07 Feb 2013

A shaft of light penetrates the room revealing my reflection in the mirror. I ask myself “Who am I?”

An evening gone wrong

A shaft of light penetrates the room revealing my reflection in the mirror. I ask myself “Who am I?” Why am I here? What did I do? My mind is a blank as I continued to stare at the stranger who was looking back at me. It was not an unpleasant face. It appeared to be a middle aged face with some worry lines visible and lean enough. Long light brown hair framed the face, this strange face, my face.

There is only a brief hint of makeup and the lipstick has faded slightly from when last it was applied? That could not have been all that long ago I realize but where and when and why does none of this have any meaning to me?

I looked down at my clothes, a white shirt with slightly frilly cuffs peep out from under a mauve cashmere sweater on top, with designer blue jeans below and white tennis shoes on the feet, my feet, slightly soiled tennis shoes with spots on them.

I did a mental review of my body, nothing seemed damaged or dented. There are no feelings of pain anywhere. But why cant I remember anything. I hesitated for a moment listening for a sound, any sound. There was a low soft sound of music coming from somewhere outside the room. Slowly, quietly, going on instinct alone, I walked toward the slightly opened door through which the ray of light pierces into the room, where I am standing. I looked around.

It is a bedroom, very spacious, with an overstuffed chair in the corner next to the large dresser above which was the mirror in which I had first discovered myself. To the right of the bed was a closet. I pulled my hand back from the door and walked quietly over to the closet realizing there might be a clue as to who I am and where I am, something familiar.

I reached out turning the handle pulling the door to me. Suddenly there was a squeak of an unoiled hinge and my heart thumped in panic that someone might have heard and discover me. But the deed was done and the door open enough for me to look through and see that it was full of clothes, a man’s clothes, suits and slacks on the rack, nicely organized, folded shirts in bins up and down on the right. Shoes, a wide range of shoes, in neat rows along the bottom. Whoever’s bedroom this is I thought, is certainly neat and the owner willing to pay well to be well dressed. But why am I in this man’s bedroom?

Now, I crossed back to the door out of the room, listening again for any sound other than the music. It was jazz, very soft, light jazz, instrumental. Nothing else could be heard. After hesitating and taking a deep breath to calm my anxiety, I opened the door wide enough to look out. I was at the end of a long hallway, other rooms coming in from the left and right, doors closed. I began to walk softly down the hall but immediately stopped, my tennies were squeaking against the waxed parquet floor. I reached down to untie them and pull them off, holding them in my left hand as I continued slowly down the hall.

As I reached the end, the music came slightly more loudly and the the level of the light increased as I turned the corner, peaking around the edge of the walll before I entered the main room. It was a large salon furnished entirely in mid century modern style, again, the real stuff, the expensive stuff. Along the far wall were floor to ceiling windows looking out at other apartments floating in the distance from my vantage point. Ok, I thought, I’m in an apartment. Clearly a nice apartment in a high rise, but whose apartment and how did I get here. Still treading softly I crossed the room behind the large sofa that sat opposite the wall of windows. In front of the sofa was a glass table, holding two glasses with ice in the bottom but otherwise empty. Opposite the windows on the interior wall to the left, was a large wood paneled door with multiple locks, apparently to the outside. In the far corner was a bar, glasses hung overhead, bottles on shelves behind, a wine rack against the wall. To the right was the door into the kitchen, directly ahead of me. It stood open.

Still hearing no sound other than the music playing from the built in speakers placed in the walls around the room, I walked into the kitchen. Everything was silver and black and meticulously maintained. The surface of the stainless steel refrigerator glowed as if no one had ever put a finger on it to leave a trace. The black top of an induction hob had two covered pots sitting on it but otherwise seemed unused. The dark marble counter tops were subtly lit with indirect lighting, hidden underneath black gleaming cabinets above. Uncharacteristically, there were two white porcelain dinner plates showing the remnants of food, sitting in the gleaming stainless sink. So dinner had been eaten. But why is there no sign of anyone else in this place and I still had no clue as to why I was here. Perhaps I should best leave, but where would I go? Who could I call? I felt my pockets but they appeared to be empty. There were no clues.

I crossed back into the large central lounge and sat on the sofa to put my shoes back on. They were nice white, new leather trainers, more like all purpose, everyday shoes not jogging or exercise shoes. As I leaned over to lace up the right shoe, I looked more closely and realized that the spots were brownish red. How did they get there I mused.

I smelled one of the glasses, apparently it was cognac or some such after dinner drink. I guess whoever else was here must have eaten and left, that can be the only explanation.

Feeling my bladder full and my tension level high, I realized I had to find the bathroom and walked back toward the hall and the closed doors, one must be there. Opening the one on the right only revealed another bedroom, but this one was totally dedicated to being an office. The computer screen glowed behind a large modern desk placed facing the door. I looked around quickly at the well organized room and thought perhaps I could find more information there. I opened the closet and saw womens clothes. Oh, perhaps this is my room I thought but there is no bed here.

Going across the hall, I opened the other door. I had found the bathroom. All looked in order as well with a large closet on the left and a long cabinet with mirror above on the right. In the rear was a shower on the right opposite a large jacuzzi tub. I walked toward the back approaching the tub and as I neared it, I was staggered in horror. In the tub, floating under the water, bloody water, was a man, dead, obviously dead. A large knife was stuck in his chest, through his shirt but he had on no pants

As I leaned over to look down into the tub to see the person more closely, the light brown, long haired wig fell off my head and into the water. I bolted upright and turned around looking into the mirror on the opposite wall and recognized a face. My face. A man’s face. In a rush it all came back to me. Oh my god, it was an evening gone horribly wrong!