Mirror, Mirror on the Wall

by Lisa Ann Porter

  Arching a brow, her mother looked at her with scorn. “He never raped you; every time he came to you I could hear how much you enjoyed it,” she calmly said, arms folded across her chest, her righteous indignation stance, Lorna had seen it too many times not to recognize it.

  My goodness, Lorna thought, shaking her head in disbelief, this could not be happening. All this time she knew; she knew and never did anything to stop it…to stop him.

  Giving Lorna a frosty look, Jean Carter turned and started to walk out of the bathroom. Stopping and half turning, she glared at Lorna and said, “He is my husband.” Emphasizing by pointing to her chest, “And I blame you,” pointing a damning finger at Lorna. The memories of the only man she will ever love skipped through her mind, causing her voice to soften. “I do not blame him…” she ended in a whisper.

  Hearing Lorna gasping as if choking, Jean lifted her hands to stop Lorna from speaking. “No…I blame you for this, not him,” she said with finality. “This is all your fault. It wasn’t supposed to be this way.” Her voice started to tremble with rage again, “…it wasn’t supposed to be this way…”

  Lorna had no idea what she was talking about. Then all anger fell from her face again, looking at Lorna in resigned self-pity, the hurt and pain lacing her voice making the agony Lorna felt cut deeper than any knife.

  “How could you hurt me this way?” Jean pleaded. Turning, she stormed off to her bedroom, slamming the door to Lorna’s bathroom behind her. Lorna stood in the bathroom in stunned silence. A look of total disbelief painted her face.

  Hearing the noise, Harry rolled over. “What’s wrong, honey?” wrapping his arms around Jean as she got under the covers.

  “Nothing…nothing, go back to sleep,” she quietly said, holding her husband of 11 years in her arms. Harry started to snore loudly again.

  Refusing to believe Lorna, shaking her head, she cuddled closer to Harry, whose arms tightened around her, and went to sleep.

  Her last thought was that she would deal with Lorna and the lies in the morning.

  It was a long time before Lorna moved from the middle of the bathroom floor. She looked at herself in the mirror; she had never felt such shame and loneliness.

  Turning on the shower, stepping into hot steaming water, she began to wash herself, then she started to scrub, then she began to scrub at her skin as if scouring a dirty pot.

  When her body began screaming from the pain she was inflecting upon it, she crouched into the far corner of the tub, holding her knees to her chest as the shower water beat at the crown of her head, her eyes closed, feeling no pain for she was numb inside. Her body racking with grief, despair, and exhaustion shook violently as the water cascaded down her body, swirling silently down the drain.

  After several hours, she stepped out of the shower in an unfeeling trance. Dripping wet, she walked into her bedroom, stood before her closet for a brief second, pulled out the hanger of whatever touched her fingers, and began to dress herself.

  Afterward, packing a small tote, she got the money she had been saving from under the floorboard. It was two hundred and fifty dollars, most of it in one-dollar bills.

  Sitting on the floor in the dark with a flashlight, she began to write a letter to Rev. Thomas. Before she left home on this night, she would tell someone why. If what she understood from his sermons was true, and if her mother was right, she would need him to ask God’s forgiveness for her, for she felt such shame.

  It took awhile to get the words right, but she did. In the letter, she told him everything, including what her mother said and had done…nothing. She begged him to pray for forgiveness for her, for she could no longer do it. She had no more prayers left inside of her.

  Sealing the envelope, she grabbed her tote and tiptoed out into the night. Taking the letter to Rev. Thomas’ house instead of the church, she slipped it into the mail slot of his front door. Taking a deep breath to calm herself, she was terrifyingly afraid as she took a last look at what was familiar to her.

  Walking to the Greyhound bus station, she bought a ticket for New York. Sitting at the rear of the bus, ensuring that she sat next to no one, she curled into the seat like a frightened puppy. Placing her head on her tote, glancing out of the dirt-filmed window, she swallowed the lump of despair in her throat and cried. Her body shook with anger, sorrow and fear. She was truly alone.

