Strange Reflections

by Jay Mason

  A lone figure stood with her back to Alex in front of one of the sinks. Alex vaguely recognised her as another student. They’d been briefly in an accountancy class until Alex had accepted there were levels of boredom to which she could not sink. Alex remembered her as a hippyish sort, all long hair and trailing skirts. The girl in front of her wore a checked shirt and jeans.

  “This is no way to behave,” the girl was saying. “I’ve had enough of your nonsense. If you can’t pull yourself together than I will END you!”

  “Hey,” said Alex, trying for a light-hearted tone. “I don’t think we’ve met.”

  The girl spun round. “What do you think you’re doing?” she said, her face contorting in a snarl. She took a step towards Alex. “Is this any of your business? Do you think this concerns YOU!” Her voice rose louder and louder. Alex backed away. The girl’s hands curled into fists. Her shoulders hunched. Alex had the ridiculous feeling she was about to pounce on her. She threw herself back through the door. When it came between them, Alex turned her back on her would-be assailant and headed quickly to her class.

  2. For Every Action

  Alex drove slowly home, revelling in the novelty of having her own transport. She’d dropped Rusty off earlier, but declined going in to visit. They had managed to get through lunch without arguing, but Alex had found it hard to deal with Rusty’s insistence that ‘something was happening’. She hadn’t even gone down the route of explaining that investigating a mysterious ‘something’ was a non-starter. At heart Rusty remained even more of a scientist than her.

  “You’re meant to be the one telling me there has to be a rational explanation,” muttered Alex to herself as she turned into her drive. “I’m the one who’s always looking for secrets. That’s how it’s meant to be.” She checked her hair in the visor mirror. No point in unnecessarily antagonising her mother. As her eyes met her reflection she found herself saying, “If you keep muttering to yourself like this you’ll end up as one of those mad old women without friends, collecting stray cats and talking to pigeons.”

  Reassured that she looked reasonably presentable — another plus of driving home rather than walking — Alex got out of the car, locked it and walked up the path.

  She hadn’t even reached the front door when her mother’s strident tones reached her. “Where did you even get the money to pay for it?” Irene shrieked.

  Alex opened the front door to hear her father say, “It’s an old car, honey. It didn’t cost that much.”

  The voices were coming from the lounge. Alex closed the front door softly behind her. She felt torn between heading upstairs away from the row and staying put. If she went upstairs she’d have to pass the lounge and if the door was open she might get drawn into the row. But if she stayed where she was she might hear things she didn’t want to hear. Mentally, Alex tried to calculate her mother’s age. Irene had always been unusually secretive about it and refused any mention of it on her birthdays. She took great pride in being well-groomed to the extent that as a little girl Alex had thought she had been born grown-up.

  Was it possible she be heading towards hormonal changes that would make her more moody? Alex shuddered inwardly at the thought. Other mothers and daughters might discuss such things, but between Alex and her mother it was more likely that her chemistry lecturer would claim that the moon was made of cream cheese. Beside, thinking of her mother like that, biologically, felt wrong. Her mother simply was — as she always had been.

  “But where did you get the money? Has your salary gone up? Because you’re still paying the same amount into the family account.” Irene drew breath. “That’s it, isn’t it? You’re being paid more. It’s because you’re a man, isn’t it?” Alex heard her mother stalk across the room, her high heels tap-tapping on the wooden floor.

  “Oh come on, Irene,” said her father. “You know I wouldn’t do that to you.”

  “Do I? Do I really? You were the one who wanted to keep our bank accounts separate when we came here. You said it was important for me to feel like I had my own money. My own identity. Why? Why after all these years did you decide I needed an identity? It’s never bothered you before, Lewis!”

  “That’s ridiculous. This is a new start. A chance to put things into play we never thought of before.”

  “Like what? Trading me in for that blonde in Lab 3? The one who throws her clothes on in the morning with such abandon that it looks like she’s mostly missed? Those breasts are fake, you know!”

