Girl in the Mirror

by Mary Alice Monroe

  “Try it,” Charlotte said, linking arms with her. “I’ll tell you what. Let’s pretend this is our own private New Year’s Eve. November ninth, the day we bought the house.”

  “We?”

  “Absolutely, we,” Charlotte insisted. “Let’s make a list of all the things we want to do for the house and for ourselves. Like decorating. Cleaning out our closets. Finally starting that fitness program.” She looked at Melanie with a wicked gleam. “Going to school.”

  “You’re pretty clever, sweetie. A regular Pollyanna.”

  Charlotte laughed, delighted that she was catching Melanie in the spirit of the game, despite her protestations. She nonchalantly strolled into the kitchen to open a bottle of chardonnay. From there she watched as Melanie poked at the brochures with one finger, then felt a surge of triumph when Melanie bent over to open one up and scan the pictures. Her tiny nose drew close to the pages as she squinted.

  “Hey,” she called out, pointing to one picture. “That guy looks pretty old.”

  Charlotte walked in with two glasses of wine in her hands and peered over Melanie’s shoulders. “Fifty if a day,” she replied, handing a glass to Melanie.

  “Do you think?”

  “Go on. All I’m asking is that you go take a look at the place. For me.”

  Melanie frowned and sipped her wine. “Even if I did want to go, where would I get the money?”

  “I’ll spot you a loan.”

  “Oh, no.” Melanie rolled her eyes. “I don’t want to start that.”

  “It’s no big deal. They’re paying me an obscene amount of money for my next film. Who’s to say what’s fair? Why can’t I do something with all that money that will give me pleasure and help my best friend? Besides, I consider it a good investment. I’ve been eating your cooking for years, and I’m a firm believer in your talents. You have a future as a chef, I’d bet my life on it. I’d like to bet my money on it.”

  “I don’t know, Charlotte. It would be a big gamble.”

  “You know me, I’m very careful with my money. I’ve never made a bad investment and I don’t intend to start now.”

  “I know what you’re trying to do and I appreciate it. I admit I’m interested. I’d be a fool not to, considering my prospects. But I’d never be able to pay you back. If only I’d done this years back when I had money. Damn, when I think of all the money I wasted. It makes me sick.”

  “Half-empty…”

  Melanie laughed.

  “Seriously now,” Charlotte said. “Lending you money will not be a hardship for me. After you complete your degree, we can talk about how you can pay me back.” She sipped her wine. “I was rather hoping you’d do something exotic, like open a restaurant or a catering business. Something I could roll over the debt into.”

  Melanie’s Kewpie-doll mouth twisted, considering the possibilities. Charlotte took hope from the way her eyes were dancing with the light. “I could do the housework, the shopping and the cooking to pay for my rent while I’m in school. God, I can’t believe I’m saying that. Me, cleaning house. I don’t even want to think about my nails. But I could do it, you know. You taught me a lot about how to clean a toilet bowl, sweetie. In fact,” she continued, moving to the edge of her seat, “maybe I can do other chores, too, you know, like ironing or something.”

  “Before you turn into little Miss Suzy Homemaker, let’s work out a loan program between the two of us that won’t make you my personal slave.” Her tone changed. “I don’t want anything to ruin our friendship.”

  “No. Me, neither. Agreed.”

  “I’m going to be on location and on promotional tour so much in the next few months. And now that I’m a homeowner, I hate to leave the place unattended.” She smiled.

  “I just thought of another job you can do. You can be the house sitter.”

  Melanie shook her head and threw up her hands, giving in. “Sure. Why not?”

  “So.” Charlotte put out her hand. “Does this means you’ll go to school?”

  Melanie took the hand. “When God closes a door, he opens a window, my grandmother always said.” They shook on the deal, then hugged. Melanie slunk back in the chair and snorted. “And I always thought you were stingy. Turning off the lights, using coupons, tight budgets. But you’re not. You’re one of the most generous people I’ve ever met.”

  “I prefer to call it frugal. So I can blow it on something I really care about. Like you.”

