Beyond the Mirror

Beep, beep, beep. Beep, beep, beep.

I awoke to the sound of my alarm blaring on the table beside my bed. It was Monday morning and I had to get up and get ready for school even if it was the last place I wanted to be. I shivered as I stood, the cold of September causing goosebumps to form across my arms and the back of my legs. I crossed my arms over my chest and rubbed them briskly, the friction doing almost nothing against the chill of the Australian winter air.

The silence in my house had a specific flavour. It tasted like cold toast and felt like the hum of a refrigerator that was far too large for just two people who rarely shared a meal. My older brother Aaron had left almost four years ago leaving me alone with my father, a man who viewed his office cubicle as a more sacred space than our living room, a ghost who occasionally sent a text message when he got to his office in the morning.

I picked up my phone and stared at the screen.

“Late night. Pasta in the freezer. Don’t forget to lock the back door. – Dad.”

That was the extent of our relationship lately. I was seventeen, a senior in high school, and currently the undisputed queen of a three-bedroom kingdom where the only other resident was my reflection in the hallway mirror. And honestly, some days, I wasn’t even sure I liked her. I placed my phone back on the bedside table with a heavy sigh.

I picked up my robe from where it had been discarded the night before on the armchair that was sitting underneath the window, and pulled it tight around me, the fleece worn thin at the elbows from years of the same cold mornings. I shuffled around my room in a slow orbit, lifting a shirt from the back of my desk chair, a skirt from the dust covered keyboard that hadn’t been played in years, and the neck tie that was hung on the wardrobe door handle, holding each one up to the grey light coming through the curtains and sniffing the collar, the waistband and inspecting for stains. The basket in the laundry downstairs had clean uniforms in it, pressed and folded, but that was a whole trip I didn’t have time for.

“That’ll do.” I shrugged and pulled the items of clothing into a bundle in my arms as I headed for my bedroom door.

As I moved down the hall I stopped by the linen closet to grab out a fresh towel, then headed toward the bathroom. I yawned and used one of my hands to carefully rub even more sleep from my eyes, and then I reached out for the handle to open the door. It wasn’t shut tight like it always was and there was a hint of steam flowing through the crack of the doorway, smelling of sandalwood and a soap that I didn’t recognise. I froze. My dad was at work and I was alone in the house; my heart hammered in my chest. Maybe it was a burglar? A very hygienic burglar who decided to start his crime spree with a morning shower? I closed my eyes, and pushed on the door.

As the door swung open, I slowly opened my eyes and looked up.

My eyes found the floor first— two bare feet on the bath mat, water still beading between the tendons. Whoever it was had their back to me, a towel slung low around their hips. A trail of droplets caught the bathroom light as they ran the length of his spine, pooling in the small hollow just above the towel’s edge. His shoulders were broad, the muscles of his upper back shifting as he bent forward toward the bathtub, one arm reaching down into it, the other braced against the wall— the kind of arms that looked like they’d been built by something more deliberate than accident.

I had no idea who the body in front of my belonged to and to be honest I probably should have been more freaked out, considering the only other person who lived in my house was my father and that body definitely did NOT belong to him, but I couldn’t help but stare. It was like I was still dreaming. He was beautiful. I watched as he slowly rose to a standing position and I let out a little gasp as the towel shifted slightly and the reality of what I was witnessing kicked in. The gasp seemed to be loud enough to grab the attention of the figure in front of me and he started to turn suddenly,

Time seemed to move in slow motion for me as he spun around with such force his feet slipped out from underneath him and he lost his balance, toppling over toward me. I didn’t have time to think, or even move out of the way before I was lying flat on my back, half inside the bathroom and half in the hallway. As I landed my head hit the wooden floorboards with a rather forceful thump and the clothes I had been clinging onto flew through the air and scattered around me.

“Holy shit! What the hell?” A deep and surly voice rang out from the sturdy body that was now lying flat on top of me. I looked up and I came face to face with a pair of dazzling green eyes, framed by thick, dark lashes. His face was ruggedly handsome with a sharp jawline and a scar just above his left eyebrow. He was breathtakingly beautiful. The kind of guy that belonged on a movie poster, not on my hallway floor.

“Uh, excuse me!” I spluttered, trying to wriggle out from under him. My heart raced. This was not how I envisioned my morning. He blinked, clearly dazed, and rolled off me like a log. I scrambled to sit up, my hair a chaotic mess. “What are you doing, tackling me like I’m some kind of linebacker?”

He righted himself, finally standing tall, and I noticed the towel was barely holding on. I couldn’t decide what was more alarming: the fact that I was lying on the floor like a beached whale or the fact that the dude was now scanning the room like he was expecting a marching band to come out of the closet

I blinked up at him, sprawled out like a starfish on the floor. The towel-clad stranger was now hovering over me, his wide eyes betraying a mix of confusion and alarm. looking like he had just survived a tumble from a cliff rather than a simple slip on the bathroom tiles. My heart raced. Was this a dream? A really weird dream? I mean, who falls into a hot guy in a towel?

“Sorry!” he said, his voice deep and rough. “I didn’t mean to fall on you. I was just trying to catch my balance.” He ran a hand through his tousled hair, a sheepish grin spreading across his face. The scar above his eyebrow crinkled with his smile. It was oddly charming, considering the chaos of our situation.

“Well, next time, try not to spin like a tornado in a small space.” I gestured toward the bathroom door, which was now ajar, revealing the half-empty laundry basket. “That’s my bathroom, not a wrestling ring.”

