The Mirror

THE MIRROR

Wendy drives her seventeen-year old daughter to a home where two nurses, a doctor on call, a dietician and a social worker await their arrival.

The scenery on their way there is quite picturesque with cattle seeking the shadows of the trees, seagulls cropping from the leftover of harvest and farmers on tractors, plowing the land in preparation for the next season.

They sometimes make small talk, avoiding the theme that changed their relationship and casted a shadow over the future, most of the time keeping their silent thoughts from each other.

“Coffee?” asks the teenager, opens the lid of the flask and pours the liquid into a mug. She takes a sip and then holds the mug for Wendy. “Coffee isn’t good for you,” says Wendy and bites her lip. “There is orange juice in the cooler.” The coffee has a bitter taste to it.

The teenager turns on the radio and searches for a wavelength with an upbeat. As she finds the rock she turns it really loud, excluding Wendy from her world. They drive through the gates towards the grayish building and Wendy notices the other girls in the garden pruning the roses, picking flowers, sit knitting on the benches or wide-legged on the lawn, drinking from the rays of sun.

The Social Worker meets them at the car and welcomes the teenager as if she belongs there. Wendy follows the worker inside the falsely decorated building with drawings and thank-you cards towards the office. The nurse with a no-nonsense attitude takes the teenager by the arm and pulls her gently away. “Some test and a questionnaire,” empathizes the Social Worker and her blue eyes turn somewhat grey. “This is the right decision and all the girls here seems to be content with their choice.”

After what feels like an eternity they walk back to the car and the teenager takes her suitcase and extra pair of shoes out, ready to walk the pebbled pathway towards the house with opened windows. Wendy looks once again at some of the girls waving at her teenager.

She gets in front of the teenager.

“You can’t stay here,” and with a sigh continues “look at them, they all look…”

“So pregnant?” asks the teenager.

“They all seem to have issues, they look so troubled.”

“Really?” asks the teenager, unwilling to hide from her rebellious moment.

In front of Wendy is her baby of seventeen years ago. She sees the skinny legs of the teenager and a barely noticeable bump between the hipbones.

“What you need is some distance to gain perspective,” consoles the Social Worker as the teenager turns her back on Wendy and walks away without saying her last goodbyes