Alice: Reflections of a Looking Glass Friendship

behind the glass

“Of course it hurt that we could never love each other in a physical way. We would have been far more happy if we had. But that was like the tides, the change of seasons–something immutable, an immovable destiny we could never alter. No matter how cleverly we might shelter it, our delicate friendship wasn’t going to last forever. We were bound to reach a dead end. That was painfully clear.” ― Haruki Murakami, Sputnik Sweetheart

They say you meet friends in the damnedest places when you aren’t looking for them and I thought this was utter nonsense until the day I found a friend in the reflection of a mirror. I know what you’re and no, this isn’t a story about finally finding and befriending myself or coming into contact with the Supreme Intelligence that exists within me, because it wasn’t my reflection. This person, this woman who had no name, that I called Alice, stood beside the mirror version of myself, to the left. Always left of center. I should have taken that as a sign, but you never see the glaringly obvious without the benefit of hindsight, do you?

Before you mistake Alice for an imaginary friend, know that were I in a mirrorless room, I wouldn’t be able to communicate with her because she simply wouldn’t be there.

How she came to be trapped within mirrors is anyone’s guess and I doubt she truly knew herself, though whenever asked, she would always blame her fractured memory, splintered like the shards of glass of a shattered mirror that held incomplete images of her past.

She was fascinating in her way, Alice was. A brain filled with dark matter. Insecure to a fault. A high maintenance friend if ever there was one. Not only was she needy, self-absorbed to the exclusion of all else, devoid of a funny bonedespite the fact she claimed to have an excellent sense of humorbut she was also passive-aggressive and more than slightly obtuse when it came to the rules of the world that existed outside her own head. But as I said, fascinating in her own right.

It’s a shame that fascination wasn’t enough to carry through. I was determined in the beginning to plant our relationship in the soil of time, water it with patience and let it bask in the rays of understanding.

What sprang from the dirt wasn’t the flower of friendship, but the weeds of unwanted advice. It’s what broken people do, you see, they have an undying need to give others advice on how to fix themselves. I am by no stretch of the imagination a Bible scholar, but I am familiar with the passage:

And why beholdest thou the mote that is in thy brother’s eye, but considerest not the beam that is in thine own eye?”

But I endured it. You ask me why? I couldn’t tell you. That’s what friends are for, I reckon. But then I started to notice that her reflection was dwarfing my own. She began taking up the majority space in the mirror, and I, trying to keep the peace had ignored the signs and allowed it to happen. My own fault, I plainly admit it.

But no more.

As I grow older, reluctantly wiser, and I reevaluate my life choices and take stock of my friends, I see with regard to the Alice matter that I will never get a decent return on my investment. Some people are a bad fit within their own skin as well as with other people.

Not long after, I noticed she wasn’t simply trapped within a mirror. Alice was actually trapped in a glass box of her own construction, caught within a mirror pocket dimension. And to add insult to injury, she was attempting to trap my reflection, and thereby me, inside one as well.

In the end, I did the only thing I could do, for she gave me no other choice. I placed her reflection in the only fitting place I could think of — my rear view mirror. The very last time I ever laid eyes on Alice, she was shrinking in the distance until she was little more than a dot on the horizon.

My sincerest wishes for her are to find her way out of her glass cage and strive to be more than a visual echo in the reflectors of others. But that first step begins with her. She has to want to be a real person, and I’m not sure she knows how.

In any event, adieu, Looking Glass Girl. Here’s not looking at you, kiddo.

The rest of you, go forth and be reflectively writeful (and be mindful of mirror-lurkers).

– Rhyan Scorpio-Rhys

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A Friend

She had the nerve to ask me, “Just who do you think you are?” and my temper spiked. Zero to sixty, I got hotter than the hinges on the gates of Hell, and I was fixing to tell her just who I thought I was.

I was going to tell her I’m the person she wants to have near when she’s dying, and whom she likes to be with while she’s alive. The certain someone she can spontaneously turn to for help when she’s in trouble, and who’s the first to hear the good news when she has good fortune.

The guy whose counsel she seeks when she’s perplexed and my congratulations when the perplexity is solved. The person in whom she can confide the secrets she wants no other living soul to know, and yet will never pry into her heart to discover whether there are any more secrets to be revealed.

The pillar on which she can lean when her heart aches, but who will never complain or take advantage of her leaning. Someone who will get down on my knees beside her when she’s down, and forget that I did so when she’s on her feet again.

The shoulder she can weep on when she’s sad and with whom she enjoys laughing when she’s glad. Always there with a tear on my cheek when she suffers and a twinkle in my eye when the sun shines on her again. Also, I’m the one with pain in my voice when she’s in distress and melody in my tone when her heart is happy.

Besides her family, I’m the one who admires her for her strong points and loves her in spite of her weak ones. I can laugh at her foibles without despising her for having them as well as make allowances for her limitations without allowing them to obscure her talents.

I’m that fella who’s proud of her when fortune favors her but not ashamed of her when she fails. I will contribute to her success without claiming any share in it. I feel and show satisfaction when she pleases me but never resentment when she disappoints me.

The stand-up guy that tells her the truth even when it hurts and without her taking offense. And yes, I am not ashamed to grant her a favor even at the risk of being imposed upon and can extend a helping hand to lighten her load without expecting any other reward than having had the privilege of so doing.

I give all I can whenever I can without ever keeping a record of what I have given and who says the best about her when everybody else is saying the worst.

I want to say all this and make her feel it, make her understand, but the anger passes and all I say is, “I am your friend,” and it’s all that’s needed to be said because it encompasses everything.

-Rhyan Scorpio-Rhys