Reflection

"Here is your drink," the waitress in the tight fitting black cocktail dress said, thrusting a martini glass with a napkin sweated to the bottom towards my face. I looked up at the glass, confused. The wide brim of the crystal narrowed down gracefully to the elegant stem that was balanced between the waitress' fingers. The liquid was clear and there were three swollen green, pimento-stuffed olives speared with a single toothpick resting at the bottom. A sophisticated drink, certainly not something that I would ever order. I'd feel absurd. Pretentious. I shook my head at the waitress.

"I'm sorry there's..." As I spoke, my embarrassment at the mistake prevented me from looking the waitress in the eye, I looked beyond her and noticed, sitting at the bar a few seats down, an overweight man who seemed to be looking in my general direction. Ah. Now it made sense.

"I mean," I said, "you can tell the gentleman that I am not interested. I am here with my boyfriend." As I spoke, I looked around briefly for Erik. I didn't see him. But the waitress was shaking her head.

"No one bought you a drink. You ordered it from me. You owe me $12.00. Want to start a tab?" I felt intensely embarrassed by my mistake. I berated myself. Of course Joan, that decent-looking guy at the bar was looking at you...because? Seriously, when was the last time that'd happened? College? Ever? What a ridiculous conclusion to jump to. But I couldn't wallow in my embarrassment, the waitress was still there and I was feeling more confused than ever.

"I never ordered anything, my boyfriend went to get me something. Not a martini," I said, I turned again, looking for Erik and again not seeing him. I hadn't even wanted to go out tonight. He'd forced me here to the "nicest bar in town" and now he'd disappeared.

I mean not that there was any mystery about that. Erik, I guess, thought I was stupid as well as boring and unattractive. The last time we'd gone to a bar, he'd left me alone for half an hour. At one point he'd actually walked right next me with his arm gingerly around the waist of an annoyed-looking waitress. He didn't even notice I was there. Or pretended not to. A couple of weeks later he'd taken me to nightclub in the city. He'd disappeared again. This time I found him dancing with some woman in a short skirt I'd never seen before. When I asked him about it, he nonchalantly told me he'd run into his college girlfriend. He always refused to dance with me...

You know, it was one thing, during the first year of our relationship, when I'd sometimes find lipstick on his collar or smell another woman on his...body. At least then he'd had the decency to pretend to be ashamed about it. And I could lie to myself and say that there must be some sort of explanation for it. I didn't know what this new need to have me here, so that he could do it right in front of me, was all about. Brazen and infinitely more hurtful. Maybe it was just to prove to both of us that I wouldn't say anything about it. Show us both that I was way too far past the point of standing up to him. He wanted to let me know my place. I guess it worked.

I had no more interest in thinking about this stuff now than I did at any other time. I looked back at the waitress. "I told him to get me a rum and coke. Did he tell you the wrong thing?" I asked over the loud, but tasteful, music. The waitress set the glass down in front of me and shrugged her shoulders.

"Listen, my shift is over. I am not in the mood for these games. No man ordered this. I don't know if it makes you feel better to pretend like guys are buying you drinks or something. I am sorry if I ruined that, I really am. So just leave the cash on the bar when you're done. I won't expect a tip," she said, exasperated. I felt my cheeks getting red. Christ, I wasn't that pathetic. Or at least...not so obviously pathetic. I couldn't let that stand.

"But..." I started.

"Miss, I took the order directly from you five minutes ago on the other side of the bar. Directly from your lips," she said.

"I've haven't moved in twenty minutes. You could ask the bartender," I said, now feeling deeply confused. She said I was playing games, but what was her angle? I didn't think this was funny. I looked to my right but the bartender was on the opposite side of the bar, talking to a customer.

By the time I turned back, the waitress was already walking away. As I moved, I could see why Erik was so gung ho to come here. The dress was impossibly short and the cute waitress' hips ticked left and right, her firm body moving beautifully. But just as that thought made me feel embarrassed...and anxious about Erik's location, the waitress turned. Her brow was furrowed and she leaned back towards me. She was ten feet away and it was hard to hear her over the din, but I could read her lips.

