Crazy

Her children thought she was crazy. Her friends—well, acquaintances would be more accurate—thought she was crazy, too. But her children were grown with lives of their own, and the fact that she had second thoughts about referring to her friends by that name told her she wasn’t required to take their opinions under consideration.

Her husband’s opinion would have mattered, but his death two months ago had sparked this crazy venture, anyway.

So Martha bought a VW van, chose not to renew her lease, put her things in storage and took off to see the country.

The idea had been simmering beneath the surface for years. She’d married young, had children young and had missed out on the adventures young people were supposed to have. She’d talked with her husband about getting an RV someday, and he liked that idea, but she knew, somehow, that wasn’t really what she wanted. RVs and RV parks were accepted retirement adventures. She wanted something even crazier.

When she set out in her van, she had no itinerary, no reservations and no plan. She would start by heading west—that was all the planning she’d done. When she was hungry, she’d eat. When she was tired, she’d sleep. When she saw something interesting, she’d explore, whether that took two hours or two weeks.

“And what happens if your van breaks down?” her daughter asked. “What happens if you can’t find a safe place to park? Are you crazy, Mom?”

Yes, she supposed maybe she was. And she liked it. 

Mirror Image

Carol was fascinated by reflections. It started with a childhood trip through a mirror maze when the circus came to town. She’d mocked the thing when she was outside—a real baby attraction for sure—but it became a different story once she was in there.

She got separated from her mom and brother. She could see them—could see two and three of them. Each time she ran forward, though, she just smacked into glass. She came close to real panic before her mom finally put a hand on her shoulder and said, “It’s tougher than it looks, isn’t it?”

Ever since then, she’d been unable to pass by a mirror without stopping to stare into it. Storefront windows became whole other worlds when the sun was at the right angle. Lakes were her favorite, though. Lakes not only made reflections, they made reflections she could dive into.

When Carol was underwater, she thought about the reflection on the surface above her and felt she’d actually stepped through the looking glass. She’d broken into the world on the other side of the mirror maze, the one where her mother and brother had hidden from her so long ago. Sometimes she made a game of seeing how long she could hold her breath. She liked to stay down long enough to be sure the water over her had settled and stilled to show reflections again.

There weren’t many opportunities for the breath-holding game now that Carol was an adult, but she still paid attention to the reflections. There was a bridge she drove over every day on her way to work. She always watched her car’s reflection race along the water beside her, and she wondered what it was like in that car, the one hanging under the bridge rather than over it, the one filled with icy lake water.

It might have been an accident. It might not have been. She might have been paying too much attention to the reflection and too little to the road, or she might have had a momentary lapse of sanity. Perhaps the reflection itself had cast a spell over her. In the crazy few seconds between the time Carol’s car slammed into the guardrail and the time she realized she was going over, Carol was as surprised as if another driver had crashed into her. Except no driver had. She couldn’t blame this on anyone but herself—or her mirror self.

The car filled with water. Carol fought to get out, but even as she fought, another part of her mind wondered what it would be like once she couldn’t hold her breath anymore and she truly became her mirror self. What would it be like to exist only as an image, something to be seen but not touched, something only half real?

That’s what ghosts are, she thought. They’re reflections. I wonder what the mirror is?

She stopped fighting to get out. She realized she couldn’t wait to step through. 

Lucky in Love

Sharon used to drive her husband crazy on road trips. She wanted to stop at every historical marker, every kitschy display, every vegetable stand. He just wanted to get to their destination as quickly as possible.

The divorce didn’t come as a surprise to anyone. Road trips were just one symptom of a bigger problem.

Once everything was final, Sharon started driving aimlessly on the weekends. She loved being able to stop whenever she wanted, with no one sighing or groaning or tapping his watch. Sure, she got lonely sometimes. She hoped she’d eventually find a partner who liked exploring the world with her. In the meantime, she got out on the back roads as much as possible, trying to make up for all the interesting stops she’d been forced to pass up before.

Of course she stopped when she saw the wooden head in the yard. How could she not?

Sharon pulled her car onto the shoulder, parked and got out to take a closer look. Someone had carved it, apparently, from a large chunk of tree trunk. It was roughly done but somehow magnetic. Sharon didn’t feel able to take her eyes off it.

“One-fifty,” a voice said.

Sharon straightened up in a hurry. A man in jeans and flannel had come around the side of the house while she’d been distracted. He didn’t look dangerous, but Sharon backed up a step anyway, just in case. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I didn’t mean to trespass. I just couldn’t help stopping to look at this.”

“It’s for sale,” he said. “A hundred and fifty bucks. Heck, I could go one twenty-five.”

“Oh, I couldn’t. I live in an apartment. It’s good work, though. You’re talented.”

He laughed. “I didn’t make it. I was just driving around one day and saw it in the yard of the guy who did make it. He told me it was one-fifty, and it would make me lucky in love. Figured I couldn’t pass that up.”

Sharon smiled. “And did it work?”

“Not a bit. That’s why I decided to sell it. Maybe it’ll work better for you.”

“I doubt that.” But as soon as she said it, she wondered.

“One hundred, and I’ll haul it out and put it on your balcony.”

She hesitated. “Did you say you were driving around and had to stop when you saw this?”

“Sure. Same as you, I guess. How could you drive by something interesting and not stop?”

“That’s right,” she said. She realized she was grinning. “I guess maybe I could find space for it on my balcony, if it’s going to make me lucky in love. And if you haul it out there, the least I could do is treat you to dinner.”

“Well, I wouldn’t turn that down.”

She held out her hand. “I’m Sharon.”

“Mike,” he said, and they shook.

“It’s very nice to meet you, Mike,” she said. And oh, it really was.