  Charlotte moved to the sofa and leaned back into the pillows. Her whole body ached. Now that she was home, every muscle demanded that she take time to relax.

  “You look tired,” Melanie said, coming to sit beside her.

  “I am.”

  “Are you taking your vitamins?”

  “I’ll be better, I promise.”

  “You drive me crazy. What’s a mother to do? I’m going to pack them myself next time, and if you come home with a bag full of vitamins, I’m going to do something drastic. I don’t know what yet, give me time to think of it.”

  “I don’t try to be bad. I’ve just been so busy….”

  “All the more reason. Charlotte, you’re not looking well. I’m worried about you. You’re losing weight.”

  “Just a few pounds.”

  “Five, more like it. Are your headaches back again?”

  “Mmm,” she replied with a soft groan. “They come more often than not now. Migraines, the doctor says. I’m not so sure. My joints hurt, too. In tiny little spots, like those itsy bones in the wrist, the knuckles of my toes, the balls of my hips.” She especially ached where Melanie had hit her in the jaw in the water, but she didn’t want to mention that. No sense in making Melanie feel terrible, too.

  “Now I know why you and Mrs. Delaney got along so well. You were a pair of old dotties, comparing aches and pains.”

  “We did,” she replied, a smile curving her lips. She stretched out on the sofa, kicked off her shoes and covered herself with a ratty old afghan her mother had knitted for her years before. “Could you dim the lights a bit, please, Mel? I need to rest for a minute before Michael gets here. I don’t want to greet him after several weeks hobbling about like an old woman.”

  Melanie studied Charlotte as she lay on the sofa, her practiced eye picking up the details of her appearance. She was wearing a simple black dress with a fabulous cut, a Prada probably, a favorite of Charlotte’s. The thick gold earrings and matching necklace were exquisitely braided and had the rosy luster of eighteen karat. No bracelets or rings cluttered her long, slender arms and fingers. Only a simple black Movado watch on a thin black leather strap encircled her slender wrist—a gift from Michael Mondragon. Melanie sighed, knowing that Charlotte Godfrey would look as beautiful in her own, inimitable way at forty as she did now. It was that timeless quality, more than anything else, that Melanie envied.

  It was Charlotte’s inner beauty, however, that made it impossible for her to begrudge Charlotte any good fortune that came her way. When she thought of what Charlotte had suffered as a child it put her own misery to shame. She was wise beyond her years. An old soul. If Charlotte could find the courage to make such incredible changes in her life, could she not at least try to make some changes in her own?

  Melanie walked over to tuck the afghan under Charlotte’s chin. How pale she looked, almost wan. Freddy put so much pressure on her, but then again, she put so much on herself. Charlotte Godowski…Charlotte Godfrey…the woman still remained a mystery. She had her beauty, she had success. What was it, she wondered, that still drove Charlotte so hard?

  Later that same evening, Charlotte sat with Michael in front of the fireplace watching the embers flicker blue and red, the first fire in her new home. Earlier, Charlotte had laughed gaily and served chilled champagne for Michael and Melanie. They’d raised glasses and toasted the purchase of the house. Then Melanie declared how there was a movie playing at the Biograph that she was just dying to see and slipped out the door, announcing with exaggerated tones that she wouldn’t
be home until midnight at the earliest.

  Michael spent the next few hours making love to Charlotte in front of the fire, complimenting her on how the fire made her skin glow, then proceeding to make her glow even more by bringing her to climax once, then several times more, proving to her in actions as well as words how much he had missed her.

  Afterward, the glow they felt was more from the gentle rocking in each other’s arms, the sharing of dreams for the future and the comfort in knowing that what they shared was very, very special. They wrapped themselves up in a blanket and sat on a sheepskin before the fire, his legs straddled around her and his chin resting atop her head. She could feel the tickle of his coarse leg hair against her soft thighs, hear the bass of his voice, always so low after lovemaking.

  “Michael, do you think we’ll always be this happy?”

  “Of course. I don’t see why not.”

  “These separations aren’t easy for us. The next film will take me to France for several months.”

