that night though, right? I knew when I saw Dee that night that it wasn't her. Or that it hadn't been her earlier. You know what? This is too complicated. If you're done switching places, if that's all you had to tell me, just go. I don't know what's going on with Dee, and I don't want to talk to you about it. I want to talk to her.”

“It was Dee who asked me to come talk to you. That's not all I had to tell you.”

“What more is there?”

I stared at him, trying to figure out how to say it. Trying to figure out what to do. I didn't want to be responsible for dropping this bomb. “I…I mean, Dee, well, Dee is pregnant.”

Jamie quickly developed a green tinge and spluttered, “You mean, I…we…pregnant?”

We. Hearing him say that made it more real.
We
got Dee pregnant. She had nothing to do with it.
We
got Dee pregnant. I nodded at Jamie.

“I don't understand. How could this happen? It was just one time. We were just…we were just fooling around. It was just one time. When you didn't…I just assumed you were on birth control or something.” We stared at each other, each silently blaming the other for winding up in this mess. For doing this.

“Well, I guess one time really is enough. Listen, here's the thing. I don't know what Dee is going to do, but whatever it is, you need to support her. Let her make the decisions, not you.” Jamie nodded numbly.

“Oh, and her mom wants to talk to your parents.” I was sure he hadn't heard anything I had said after the word “pregnant.” “This is going to be the last time we see each other.” He just stared at me. “Good-bye, Jamie.”

I turned and walked away, leaving him standing in the park, all the color drained from his face and replaced by a light green.

When I got back to Dee's apartment, her mom was asleep. I pulled a blanket over her and wanted desperately to wipe the tears from her face, but I knew it would be better if Dee woke her. I went back into Dee's room and looked in the mirror, where Dee was waiting.

***

The first thing I did when I got home was to sit down at my desk and put my head in my hands
. God,
I thought,
I wish I had a mother like that. Or anyone who cares the way she cares. I know Tanya cares, but a friend just isn't the same thing as a mother. And I need a mother. Or a father. But my father is never going to pay attention. I need someone. Something.
And without thinking, I grabbed a blank piece of stationery.

Dear Mom,

Today I fessed up to a mistake I made. It's hard to explain, but I got a really good friend into a lot of trouble. I wish you had been here to tell me it was the wrong thing to do. It's almost five years later, and I still don't understand how you could leave me to face my teenage years alone. You should have been here to tell me all of the things Dad never told me about being a teenager. He was too afraid all the time, and I wish you had been…I think you should have been here to guide me.

You left me alone, Mom. I'm trying to fix things, but I don't know how. Two nights ago, I sat in my closet for three hours waiting for you to come tell me everything was going to be all right and tempt me out with cookies and a movie. But you weren't coming, were you? Neither was Dad. I know he still loves me, still loves you, but sometimes I wonder if he would notice if I just disappeared altogether. Would you notice? If there is a heaven, and I doubt there is, would you look for me if I got there? Or would it just be another place where I'm all alone all the time?

I need someone to explain what's going on with Dee's baby. Is it mine? I'm not ready to be a mother. God, I still write letters to my own dead mother. What happened? You know what, Mom? If the baby is mine, if Dee asks me to take care of it, I'll never leave it. Not like you. I can be stronger. I would never do to a little baby what you did to me. I'm angry, Mom. I'm tired of being sad. I'm angry. You didn't even think of me when you did this. And I'm mad at you for that. But I need your help. I don't know what to feel. What do I do?

Love,

Samara

I stuffed the letter into a matching butterfly envelope and addressed it, “Mom.” I left the letter on my desk and stared at it for a long time. It was years since I had written to my mother. Part of me missed that. Part of me was embarrassed. I knew she would never read these letters anyway. I opened my dresser and pulled out a lighter, flicked it on and off, and picked up the letter. I stared at the flame and the letter, eventually letting go of the letter and letting it drop back onto my desk. I couldn't bring myself to do it.

Mom, please take this letter. Read it. Help me figure out what to do.
I left the letter on my desk and found a small hand mirror in the closet. I stood it up on my nightstand so that Dee could wake me up if she needed to and then climbed into bed. I tossed and turned for a little while but eventually fell into a deep sleep. I slept better that night than I had in weeks.