  “W-w-what?” said Lewis, and Alex could hear her father sounded genuinely taken aback. “I’ve never looked at another woman.”

  “Pah,” said Irene. “I’ve seen you watching her pert little behind wiggling in that tiny mini skirt when she takes off her lab coat. Hope you’re not thinking of a second family, because I can tell you there’s no way a baby’s head is coming through those skinny hips.”

  “I don’t want anyone else! I want you!” Lewis shouted.

  Alex stood rooted to the spot, shaking. Her parents had rowed about her, but she had never heard her father shout. He might walk away from an argument, but he never shouted at Irene. Never. His declaration must be having an effect because silence filled the house. Alex froze. All she could hear was her own heartbeat. She had no idea of what to do. She waited. Instinct told her her presence would make things worse.

  Then suddenly Irene yelled and Alex heard sounds of a scuffle. “Irene no,” Lewis said. “Stop it. Calm down. There’s no — ow! No! That hurts. Irene!”

  An almighty crash rang out. Alex felt as if the whole house shook, though reason told her that couldn’t be happening. Time ceased to have meaning. Her mind held the sound, replayed it again and again, lightening fast, a spinning loop of destruction. It had to be the china cabinet. The china cabinet falling to the ground. Smashing, breaking, scattering — sounds of glass and ceramic colliding with the ground, and behind it the heavy thud of the wooden casing hitting the floor and splintering.

  The lounge door flew open. Alex, still unable to move, saw her mother flee the room and bolt up the stairs. A few seconds later, a door slammed above her.

  Alex willed herself to move. Her legs didn’t feel as if they belonged to her. None of her body did. She ran across the hall, but it felt like someone else was moving her. As if she was slightly outside her body. She didn’t want to see into the room. She wanted to stay by the door. She didn’t want to see the damage her mother’s actions might have caused. She had no doubt it was her mother who had upturned the cabinet. What if Dad’s dead? she thought. The china cabinet, an inherited piece from her mother’s family, stood a good six feet tall, filled with shelf after shelf of porcelain lovingly collected down the ages by her maternal relatives. Her mother adored it.

  The door stood open. Alex gripped both sides of the frame as she stared into the room. The cabinet lay front down across the room. The top of it had landed on the sofa. A sea of spiky broken china flooded the room, half broken cups and bowls like strange little boats. Fragments of glass glittered malevolently. They were embedded everywhere, in the chairs and even the wall. The cabinet had come down with considerable force.

  “Dad!” yelled Alex.

  From under the top end of the cabinet her father emerged. Blood poured down his face, mingling with the tattered remains of his flannel shirt. “It’s worse than it looks, love,” he said in a voice not entirely steady. Alex took a step forward. “No,” said her father more firmly. “I’ll come to you. No point both of us bleeding all over the carpet.”

  “I thought you were dead,” said Alex. Hot tears gushed down her face.

  “Ah,” said Lewis, picking his way carefully across the room, “The triangle of life. Like you look for in an earthquake.” He drew the shape in the air. “That’s what saved me. I’m sure I’ve told you about it, Alex. You look for the space next to things. Never under something. That’s the way to get flattened. Best place is next to a bed — or in this case a sofa.”

  “How can you be s
o calm?” said Alex between sobs.

  “What else can I be?” said her father. “I’m extremely glad the cabinet’s full weight landed on the sofa and not me. But that’s what I meant to happen.”

  “She tried to kill you. My mother tried to kill you.”

  Lewis put up a hand to wipe away the blood dripping from his eyebrow. “Oh, I don’t think that was her intention. I don’t believe she was thinking at all.”

  “You could have stopped her!” said Alex. “I’ve seen …”

  Her father took her firmly by the arm. “Let’s continue this in the kitchen. The first aid kit’s under the sink. You can mop me up. That’s the problem with cuts to the face. They always bleed so much. If it had only been the cabinet it wouldn’t look anywhere near as bad. I knew I should have got her to put that gin and tonic down.”