“Well you know this wouldn’t have happened if you knocked like a normal person right?” the male voice asked in an irritated tone.

“Usually, I don’t have to knock when I’m entering my own bathroom. Who the hell breaks into someone’s house and uses their bathroom anyway?” I screamed. As I shuffled backwards, I lost my footing and fell completely flat on the ground again, I could already feel a massive headache coming on, and having some mysterious stranger in my house when I was home alone was definitely not helping the situation, no matter how hot I thought he looked.

“I didn’t break in.” He stated in an irritated tone. “I was invited.”

“What do you mean invited? By who? Because it sure as hell wasn’t me.” I snapped back at him.

“Last I checked you weren’t the only one that lived in this house Ham!” He shot at me. His eyes narrowed and his mouth began to form an all too familiar smirk, one that had haunted my nightmares for so long.

That’s when the recognition hit me like a physical blow. I knew exactly who the body belonged to; my mood immediately went from bad to worse.

Andrew Egglington. Or as my friends and I called him, Egghead. He was a constant thorn in my side. My older brother Aaron’s best friend, he turned my life upside down the moment he entered it. For years, he made my existence unbearable.

The nicknames? He was the mastermind. “Wide Load” stuck on my school bag was just the beginning. I had always been bigger than the other girls my age. Dad had always said it was because I was ’Big Boned” but nobody else seemed to see it that way.

In primary school, my size didn’t matter much. Friends were easy to find. But high school? That’s when Andrew really went to town. He pointed out my full name, Henrietta Alana Matthews, and suddenly, I was “Ham” and “Hefty Henny.”

Every time Aaron and Andrew hung out, I was the punchline. It escalated when I joined high school. Andrew relished calling me “Ham” in front of everyone. News spread like wildfire.

I found some good friends despite the mockery, which helped. Thankfully, things eased up when Andrew and Aaron graduated and moved to Sydney. The nicknames faded, and high school became bearable.

But now? Andrew was back, and I could feel the pressure rising. I doubted my nickname-free days were going to last any longer.

“Ham? Really? That’s what you’re still going with?” He laughed, but it sounded forced.

“Some things never change I guess.” He paused. “But then again some things do.” Something shifted in his voice and I followed his gaze down to where my robe had fallen open, my sleep shorts twisted and ridden up. I yanked the robe shut so hard the fabric burned my palm. He turned his head away and cleared his throat. The scars. My inner thighs. My secret shame I wasn’t willing to share with anyone. Three seconds, maybe four, that his eyes had been there. Had he seen them? I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t think past it, I had to get away from him.

“Why the hell are you here?” I snarled at him as I attempted to push myself up from the floor, which was definitely not an easy task. “What are you doing in my house, Andrew? Why aren’t you in Sydney being a jerk to someone else?”

“Your dad didn’t tell you?” Andrew asked, looking genuinely amused by my distress. “I’m back in town for my final internship and some local credits. Your dad offered me Aaron’s old room. I moved in late last night while you were asleep.”

“Great.” I muttered, still struggling to pull myself up. That explained why he was in my house, but I was still curious to know why nobody had decided to tell me he was moving back to Adelaide. I made a mental note to crucify my brother when I spoke to him again, and to have a stern word with my father-if he was ever home for long enough to have an actual conversation with. “Would have been nice of either of them to mention it to me.”

“You’re just as graceful as ever I see Baby Elephant.” He laughed at me. I couldn’t tell if his laugh was mocking or if he was just generally amused by my awkward clumsiness and embarrassment. He didn’t seem to be at all embarrassed about the fact he was standing in the doorway in just a towel and that irritated me even more. He ran a hand slowly through his damp hair. “Looks like you haven’t missed any meals since I left. You need a hand pulling all that extra weight up?”

Within five minutes of being back, he was already commenting on my size and how much I ate, opening up old wounds I had tried so hard to heal. The familiar metallic taste suddenly returned to my mouth, the bitterness that took me back to the locked bathroom doors, the drag of heat across my skin and the hollow relief that followed.

“I’m fine.” I had already had way too much physical contact with him, the last thing I wanted was more. “I don’t need your help. In fact, I wouldn’t even be on the floor in the first place if it weren’t for you.”

“It’s not my fault you’re so clumsy.” I really had not missed having him around at all. I had been trying my best to ignore his comments even though they really stung.

I managed to eventually pull myself to my feet and find my balance again and glared at him, pulling my robe in tighter and wrapping my arms around myself, trying to hide my body from his shameful glares.

As I looked up, I spotted the clock on the wall and realised that if I didn’t get ready and head out soon, I really was going to be late.

“Look, I don’t have time to figure out why exactly you just suddenly appeared without me noticing, and come to think of it I really don’t care. I do however need you to move your arse so I can get ready before I’m late for school.” I bent down and started to gather the clothing that had spread everywhere when I fell.

“You missed something.” He said with a snicker. I turned around and saw him standing in the doorway, my tan coloured, extra-large DD cup Bra hanging from his fingers.

“Give me that!’ I shrieked, reached out my arm and snatched it from him. I could feel my face burning with embarrassment, it was just my luck that the one day anybody other than me had seen my underwear and it happened to be the most boring item of lingerie I owned.

“Bit different than the training bras you used to wear. When did your boobs finally catch up with the size of the rest of your body.” He teased. Yet another comment on my size.

“Ugh! I loathe you!” I spat at him with rage. I pushed past him, slamming the bathroom door behind me. I had to try really hard to block out the tears. It had been four years of peace from the person who represented every insecurity I had, and now he was back, and I was stuck living with him for the foreseeable future.