The Mirror Apocalypse

by John Ayang

  PART II

  To know your purpose in life you ought to know who you are.

  - Anon

  Houston, Texas

  Spring, 2012

  “HEY!” CRYSTAL SANDERS greeted her friend, Edo-Mma Eshiet, insipidly. Both had just gotten off of their respective school buses and walked through the gates of the Christo Rey High School. The late February morning was bright, cool, and crispy, typical of spring time. They were always the early birds. By some coincidence, they almost always seemed to arrive at the school gates at the same time every morning since they had become friends two years earlier. Now in their final year before graduating and moving on to college as they both planned, they were almost like sisters and could read each other’s mood change, no matter how slight.

  “Hey!” Edo-Mma greeted back. “Morning. You look kinda grouchy this morning. What’s up, girl?”

  “Nothing,” Crystal said, looking at her friend slightly quizzical and defensive. “I’m not grouchy. I’m….okay.”

  “Okay, as in ‘Okay-it’s-okay’, or okay, as in ‘okay-whatever’?” Edo-Mma quizzed further, heaving her backpack into a comfortable position.

  “I’m okay! What’s wrong with you, girl? You some kind of Guantanamo prison interrogator?” Crystal said, feigning slight vexation. “Watch your skirt. Pull it down before the guys start whistling at you,” she added, indicating Edo-Mma’s skirt, the back of which was pulled up when she heaved up her backpack, almost revealing her panties. Edo-Mma giggled with embarrassment and tucked at the back of her skirt to pull it down.

  “I’m sorry. I’m just concerned about you,” Edo-Mma demurred. “You haven’t been in the best of moods these past couple of days, you know.”

  “I stayed up late doing that assignment, you know,” Crystal said. “In case I get called up to present first. Mrs. Pivonka always seems to pick on me first.”

  “Yeah, I know,” Edo-Mma concurred grudgingly. “She likes you.”

  “No. I think she’s always trying to catch me off guard, so she can embarrass me,” Crystal said plaintively. “You don’t know that woman.”

  “Oh. Come on, Crysie. She gave you an ‘A’ last semester.” Edo-Mma said, as they passed through the scan-fitted doors, nodding and calling ‘hi’ to their friends and classmates. The scanner emitted a brief turquoise laser light with a beep, indicating they were cleared. “I know she’s tough, but I kind of like her style. She makes you work.”

  “She makes me work my ass off every time,” Crystal said, with a faint hint of petulance. “But you’re right. I kind of liked the ‘A’. But you got an ‘A’, too.”

  “Yeah. And I worked my ass off for it, too,” Edo-Mma said, nonchalantly. “You sure you don’t wanna tell me what’s eating your insides before we go in?”

  They stopped at their lockers in the hallway, to drop off their sweaters and bags, and get their books for the day. Crystal didn’t answer, so Edo-Mma pursued, “Let me guess: Josh is breaking up with you?”

  “Edo!” Crystal sounded exasperated. “You are such a doggone, dogged, inquisitive little lady, aren’t you?”

  “Shall I lend you some more adjectives?” Edo-Mma quipped, not in the least ruffled by Crystal’s soured humor.

  “Josh would never dream of breaking up with me,” Crystal said, somewhat smugly. Then she whispered, darting her eyes this way and that, conspiratorially, “The poor guy is madly in love with me.” Then she resumed her voice, “I sometimes feel bad when I don’t treat him right. But, as you know, he can’t stay mad at me for too long.”

  “I know,” Edo-Mma concurred. “And I envy you.”

  “Kelechi is a good guy,” Crystal said, sensing her friend might not be kidding about the envy part.

  “He’s hot-tempered and moody,” Edo-Mma sounded judgmental. “But he coaches me well in my computer lessons.” She found a good point to counter Kelechi’s bad side.

  “Talk about the wizard, and he shows up,” Crystal said, looking in the direction of an approaching young man and fellow student.

  The electric bell shrilled, startling the dinning students in the hallway, opening and banging their lockers. It was time to go to class. They closed their lockers and said, “Hi.”

  “Hi,” Kelechi said, taking and kissing Edo-Mma’s hand, as much as was allowed in Christo Rey, among coeds. “How are you?” he inquired.