When I woke up the next morning, the letter was gone from my desk. I didn't know what had happened. I remembered flicking the lighter on and off, but I was sure I had left it on my desk in the end. I hadn't burned it. There weren't ashes anywhere. I stared at the empty space and looked under my desk, under the piles of stuff, on the floor, and began to wonder…
Did my mom take it? Maybe there really is a heaven; maybe she really is watching over me. No,
I told myself firmly,
no, it just fell or something. I burned it but I forgot. Mom is gone.

So Desperately Wanted

Dee

I looked around Samara's room, waiting. I had nothing to do. I walked in circles, feeling very small. It was hardly a comfort to know I wouldn't be responsible for telling my mom. I wasn't sure if Samara was planning on finding Jamie after she talked to my mom; I hoped so.

I didn't know how I would tell him if I had to. It used to be so easy to talk to Jamie, but it seemed like years ago that I had sat in my bedroom watching him toss a ball up and down and discussing with him how to get Samara to talk to me. It could have been decades since Jamie first suggested the mirror as the location of the alternate universe.

I sat down with my legs crossed in the middle of the room. I didn't belong here. I was stuck in this world where nobody else I knew belonged, where
I
didn't belong. I found myself back in front of the closet door, back in front of the mirror. I looked into the eyes of Samara's reflection for a moment. I remembered when I became curious about my reflection, about the other world, and for the first time I wondered why Jamie had never tried to get through the mirror or even asked about his reflection.

I wanted Jamie to be more curious than he was. I desperately wanted him to question what was happening in Samara's world, what was happening between me and her. But for some reason, since I'd gotten back he hadn't asked me a single question about Samara. Sometimes, he'd let me bring her up, but he never asked anything specific.

I realized then that this would be my last time in her world. I looked down at Samara's arms and legs, trying to memorize everything about her, and smiled in relief when I saw that the scars were healing and there were no new ones to take their places. I stood up slowly and stepped out of Samara's room, closing the door behind me.

I looked around the house. It was just the sort my mom had always wanted. Spacious but homey. It looked lived in, which was funny because I knew neither Samara nor her dad spent much time there. If my mom had this house, she would spend all her time here. Samara's mom seemed to have spent a lot of time here when she was alive, and I wondered if the life of the house still came from her. I wondered if my mom and Samara's mom had ever known each other or thought about each other. If her mom had known she had my mom's dream house.

“Dad?” I called. But of course he wasn't home. I went back into Samara's room to sit and wait in front of the mirror, unsure of how long this would all take. Just as I walked in, a snowball hit her window. I looked desperately around the room, trying to figure out who the girl at the bottom of the window was. I found a picture with the caption,
Tanya and Me
, in a frame on the shelf above her desk. I opened the window and stuck my head out. Tanya was one of the prettiest girls I had ever seen. She was wearing a black coat and a bright blue hat, scarf, and gloves.

“Come out and play with me,” she said.

“Later. I can't right now.”

“No, now. I'm lonely. Come play with me.”

“I'm not dressed yet. Sorry.” It seemed like a reasonable excuse.

“I've got time. Come outside and have a snowball fight.”

“Come back tomorrow. I'm sick. I don't feel well today.”

“That isn't true,” she yelled up, and even from far away I could see she looked hurt. I had tried making Samara friends, and I was told that all I had done was screw things up. I wasn't getting involved again.

“All right, it's not true. But I can't come out right now. I don't want to have a snowball fight. Can you please leave me alone?” I asked. Why should I have to deal with this, given the amount I was going to have to deal with when I got home?

“I thought we had plans. I thought we were going to get dinner and see a movie. If we have a snowball fight now, we'll have time to change before the movie.”

Change into what? I wondered. She didn't have a bag with her. “I just don't want to go out today, okay?”

“Yeah, sure,” she said. “I'll just…leave you to your thoughts.”

