The mirror

I stood at my mirror one Monday morning in the last week of October looking at myself for several minutes unmoving before I did anything. I looked at my eyes and the dark circles under them. I hadn’t slept a wink the night before, every time I’d get close, I would start into one of my coughing fits. I looked down at the contents on my dresser and saw my tube of lip-gloss that I never leave home without applying. I picked it up put it on extra thick that day to make my lips extra shiny, blew my reflection a kiss, and winked. It was something I’d done since I was little and always made me feel like a movie star. Already dressed, all I had left to do was brush the tangles out of my hair. That’s how I liked things. Simple and natural. I left the house with barely any make up like that every morning and met my friend at the end of the block to walk to school. Today however, I wasn’t able to finish brushing my hair completely due to a coughing fit. I started coughing so hard I couldn’t breathe and I leaned on my dresser. Looking up when it finally stopped, I saw the same face in the mirror I saw a moment ago. Only a moment before, that face had been smiling, despite the tired eyes, but now that same face was overcome with fear and pain, those eyes having a hint of sadness, wanting her life to change. I looked over at my plant on the windowsill that was slowly dying. Every day it drooped a little more, looking sicker and sicker. I looked at the mirror one last time at the girl I wanted to be rid of, the one with cystic fibrosis that was slowly killing her, before turning away and leaving the stuffy house, allowing fresh air to enter and a sigh of relief to escape my lungs.1

I met Andrea at the corner a few minutes later than usual; my mother had stopped me on my way out to make sure I was ok. I love my mom to bits, and I appreciate how worried she is about me, it definitely shows that she cares about me, but I can’t say that I enjoy being watched over like I’m going to break apart at any moment. I of course told Andrea what was going on, like why I was late. We’ve been best friends since grade 2 and she’s always been really supportive of me, always understanding of my health. She knows how to help if I get into a coughing fit, so in a way, she’s like my little guardian angel. I can’t think about all she’s done for me over the years without smiling. When most of my friends deserted me, she stayed true, and I am forever grateful. I could never make it up to her for all she’s done for me. We got to school just before the bell rang and proceeded to our first class worry free.2

Andrea came over to my house after school for the next few days, and each time my mom greeted her with a smile. My mom has told me many times that she is extremely happy Andrea and I stayed such good friends. “You two were made for each other Mallory, I’m so glad you are still so close.” She has said to me many times, each time with a smile across her face. My mother and her mother had gone to school together and were both very pleased that we became friends too.3

On Thursday after school I sat on my bed while Andrea sat cross-legged on my beanbag chair holding my teddy bear by the arms. Across my dresser in front of my mirror were bottles of medication that many other people had felt uncomfortable seeing but Andrea over the years had become so accustomed to it that she never noticed when I went over to my dresser and took my antibiotics or my inhaler. We were listening to music, singing along as loudly as we could completely out of tune and off key when it felt like I had something clogging my throat and I couldn’t breathe. Andrea started pounding on my back until I stopped coughing and could breathe again. I clung to her scared with tears streaming down my face and I could feel her hand patting my back reassuringly. After that I didn’t really feel up to having company, even if it was Andrea, so she left, telling me to call her later. I curled up on my bed with my teddy bear and watched the numbers on the clock increase as my eyes got heavier and I felt lighter and lighter. The last thing I saw before I fell asleep was the clock change from 4:43 to 4:44.4

When I woke up the clock said 7:59 and the sky outside my window was dark and the moon was shining through. I turned on my lamp and went to my mirror and saw that I was very pale and still looked tired. I started coughing and looked at myself knowing very well I was losing this battle I had been fighting my entire life. I looked at the failure in the mirror and hated myself for being so weak, so I closed my eyes and punched the mirror with all the built up frustration and anger that I felt. I had been to the hospital over 20 times in my life and I was well past the age the doctors thought I’d make it to. Each time I went to the hospital I thought it would be my last time and each time I prayed and prayed that I would make it out alive and healthy but each time it seemed less likely that I would be as lucky the next time. 5

My hands were cut and bleeding and I was in so much pain but I didn’t care. I hated what I saw in the mirror, I hated who I was and I finally didn’t have to look at myself any more! I sat on my floor crying for all those years of hospital visits and waiting for a transplant, knowing my life expectancy was low and that each year that went by could very well be my last and all I wanted to do was sit on my floor crying and bleeding all those years away. It took me several minutes to compose myself and when I looked up I saw my mother at the door with tears in her eyes and my father was standing behind her with his hand on her shoulder. We stayed staring at each other for a few minutes before my mother silently came over to me and held my hands gently so she wouldn’t hurt them.6

“What happened here Mallory?” She asked me.7

“Never mind mom, I just got mad, it’s not as bad as it looks.”  I replied, trying to reassure her and myself that I would really ever be fine.8

No sooner had I finished my sentence than I started coughing worse than I had in years. I could not breath and my face was turning red from lack of oxygen. My mother called the doctor as I continued coughing. I was not fit to leave the house, so the doctor told my mother he was on his way.9

My coughing had pretty much stopped by the time Dr. Walters was in my room, but after a quick examination, he informed my family and I that I was to pack a bag and go to the hospital first thing in the morning. While we were cleaning the cuts on my hands, my parents saw the fear in my eyes and I saw the fear in theirs. We had been told I probably wouldn’t make it if I went to the hospital again, and fresh tears came to my eyes. I was so scared but all I wanted was to be away from here and the scared eyes of my parents. Understanding this, they left me in peace to call the only person in the world I wanted to talk to.10