  “I’m good,” Edo-Mma replied. “And how are you?”

  “Good, just the way my mom brought me up,” Kelechi replied, drawing a spurt of giggles from the girls.

  “Aren’t you the lucky one, then?” Crystal quipped.

  “I know,” Kelechi said, then craned his neck, calling out, “Hey, Josh!” Josh was about to enter his classroom, but turned upon hearing his name. Josh was a handsome mulatto with a sixtyish hairstyle. Edo-Mma noticed that Crystal’s mood had brightened at Josh’s approach.

  “Kelechi, the bell has sounded,” Edo-Mma said, squirming visibly.

  “I know, but we just need to agree on the time,” Kelechi said.

  “Time for what?” Edo-Mma asked, confused. “What’s going on?”

  “Edo, I was going to tell you at the right time,” Crystal said, sensing the suspicion in her friend’s demeanor. “Okay, let me give you the gist,” she whispered in her ear, as they shuffled toward the classroom door. “Kelechi is helping me find my dad. Or, more precisely, my sperm donor dad,” she concluded with a faint note of derisiveness.

  “What?!” Edo-Mma exclaimed a trifle too loud.

  “Shsh!” Crystal said, pushing Edo-Mma through the door. “Twelve-thirty in the basement,”

  “Josh, she says, twelve-thirty, in the basement” Kelechi said to Josh, as they exchanged their fist-bumping greeting.

  Edo-Mma had no time to process what was going on, as the students scuttled to their seats, killing their din as Evelyn Pivonka might walk in any time.

  She was a no-nonsense teacher. Every student knew if you wanted a good grade from Mrs. Pivonka, then you simply had to work hard and behave. Otherwise, you had to prepare yourself to repeat the course, and no student enjoyed repeating courses.

  The meeting was held underneath the school auditorium, which was a finished basement, a thirty-by-seventeen-feet, box-like space, broken by four sturdy columns that supported the beams holding up the ceiling, which also happened to be almost two-thirds of the auditorium’s floor. Four fanlights lined the top of the wall along the ceiling, on one of the longer sides, each measuring eight inches by three feet—narrow window-like openings of translucent glass—which let in enough light during the day to permit comfortable reading without switching on the electric lights. The walls were unprofessionally done with mortar, not sheetrock, though whoever did the painting did such a good job that he/she compensated for its roughness. There was a light socket at each of the far ends of the room, each designed to accommodate four plugs. There was no cooling or heating system, and the fact that it was designated as the approved safe haven for the 600 plus students in case of a hurricane, made the students nick-name it the “tornado tomb.” The school authorities banned the nickname, but habits die hard. Officially, it was ‘the basement’, but among the students, it was mischievously known as the ‘tornado tomb’.

  A few wooden chairs and desks, mainly of the old batch discarded when the school bought metal ones, were strewn about. Scraps of paper lying around the dusty floor told the story of a large room generally forgotten or just ignored and cheated out of cleaning services until a storm warning would remind the authorities of its existence. Not that the students complained about it, as it was to their advantage that school authorities left that one space inadequately policed. And not a few romantic rendezvous were scheduled there after hours, though it was used mostly by students seeking a quiet spot to catch up on their reading and cramming during finals. There were no exams going on, as it was just two weeks into the s
pring semester. Kelechi knew that few students, if any, would be in the basement. It was a perfect spot to meet and complete his Internet hacking.

  He plugged in the power cord of his laptop, pulled one of the chairs to the table, pressed the power button, and waited for it to boot up.

  “I can’t believe it’s this cold down here,” he said, plaintively, rubbing his hands together. “The stupid contractor who put this dump together didn’t believe there should be a heating device of any sort down here.”

  “Not the contractor, moron,” Josh chided, pulling two chairs to the table. “It’s the architect who forgot to put a doggone heater in his drawings. And why are you complaining anyway? It’s not that cold.” He pulled a bench to the table with a mad screeching sound as the two turned to watch the girls make their entry.

  “Quit that, man! It jars my teeth,” Kelechi snarled. “You don’t want to draw some inquisitive crowd down here. In any case, if either the architect or the contractor had a nickel worth of sense, they would have figured it’s below ground level here and could do with some heating of some sort. I’m from the tropics, man!”

