Untitled Chapter 2

Chapter 2

“Home, sweet home.” I said to the empty space of my apartment. I just recently moved into it. My last place was a complete nightmare. There were clogged kitchen drains, bad electrical wiring, and red ants, everywhere. The nosy neighbors knew my work schedule better than I did. Teenagers that loitered around all hours of the night. Seriously, they made me feel so old for going to bed at ten o’clock. To top it all off I think if creepy was an Olympic sport the maintenance guy took the gold. He was always in a trench coat, gloves up to his elbows, and sunglasses. Even in the middle of the summer. It was the friggin Fourth of July and he was standing outside sweeping in that filthy coat. Plus, seriously, he had no ass. It was flat like his back just extended to the back of his thighs. You just can’t trust a man with no ass. I’m sorry I know that sounds bad but I feel very strongly on that one.

Of course, the new place has its’ own issues, which include ,but are not limited to: overly aggressive flirting from an overly horny neighbor, old enough to be my dad; Widowed Mrs. Brown who is obsessed with a chocolate toy poodle that had its voice box removed by its previous owner. Poor puppy, I’m not sure if it’s adorable to hear him try to bark or just plain heart breaking; Last, but not least, you have to have at least one clingy friend. No, seriously they call her, “Clinging Jenny”. I think she must be a little “special”. If a small child were raised by puppies, then thrown into “polite society” without any social training, you’d have Jenny. You know, too friendly, too touchy feely. She seems ultra happy to me and while I’m open minded, I don’t swing that way.

But, I’ll put up with all that for a spa tub, floor to ceiling windows, and the breath taking view. It’s a lovely two bedroom with two full baths. It has a beautiful fireplace that sits on the wall that my bedroom and living room share. So, the fireplace is accessible from both rooms. In the winter, I’m so gonna love curling up in bed and watching the flames dance while listening to the wood crackle.

I put down the bag I had and began the task of trying to unstick my keys from the lock. I’ll put new lock on the list of things I need to complain about. I tried unsuccessfully for a couple minutes then I decided to just go call the maintenance crew. I have a small wooden table in the hall next to the front door where I keep the cordless phone charged. I left the door wide open just in case someone passing by could get the keys out. I picked up the phone, dialed the 24-hour number, and waited for someone to answer.

Shit, I hate waiting. I just stood there staring at the reflection of the room in the mirror over the table. I put it up because I thought the mirror would make the hall look bigger. Shit, I hate answering machines, too. I started leaving a message with the “nature of my problem” and my apartment number when I saw movement in the reflection of the mirror. I hung up the phone and turned around. Nothing was there and most importantly no one there. Must be my imagination getting the best of me. It was a big adjustment to be living without Tracee but I think I’ve been managing just fine. I haven’t been jumping at shadows, or calling him over every time I thought I heard a strange noise. I swung back and studied the mirror, maybe it was the sun reflecting through the window or a shadow; or something. I didn’t see anything, anymore. But, something kept bothering me about the mirror so I took a good look at it. When I saw my reflection, I froze instantly. I could feel all the blood drain from my face.
It was my reflection I saw but . . . it wasn’t me! The reflection was poised different. My left side was in profile to the mirror and the reflection was facing forward. The eyes, the eyes were so red they looked like they were full of blood. I heard mocking laughter then the face, changed? Transformed? Morphed? It turned into the stuff most nightmares are made of. Horrible images that not even the best Hollywood minds couldn't have recreated. Oh, my God! I yelled in my head, too stunned to make my legs work or make my mouth move. My breath caught in my throat. Hell, I was barely controlling my bladder. Then, it just shifted into a man, just like out of a Michael Jackson video.
His hair was so black it almost looked blue. There were no whites in his eyes, all pupil and all black. But, the face was the most beautiful face I’ve ever seen in my life and I’m not exaggerating. The skin so flawless it looked airbrushed and it had a luminosity that was almost angelic. His lashes were long and full of grace. He flashed me a dazzling smile with perfect straight uniform teeth that were off the charts white.
My mind was so jumbled when I think back I couldn’t tell you if I stood there for five minutes or five hours. I knew I should do something but not one coherent thought crossed my mind. I felt like I was in a trance or perhaps a waking dream and I had no idea how to wake up.
I heard a whisper in my mind, “evil”; it wasn’t even in my own voice. The man in the mirror smiled as if he heard what I heard.