Andrea picked up on the second ring and jokingly asked what took me so long. I started saying her name, and one syllable was all it took for her to realize I had been crying and in a heartbeat she said, “I’ll be right over.” 11

After we hung up, I sat on my bed staring at the shards of glass littered on my dresser. They were so shiny, catching the light it was as if they were all winking at me, mocking me, telling me I was a disappointment and would never be rid of that girl in the mirror that I hated. I glanced over at the plant on my windowsill and was devastated to see that it was too far gone to be saved. I went to my window and touched the leaves lightly before picking the plant up and emptying it into my garbage can. All that was left was an empty pot that once had so much life and had brought me so much joy, yet now it would probably never hold another life again.12

As I was looking sadly into my garbage can, Andrea walked in without knocking and tears were pooling in her eyes. We opened our arms and just stood there together, hugging each other and hearing the sound of the other’s sobs.13

“I’m so sorry, I should be the strong one. You don’t need me adding to everything.” Andrea said wiping her eyes.14

“You don’t need to be sorry, I just need you to be here right now.” Then I paused. I looked her in the eyes and said, “This is it Andrea, I can feel it, and I’m so scared…”15

She paused too before saying, “Do you want me to come to the hospital with you? I can’t just sit in school worrying about you…”16

Suddenly I hated myself for putting Andrea through all this. I turned away and looked out my window at the kids passing by with their friends and thought of all those years that we had been there for each other and I knew that for each of the hard times she’d been through, she had helped me through too many to count and I didn’t deserve her.17

“Andrea, I don’t need your help. I appreciate it, but I’m not going to do that to you.” I said after a deafening silence.18

She stared at me wide eyed like she couldn’t believe what she was hearing. I couldn’t look at her and see the pain in her eyes that was indefinitely there, caused by me. My hair was hanging down hiding my face and I was looking at my feet. I saw her shadow move from the far side of the room to just in front of me. She lifted her hand to my hair and tucked it behind my ear. I should have expected it. Every time I do that, trying to put on my protective shield, Andrea always comes along and takes it down. She’s the only one who can see right past me. I looked up at her eyes, and she looked into my own sad ones and said, “Now don’t go giving up on me. I’ve been with you in this for 8 years and you’ve never let me down! You’re my best friend and you’re NOT giving up now, understand?”19

I stood staring at her stunned. I didn’t know whether to smile, cry, hug her, or do all three. When I could finally speak again, I smiled at her and said slyly, “I wasn’t giving up, I just thought you’d given up on me…” and poked her arm, “Now give me a hug.” 20

“I thought you’d never ask.” Andrea replied with a huge grin spreading wide across her face. 21

We spent the next hour or so packing up my necessities and cleaning up the broken mirror. I had never expected to get that angry with myself, and even thinking about it, I found it hard to believe I had actually done it. The whole experience of it was a blur, as if I wasn’t actually there experiencing it, or that it had happened a long time ago. Andrea didn’t ask me about why I had broken my mirror, she knew me all too well. I had told her my feelings toward my reflection a few times. If I kept those feelings to myself they would eat away at me until I went insane. 22

Andrea’s mom pretty much forced her to stay the night and be my shadow at the hospital the next day. As usual, while entering the hospital, I clasped my hands together and asked God to let me live. This time, instead of the empty feeling that always made me believe my prayer hadn’t been heard, I had a comforting feeling come over me. It was then I knew for sure that this would be it. I would never see those doors from inside the elevator and see them coming closer into view as I walk toward them, but I wasn’t scared anymore. I knew that every step I took toward my hospital room was taking me closer to the place I would die, but it was a comfort to know that I would be free from the pain I was going through, though I was scared for my family and friends. I can’t imagine what it would be like to lose a child, or a best friend…23

Right now it is Monday, November 4 and I know I am not going to be here for Christmas. I have been sitting on this hospital bed for four days, since Friday morning. Andrea and my parents never leave; they stay by my bed even when I sleep so that if I wake up I’m not alone. Andrea looks like she needs to rest, and I want to tell her to sleep, but I need her. I need to know that she will be here when I have to say goodbye. I cannot even think about what is going on inside my mom. I look in her eyes and see that same fear I saw the day I had broken my mirror. When she holds my hand, I can feel her squeezing tighter than ever before, scared that if she lets go, she’ll lose me. My dad looks extremely bothered, pacing around the room. He won’t let any of us girls see him crying, but I know he’s crying inside. You can see something like that in someone’s eyes, especially if they’ve been your father for 15 years. I wear a necklace that says “Daddy’s little girl” and never take it off. I raise my hand up to my throat and touch the chain as all of these thoughts crash around in my brain. My friends from school have sent me flowers, all of which are in plain view as I sit in this hospital bed. There are daisies, carnations, pink roses, and tulips, which everyone knows are the flowers I planned to carry at my wedding.24

The doctors tell me that it could be any day now, and I can finally say I’m ready. Earlier today, I went into the bathroom and looked in the mirror for the first time in 4 days. This mirror was not broken, nor distorted, and I looked at myself for several minutes unmoving before I did anything. I took my lip-gloss in my hand and put it on nice and smooth, as usual and smiled at the beautiful girl in the mirror. After a few minutes, I blew my reflection a kiss, and winked. Then I turned off the light and left.25