  He led Alex through the hall and into the kitchen. He sat down heavily in a chair at the table. “Over there,” he said pointing. “There should be some of those sticky stitch things too. The amount it’s bleeding, I’m going to need one.”

  “There’s blood all over your shirt,” said Alex.

  “Totally ruined,” said Lewis. “Once you’ve got the kit you can help me out of it.”

  Alex found the red box stowed at the back of the cupboard. Larger than she expected. It held a lot more than a normal family first aid kit.

  “I topped up it from work,” said Lewis. “Your mother will insist on keeping up her home laboratory. Never thought I’d be the one who needed it. If you could help me with this button.”

  “Wait,” said Alex. “I need to put some cold pads on your facial cuts or they’ll never stop bleeding.”

  “Oh, they will,” said Lewis. “I don’t have an infinite amount of blood.” He looked into her eyes for the first time. “I’m sorry, Alex. You’ll need to check those cuts for pieces of crystal.” He sighed and looked away. “She threw her glass in my face. Should have bought her a better class of gin.”

  “Stop it! How can you be like this? I don’t know what to do,” said Alex. “Should I call the police?”

  “Why would you do that?”

  “She’s not safe,” said Alex. “My mother isn’t safe.”

  Lewis gave a dry chuckle. “She never was. You’ll need to rinse those tweezers in alcohol. To pull out the bits.”

  Alex paled.

  “Don’t be a wimp, Alex. This is going to hurt me far more than it’ll hurt you,” said Lewis.

  With direction from her father, Alex worked through his cuts, cleaning and dressing them. Applying pressure to stop bleeding where necessary. Glass fragments peppered Lewis’ back. He lent over the sink as Alex pulled them out one by one dropping them in an old bowl she’d found on the window sill. “If you could swab over my back with iodine,” said Lewis, “that would be a help. Smells terrible, but there’s nothing to beat it.”

  “What about your legs?”

  “I was sitting so there can’t be anything big caught in me. The cords will have protected me.”

  “I should check,” said Alex. “Put iodine on there.”

  Her father held out his hand. “Leave me some pride, daughter. I’m not baring my knobbly knees to you. I can manage the rest myself in the bathroom. Besides if I miss any bits, skin has a habit of pushing glass out.”

  Alex tasted bitter bile in her mouth. She sat down heavily in one of the kitchen chairs. “I don’t understand,” she said. “Has Mum been like this before.”

  Lewis shook his head slowly. “No. She’s never lifted a hand to anyone.” He paused. “As far as I know.”

  “I’m scared,” said Alex.

  “I won’t let her harm you.”

  “You could have prevented her from harming you, couldn’t you?” said Alex. “Unless that black ops stuff was all pretend.”

  Lewis looked down at the table. “I can protect you, Alex. You need to believe me.”

  “Then why did you let her,” Alex broke off. “You don’t want her to know you head up a military unit at the Centre, do you? She’s no idea of what you do, has she?”

  “Security specialist,” corrected her father. “I explained before. It’s compartmentalised work. Need to know — as they say in the movies. My security clearance is higher than your mother’s.”

  “But I know,” said Alex.

  “I never wanted you to,” said Lewis. “If you hadn’t walked into that situation we had with the hybrid … My only option was to get you to sign a security agreement. You have to see that. I never wanted you to know anything about all this. Either of you.”

  “You allowed her to do this to you rather than reveal your training? You’d rather risk your life? You’d rather be scarred?”

  “My life was never in danger,” said Lewis calmly. “Besides, I’m told scars are very manly.”

  From upstairs came the sound of breaking glass. Lewis leapt to his feet. Before Alex could move he was halfway across the hall.

  “Go for a drive, Alex,” he yelled. “Get out of here for a couple of hours.”

  ****

  Alex never had any clear memory of how she got there, but half an hour later she pulled up outside Rusty’s house. She stood on the doorstep ringing the bell and banging on the door.

  “All right! All right!” called Rusty. “I’m coming.” He threw the door open. “This had better be a timely apocalyptical warning,” he said. “I was in the middle of an experiment.” Then he took in Alex’s appearance. “Alex! There’s blood on you. Are you all right?”

