Mary Alice Monroe - Girl In The Mirror

“You are smart like him,” her mother amended, picking at her sweater. “And you have his nose. A strong, noble nose. Still, you have my eyes, your grandmother Sophie’s eyes.”

Listening, Charlotte’s gaze traveled in the mirror up from her full chest, beyond her thin shoulders and long neck to her face. It wasn’t often that she suffered the study of her own reflection. Staring back were the large, wide, vivid blue eyes under dark, finely arched brows that resembled her mother’s. And the straight, narrow nose of her father.

“But from whom,” Charlotte asked bitterly, “did I get this grossly sloping chin and these drooping lips? Who do I have to thank for these fine features?”

“Hush, Charlotte,” her mother pleaded, her face ashen.

“You got your looks from God.”

Charlotte swallowed her retort and lowered her head, ashamed for the angry thoughts she’d just had about God. Besides, she didn’t want to upset her mother with useless anger. After all, what choice did her mother have but to accept her only daughter’s ugliness as God’s will? Charlotte’s own daily prayer was that she herself could accept the face.

“Someday,” her mother said, beginning the phrase that was more a prayer in this Polish Catholic house than the Our Father. “You will meet Someone. A fine man who will love you for all your good qualities. And you are a good girl, Charlotte.”

Charlotte pressed her lips together and turned away from the mirror. There would be no Someone. Not for her. “The jacket won’t fit under my coat,” she said. “I’ll carry it.”

Her mother closed her mouth and looked wearily at her hands. “Yes,” she said softly. “The jacket will be fine. Nice girls don’t need to advertise.”

Charlotte forgot her jacket. In her mind’s eye she could see the black wool lying on the bench beside the front door. How could she be so forgetful? she thought, mentally kicking herself. One minute of stupidity meant hours of agony.

She’d wave at her boss, enough to let him know she was here, then duck out. Charlotte peered in through the entrance of the banquet hall. Round tables, decorated with garish faux silk poinsettias festooned with glittering red and green ribbons, were assembled on an enormous revolving floor.

“Come on in!” someone shouted from the crowd. Charlotte took a small step into the room, clutching her coat close to the neck. Beyond, revelers slowly traveled a three-hundred-and-sixty-degree tour of Chicago’s skyline to the tune of “A Holly Jolly Christmas.”

Everyone was there, from the top management to the lowly file clerks. McNally and Kopp was a small accounting firm, but when you multiplied that number times two, it didn’t take great math skills to know that at least one hundred people were assembled to celebrate the holidays. And from the sounds of it, most of the guests were already on their second or third drinks.

In the far corner, a group of men in suits gathered at the bar. Between laughs and swallows, their eyes scanned the room with the hungry look of animals on the hunt.

“Charley!”

Charlotte cringed at the name. Looking up, she saw Judy Riker, her office manager, approaching wearing a peekaboo dress of red sequins and straps that barely held her together. Boy, oh boy, Charlotte thought with a smile. Her mother would be shocked to see so much of Judy’s “you knows” exposed. The men at the bar noticed, too, and Charlotte saw them lean over and comment to one another as Judy passed.

“I was just leaving,” Charlotte said as Judy walked up.

“Leaving? Nonsense. You’ve just arrived. Come on, don’t be such a wallflower. It’s time you had some fun.” Judy coaxed a reluctant Charlotte out of her coat. “My, what a nice dress,” she said, barely disguising her surprise.

“You look nice in red, Charley. You should wear it more often instead of that baggy black and gray you always wear. People always ask if you’re in mourning. With your long blond hair, red is definitely your color.”

“It’s Christmas,” she responded, blushing.

“Well, Merry Christmas, Charley! Come on. Let’s go get a drink. It’s a cash bar, those cheap bastards. You’d think they’d spring for Christmas. What the hell, it’s my treat. Let’s tie one on for Ol’ St. Nick.”

Judy bought Charlotte a white wine, then, her job as hostess done, disappeared into the crowd. Alone again, Charlotte clutched the stem of her wineglass like a lifeline and tracked her path to a table. Her heart sank. She had to walk past the bar.

Charlotte had learned early in life that an ugly face drew as many comments from a group of guys as a pretty one. Maybe more. Hunching her shoulders forward, she let her hair slide over her face in a practiced move of camouflage. She imagined that she was on stage, marked her point across the floor, then, eyes on the point, she proceeded in a straight line across the floor to the backbeat of “Babes in Toyland.”

As she passed the bar, the rowdy men quieted. She held her breath and invoked St. Anthony the Great to protect her from swine. Hurrying her pace, her hands clenching and unclenching the stem of her glass, she found her seat and slunk quickly down into the upholstery. Just when she was muttering thanks to St. Anthony, she saw a man swerving toward her. She sucked in her breath and averted her face.

“Excuse me,” he said at her side. “Have we met?”

It was her boss, Lou Kopp. A chill ran down her spine and she sunk farther into her seat, bringing her hand to her face. From the bar she heard the jeers: “Way to go, Lou.”

She felt like a trapped animal, but years of ridicule had taught her never to show fear. Taking a deep breath, she turned her head slowly to face him, and, as she looked up, her hair fell back from her face. Lou Kopp’s face registered woozy confusion, then shock as his smile slipped.

“What the hell—”

Charlotte winced but willed her voice to remain even.

“My name is Charlotte Godowski. You might remember who I am. I’m an accountant in your company.”

Now the voices from the bar turned to hoots of laughter. “Wow! Tonight’s your lucky night.” “Hey, this is Christmas, not Halloween!”

After each outburst they broke into a renewed round of drunken laughter that riddled like bullets.

Charlotte’s defense was to pretend not to hear them, or the sympathetic tsks from the women within hearing distance. Yet inside she felt like a slip of paper that had burned, curled and turned to ash. If only she could blow away.

For Charlotte knew, as she saw Lou Kopp swagger back to the bar to be welcomed with sympathetic slaps on the back, that tonight would be no different from all the other parties she had ever attended. No different from the lunchrooms at school. Now the naughty boys had a target upon which to vent their frustration against all the beautiful girls who’d scorned them.

Charlotte stood straight and filed past the boozy comrades at the bar. They drunkenly nudged and snickered as she crossed their line of vision. Judy Riker hurried to meet her at the door.

“Charlotte, I don’t know what to say. Maybe if—”

“Please,” she responded, holding up her hand. “Merry Christmas, Judy. Good night.”

It just wasn’t in her to muster a smile. Turning on her heel, she quickly collected her coat, covered the now despised red wool dress, then pressed the elevator button. The bell rang promptly and she moved quickly into the box, punching the lobby button, then closing her eyes in relief at being alone. Just as the doors swept shut, however, a man hurried in. The door bounced from his shoulders then quickly slid shut behind him.

Looking up, she saw Lou Kopp.

“Going to the garage?” Lou asked, pushing the G button.