  “And I’m from the Arctic,” Josh quipped as he sat down.

  “Hi, guys,” Crystal said, taking her seat beside Kelechi.

  “Hi, guys,” Edo-Mma called her greeting and took her seat beside Josh opposite Kelechi and Crystal. “So, what’s this hush-hush meeting about, and how long is this gonna take? Remember, Kelechi, break time is only thirty minutes.”

  “Oh! I thought we were gonna stay here till Jesus comes again!” Kelechi teased. He added, “I’m just kidding, Edo,” noticing the instant hurt in her eyes. “We should be done in about fifteen minutes.”

  “Yeah, Edo,” Crystal concurred, taking out a diary from her bag. “We should be done in no time. I need to take a pee before the next class.”

  “You should go and pee, girl,” Josh said. “Here, give me that. I can read it.” He stretched his hand to take the diary from Crystal.

  “I can’t let you read my diary, Josh!” Crystal said, holding the diary away from Josh’s reach.

  “C’mon, I’ve read it before,” Josh said, dismissively.

  “You read Crysie’s diary?” Edo-Mma asked. “Crysie, you let Josh read your diary?”

  “It’s just a diary!” Josh said, exasperatingly. “Man! Girls make a lot of fuss about their diaries.”

  “He was just beginning to read the first page when I caught him,” Crystal said. “Yeah, Josh, it is just a diary, but I have some personal stuff inside it that is not meant for your eyes. And you’ve got to learn to live with that,” she concluded pedantically.

  “That’s not manners, Josh!” Edo-Mma chided.

  “Guys! Guys! Can we get on with this thing?” Kelechi called out plaintively.

  “Okay, okay,” Josh said, raising his hands in mock surrender. “I promise to behave. I won’t touch your diary, Crysie. Kelechi, you never read Edo’s diary?”

  “Josh, I’m not interested in female stuff,” Kelechi responded casually. “Besides, I value my peace.”

  “I would kill him,” Edo-Mma interjected, petulantly.

  “See what I mean?” Kelechi said, shrugging, like a math wizard proving a theorem QED. “If you guys don’t mind, can we please get on with business?”

  They all broke out in laughter, more for Kelechi’s witty crack than for Edo-Mma’s vehemence.

  Crystal opened her diary to the required page. Kelechi booted up his laptop, loaded google chrome, clicked up a web page, fed in a password, and made a few other clicks. He proceeded to scroll down a list of names, dates, and coded numbers, as Crystal called out an entry in her diary. Josh and Edo-Mma went around and hunched over Kelechi’s and Crystal’s shoulders, watching, but hardly making any sense of the array of names which appeared neatly recorded in alphabetical order with numbers and dates arranged beside the names in two neat columns. The ritual went on for almost fifteen minutes, and then, Kelechi stopped abruptly at a page and asked Crystal to call out her diary entry again, which she did.

  “We got it!” Kelechi said, with a tinge of subdued excitement. “Write this down: California two four nine.”

  “California two four nine?” Crystal repeated, looking confused.

  “Yes, California two four nine,” Kelechi confirmed.

  “What the hell is ‘California two four nine’?” Edo-Mma asked, confused.

  “Yeah, what the hell is that?” Josh parroted.

  “We’ll find out,” Kelechi said, closing the Internet program. “Write it down Crysie, and we’ll find out.”

  As if on cue, the school bell began to shrill off above the basement, summoning students back to class for the short afternoon session. The quartet of hackers headed up the basement stairs back to their classroom, excited. They could hardly wait for the end of the school day to go back and work to find out the actual identity of “California two four nine.”

  Missouri City, Texas

  Spring, 2012

  “CALIFORNIA TWO FOUR NINE,” Crystal said, looking at her mother, Barbara Sanders, across the dinner table. “That was his name, or pseudonym.”

  “California two four nine!” Barbara repeated, looking at her daughter, somewhat confused.

  “Mom, you look as if you don’t know what I’m talking about. Why did he call himself ‘California two four nine’?”

  “Why did who call himself ‘California two four nine’?”

  “My real dad, Mom,” Crystal raised her voice in near exasperation. “Quit pretending you don’t understand me. I’m not talking rocket science. I’m asking you about the man whose sperm formed part of me sitting here and, who, up till three weeks ago, when I asked you, you said you didn’t know.”

