The Girl in the Mirror … Leslie Galvan

by Leslie Galvan The taste of alcohol still stings my tongue from the night before. The pounding on my head is merciless. My itchy eyes feel like they haven’t rested in days, and my body feels like it has been stepped on, kicked on, and trampled on. I smell the vomit on my clothes before I see it. I try to move but I’m glued to the bed. My insides hurt. I feel like I’ve either been laughing or crying for hours. I take deep breaths and focus on getting up. I finally manage to sit up. I look around the room. It’s my room. I see my shoes and purse scattered on the floor. My messy desk in the corner. The pink drapes my mother picked out. It’s my room. I’m at my parents’ house. But why can’t I remember how I got here? I slowly get up from the bed and pick up my purse. I rummage through my lipsticks, wallet, and perfume, but don’t find it. I must have lost it at the bar. I don’t know who I would call even if I had found it. I go into the bathroom and what I see out of the corner of my eye frightens me. Her brown hair is crumbled in wads, sticking up from all sides. The mascara on her cheeks and the pink lipstick smeared on her face makes me tear up. The glittery eyeshadow on her left eye has disappeared. Her blue dress is torn in the front. I don’t know who that is, but it is not me. I don’t know how much time goes by, but I just stand there. I try to look for a sign. A clue. I search my own face for answers. My green eyes are bloodshot, swollen. The more I stare at myself, the more nauseous I feel. I begin sobbing uncontrollably. I fall to the floor and curl into a ball. Everything hurts, and I don’t know why.

Creative Works… 155 I climb into the bathtub and turn on the shower while I stay curled, hugging my knees. I let the water cover me as I continue to cry. When my heartbeat is no longer going a million miles an hour and the shaking has stopped, I get out of the tub. I take off my dirty dress and leave it on the floor. Even after the shower, the vomit is still there. I take a real shower, but I still feel gross. There’s a smell on me I can’t wash off. I change into sweats, a t-shirt, and an oversized hoodie. Even though it is the middle of June, I feel cold. Even with two layers, I feel naked. The morning light blinds me, so I close the window curtains. I start to go back to bed, and I realize the comforter is still intact. The bed is still made. When I woke up this morning, I wasn’t under the sheets. I always sleep under the sheets. I can’t sleep if I’m not covered, no matter how hot the weather is. Just like I always take hot showers — even in the summer. Before my pulse begins to accelerate again, I crawl into bed and hide under the sheets. I close my eyes and try to piece together last night. It was my 21st birthday. My parents threw a birthday dinner for me. My aunt and her husband came, along with some family friends. At night, I went out with my best friends, Julia and Brianna. We went clubbing and then to a bar. I got into a fight with Brandon. I think we broke up? I started taking shots… Julia and Brianna wanted to leave and I didn’t… I was supposed to go home with them. Why am I here?

The pounding on my head begins again. I give my brain a break and go downstairs for some water and aspirin. This isn’t my first hangover, but I have never had one this bad. I pop a few pills into my mouth and chug two glasses of water. I feel light-headed, so I head back to my

Creative Works… 156 room when I hear a knock at the door. Because it’s Sunday, and I know my parents are at brunch at the country club, I walk towards the door. I stop. I wonder if they heard me get home last night. No, probably not. They knew I was supposed to stay over at Brianna’s. Plus, they’re heavy sleepers. I open the front door. A concerned Brianna and an irritated Julia stand in front of me. Brianna lets out a sigh and pulls me into a hug. Julia begins to interrogate me. “Where have you been?! We’ve been calling you all morning!” I say nothing and shrug. “Dude, we thought you were dead! We’ve been freaking out!” she screams. “Yeah, Carmen, you were supposed to text us when you got home. Not cool,” Brianna shakes her head. “You told your parents you were staying at my house after the bar, so I was worried you might get in trouble because of how drunk you were.” “Sorry. I just woke up, guys. And I can’t find my phone. Also, can you stop with the yelling? I have a massive headache.” “God, Carmen, get your life together. Breakups happen. Brandon was a jerk anyway,” Julia snaps. “So we did break up?” I whisper. “You don’t remember? You broke up with him,” she answers. “Okay Julia, that’s enough. You don’t have to be so mean right now. She’s super hungover. They were both drunk and said things they didn’t mean,” Brianna interjects.

