“Well, at least he didn’t go running for the hills,” Esmerelda said. “You might as well keep it. I think it will draw too much attention if you change it. They’ll ask what happened to the purple house, and then you’ll really be in trouble.”
They laughed and finished their tea.
“I have to say hi to my buddy before I go,” Esmerelda said as she got up from the table.
Later that evening,Alice stood alone in her bathroom. Her hands rested on the white porcelain sink pedestal. Steam rose from the sink as it filled with water. Bubbles swished around the porcelain like waves crashing along a coastline. They struggled to remain in the sink, but eventually slipped over the side onto the black and white checkerboard tile floor. Alice snapped her fingers, and the water stopped.
She grabbed a washcloth from a nearby shelf and submerged it into the water, churning the cloth, trying to soak up as much as possible. She bent over, carefully keeping a distance from the edge of the sink to not get her lavender robe wet. The warm, wet clothsoothed her face. She held it in place for a moment before scrubbing in circular patterns to remove all traces of makeup from the day.
She raised her head. A thin layer of condensation covered the oval-shaped mirror. An ornate gold filigree framed the outer edges of the mirror. She snapped her fingers again. Two candles suspended in the air moved behind her to provide more light. Other candles floated around the room. Shadows danced along the walls as their lights flickered.
Alice grabbed a dry washcloth and wiped away the condensation from the mirror. She meticulously rotated her face to examine it for any missed spots.
“Missed some right there,” her mirror image said, pointing to a spot on Alice’s left cheek.
“Thank you.” Alice rubbed the spot.
“I think you got it,” Alice’s mirror image replied.
“Good?” Alice asked.
The image gave a confident nod.
The rag slowly descended into the murky depths as Alice tossed it back into the sink. She untied her robe and sauntered over to the white, claw-footed bathtub. The robe hovered in the air behind Alice after she removed it. With a snap of her fingers, the robe floated over to a hook on the wall.
Alice braced herself along the side and slowly stepped into the warm water. She slid down the angled back of the tub, stopping with her head above the bubbles. The water smelled of soap, rosemary, and rose petals. Alice leaned back, closed her eyes, and let out a deep, long sigh of relief, in pure bliss.
“She’s right, you know,” the mirror image proclaimed.
Alice opened her left eye to look at the mirror before closing it again. “About what?”
“That you need to lay low,” the reflection responded. She smelled the luxuriously plush bathrobe she was wearing. “Adding lavender in the wash was a pleasant touch, by the way.”
“Of course you would take her side,” Alice replied. “And thank you.”
The image leaned against a wall out of sight, tilted her head, and surveyed the room. “You don’t want a repeat of Sam, do you?”
“Don’t mentionhername,” Alice said as she sloshed around in the bubble bath.
“Still…” the image’s voice trailed off. “It was fun.”
“Debatable,” Alice retorted.
“Sure, you had that whole incident at the end, but even you have to admit, overall, it was fun.”
Alice glared at the mirror and sat up slightly. With a whisk of her hand, a wineglass descended from above, followed by an unlabeled wine bottle. The bottle poured the wine into the glass, knowing the perfect moment to stop. Alice grabbed the glass and took a sip.
“If, and that’s a bigif, you overlook what happened, there were moments—fleeting moments—where it was… fun,” Alice said.
The mirror image gave a Cheshire Cat like smirk, grinning from ear to ear. “The nights were fun,” she added.
Alice scowled at the image before looking down and taking another sip of wine. “The nights were fun,” Alice admitted in a hushed tone.
“So, we had fun nights, fleeting moments, and one teeny-tiny incident. What’s the problem?” the image asked. “Call up Sam. Let’s get this thing back on.”
“It’s not that simple,” Alice responded.
“Why not?”