I watched as the footprints she'd left while she walked away were covered again by snow swirling in the wind. It took a few minutes, but I realized all of the sudden how cold I was standing by the window and I closed it, shivering. Then I went back over to Samara's closet and sat down to wait. I couldn't imagine what was taking so long.

“Mom, I'm pregnant.” That was all she had to say, and then she'd come back. I would've done it; I just couldn't bear to see the look of angry disappointment that I knew was coming.

I was angry. I was angry at everyone and at no one. I was angry at the whole world for getting me into this mess. It wasn't just Samara or Jamie; I was just angry. The only thing I can remember thinking about as I sat waiting for Samara to come back was my anger and what anger must look like when it pulses through you. I looked at my arms and wondered where the anger was, where it stopped and where it started.

I hated anger, but I didn't know what else to feel so I let it consume me as I waited and waited and waited. I watched my eyes,
Samara's eyes
, in the mirror, wondering where the anger was in my head at that moment.

When she finally came back, the anger was unbearable. “Took you long enough,” I snapped.

“Sorry,” she said looking down. “I told your mom. And Jamie. Your mom said she wasn't surprised. Why wasn't she surprised?”

“That afternoon, Jamie snuck out the window, right?”

“Yeah…” she said.

“Well, she heard him. She told me so. It's the only way I figured out I was supposed to have had sex with Jamie.”

“Oh.” Samara paused for a moment. “I just…I'm so sorry, Dee.

“Yeah, well, you should be.”

“I just…there's something I want to say.” I looked at her and waited for her to continue. “If you decide to, umm, to have it taken care of…if you decide to get an abortion, I'll switch back with you again. I mean, I'll do it. You shouldn't have to. I wish there was more I could do for you.”

I stared at her. I hadn't even really thought about that. I wasn't sure what I wanted to do. “What did Jamie say? It's not just mine or yours, or whatever. It's his too.”

“He said he'd support whatever decision you make.”

“That doesn't sound like him. He usually has his own opinions. It's one of the things I love about him,” I said.

She shrugged and shook her head. “Talk to him about it, I guess. I don't know. He was kind of in shock after I told him, but he seemed like he'd do whatever you want. Oh, and your mom, she wants to meet Jamie's parents and talk to them about it.”

“What? Why? Did you say that was okay?”

“I didn't…” Her eyes got big. “I didn't realize that was bad. I mean, remember, we need adults involved? Remember telling my dad? If you think being pregnant is entirely just…it's no smaller than my cutting was.”

“There
was
someone who knows better involved. My mom.”

“She was the one who said she wanted to talk to them. I didn't suggest it, Dee. Why are you freaking out?”

Why was I freaking out? Because I didn't know what Jamie was thinking? Because I didn't know what his parents would say about me? Would think about me? Because I hardly knew who I was anymore and felt unable to make a good impression on someone else?

“All you were supposed to do was tell my mom. You weren't supposed to make other plans for me.”

“Well, I'm sorry,” she said quietly.

We sat silently and stared at each other. Finally I broke the silence. “Let's just switch back.”

“Fine,” she said. And we stepped into the mirror at the same time and switched back. When we turned around to look at each other, I realized that this might be the last time we would see each other.

“Samara, wait.”

She looked at me, and I could see that her eyes were watery. It took a moment for me to put my hand up to my face and realize that my face was tear-streaked too. What did I want to say? What could I say? The anger had dissipated. Now it was just me and her. Standing and staring at each other.

“Thank you. For everything. Everything is all messed up,” I said. “This isn't what I wanted when I started looking for you. I don't think…I don't know if we're going to see each other again.”

She nodded. “You gave me so much, Dee. I'm sorry for everything.”

At a loss for words, I simply raised my right hand and waved to her. At the exact same moment, Samara raised her left hand and waved back. And with watery smiles to each other, we turned and walked away from our mirrors.

***

I walked out into the living room and saw my mom was asleep. I thought about waking her up, but I decided that it would be easier if she woke up without me and had some time to decompress. I went back into my room and left the door a tiny bit open, waiting for my mom to come in. Wondering what I would say to her when she did.

Finally I heard a tentative knock on the door. My mom came in without waiting for a response.