“No, it’s okay, I’m trying to remember what hap-

Creative Works… 157 pened. What happened with Brandon and I?” I ask. “He got really upset that you were drinking so much and dancing like a stripper.” “Julia! Are you kidding?” Brianna shouts. “What?! It’s true! I’m trying to jog her memory.” “Okay… then what happened?” I press. “Well, that’s it; you told him to get lost. He wanted to take you home, but you didn’t want to leave with him. He watched you leave, and I guess he must have left right after that,” Brianna explains. “You didn’t see him leave the bar? Or me?” “No, we were too busy trying to call an Uber. You were supposed to wait for us, but you walked off and we couldn’t find you.” “So you guys didn’t bring me home?” I ask slowly. “No, you called your aunt to pick you up.” Brianna stops. “Why? Did something happen last night, Carmen?” “I don’t know. I woke up super disoriented this morning. Wait, why didn’t I go home with you guys?” “You didn’t want to. You got mad when we cut you off. I’ve never seen you so drunk, Carmen. I know it was your birthday, hon, but that was too much,” Brianna says disapprovingly. “I know. I’m really sorry. Thank you for worrying about me,” I tell them. “It’s okay. It was your 21st, so we’ll let it slide,” Brianna smiles. She nudges Julia. “Yeah, it’s okay, Car. You just gotta learn to hold down your alcohol,” Julia says, laughing. “So, what do you feel like doing today? Wanna go grab some breakfast?” I still feel uneasy about how the events transpired last night. Something else happened. Something even they

Creative Works… 158 don’t know. Something on the way home. And I don’t tell them because I don’t want them to worry. Even if I did, how do I explain a feeling so foreign to me? “You know, I forgot my mom wanted me to run a few errands for her today. Can we hang out tomorrow? It’s Sunday, so you know my aunt is coming over for family dinner and my mom always has me help her,” I explain awkwardly. “Oh, yeah— no worries. Text us! Oh, wait… Do you want us to help you look for your phone before we leave?” Brianna asks. “If you wouldn’t mind, I would appreciate that. My head is throbbing.” I sit on the couch and watch them go through every room in the house, the driveway, and the front yard. Julia even walks up and down the street. “Nothing,” she says, walking back inside the house. “You might have left it at the bar. We can go with you and check if you want.” “It’s okay, I’ll stop by and ask later.” I have a feeling where I left my phone. I check the clock on the wall. Brandon should be up soon. After my friends leave, I go upstairs to change. I take off the hoodie and replace my sweats with denim shorts. It is then that I notice the bruises on my legs. I sense the shaking about to begin, so I change quickly, grab my keys, and run out the door before it paralyzes me again. Although my anxiety makes me feel uneasy about driving, I need answers. Why did I break up with Brandon? I drive slowly through the bumpy neighborhood, my trembling hands gripping the steering wheel. I miss the entrance to his neighborhood, so I make a U-turn and barely

Creative Works… 159 miss the sidewalk. I park the car in front of his house and take a few deep breaths before I step out of my white Corolla. Even though I have no idea what to ask him, I am hoping he will know more than the girls. It is now 11:00 am, and even though I know he likes to sleep in, I knock on his parents’ front door. They are in Palm Springs for the first half of summer, so there is no chance of them answering. Brianna, Julia, Brandon, and I were so excited to come home for a few months before we began our senior year of college. How did it go so wrong…? A few minutes later, Brandon opens the door. Thank God, because I am struggling to stand up straight. His messy blonde hair and his shirtless pajamas indicate he was still asleep. His face is expressionless, and I don’t know how to begin. “Hi,” I say. “Hey.” “Can we talk?” I ask quietly. “Sure, come in,” he replies, opening the door wider. I walk inside, trying to focus on putting one foot in front of the other. I wait for him to close the door and sit on the black leather sofa before I do. He sits with his arms on his knees, folding his hands, body leaning towards me. His eyes look down at the ground, fixated on the carpet. I look up at him intently. “Look, I know we haven’t been dating for very long, but I want to apologize for last night. I was super drunk and I don’t remember what I did or said,” I say. He says and does nothing. I wait for him to say something. He doesn’t. But I also don’t know what else to say. I literally have no memory of anything from last night. While I panic about what to say next, he says, “I’m sorry,