"Did you change your dress?" she asked. But she didn't bother to wait for a response. She shrugged and rolled her eyes and then walked away. For a few moments, I sat staring at her walking away, trying to figure out...what the hell had just happened. I turned back to the bar and looked down at the martini glass sitting in front of me. A strong Christmas-tree smell rose up from the liquid and it made my eyes water a little. Well...I was on the hook to pay for it, I thought, and lifted it to my lips. Intense...but not bad.

As I sipped at the alien-tasting drink, I thought about what the waitress had said. All of it. I guess I probably wouldn't have dwelled on it...but it had been happening a lot lately. This weird situation where, for some reason, people thought they'd already seen me. Or that I'd done something I hadn't done. Just a week earlier, I'd gone into the gas station on the corner near my house. I'd given the clerk $10 so I could top off the gas in my car.

He took it and said, "Why didn't you just do this ten minutes ago?" I'd been completely confused.

"Why, was there some sort of deal that ended ten minutes ago?" I'd asked. Now he gave me a confused look, as he put the bill in the register.

"No," he'd said, "you were in here ten minutes ago and bought a coke. I split a twenty for you and gave you this ten. Why didn't you just fill up your car then? And why'd you change your clothes?" I told him I had no idea what he was talking about and went and filled my car. There had been other incidents like that over the last year or so. Two or three that I could remember. A new mailman asking me if I moved to stay on his route, a woman at the grocery store apologizing to me "again" for her dog making a mess outside my apartment door, and other stuff as well.

Each event had seemed so strange... so surreal. I had been too off-put by the abrupt familiarity these people showed me to fully question them or to clarify that I didn't understand what they were talking about. Then the events would fade into my memory as life move on by. It was only the fact that the waitress had asked the same question as the gas station attendant, about my clothes, that had brought them all to mind.

I took another sip of the martini and wondered what it could mean. For half a second I smiled to myself, thinking about a fantasy I used to have when I was a small child: that I was really a princess and that my family was not my "real" family but had adopted me to save me from an evil witch. Maybe Princess Joan had a twin sister as well, to complete the fantasy. After a moment, that idea gave way to a more sobering realization. I was so incredibly bland looking that I could easily be confused with someone, anyone else. I was like

I mean I knew that my looks were boring. Not necessarily ugly. But...boring. I was average height (5'4), average weight (135 pounds), and average build (slight hourglass shaped with slim legs, wide-ish hips, slightly narrower waist, b-cup breasts). My hair was medium length, a sort of mousy brown color and straight with sort of messy-looking bangs. I had thinnish-lips, a narrow but too-long nose, and wide brown eyes. Like I said...I wasn't ugly. I just...didn't stand out. So people always thought I was someone else.

That thought was particularly demoralizing and I slumped down in my bar stool. I felt, again, that the idea of me drinking a martini felt affected and pompous and I pushed it away, out of sight. God, I just wished that there weren't all these people around me...people ignoring me. It was better to be alone at home. At least then, there wasn't any expectation of something different.

"I don't want to be here anymore," I said to myself. I pushed the chair back from the bar and stepped away. Erik had driven me, so I needed to find him. I knew that he wouldn't be happy to leave, we'd only been there half an hour. But I figured if I told him I was sick, he'd grudgingly take me home. He'd have some idea in mind for how I could make it up to him. But I didn't care, I needed to go. I'd put up with whatever silly idea he had in mind when the time came.

I walked around the bar for five minutes looking for Erik. I eyed the waitresses, knowing that he would be drawn to their skimpy uniforms. But everywhere I looked, I just saw happy people huddled together in small groups, laughing and talking. I overheard snippets of pleasant conversations and whispered flirtation. I was overcome by a wave of envy, a feeling that I'd been having a harder time controlling lately. The more happy people I encountered, the more I felt my heart beating in my ears. I felt like I couldn't catch my breath. It was anxiety was rising rapidly and I felt my stomach churning. God I hated all of this...

"No, not here!" I hissed quietly to myself, willing myself not to reacted. I scanned the room again, but not looking for Erik now. I saw a small hallway in one corner leading back to the bathrooms. There was a red exit sign posted on the wall near it. I moved quickly towards it, keeping focused on the exit sign and ignoring the people around me.