  When the tears were spent, she fell into an exhausted sleep. When she next awoke, she was in New York City. What was she going to do?

  …mind back on photo set

  Lorna! Hearing Tiffany pleading for her to hurry before Rorlo came into the dressing room to get them, Tiffany hurriedly applied more blush to her cheeks.

  Walking on to the set for the photo shoot, feeling the stares of everyone in the room, especially Rorlo and the heat from the light bulbs, she sat on the edge of the bed and struck a provocative pose.

  With childhood memories still haunting her, looking into the camera, she heard her mother’s voice saying this is all your fault. As the flash from the camera lit before her eyes like stars, and as each one died out, so did her hope. She heard Rorlo telling her to smile, and she did.

  Chapter 9

  That slimy pig, he thought. I will see that he pays even if I have to kill him myself. George Van Cleef, still staring out his office window, considered all Sable told him through eyes of rage. He could not afford any mistakes.

  His gaze finally focusing on the traffic below, “Joseph Chadwick will pay and pay dearly.” His voice etched with controlled rage echoing the rage in his eyes. The intercom interrupted his thoughts before they could descend into darker depths.

  “Mr. Van Cleef, Mr. Hart is here to see you.” Refocusing on the plan at hand, he took a deep breath. Seating himself behind his desk, he was in total control of his emotions…he had to be, a lesson learned long ago.

  “Please send him in, Ms. White,” he said absently while reaching for all the information he had gathered against his enemy for the last several years. There would be no mistake, he thought, the Chadwicks are most certainly going to suffer.

  Stephen entered the office just as he reached for the final folder in his bottom drawer, which he kept locked even when he was at work. Glancing up, he signaled for Stephen to take a seat. George liked Stephen.

  When Stephen had approached him five years ago for a job, he hesitated at first, because Stephen had no experience, just a college degree in architecture and right out of school, but after several meetings and discussions, George Van Cleef decided to give him a chance; after all everyone had to start from somewhere, he did.

  Since hiring Stephen, he had no regrets. “Hello Stephen, good to see you.” Extending his hands, Stephen greeted George with the same valor. He not only liked Van Cleef, as he called him when they were alone, but he also respected him.

  Standing again, George went back to the window. He did his best thinking when looking at nature. “Well, what brings you to my office?” He already knew, but he wanted to hear it from Stephen. He learned early in life never to take anything or anyone for granted.

  Once people voiced their opinions about something, or stated what they desired, it was not easy for them to back out. Therefore, he learned to ask questions rather than assume.

  “Well Van Cleef, I gave Ms. Van Cleef the Chadwick project to complete.” He confidently stated since he had discussed this with George before approaching Sable. George turned from the window, gave Stephen a leveled look, and for a moment said nothing.

  “Well…I trust your judgment…if you think she can handle it.”

  “Yes, I believe she can handle it; before making the change, I did check her past performances.”

  George Van Cleef showed perfect white teeth at Stephen’s announcement. No one but him would have dared give Sable an assignment she did not want and have the audacity to check her past performances on other jobs. He liked this guy. “Well is that it?” George asked quietly.

  Stephen gave him a leveled look, “
No.” He leaned forward in his chair, concern written on his face, “Joseph Chadwick has been nosing around the site,” there was a moment of pause, “I don’t like it.”

  George shook his head in agreement. This news coupled with what Sable told him made him wonder and he did not like the idea that Joseph Chadwick was nosing around the site.

  Turning toward Stephen, “Did you put extra security out around the place?” Things were getting down to the wire; he could not afford any mistakes.

  “Yes, that’s how I found out,” Stephen stated.

  “For the record, I don’t like it either; tell security to keep a sharp eye on things.”

  “I already have,” Stephen said with a sinister smile.