“Touch the glass.” I heard echoing through the mirror in the sweetest voice I’d ever head. It was almost like music and matched the beautiful face perfectly. I raised my hand to place it on the mirror.

“Break the mirror,” I heard my mind whisper to me as I watched that exquisite angelic face. I looked down to grab what was nearby, the cordless phone.

“ No, look at me!” He yelled sharply at me. My eyes shot up to his eyes but I left my hand on the phone. Then I stared, in horror, as he lifted his hand and reached out to me. It actually shimmered right through the mirror and was mere inches away from my face. That was all the motivation I needed to hurl the phone with all my might right at the mirror. It shattered into dozens of sharp pieces. I half expected to find a severed arm lying on the floor with the all glass and was beyond relived not to find one.

“Hey,” I heard a voice say seemingly out of nowhere. I screamed so loud that my throat hurt from the sheer force of it. Probably missed place shock. I looked up and relaxed when I saw it was only my neighbor.

“Jenny, you scared the hell out of me!” I said when I stopped screaming. She was standing on the other side of the front door with her hands covering her ears.

“Sorry A.J.,” she said sincerely. “I was just passing by and saw you left your keys in the door.” Then she took the keys out the lock with an ease that just about pissed my off.

“When I saw the glass I thought you might need some help.” She handed me my keys after she closed the front door, then bent down to pick up the phone and replaced it on the receiver. Jenny then proceeded to my kitchen and came back with my trashcan, broom, and dustpan. She glanced up at me after she had started sweeping up the shattered glass.

“Are you o.k.?”

I was still standing in the same spot I had been in when she walked in. I stuttered a weak, “I’m fine,” and that earned me a strange look from her.

"You look kinda pale and that’s real hard for a, African American, if you don’t mind me saying so.”

“I, uhh, just got out the hospital. I was in a car accident,” I said covering. How in the hell was I suppose to tell her what I just saw. I don’t even know what I just saw.

“Oh, are you o.k.? Are you in pain or anything? You’re just standing right there. Sit down, sit down, I’ll clean this up.” She grabbed my arm and lead me to the sofa were I plopped down. I just could not stop staring at the frame that used to hold my mirror.

“It was probably defective glue ya know.”

“Huh”, I said not following her line of thought.

“The mirror. They use glue to hold them to the frame. With the heat from the windows in the day time it probably just weakened and fell out.”

“You’re probably right,” I muttered still totally in shock.

“Have you had breakfast yet? I know hospital food sucks. How about I make us some breakfast?”

“Oh, that is so sweet of you. No, no thanks I can’t put you out like that. I already feel like I owe you for sweeping up my mess.” Kinda weird, who invites themselves over, cleans up, and then makes their own breakfast.

“It’s no problem honey. Besides, I really am a good cook. What do you have in the fridge?” Jenny gathered the broom, dustpan, and trash can full of glass to head back to the kitchen. I heard her sit down the trashcan and open up the fridge.

“How about I make some scrambled eggs, toast, and bacon? Does that sound good? Hey, why don’t you shower, put on some fresh clothes, and I’ll have breakfast done in no time.”

“Yeah, that does sound good,” I mumbled. She might be clingy but no way did I want to send her away right now. I absolutely had no desire to be alone. What, the hell happened in my hallway? Who could I talk to about this? Did I want to talk about it? I thanked Jenny again and headed to the bathroom. I am so glad that this building has a boiler and not a hot water heater. I adjusted the heat in the shower, quickly undressed, and just stood under the hot running water. All the heat was refreshing me and easing my frayed nerves. I grabbed my favorite, Paradise Island, scented liquid soap, a loofah sponge, and began scrubbing. After I was clean, I quickly washed and conditioned my hair, then hopped out the shower.

Once I was out, I wrapped a towel around myself and stood in front of the bathroom sink. Currently, it was right under a foggy bathroom mirror. I was extremely nervous about wiping off the steam but I did it anyway. Relief washed over me when nothing happened. I took in the state of my hair in the mirror. No way was I taking the 45 minutes to blow-dry my mane. So instead, I used a little pink stuff and a dab of gel to slick my hair back into a high ponytail and called it a day. I’m jealous of people who can pull off that tousled; I just got out of bed, look. I usually look like a scarecrow most mornings or worse like I’ve just been electrocuted.