A few seconds later, I was out the door. I stepped into an alley that ran between the bar and the Rite Aid next door. It was narrow and poorly lit, a little ominous. But it was also secluded and quiet and I felt my heart rate drop immediately. I took a deep breath and let it out, watching the steam rise from my lips in the cold night air. It reminded me that I had a pack of cigarettes in my purse. I didn't smoke regularly anymore, but sometimes I just...

I was rooting through my purse, looking for my old lighter or my matchbook when I heard it. I faint whisper. I heard a muffled laugh as well. I looked around the alley, trying to figure out who was there. Maybe I could bum a light... I saw that there was a large green dumpster just a few yards to my right. I could now almost make out voices. I moved in that general direction.

I wasn't even able to see anyone when I felt my blood run cold. As I drew closer, I heard two voices. One was the light, throaty voice of a woman. The other was more familiar. Erik. For half a second I paused. I knew, generally, what I was going to see on the other side of that dumpster. The anxiety came flooding back to me. But, strangely, it wasn't because of what I would see. I mean I'd been forced to picture that kind of thing for the last few months. I was used to it, I guess. No, what I was afraid of was what I would do. Or, more accurately, what I wouldn't do. But my feet started moving again, I turned the corner.

Erik was standing with his back against the bar. His neck was bent and his face was turned down I could see his face buried in a woman's hair, his lips near her ear. He was whispering something to her and she was laughing. Her body was pressed up tightly against his, her breasts against his stomach and her hips, slightly to the side, pressed against his. My eyes instantly few to the woman's arm. It was pressed against Erik's body. I saw that his belt was undone. Her arm was buried in his pants up to the elbow. I could see the waistband of his boxer shorts cuffing her forearm. I vaguely noticed that she was smiling.

At that moment, I felt so unbearably tired. I felt my shoulders slump and my head droop. I didn't want to do anything now. I just wished I could now un-see what I was seeing. I couldn't even tell what I felt anymore. Maybe I was feeling everything and it just sort of overloaded, leaving me blank. In that sort of robotic state, I decided to just get this over with.

"Uh, Erik," I said. Softly. His body jerked and his eyes shot up. The woman's hand instantly slipped out of his pants and she turned down the alley, looking away from me.

"Joanie...uh... I can..." Erik said, almost panicky. I guess he didn't mind me knowing, but didn't like getting snuck up on. He started tucking his shirt into his pants, accidentally putting the tails into his boxer shorts. I was too tired for this scene. I decided to capitulate right away and save myself the time.

"I am going home," I said, "you don't have to leave. I am taking a cab." I pretended like I didn't see anything. My words hung in the air a minute. Erik looked at me, confused, then at the woman, then back at me. He gaped like a fish. But I didn't say anything else. I couldn't.

"Oh...okay," he said, "get back safe."

"I will," I said, turning up the other direction in the alley.

"I... uh, love you Joanie," he said.

"Love you too," I said, and kept walking. I knew that only one of us was telling the truth. That was probably the worst part.

When I was passed the dumpster I could hear them talking again. I could hear her laughing. Maybe she thought I was stupid too. Maybe she thought I hadn't seen. Maybe she thought that I allowed open relationships. And that really wasn't it. I mean, I didn't condone what Erik was doing. The thought that he was doing this...to me...it was unbearably hurtful. Or would be, if I allowed myself to really think about it. It was just...what was I supposed to do here? Feel vindication that I caught him. I mean we'd both known for months that it was happening and that we both knew about it. I hadn't been trying to prove anything, the proof was there. I had accepted it. Just like I accepted that Erik didn't brush his teeth on the weekends and didn't ever flush, even when he shit. He was not a good guy, but I already knew that. Why get all bent out of shape and act shocked?

What's more, what would be the good in making a scene and breaking up with him? My choices at this point were to be alone for the rest of my life or find another guy just like him. What good was effort? This was the path of least resistance. I'd been walking that path a long time. It didn't make any sense to pretend I didn't know where it was leading.

The only thing I felt now was a mild relief. I had an idea that maybe he'd knew that I'd never fight him on this and he could stop rubbing it in my face. I would keep doing his laundry, I'd keep waking him up for work. I'd demonstrate that I no longer had dignity and he would allow me the illusion that I did. It would be a small victory. But I'd take it.

I reached the front of the bar and saw that there was an in-service taxi idling right in front of me. Well, it looked like my luck was already changing. The bar sat on a narrow, one way street. As a result, I didn't need to cross traffic to get in on the rear, driver's side door. I simply opened the door and sat down.