  After much discussion about other issues, they agreed to have lunch on a nonprofessional basis when the project was completed. When Stephen left, George knew he had much to consider.

  Stephen made his way back to his office after contacting the security guard at the mall site for an update. He knew that the time was almost near for his revenge on the Chadwicks. Uncharacteristically slamming his office door, he locked it.

  Calmly walking over to his desk, he slowly sat down; then interlacing his fingers and resting his chin upon them, he closed his eyes. He wanted to hit something. Someone.

  Each time he thought of him, he got so angry he swore he could kill Joseph Chadwick if he knew for sure that he could get away with it. He had his reasons for wanting to work for Van Cleef Enterprises. He already knew that they would be the ones building the new mall and that Chadwick, the greedy bastard, could not let such an opportunity pass.

  With every laboring breath he took, Stephen remembered how Chadwick ruined his childhood and how his father died. As the memories slammed through his defenses, tears burned behind his eyes.

  Stephen’s father, Ben, was a self-educated man who always expressed to Stephen how important education was in this world, especially for a black man. His parents sacrificed much so that he could go to school.

  Although his dad was self-educated, he had a mind for building. One day, Joseph Chadwick noticed that Ben was using an instrument that he had never seen before. Ben was using an instrument that not only told him the best wood to use for his barn because of the climate and location, but also because of the soil.

  By punching in a few numbers and answering a few questions, the instrument would tell you what kind of wood, how much wood, best roof for the structure being built and what type of paint or stain it should have for preservation.

  Joseph Chadwick was so intrigued, and seeing how the barn turned out, he asked Ben if he could use the instrument to build a tool shed. Ben agreed; he had no reason not to trust him.

  When Ben went to pick up his instrument, he was told that it had somehow gotten broken and Ben believed Joseph Chadwick. After all, Mr. Chadwick felt so bad; he paid Ben one hundred dollars, which Ben did not want to take because he made the machine out of bits and pieces that he put together. However, Joseph had insisted, saying he would feel a whole lot better if he could pay Ben for damages.

  Two months later while Stephen was reading the daily paper to his father, he unknowingly read how Joseph Chadwick had invented a machine that revolutionized building and was now one of the richest men in the world because of it. Ben was stunned. He told his wife what had happened and said that he was going to the Chadwicks and demand his machine back.

  When Ben went to Joseph Chadwick’s home, Joseph first claimed ignorance. Then he became angry and told Ben that he sold the machine to him and had therefore forfeited all rights, and he had a check for proof that he had paid for the machine. Ben was devastated.

  That night, Stephen’s dad, unable to sleep because not only did he feel like a fool, but he also felt like he had ruined the one chance his family had to escape poverty, unknowingly took sleeping pills with the medicine he normally took for his back pains.

  The combination was a deadly one; he had a severe adverse reaction and died in his sleep, choking from his own blood.

  Tears silently rolled down Stephen’s cheeks as the painful memories played in his mind like an awaking nightmare. After his father’s death, Stephen’s mother, usually a strong woman, became withdrawn. She continued to cook, clean, and talk to Stephen when he asked her a question, but that was all. It seemed to Stephen like she had somehow died too.

  Because Stephen was not only good in sports, but also excelled academically, he received a four-year scholarship that paid for everything including room and board. All he had to do was go to school and he did.

  His mother was very proud of him and they talked about how proud his dad would have been had he lived to see it.

  His once interlaced fingers had now formed into a hard fist. Eyes open, he did not see his current surroundings, but vivid colors of rage as the memories continued.

  During Stephen’s second year of college, his mother committed suicide. She left a note saying that now that he was on his way, her job was done; she could no longer live without her beloved husband and asked for his forgiveness. Stephen was devastated.

  Then he remembered Anna. Both fists hit his desk with a force so hard it sent a glass paperweight shattering to the floor. Thoughts of her, he hit his desk again, and Mac made him want to kill something…them. Living with so much pain, he plowed into his schoolwork like a mad man. Determined that he would finish what his dad had always wanted for him, kept him from thinking about his father, his mother, Mac, and strangling Anna with his bare hands.

