Miriam idly pushed her cart through the crowded rows of the home goods store. She tutted at the poorly maintained shelves. She also tutted at the other customers who left things in disorder. Miriam liked to tut. It did not occur to her that she would have tutted herself for many of the same behaviors. She would have also tutted her own clothes. She wore a pair of grey leggings which stretched over her wide ass. In her head, the ass still looked twenty five. In the mirror, on the other hand, it looked like that of a forty-one year old single mother who didn't bother making time to care about herself over the years. On top, she wore a flowing top she one thought would look nice at brunch parties. It did manage to hide her awkward wine belly, but otherwise made her a cyan lump.
Dress well no matter what,
she always told her son. At some point over the years, he stopped retorting, "you first".
She moved into a section of candles. Sometimes she bought one. It would sit on her dining room table, lit at random to dispense its particles of vanilla scent. Lucas would steal them eventually, using them on his side of the small house to cover the smell of weed or stale beer. Miriam picked each candle up in turn, took off its lid, sniffed it, looked at the name on the bottom, and returned it to its shelf. A few of the scents reminded her that three weeks earlier, she'd done the exact same thing. Rather than take a moment of self reflection, she tutted the store for its lack of fresh inventory. While at it, she tutted their overpriced selection.
With a push of her cart, she moved into a section of the store devoted to frames, mirrors, and other wall hangings. At least a dozen of these already decorated her house, but she always searched for more. If she found something she liked, she'd take the other down and move it to the garage where it would slowly fall into disrepair. Eventually, she would have Lucas clean out the garage, sending the unfortunate victim of her consumerism to the junkyard. There, it would be salvaged by a different middle aged housewife who would re-purpose it into a resin sealed coffee table she would one day sell at a county fair, likely to someone like Miriam. It was one of the many strange circles in life Miriam went entirely unheeding of her part in.
As she browsed, she noticed a strange woman standing at the far end of the aisle. Miriam didn't like when other customers crowded into the same aisle as her. Rarely did the store leave enough room for two carts to pass one another. Furthermore, it was simply polite to browse a different aisle until the one you wanted freed up. While waiting, you could be free to judge the person in the way as harshly as silently possible. The woman at the end of this aisle did not seem the kind to understand these unspoken rules of the home goods store. The woman looked at Miriam and smiled. Peered right at her with eyes as glittering black as the night sky. Except that couldn't be right, Miriam thought.
People can't have solid black eyes.
Not wanting any further involvement with the strange woman, Miriam backed her cart out with a dismissing smile, intending to go look at throw pillows for a while.
The pillow aisle suffered from occupancy as well. A man with silver hair and beard stood near the end with his hands shoved half in his pockets and slouching.
Lucas knows better than to slouch at least.
The man looked like a lost husband, the generally harmless variety who loitered about shops possibly looking for a fishing or golf section. Still, Miriam always enjoyed the male gaze. Spotting a pillow on the lower level, she took a chance of squatting down, still under the presumption of her twenty-five year old ass. When she stood up, though, the man had gone, likely called away by some miserable woman who only offered him sex on his birthday. Vaguely irritated, Miriam turned to judging the pillows.
Her own history with men wasn't much better than that which she projected on the innocent souls around her. She got knocked up at nineteen by a rodeo cowboy. Not the kind which wrangled calves or rode bulls. The kind that herded sheep or goats. For some reason, not cows. At least, not in the time she knew him. Four months pregnant, he packed up and vanished into a caravan with some cowgirl slut. Miriam never saw him again, not a huge loss. Her parents watched out for her while Lucas came along. They gave her enough money to buy a small house and a job in the family business. They even took care of Lucas while she sowed her wild oats, making very certain not to get pregnant again. She hadn't fucked a man without a condom on since Lucas's father. Nor did she foresee the chance to do so any time soon.
She paused, holding a pillow which said, "F*ck it" in gaudy Old English lettering and surrounded by intricate lattice work. What had her thinking about her sexual past? It was an odd sensation to realize she'd been mentally going through all her one night stands like she were browsing a catalog. The feeling went away, but all those thoughts made her feel something else she hadn't in a long while. Miriam was horny. It made her giggle. She put the pillow back. Maybe she could get home sneak into the bedroom for a long, therapeutic bath without Lucas noticing.
