Mirrors

a story from The First People to Fall Off of the Earth

By Eric St. Pierre

Morning sun breaks and slowly expands over the field and trees of a public park in an Alabama college town. A mixture of night and day creatures sing their songs. The music blends well for the first few minutes of the morning eventually giving itself completely to tones of the early day. It's cold even for a spring morning; crisp. Everything is wet including the park bench on which Lauren St. Paul now sleeps. From a distance one might perceive her now as a bundle of quilts and crocheted coverings. A long stocking cap protrudes from one end. She might be a sleeping caterpillar.

Lauren is a rather tall woman. Her arms bind her knees to her chest for warmth in her cloth cocoon. After a moment of struggle against her desire for continued sleep and comfort, the butterfly peaks with fresh eyes, but the new day's light causes her to retreat.

"Can't sleep all day." A friendly voice beckons the butterfly.

"I think I could." Lauren yawns and sits up. To her side sitting on the park bench is a thin man who is not dressed for this temperature. The timbre of his voice puts him at around sixty. His face and head defy his age. Is it possible to be a sixty-year-old toddler? On top of his head is a small patch of ashen blonde hair. His mouth is vacant of all but one tooth. His Santa Claus red cheeks are sunken.

"Bob, what day is it?" Lauren coughs into the crook of her arm.

"Mondee, I reckon." The far off sound of traffic builds.

"Oh." Lauren scans Bob. "What happened to your shoes?"

"I don't right know." Bob sucks on his tooth. "Could be the shoe monster." Bob is pleased with himself.

"Oh."

"It is Mondee, though." Lauren breaks eye contact. "Hey Saint Paulie, you been sleepin' all right?"

"I don't know. I can't really tell. Probably last night, yes." Lauren's stomach growls. Bob perks up and fishes a breakfast hoagie from a white plastic bag.

"Here you go, Saint Paulie. I'm stuffed!" Lauren takes the wrapped sandwich from Bob and places it in her lap. She stares off into nothing. "Y-you can thank the good folks down at the feedin' last night." Bob says.

"I think I need to go home." Lauren's solemn shift makes Bob lean in.

"You've got classes today, St Paulie. School. You bettah not go home. Naw. You gonna be a doctor." Bob says.

"I mean home for good. I mean I'm not gonna worry about school anymore. I'm sad, Bob. I'm stuck. I shouldn't have come back."

"What are you on about?" Says Bob.

"I'm in a bad place. And my family. They need me."

"You going to eat that breakfast there, Saint Paulie?" Lauren shakes her head but keeps her arms folded over the meal.

"Some really bad stuff happened, Bob. Some really, really bad stuff. And I just sort of went away. Not just away to back here, but away... inside." Lauren taps her temple with her index finger. "I don't even know what I've been doing. I just woke up."

"It's morning, St Paulie. That's when you wake up." Bob says lovingly.

"No, I mean I've been having the most awful and confusing dream. And just now here with you on this bench I've woken up and I'm afraid. Not of you, of course. I'm afraid he's going to hurt my family. But no, I saw her do it. That's why she's gone now, too. And the mirror, God, the mirror."

"Who's going to hurt your family? What mirror?" Bob places his hand on Lauren's shoulder. The tips of his nails are black where they should be white.