  Reigning in his emotions, he got himself under control again. I have made it, he thought. I am right where I need to be to make him pay. Seeing his office again clearly, he felt saddened by the broken paperweight; it was a gift from his mother.

  Joseph will pay for this too, he thought, as he carefully picked up the shattered pieces dumping them into the wastebasket. He stood staring at the pieces for a few seconds.

  “You have made my life just like those pieces, Joseph, broken…shattered…you will pay,” he vowed in a deadly whisper.

  Taking several deep breaths to further calm himself, Stephen deliberately walked slowly toward his office door, then turning the knob and unlocking it, he stepped further into his plans to destroy his enemy.

  Chapter 10

  Rape, a violent act against…pausing in mid thought, Sable threw a pencil at her office door. Taking a deep breath, without looking, she reached for a pen out of the beautiful pencil holder her father gave to her on the first day on the job.

  Trying not to let frustration take a hold on her, she decided to take a mental break. She rotated her shoulders for a quick precious second. Having a deadline to meet, she unwaveringly focused on the task before her. I refuse to let that piece of scum get to me, she vowed mentally.

  She had not thought about Brad in years. But for the last several months, the memory of the despicable violent act that she had fought hard to conquer during the last two years of college was trying to resurrect itself from the ashes of the past.

  Absently beating the pen against her forehead, Sable determinedly concentrated on the stack of documents covering her desk, going over the final preparations for the opening of the new mall. She knew that nothing could go wrong. This was important to her father, Stephen…and yes, to her too.

  She still could not believe that Stephen wanted her to finish it. She was still furious. Without being a part of the Chadwick project, she had managed to avoid Brad Chadwick at all cost. Then she thought, what about my feelings for Stephen? Remembering vividly how their last meeting ended.

  Refocusing on the paperwork on her desk, she fought hard to shout out the effects their emotional collision was having on her. He is a complicated man, she thought—a complication that she did not need or welcome at this stage in her life, not now.

  The only thing she was sure of was that she wanted to follow her father’s example. In addition, she wanted, no needed, her father to be proud of her. Oh, she knew that he was, but she needed to prove to hi
m or maybe herself that she was not just another pretty face. She was, no…is, so much more than George Van Cleef’s daughter.

  Though she was very proud of her father, she knew she was capable of doing so much more. Putting the final touches to the Chadwick project was just what she needed to prove to everyone at the firm, in the business world, and mostly to herself that like father…like daughter.

  She would be a force to be reckoned with when her father passed the company on to her. No one would dare say she’s president because she’s daddy’s little girl. No, she would earn her way to the top with hard work.

  Taking a deep breath to refocus herself again, Sable went over all the contracts and invoices a third time. Everything was going along smoothly. Seeing Brad Chadwick’s signature on several documents made her cringe inside, and she painfully tightened the grip on her pen. She only had to deal with Joseph’s son, the arrogant prick, one time, which for her was one time too many.

  She slightly shook her head in disgust at her weakness, as the violent memories of the past burst through layers of temporary barricades she had erected over the years. Sable would never forget the night at college during her sophomore year when she first met the arrogant bast…Brad, mentally catching herself from using a curse word.

  Flipping to another document, she remembered that her and some of her friends were at the local club just talking and having a good time when Brad approached her table asking her to dance. She had turned him down.

  Rumors around campus had it that he had raped a girl, and his father had paid the girl off quite generously to not press charges. That same year Joseph Chadwick made a tremendously large contribution to the school, and the whole matter was completely dropped. Never reported to the police, Brad’s records remained clean as falling snow.

  Sable knew from Brad’s behavior that he believed he was better than everyone else, was untouchable and superior, and that his money could buy anything, and anyone; after all he had enough people around him on a daily basis to confirm this. Brad Chadwick was the man on campus.