plink

The mirror showed a reflection that wasn't my own. Twisted and drawn, the woman's features sunk into her sallow skin like blueberries in pancake batter. The pitiful sight of her slight frame against the faded busy wallpaper amplified her defeated air, small as she appeared in her tattered, oversized housecoat. Ignoring the screams of my better judgement, I leaned in closer to stare into her cavernous eyes, searching for some sign of life. She mimicked the movement, staring back vapidly. I felt the hairs on my neck stand up as a tepid, stagnant breeze wafted over me. The woman wrinkled her nose and recoiled. "I'm losing my mind" I mused, turning to exit the bathroom. I crossed the hall and made to descend the staircase, pausing knowingly to brush a stray piece of Lego aside before setting my foot on the top step. Halfway down, I heard a faint set of footprints approaching the top of the stairs. "You'd better be planning on cleaning these up on your way down!" I called back. Rounding the corner to enter the dining room, I heard the tiny piece of plastic ricochet from the wall to the floor.

Plink.

"That doesn't count!" I retorted playfully.

"Who are you talking to?"

Myra was helping our eldest construct an impressive tower of pancakes on her plate. One of her eyebrows raised, slightly, as it always did when she was confused. It took everything in me not to mention it. She'd only try to hide it if I did. Myra had always felt insecure about her quirks. She knew I loved every one of them, but that didn't stop her from wincing whenever I pointed one out.

"Lou's been playing architect on the stairs again" I grumbled, crossing the room and wrapping my arms around her.

"Our little Norma Sklarek" she replied.

She turned to kiss me as I took the frying pan out of her hands and set it on a plate warmer.

"Lou's outside" Holly quipped, pulling a face and averting her eyes.

Myra rubbed the space between my eyebrows.

"You get this little crease right here when you're confused".

She kissed me on the forehead. I barely noticed.

The sound of the patio door slamming shut broke the spell. Straining through the residual fog, I could hear Louise goading the dog around the kitchen island in a lawless game of hide-and-seek tag. Drifting towards the doorway, the words "Tell her breakfast's ready" slid through one ear and out the other. Before I could enter the kitchen, Louise and Rhonda barrelled past me haphazardly and skidded to a messy pitstop under the dining room table. Myra lowered an over-laden plate into Lou's line of vision, raising it slowly back to its rightful place. Lou released Rhonda from a headlock and crept eagerly after it into her chair, where she proceeded to glob an obscene amount of butter onto her pancakes, slathering it liberally onto each one. I gravitated back to the bottom of the stairwell and picked up the Lego piece to stare at it in bemusement. Then I looked to the top of the stairs. I wasn't sure what I expected to see, but it was puzzlingly underwhelming. Pocketing the toy, I returned to the table and took my seat as Myra poured coffee. The smell stirred something in me, and I felt myself centre a little as I lifted the mug to my lips and sipped gratefully.

The rest of the day was a blur. By the time Myra got home with the kids, I had scrubbed the whole house from top to bottom. The state of that woman's walls had made me painfully aware of all the things on my side of the mirror which desperately needed cleaning. The moment I began the first task, hyperfixation took over. I spiralled from room to room like the Tasmanian Devil and Felix Unger's love child, only snapping out of it at the sound of Myra's keys in the door. Alarmed, I bolted to the kitchen to check the time as she shoo'd the dog away from the door. 6pm. Shit. It was my turn to make dinner. I cranked the oven and fumbled desperately through the freezer, retrieving a vegan lasagna. I tossed it in the oven as the girls thundered upstairs. Myra shouted after them to keep the dog off the beds; they wouldn't. I'd begun panic-chopping a head of lettuce when she entered the kitchen, turning the oven down to a plausible 425 before putting her arms around me.

"The place looks nice" she murmured into my hair. I let myself sink back into her, embracing a sense of calm that I hadn't felt all day.

The silence was broken by Louise and Rhonda clamouring around on the floor. "Do you really have to do that in here?" I sighed.

"Do what?"

I looked at my wife incredulously before motioning to the vacant floor.

"...Oh"

"Are you ok?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I just..."

I was just tired.

I just wasn't hungry.

I just had to be up early.

I just wasn't in the mood.

I just needed space.

I woke up freezing.

My lower back hurt from where my hip had sunk between the couch cushions. I pulled my blanket tighter around me and curled up in the fetal position. The landing creaked. One of the kids was out of bed. I shut my eyes tightly and pretended to be asleep.

Plink.

My eyes squeezed tighter. My knees wrestled themselves further under my chin. I lay there, unmoving, for hours. Steadily, the room grew lighter. The sound of birdsong roused the dog, who refused to be fooled by my charade. Fresh air would probably do me good, I relented. We took the scenic route.

When we returned, the house was still. Rhonda took my place on the couch as if she didn't know better, glaring at me with dog-tired indignation when I tried to shoo her off. Our outing must have really taken it out of her. I conceded out of guilt, and turned towards the staircase. Reaching the bottom, I jolted upward, grabbing my foot in pained vexation while I held my breath to avoid crying out.

Plink.

I glowered at the accursed toy before kicking it under the sofa and ascending the stairs.

Myra wasn't in bed. We must've been gone longer than I thought. No wonder Rhon was tuckered. I crossed the landing. The girls must already be up, too. How had I not heard them? I made my way back downstairs and ventured into the kitchen. It was empty. Really empty. Where was the espresso machine? I felt the temperature rise in my cheeks as I reentered the living room. Was anything else missing? Had we been the victims of a robbery? Kidnapping? I froze, bewildered, my eyes resting on the mantle. A set of three decorative jars had replaced Myra's ceramics collection. Under different circumstances, I would've felt victorious. How long had they been there? Why had I not noticed them? She had taken the girls to the flea market last weekend... Had I been in such a haze while cleaning I had dusted right over them? I moved to the dining room, anxiety spiking.

"Myra?"

Nothing. I headed for the stairs, scaling them in a panic. On reaching the top, I turned to face the bathroom. The shadows of footfall broke the beam of light emanating from the crack under the door, bludgeoning me with instant relief. The feeling subsided immediately with the realization that whomever had raided the kitchen might still be inside the house. I tiptoed gingerly to the bathroom door and listened. It was silent. I knocked hesitantly.

"Babe?"

No response. I knocked again, turning the handle slowly.

"Myra?"

Nothing.

I braced myself, swung the door open, and entered. The room was empty. I stood, dumbfounded, staring at the mouldy, bleach-stained shower curtain. My straining eyes strayed over to the window. In a more grounded state I might've felt my brow furrow. The curtains were drawn. Why did it feel so dreary in here? Dread anchored in my stomach. I pivoted, draggingly slowly, and hobbled my painstaking way to the sink, keeping my eyes fixed firmly on the floor in a pathetic attempt to delay the confirmation of my greatest fears. Arriving at my destination, I felt as if the life had been sucked out of me. I steadied myself, placing my hands on the rim of the sink. Their backs were mottled and paper thin, riddled with spider veins. My fingers were cracked and raw. They stung where my tears landed on them. Slowly, reluctantly, I raised my head.