I figured I’d throw on a little makeup since I was going to visit my mother later, anyway. When I was done applying my makeup, I admired the effects. I love the way my base evened out my cinnamon toned skin. The brown eyeliner always made my almond shaped hazel eyes look even more exotic. I kissed my cheeks with a touch of plum. On my thick full lips, I lightly glossed them with a soft mauve that didn’t know if it wanted to be dark pink or light purple. I threw on my favorite pair of black jeans with a fitted floral plum top, which managed to cover me and show off my ample amount of cleavage. I slid on matching plum shoes and went to check on Jenny.

I walked out of my bedroom and through the living room to the kitchen to find Jenny not there. I could see the feast she prepared sitting on my tiny table in the small dining room and it smelled good. I walked over to steal a piece bacon that looked real crispy, just like I like it, when the front door opened.

"You look better. Your makeup looks really nice. I do well at picking out colors that make me look like I just graduated from Clown College, so I try to stay away from make-up. Oh, you didn’t have any juice so I went and got some from my apartment. I hope you don't mind."

“No, I mean yes, Jenny, that’s fine. Juice sounds wonderful. The food looks great. Thank you, again. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate this,” I told her genuinely grateful for her company and her cooking.

“Hey, what are neighbors for. I’ll grab some cups then we can dig in.” I sat down at the table and shortly Jenny brought two cups and filled them with some type of melody blend of juice. I took a sip.

“Wow, this juice is good. What kind of ‘blend’ is it?”

“Apple, pear, and white grape.” Then she bent her head and said a little prayer.

“We don’t do that enough in the world today,” I told her after we both said Amen, “pray I mean.”

“I agree the world would be a different place if people prayed. How are the eggs?” I’d already started piling food on my plate and shoving eggs down my throat.

“They are so good! They taste all light and fluffy. What culinary school did you say you went to?” I asked teasing her.

“Oh, I didn’t go to school. I taught myself,” she replied clearly not understanding my teasing. I stifled a little chuckle.

“What, did I say something stupid, again?” I crumpled my brow in confustion and then explained to her I was just joking.

“Now, I get it,” she said with a snort. My expression must have changed again because she began clarifying herself. “I’m an only child and both my parents died when I was young. Since I was on my own a lot, I developed a personality disorder or it’s genetic depending on whom you ask. This pretty much means I have trouble controlling my emotions and developing relationships. I use to be a lot worse. But, I’m aware of my problem and I’m working on it.

“Well, in this day and age who doesn’t have problems?” I told her trying to make her feel better. Then I made a decision that probable saved my life. “How about I make you my very first friend in this building. It’s the least I could offer for all your help today.”

“I’d like that,” she said smiling with glee, “and then I could show my stupid old therapist I am making progress.” I decided to pass on making a comment on therapists.

I tried to insist on doing the dishes, since she made breakfast, but she wouldn’t hear of it. I washed and she rinsed and dried. As we washed the dishes, we ended up talking about my mother (a term I use loosely). She called just before I was discharged from the hospital. Unlike most mothers, she didn’t hurry over to see if I was o.k. or call to hear that I was feeling better. Oh, no, no, no, not my mother. She called to bitch me out. How dare I wake up, out of a coma, in the middle of the night, and disturb her sleep. I tried pointing out that it was actually Tracee and not me who interrupted her beauty rest but she didn’t want to hear it. She thought I should apologize for being inconsiderate by not stopping Tracee from calling her so early. Silly me for thinking my own mother might want to know I woke up from a coma. I could have apologized but I was feeling petty and a little bitchy. What kind of daughter would I be if I didn’t annoy my mother every opportunity I got? (You’re thinking a good one aren’t you?)

Once the dishes were done, I thanked Jenny. We awkwardly hugged and exchanged numbers. She said she’d hang out with me sometimes but didn’t want to make definite plans, which was fine with me. I didn’t want to force her into anything she wasn’t comfortable with. In the end, we decide she could just call if she wanted to come over. Before she left she taught me the little jiggle I would need to remove my keys from the lock of my front door, good thing too because they never replaced my lock. With my purse in hand I headed over to the car Tracee let me borrow so I could start the hour long drive it would take to go visit my mother.