Farley Dunn

Reflection of a Man

We're coming up to Valentine's Day, and the romance thing is what February is all about.

Does he get the girl, and will she wind up with her man.

Sometimes it's a bit more complicated than that, and I wrote a story about Marlene, a woman who doesn't know quite what she's got. It comes out in my book, The Electric Minute, Vol. 4, in April.

Enjoy this story of a romance that might or might not be real, Reflection of a Man.

Reflection of a Man

2019 © Farley Dunn

MARLENE KNEW SOMETHING was missing.

What, she hadn’t decided. It was an . . . emptiness she couldn’t quite put her hands on, like reaching into a drawer for a familiar brush, only to touch empty space, and then seeing the brush was on the counter where it always was.

For example, this morning, while brushing her teeth, she’d faced the mirror, seeing herself and not really seeing herself, the way one does when preoccupied with getting off to work, and she’d reached to her right for the towel, only to touch an empty wall. She glanced in the mirror to see herself holding the towel in the other hand and remembered the towel bar was on her left side.

Yet, she always reached with her right . . . where a man’s razor would sit. She shook her head to clear her thoughts. Of course, the plug was on the right, she chided herself. Turning her eyes to the bar on her left, she laughed at her silliness, finished up, and was off to work, catching the train just in time to make it into the city.

Walking the three blocks to her office, Marlene kept her eyes on the people around her and the pavement directly in front. She avoided the massive glass windows. The reflections disoriented her. The things she saw there, the events, left her with a hollow feeling at times, as though what she saw wasn’t the life she lived every day.

Today, a man brushed her shoulder, and she involuntarily looked his way as he pardoned himself. In that glance, she caught herself in the storefront, and the glint of a ring on her finger brought back memories of her wedding day.

She smiled before she realized she wasn’t married, and she embarrassingly wondered if her imagination was suggesting it was time for her to make that step. Still, she entered her building and stepped into the elevator, recalling the warmth of an unknown husband in the middle of the night.

Inside her office, the feelings faded away as the activities of the day took their toll. She had a meeting at ten, a lunch date with a client, and two reports to complete that afternoon. Stepping on the elevator, the morning came rushing back at her. A fellow passenger smiled at her and moved aside. He was tall, with good hair and an easy, warm smile. She felt her heart quicken, as if she knew him. More than knew him, perhaps.

In her disorientation, she forgot to look at the floor, and she saw herself in the polished brass doors. The uneven surface twisted her reflection, and it appeared she and the unknown man were holding hands. She could feel the warmth of his skin against hers, and her face warmed. She glanced to her empty hands, and the sensation was broken. A stolen glance his direction revealed a flush on his face, and he worked his big hand and pressed it to his trouser leg, as though removing the sheen of dampness. At the ground floor, they both moved at once, bumping shoulders. Marlene apologized with a smile, he assured her it was his fault, and they separated, off in opposite directions.

Marlene was halfway to the station before the realization hit: Her elevator man was the same one from the storefront. He’d brushed her shoulder then, and again in the elevator. She rubbed her left hand absently, touching her finger to turn a ring that wasn’t there, and she scolded herself. Silly girl! A man doesn’t brush your shoulder and turn into a wedding ring.

Anyway, she still had shopping to do before making her way home. After disembarking the train, she stopped at Fryer’s Market, and wandering the aisles, as much to distract her from the day as from the desire to shop, she inspected bunches of carrots, which she didn’t eat, and bags of chips, which she did, but only when watching a show with a friend. Occasionally, she dropped something in her cart. Lifting a package of steaks, a shiny chrome panel reflected the bottom of her cart, and she was certain she saw an extra set of legs, a man’s, in trousers and dress shoes. She remembered the hand on the trousers in the elevator, and she knew she was about to bump into him again. It might be fate tempting her with love. She smiled and turned her head, to find no one there.

Once outside, she checked her bag to discover replacement blades for a man’s razor, a can of sardines, and a package of coffee. She didn’t drink coffee, like sardines, or use a man’s razor. She considered stepping back inside, but the memory of the man’s trousers at the meat counter had her frazzled, and she fought tears as she made her way home. She would throw the things away and visit another market from then on.

It was pulling her mail from the box that helped Marlene focus. She held her key in her hand, and she went through the letters one at a time, seeing if she had anything besides bills. The late afternoon sun was over her shoulder, and the light sparkled against the glass storm door. It distracted her, and she raised her eyes to the reflection of the letter she held in her hand.

Jameson Caruthers. It was upside down, but it definitely said Jameson.

Marlene looked back at the letter, the paper one, and she rubbed the address with her thumb. The words were blurred, but in the reflection, they were perfectly clear.

The door behind the glass opened, startling her. A tall man with good hair smiled at her, and he reached a big hand to open the door.

“Daydreaming again, Marlene? I picked up my electric razor at the repair shop downtown. I stopped by your office, but you had a full day, so I came on home.”

 “Jameson?” This was the man she’d met three times today, and she wanted this to be real.

“Of course, sweetheart. After all, I’m the one who bought you that ring.” He chuckled.

She looked down, and sure enough, there was the ring she’d seen in the storefront reflection.

“Let me take that bag.” He lifted it from her arms.

“Oh, I got your blades, but I don’t guess you need them now the electric one’s repaired, but there’s sardines and coffee, too.” She wanted him to be happy, to stay this time. Oh, she wanted him to be more than a reflection that faded when she looked away.

He disappeared into the kitchen, and everything was silent. He was gone again, and she dropped onto a bench, her loss overwhelming her. She wanted to touch her ring, to make sure it was there, but what if it wasn’t? She couldn’t bear to lose him once more.

“Marlene?” His warm, deep voice called from the kitchen. “How about steak for dinner tonight? I see you bought two.”

 “Of course, Jameson. I bought them just for you.” She leaped up, dropping her keys on the bench, and hugged herself in disbelief, as she happily headed toward the kitchen.

She didn’t remember buying the steaks for him, but she must have. At least he would be hers for a time, and maybe even into the night.