  “You found out!” Barbara said, more as a statement than a question.

  “Yes, I found out what you were trying to hide from me,” Crystal replied, accusingly. “You lied to me all along.”

  “No, Crysie. I didn’t lie to you. It’s complicated,” Barbara interjected.

  “You said you just paid for the sperm,” Crystal pursued. “And that you were not allowed to know who the sperm donor was.”

  “Oh, God. Crysie why?” Barbara was alarmed. “Why did you have to go and dig that up for?”

  “Because I need to know who my biological dad is. I need to know who I am, Mom…and you lied to me!” Crystal said, almost yelling.

  “Oh, Crysie, honey, don’t say it that way,” Barbara countered. “I didn’t lie to you. It’s kind of complicated. I couldn’t tell you because you wouldn’t understand and I wasn’t even sure, and a lot of people would have been hurt.”

  “Yeah? A lot of people would have been hurt?” Crystal seized upon the slip and, vindictively, bored down on her mother. “So, you couldn’t tell me who my biological father is for fear you would hurt ‘a lot of people’? Good old Ms. Sanders! Always so sweet and never hurting anybody. Not even a fly! Except me, your daughter. You chose to hurt me so you wouldn’t hurt them. You chose them over me. Mom, did you ever love me?”

  “Oh, Crysie, please, don’t go off that way,” Barbara was exasperated at the abruptness of her daughter’s anger and offensive remarks. She was on the verge of tears. “Don’t say that. I didn’t choose anybody over you. I love you, dear. I love you, honey, but it’s complicated…”

  “Everything is complicated for you, and you think you can make other people’s life complicated, too. Guess what? I don’t want to hear that word from you again. And I don’t want to talk to you again, either…ever. I hate you!” Crystal got up, quickly heading for the stairs.

  “No, Crysie, honey, you don’t mean that. And you know it,” Barbara stood up also, moving around the dinner table toward her daughter who was talking amidst sobs of anger as she ran up the stairs toward her room. “Crysie, I was waiting for the right time. Please, come back. Don’t
walk away. I can explain everything. Crysie, dear, come back!”

  “Don’t talk to me! You don’t love me and I hate you! Go away! You are not my mom! I hate you!” Crystal yelled, ran inside her room, and slammed the door shut.

  “Crysie, come back, please!” Barbara made a last-ditch effort, but couldn’t keep up with Crystal. She gave up on the fifth step and, instead, called after her daughter’s vanishing figure, “Crysie, I love you! I love you, honey! I’m still your mom and I love you!” She broke down and sat on the fifth step, sobbing loudly. “Oh, God! Please, forgive me! I hurt my daughter! I hurt her badly! Oh, God! Oh, God….!”

  Barbara Sanders cried for almost three minutes, sitting and leaning her back on the bannister railing. When she finally calmed down, she permitted herself an excursion into her past, back to when she worked as a nursing assistant to Dr. Josef Horacek at the Norfolk Fertility Clinic in Norfolk, Virginia. Coming from her parents’ failed marriage and a broken home, she was the second child of Mark and Crystal Sanders. Her brother, almost six years her senior, had run away from home when he was 17, and her parents had made little effort to find out where he was. Looking back in hindsight, Barbara knew her parents’ mutual hatred for each other and constant fighting did not bode well for a loving family. Unable to love themselves, they couldn’t love their children, either. Things came to a head when they finally got divorced when she was 13. She had gone to live with her auntie, who was married to a successful stock broker. Through their generosity, she got to continue her schooling. After graduating high school, they put her through nursing school, where she got her associate’s degree in nursing. Her father, meanwhile, had vanished from her life entirely, not even communicating with her. Her mother, who had taken to drinking and prostitution after her divorce, eventually got implicated by her boyfriend in a botched robbery attempt and both were sent to prison. She later died in prison. Her mother’s death was devastating for Barbara and was instrumental to her stunted student career in nursing. She got a private job with a dentist in downtown Norfolk, but that wasn’t to last because of her erratic behavior. She had started smoking and drinking, and would sometimes turn up late for work. Fired from the dentist office, she took up waiting tables at a local restaurant and started hanging out with some drifters after hours.