  She heard his low grumble of discontent. “It’s the slow season. I can come visit you on the set.”

  “Only if you promise not to watch the love scenes.”

  He mumbled something in Spanish, tightening his arms around her and settling his chin in her neck.

  “Michael, what did you do with those drawings you made for the house? You know, the ones you sketched when you first saw the site?”

  She could feel his smile. “I’ve still got them. I never throw a design out. Let me guess. Now that you’re a landowner you have visions of grandeur.”

  Now it was her turn to smile. “More like redemption. I seem to remember you called the house the proverbial sow’s ear and how you could transform it into a silk purse. Something to complement the garden.” She turned in his arms, her face lit with excitement. “I want to do it, Michael. Really. I loved the drawings. Knew the minute I saw them I would do it if I could. Sometimes when I’m in the garden, when I look back at the house, I see your design. I make a few changes.”

  “You make changes, do you?”

  “Of course.” A smile twitched her lips. “I play little games in my imagination. I want a bathroom with a big mirror, so I can look at myself every day and not be afraid of what I see. And a dressing table, like I’ve seen in the magazines. One for Melanie, too. Such silly things I want, Michael, and I want them now. I don’t want to wait. I feel like I’ve been waiting for things for most of my life.”

  “What’s brought about all this? You won’t even be home one week out of every four for the next several months.”

  She heard the frustration in his voice and cupped his face in her hands, shaking his head gently. “All the more reason why I need a home to return to. A base. I used to think that making movies was so glamorous. Exciting locations, fancy hotels, elaborate parties. It is all that, some of the time. Most of the time, however, it’s trailers, carryout food, rise and shine at dawn and crash late at night, new lines to memorize and then publicity and promo interviews in between.

  “Ah, Michael, don’t you see? When I’m alone out there I need to think about this house, and how you’ve designed something special for me here. And it’ll be good for Mel to be part of it. Getting her involved in the design.”

  “I’m sure she’ll have plenty of ideas for the kitchen.” He was warming to the idea.

  “Yes,” she said, clasping her hands together. “I want Melanie to design the kitchen to suit her. It’s perfect. She won’t feel so alone while I’m gone if she has something like that to keep her busy.” She looked at Michael, her eyes entreating. “You will keep an eye on her while I’m away, won’t you?”

  “Yes, of course I will. It’s just like you to worry about someone else. Who will keep an eye on you?”

  “That’s Freddy’s job. He’s always hounding me to eat right, to exercise, to get my rest.”

  Michael scowled. “I hate that guy. Don’t trust him. He sees you as his meal ticket, Charlotte, not as his friend.”

  She pressed her fingers against his lips. “Shhh. I need both of you, so I’m going to ask you the same thing I ask him. Don’t get on my case about him. He’s my agent. He’s doing a good job, and I can’t do this without him.” She took a deep breath. “My career means a great deal to me. I’m committed to it. And to him. Things are just beginning to take off now. I can’t—I won’t—let anything get in the way.”

  “Or anyone?”

  “Why even draw that line in the sand? I love you. I don’t see any reason why my career should interfere with what we have. You just have to be understanding of what it is I do. You can’t be so jealous, Michael.”

  “Can’t I?” He moved away from her and grabbed his champagne flute, drinking the contents of his glass in one gulp. “Maybe a career’s not everything.”

  She looked at him, his dark eyes fathomless in the fire’s light. “What do you mean?”

  He told her then about Bobby and his battle with AIDS, and then in a halting voice, his own decision to stay in California, at least for as long as it took for Bobby to stabilize. Or, to help him face his death.

  “My career isn’t as important as it once was,” he tried to explain. “When I hear you imply, under all your goals, that you’d give up what we have for the sake of your career, of course I worry. Do I mean that little to you, Charlotte?”

  “No, of course not,” she exclaimed. “I’m not saying that. Michael, this isn’t the same thing.”

  “Sure it is.”

  “No, it’s not. You are an architect. Your training is done. You can build anywhere, anytime. It’s not the same in my business. I have to make it now, or possibly lose my chance. This is my moment.”