Hmm
,
I guess I sort of have seen Lucas's daddy again over the years.
Lucas looks just like him.
Her son grew up handsome, if shiftless. She packed him off to boarding school once he hit the high school years. One day, he came back a man. Broad shoulder, his father's looks, and a swagger that came from being well off without reason. Not that he did much with those life advantages. After one year of college, Lucas dropped out to move home. His grandfather gave him the company job which required little and paid more than it should. As a result, Lucas spent his time around the house smoking weed and texting friends who were rapidly moving on with their lives. Miriam had hoped he would find himself a wife, but that didn't seem to be likely at the current rate.
Miriam's skin prickled. Someone was watching her, she thought. Looking around the shop, she saw the strange woman again. She held a mirror in her hand, the small oval kind Miriam always pictured in the hands of a fairy tale princess. The woman wasn't looking at her, but preening her slicked, black hair in the mirror. The angle changed and black eyes stared right through Miriam. The woman turned on one heel, smiling broadly as she walked straight up to Miriam.
***
"Were you admiring my mirror?" the woman asked.
"No, no. Sorry, I think you must be mistaken."
"I'm never mistaken. It's a nice mirror. One of the finest I've ever held. You wouldn't believe how long it took me to find it." The woman held it out. The sea green handle looked like dyed bone carved into an ever swirling spiral. "Go on. Have a look."
Miriam wanted to get as far away from the woman as possible, but didn't see how. The strange creature had cornered her in one of the narrow aisles. As politely as she could, she took the offered mirror, looking at herself in the reflective glass. She realized then how far she'd strayed from her own maxims on dressing well. Tired eyes peered back from the mirror, looking at her unkempt hair pinned up to hide its oily texture. Lines creased her face, clearly visible under her poorly applied makeup. It stung to look at herself, and she handed the mirror back. "It is a nice mirror. Nicer than most of what they sell in the store, I'm sure."
The woman grinned ear to ear. For a moment, Miriam had the sickening thought that the smile would keep spreading further and further up the woman's face until the waxy, pale skin tore and the blackness in her eyes flooded out. "Oh no," the woman said. "They don't sell it here. I found it here. This is a knick-knack shop. You have to be careful with such places, even the corporately owned ones which employ people with little more than the dying light of a soul in them. Old, wicked things like to find their way to places like this, to jump up and bite an innocent passerby."
"Uh, huh," Miriam said, no longer merely worried about the woman, but outright frightened. "If you'll excuse me, I think I'm about to check out."
The woman didn't move. She stood directly in front of Miriam's cart, her spindly hands clutching the mirror in front of her black silhouette. "I'm Evelyn," she said. "What's your name?" Evelyn's eyes shone with blackness — deep, endless pools of void that threatened to draw Miriam in.
"Miriam," she said.
"Miriam, I'm looking for some style opinions. I thought the mirror would be able to help, but I don't think I can get it to work for me. What do you think? Is it modern?" Evelyn stuck her arms out and spun in a circle. The woman's movement made Miriam's head hurt. She wore a dress that jutted out in the back, almost like she had a bustle. In the front, frills reminded Miriam of can-can dancers, but as the dress rose up Evelyn's body, it narrowed into a form fitted bodice covering up to a choking neckline. It gave her the appearance of a bottom heavy mantis.
"Um, yes? In the sort of archaic retro sort of way. Intentionally not modern, but stylish."
Evelyn beamed. "What a nice thing to say. You're so much more helpful than the damned mirror." Evelyn's hands clapped together. Miriam expected to see the mirror in them, but it wasn't there. The strange woman's eyes narrowed, "You know, I can tell you really mean it. We all want to be told we're beautiful, don't we Miriam."
A prickling sensation rose up the back of Miriam's head. It was the same as before when she accounted for all her sexual partners, a sensation of someone picking through thoughts. "Of course," she answered.
"Then I think that mirror you found will be a very big help, don't you?" Evelyn said.
Miriam looked into the other woman's eyes.
Is something moving behind them?
Something alive in that blackness?