"712 Maple Boulevard," I said to the driver. At the same instant, the door on the rear passenger side opened.

And I stepped in and sat down next to me.

* * * * *

"1818 Ludlow Street," the person in the taxi next to me said. She was...me, but she didn't sound like me. Her voice was huskier and more delicate. She sort of shook her hair out of her eyes as she adjusted herself on the seat, bouncing once and then sinking back in the chair. She crossed her arms in front of her breasts, a serene smile spreading across her face. The whole time, I stared at her numbly. It didn't make any sense. I couldn't be seeing this. I'd suffered some kind of psychotic break. This was some sort of bizarre anxiety attack. Some girl had gotten in the car with me and I was imagining that she was me. A happier...somehow prettier me. Except...

"Her eyes are wrong. They're green," I said quietly, robotically. The girl in the seat next to me jumped slightly then turned and looked at me. As soon as her eyes fell across me, she jolted slightly, her eyes bulged, and her mouth dropped open. The corners of her mouth (my mouth?) ticked up slightly.

"Joan?" she asked with her voice, again, sounding strange coming out of my mouth.

"Me?" I asked, not sure if I was referring to myself or to her...or if there was a difference in those two things. My mind felt foggy. I put my hand on my head, trying to steady myself. What the hell kind of delusion was this?

"Oh my god Joan!" the me next to me said warmly. She reached across the distance between us, wrapping her arms around my neck. I could feel the heat of her body, the softness of her flesh against me. She was real. She smelled like vanilla and cinnamon. Not like me at all. She squeezed me tightly. Like we were family.

"You ladies splitting? You're only eight blocks apart," the cabbie said in the front seat. I turned as best I could with the girl's arm around my neck and looked up at the dash. I saw the driver's eyes reflected in the rearview mirror.

"Sir..." I stumbled, "does this woman look like me?" I asked. The man laughed with his eyes. I kept staring at him through the mirror and he then fell silent for a moment.

"You serious?" he asked. The girl hugging me released my neck and I could hear her laughing gently.

"Yes," I said, not looking at her now. I saw the man's eyes shift slightly to look at her and then back to me.

"Twins?" he asked, "I don't get the game ma'am. I want to get the cab back here for another fare soon. You and your sister sharing the cab? There is a surcharge is why I ask."

"Oh my god Joanie!" the girl said, "don't you recognize me?" She laughed again. She knew my name? I slowly turned back and looked at her. Nothing had changed. She still looked remarkably like me. Only the very slightest differences...

"Of course I recognize you. You're me!" I said and the girl peeled with laughter.

"Oh my god! That is so good!" she laughed, slapping my arm familiarly and laughing harder. "Yeah, drive us together," she said. The cabbie shook his head, bemused, and started up the car. For a moment, I just sat silently, gaping at her. She was smiling and laughing, looking back at me as though this whole thing was a pleasant surprise.

As I looked at her I began to notice that, despite my initial reaction, there actually were differences between us. Most were pretty subtle. Her chin was slightly squarer than mine (which was particularly pointed), her eyes were wider set, her lips were thicker, she was probably an inch taller than me, her teeth were straighter, and other things like that. But the most obvious difference were the color of ours eyes. I don't know how I didn't notice it at first, but she had sparkling green eyes that made my pale brown eyes look dingy by comparison. After an initial glance, it was clear we looked different. Just...not much different. It was still completely unnerving.

"You're the person who ordered the Martini," I said finally a couple of blocks staring at her later. I was thinking of the other strange people recognizing me as well, "Who are you?" She laughed again, good-naturedly.

"I guess I do look a little different than I did the last time you saw me," she hinted.

"We've met?" I asked. I was too disoriented to feel ashamed that I didn't recognize someone who obviously knew who I was. "I've never met anyone who looks so much like me...only prettier," I said.

And that was the truth. After staring at her for a while I realized it was like looking at me without my flaws. She was pretty where I was plain. Or maybe that was understating the effect. It was more than that. I felt like there was less of me in the cab that there was of her. She was glowing and vibrant, there was this aura around her. The fact that she looked so similar to me just highlighted how dreary and colorless I was by comparison. It was like she was who I could be in a better world.