  “It’s not mine,” Alex managed to say before she collapsed sobbing into Rusty’s arms.

  ****

  On the whole the Gibsons took Alex’s arrival in their stride. Once it had been established no one needed an ambulance and there was no reason to send for the police, Rusty’s mother suggested she spend the night in the spare room.

  “It’s not much, hon,” she said, “but it’s probably better to give your parents a bit of space. If he broke her favourite vase she’s bound to be mad — even if it gave him a nasty cut, like you said. Who knows, maybe she’ll feel sorry for him. I bet by the time you go back for breakfast everything will be as right as rain. I’ll ring them and tell them you’re here.” She looked warningly at her son. “And you behave yourself tonight, young man. The girl’s had a bad shock.”

  Rusty held up his hands. “Perfect gentleman,” he said. Then he added with emphasis, “Like always. Alex and I are friends.”

  His mother made a snorting nose and went off to phone Alex’s parents.

  Alex noticed that she was not entirely steady on her feet. “I’m sorry,” she said to Rusty. “This isn’t going to be too much for your mother, is it? I know she’s unwell.”

  “Most interesting thing to happen round here for years. Well, in this house anyway. C’mon, I’ll show you the room. Do your parents often argue like this?”

  Alex followed him up the stairs. “They bicker a lot but nothing like this.”

  “Must have been one special vase,” said Rusty.

  “It wasn’t about a broken vase,” said Alex. “I couldn’t tell your mother. I couldn’t.”

  Then seated on the Gibsons’ lumpy spare bed, between sobs, she poured out the real story — although she left out the part about her father’s military skills and security clearance. Rusty put his arm awkwardly around her shoulder, but by the time she had finished her wet face was buried in his chest.

  “Do you think he’ll be safe with her?” he asked.

  Alex nodded. “Now, he knows what she’s capable of, he’ll be more careful.”

  “Then, I think my mum’s right,” said Rusty. “They need space and you need sleep.” He got and went to the door. “My sister’s room’s at the end of the hall. You can ask her if you need anything in the night. Probably better not to come into mine. Mum will assume the worst. Of me,” he added quickly. He opened the door then turned back. “I told you something odd was going on. Things aren’t right.”

  The corners of
Alex’s mouth twitched. Trust Rusty to get in an “I told you so”, even in these circumstances.

  ****

  Alex woke next morning to the sound of a text coming in on her phone. “Go straight to college. Dad xxx”

  She opened the app to text him back and stopped. There was a light tap on the door and Cat poked her head in. Her long hair hung in dripping strands around her cherubic face.

  “I’d get into the shower now if I were you. Rusty takes ages. He’s more of a girl than me.” Cat threw a clean towel at her.

  Alex caught it, but before she could reply, Cat had gone. She decided to follow her advice. Maybe her father would call afterwards.

  After she had showered, dried and dressed again, Alex made her way downstairs. The phone in her trouser pocket felt heavy. It hadn’t rung.

  She found Mrs Gibson in the kitchen making pancakes. Cat sat at the table cheerfully scoffing her way through a piled plate.

  “Come often, Alex,” said Cat. “Mum hardly ever does pancakes.”

  “I didn’t mean to put you to so much trouble, Mrs Gibson,” said Alex. “I intended to drive home for breakfast.”

  Rusty’s mother turned and smiled at her. “It’s no trouble at all. I spoke to your dad earlier. He and your mother are going to make it a date day. Such a nice man. Very charming. He said he’d been over-working and had been neglecting your mother. Him accidentally breaking that vase they got on their wedding day was one straw too much for your mother. He’s going to spend the day getting things back on a better footing. Such a lovely idea.”

  “Of course, their wedding vase,” said Alex, inwardly relieved that her father had somehow come up with a similar story to the one she’d told.

  “Anyway, they’re expecting you back home for a family dinner after your day at school. Everything always looks better in the morning, that’s what I say. Now bacon, maple syrup or both?”