“Come into the kitchen, please. Dr. Bentley has a few abortion doctors he recommends. I'll ask him, and we'll talk to Dr. Mensin and try to get this done as soon as possible.”

“Abortion?”

“What else are you planning to do? You're not in a position to raise a baby. You have no income. The father is an irresponsible—”

“He is not! He's a great guy!” I felt my anger flare up again. Why was I feeling this way?

“He's a child. You're a child. What are you thinking? You used to be so logical. What happened, Lorna?”

“I can do this. And Jamie will help. I know him. I know he will. What right do you have to say I can't? To decide for me that I
have
to have an abortion? Maybe I want to keep the baby.”

I wasn't sure why I was so angry. Not having the baby really did seem like the best thing to do. But everyone always thought of me as being so young and so incapable. It just didn't seem fair that my mother had decided this without me. It wasn't a question; it was an order. I watched her eyes roll back in her head, and she stared around the kitchen before finally looking back at me.

“Have you thought about this at all?” she asked me. “Have you thought about it even a little? How are you planning on taking care of a baby? You are apparently not even capable of taking care of yourself.”

“What?”

“You're pregnant, Lorna.”

“I didn't do this
to
you, Mom. Of course, I've thought about it.” Actually, I hadn't thought about it. “I'll get a job, and Jamie will get a job. And we can…we can work it out.”

“Does Jamie even know about this grand plan of yours? Does he know you want to have a baby with him? Does he know what that means?”

“We might not have worked out all the details yet…” I trailed off at the end.

She crossed her arms and leaned back and closed her eyes. “Sweetheart, let's stop and think about this. Let's both try to calm down. What did Jamie say when you told him?”

“He was, umm…” Samara hadn't told me. “He was surprised. I'm giving him some time to digest. It's his baby too, you know.”

“I do know. I think I understand that slightly better than you.”

“No, Mom, you don't.” I felt my hand jump to my stomach, feeling for the thing we, the thing Samara and Jamie, had created out of nothingness.

“Did you remember to tell him I want to talk to his parents? They should be involved in this. It's their…grandchild too. Wow. Grandchild. You're making me a grandmother.”

“I'll make sure he understands that.” I paused and she watched me. “I'm tired, Mom. Can I go lie down?”

“Fine. Go. But if you think you're tired now, just wait until you have a baby.”

I walked out of the kitchen without looking back at her.

I lay in bed wondering what I was going to do. Why had I gotten so angry with my mom? She was right, wasn't she? She was always right…but I put my arms around my stomach. I wanted this baby. My baby. Jamie's baby. I thought about how much my mom loved me, and I wanted something to love that way. She was mad at me, and she still loved me. I knew that a baby wasn't a good way to keep a couple together—my parents were proof of that—but I still wondered. I put that idea out of my head.

I wanted to talk to Samara. What had she told him? What had she told my mom? A part of me wanted her advice too. What should I do? I walked over to my closet mirror and saw that Samara was still there. She was sleeping, but I could still get in. I stepped from my bedroom into Samara's and looked at her. She looked so peaceful. I wondered how she could be so peaceful when so much was going on. I took a step back. I didn't want to wake her up because she was done with me. I could tell.

I looked around her room for the last time, and something caught my eye. There was a letter on her desk. I walked over to look at it. “Mom,” it read on the front. I don't know why, but I picked it up and looked at it. I put it in my pocket before walking over to Samara's bed, kissing her forehead, and disappearing back into my own room.

“Dear Mom…” Even knowing how much worse my own situation was, when I finished reading the letter, I still wanted to take Samara in my arms and hold her and rock her and tell her everything would be okay. Just the same way my mother used to do when I had nightmares. But this wasn't Samara's nightmare; this was Samara's life.

My life…it was my life that was ruined. I wished I could bring her mother back, but I couldn't. Between the two moms, they could have figured everything out. What had happened to us? What was happening to our lives? How had we gotten here?

How had everything gotten so out of hand? I'd thought I had a plan. I'd just wanted a friend to talk to. And now…
I'm a pregnant teenager. And Samara just got out of rehab
.