C is for Catoptrophobia. The Fear of Mirrors

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Opal Perkins bustled around the farmhouse nervously searching for anything that she might have missed.  The place had to be perfect for Omar’s arrival.  She had waited too long and worked too hard to blow it on a forgotten detail like a doorknob or a piece of jewelry.  She’d be damned if she was going to let anyone take him back to that awful place because she screwed up again.

She knew her twin was still sick–that much Dr. Barrett had made abundantly clear–but she wanted her brother home, needed Omar to be a part of her life like she needed to breathe.  It was the sole reason Opal had gone through so much trouble and expense to purge every marginally shiny surface from their family home.  She removed every last mirror, bought the best non-reflective windows and covered them with sheer drapes, and swapped out all the doorknobs, light fixtures, and faucets with modern, matte-finish, black hardware. She even donated all her jewelry and her beloved sequined party dress to the church for the annual rummage sale.  Opal  told herself that she wouldn’t be socializing all that much once her brother came home in any case.

She opted to take all but one of the family photos down from the walls and place them in storage rather than replace the glass.  The image she kept–the one from the Christmas before Omar was committed–had given her comfort throughout the years, and she was unwilling to part with it.  It was the last time her family had been together and happy.  She remembered the love and joy that had filled the house when she looked at that picture, and she wanted so very badly for those feelings to infuse the house again.  So, she had that photo enlarged, framed with non-reflective glass, and hung prominently in the foyer above the console table adorned with a shallow, wooden, bowl of flowers.

The doorbell rang, and Opal hurried to answer it while wiping her sweaty hands on her skirt.  At the door, she paused to smooth her hair and steady her breath.  This time will be different, she silently promised herself.  The bell chimed again, and she put on her most radiant smile before throwing open the door and greeting her guests.

Ignoring Dr. Barrett, Opal flung herself into her twin’s arms and clung to him with all her might.  “Dear God,” she whispered into his collar.  “Please don’t take my brother from me again.”

Omar patted his sister’s back awkwardly.  “Sis?”  His voice trembled.  “I can see it in that picture on the wall.  Mother’s hand mirror.  The one she got for–”  He shoved Opal away and whirled away from the open door.  “Take it down!  I can see it!  It’s going to–”

Before she could stop him, Omar lunged down the wooden steps and disappeared into Dr. Barrett’s van, shattering her hopes beyond repair.

 

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