  “Life is a series of moments, Charlotte. Don’t deceive yourself into thinking that this is the only one. Believe me. The best-laid plans of mice and men.” He took her hands in his. “What matters, Charlotte, is what we have between us. The love. The honesty. The complete trust. This doesn’t happen every day. It has to be protected and guarded. Nurtured, like any plant in any garden.”

  “I agree, Michael. But my career means a great deal to me, too. Why do you think I must make a choice?”

  “I thought my position at the architectural firm in Chicago meant everything to me. Then I came home again and realized what I had given up to achieve that goal. My brother and I were strangers. He didn’t even call me when he found out he was dying. How do you think that made me feel? What did my career matter then, when I found out my brother was in trouble? I had deserted him when he needed me most.”

  Charlotte moved closer to him, holding him in her arms as he tightened his eyes.

  “What’s hardest now is that he is living a lie with my family. My father and my mother, they are blind to his being gay. To how sick he is—as I was. He can’t bring himself to tell them for fear that they will reject him. Even if it kills him, which it might. I’m the only one who knows.” He shook his head, clucking his tongue. “I hate living this lie. We are a family. We should be able to tell each other the truth.”

  “You don’t hate Bobby for telling you all this?” she asked hesitatingly. “For the pain he’s caused you? And trouble?”

  “Hate Bobby? Of course not. He told me the truth. He was honest. I am angry at my parents for doing this to Bobby. For forcing him to live the lie.”

  She opened her mouth to tell him the truth hovering at her lips. “Michael, I…” She closed her mouth.

  “You what?” He lifted her chin to look into her eyes.

  She faltered. “I love you.”

  His expression altered, became smoky with love and intent.

  “Wait here.” He stood up and walked to where his clothes were lying on the floor.

  Charlotte watched him as he strode across the room. He was so beautiful. She loved him so much. He loved her. Why couldn’t she tell him?

  He bent double to dig into the pocket of his jacket and pulled out a jeweler’s box. Flipping the top, he took out a ring and, returning t
o her side, cradled her back in his arms.

  “This isn’t how I’d planned to do this, but…” He lifted her hand and poised the ring above it. “I knew in Maine, when I almost lost you, that you were my life. Will you wear this, Charlotte? Will you share my life?”

  Charlotte stared at the diamond that glistened between his fingers, her eyes wide and her mouth gaping. She hadn’t expected to make this decision so quickly. It seemed too fast. Too soon. She hadn’t yet told him the truth about who she was. He had the right to know before he made this decision. But how could she risk it now? Risk not having him love her, honor her, cherish her, for ever and ever.

  What matters, Charlotte, is what we have between us. The love. The honesty. The complete trust. This doesn’t happen every day.

  She did love him. He didn’t know that his love was the bridge between the two Charlottes. That he made her whole. He only knew that she was Charlotte Godfrey, and that was how it should be. And Charlotte Godfrey would be honest with him. From this moment forward. Forever.

  “Yes,” she replied, her happiness bringing tears to her eyes. “Of course I will.”

  His eyes sparkled like the diamond he slipped on her finger. Then he hugged her tightly against him.

  She held on to him, wrapping this treasured moment with joy and tucking it away on a high shelf in her mind to recall in the future. Looking over his shoulder, she stretched out her hand, wriggling the finger with the ring on it, admiring it.

  “Mrs. Michael Mondragon,” she said, feeling the words in her mouth. “Charlotte Mondragon. Mrs. Mondragon. Mondragon…” She paused, then laughed brightly. “My dragon. Of course. Why didn’t I think of that before? That’s what I’m going to call you. My Dragon. You are my dragon, you know.”

  “How so?”

  “You challenge me. You made me fight my anger and loneliness.” Her voice grew soft. “You made me believe in dreams again.”

  He kissed her cheek and tightened his arm around her.

  “I was hoping it was because I lit your fire.”

  She laughed again, heartily. Then she turned in his arms, straddled his hips and proceeded to show him how right he was.