Raging Gracefully by Annie Niland

Mirror, Mirror on the Wall BY ANNIE NILAND

This is an Ocean Beach horror story that ended well, but people still talk about the screaming.

It began innocently enough when a well-meaning husband decided to build an outdoor shower. Since he was a carpenter by trade, and highly motivated to showcase it to prospective clients, the wife knew the outdoor shower would be top notch and done in a timely fashion. She was thrilled, and showed him how much when he took a coffee break.

When the last nail was driven in and the shower was completed, the husband thumped his chest with pride. The wife gave him his moment in the sun, but jumped in the shower first. When they were both clean and refreshed, smelling like lavender, he returned to the Bluefish he was cleaning and she went back to chopping garlic for the linguine aglio e olio planned for dinner.

One day the husband came home with a 3’ by 6’ piece of mirror left over from a job. He attached it

to the back wall of the shower and also mounted a mirrored medicine cabinet to the front wall of the shower. The effect was similar to a dressing room where those held hostage are forced to look in the rear view mirror and then endure a full frontal assault. The husband, born with armor, forgot that his wife didn’t have the same defenses.

Sweaty from all the manual labor, the husband jumped in the shower and patted himself on the back while scrubbing it. The mirror, as usual, was friendly, and he was delighted to be able to shave and do a full body scan for ticks at the same time. When he emerged from the shower with a towel slung low around his hips, like a gun holster, the wife couldn’t help but smile at his cowboy-like swagger.

When it was the wife’s turn to shower, she hesitated. She had always battled with mirrors, but never with an oversized one, naked, and in direct sunlight.

The mirror took no prisoners. She took a deep breath and stepped in. The neighbors heard a scream, followed by a chain of expletives that would make a sailor blush. The old salt two doors down chuckled.

That night at dinner, the husband enjoyed his carbs as usual, careful to avoid eye contact with the wife as she tore through leaves of kale with a vengeance. Life went on. The wife learned to shower with her eyes closed.

When the 4th of July exploded, a line-up of guests and family arrived needing food, amped up hydration, and sand removal. The outdoor shower was a hit with the men and kids. The women? Not so much. Barely dry, hair still dripping, they headed towards the Chardonnay for comfort.

It took many summers for the wife to learn a life-changing lesson from her husband…an over-sized mirror in an outdoor shower wasn’t the enemy. With his dutiful support, she eased up on the war against herself.

Occasionally, she still screams in the outdoor shower, but it’s only when someone turns on the kitchen faucet and the hot water bails, or if under close scrutiny while facing off with the mirror, she discovers a tick.

That’s her story and she’s sticking to it.