I gasp involuntarily. Yes, just tell me what happened last night. Tell me what you did. “I shouldn’t have been such a jerk. I knew it was your birthday and you were just trying to have fun, and I caused so much drama. I shouldn’t have been so possessive. I shouldn’t have made such a big deal about taking you home.” “Why didn’t you take me home?” I ask. “You were mad at me because I told you to stop dancing so provocatively. Then Julia and Brianna cut you off and wanted to take you home, but you yelled at them to leave you alone. I offered to take you home, but you refused. You called your aunt to pick you up, and you said you were going to wait for her outside.” “Brandon…” I start slowly. “Did you see my aunt pick me up?” “Yes, Carmen, I saw you get into your aunt’s car. It’s a black Subaru with a smiley face sticker. I’ve seen it at family dinner. I didn’t see her because you ran to her car and got in before I could walk you. I went back inside and told Brianna and Julia you had gone home, and they said they would cover for you.” I let out the breath I had been holding since this morning. This only makes me more light-headed. I feel my body stop shaking. “Are you okay, Car? I texted you last night asking if you got home okay, but you didn’t reply.” “Yeah, sorry, I lost my phone at the bar.” “No, you didn’t. I’m one hundred percent sure you had your phone in your hand when you got in your aunt’s car. You called her in front of me. I don’t think she an-

swered, so you texted her.” “Really? Hmm, that’s weird. If I had left it in my aunt’s car, she would have left it with my stuff. Maybe she forgot. I’ll just ask her when she comes over later for family dinner,” I say. “Are we okay then, Carmen? Are we good?” he asks sheepishly. “I know I was a jerk but I think we should try this again.” I think about this for too long. The awkward silence fills the room. I don’t know why, but I know that something changed last night. With me. I don’t bother trying to explain this to him. “Yeah. We’re good, Brandon. I just need some time and space right now. I’m going through something personal…” I bite my lip. “Oh. Yeah, I get it. Take all the time you need. I care about you, Car. I want to be there for you,” he says softly. “Please call me if you need anything.” “Thanks, B.” I smile at him, and I promise to call before I leave. I run out of the house quickly and get into my car. I hyperventilate a little before I turn the engine on and drive away. The thoughts racing in my head mirror the speed at which I drive. I don’t know where I’m going. I don’t know what’s going on. All I know is that I’m going insane. There isn’t any other explanation. How do I convince myself that everything is fine when I don’t feel fine? You’re still drunk, I tell myself. Calm down. Calm down. Breathe in. Breathe out. Don’t let it consume you. Don’t let it overwhelm you. Don’t let it overtake you. The red and green lights are fuzzy and the car honks ring in my ears. Crash.

Creative Works… 162 I don’t stop in time and hit the car in front of me. Hard. So hard that our cars slide to the middle of the intersection. I think he saw how fast I was driving and tried to pull forward so I wouldn’t hit him. But I still did. The black Tacoma has some scratches and dents, but my car looks like a crumpled up piece of paper. It looks worse than it is. An ambulance comes and takes me and the man driving to the hospital, despite our protests. I feel tired, so I close my eyes for a few minutes. When I wake up again, I am not in the ambulance. The smell of rubber gloves, hand sanitizer, and other chemicals reminds me of the time I got my appendix taken out when I was twelve. The characteristic smells of the hospital. Although my head is no longer hurting, my body aches all over. In a different way than before. The nurse comes in to check my vitals. “Good, you’re awake, sweetie. Listen, you’re okay, you were in a car accident, but no one was hurt. Because you’re twenty-one, we’re not obligated to call your parents. Do you want us to call anyone for you?” “No,” I say without thinking. “Hmm, alright. Well, there is something the doctor wants to talk to you about, so just wait for him a few minutes, okay?” She looks at me sympathetically. I nod my head. For the first time today, my thoughts don’t feel fuzzy. Finally, the hangover is starting to wear off. They probably gave me a ton of fluids. I only wait a few minutes before a tall, bald man wearing glasses walks into my room and sits down on a chair next to me. “Hello, Carmen. I’m Dr. Goodwin. How are you feeling?” “So much better, doctor.”

Creative Works… 163 “Do you mean you woke up unwell this morning?” he asks. My face turns red. “Yes. I woke up hungover. It was my 21st birthday yesterday— but I wasn’t drinking today,” I add quickly. “I know that, don’t worry. We had to do a drug and alcohol test to make sure you weren’t driving under the influence. Because there was an accident, it was probable cause and we didn’t need your consent to do so.” “I’m really sorry about the accident. I was driving too fast. I wasn’t thinking.” I try not to cry. “I know that, too. But Carmen, there’s something I need to share with you.” I look up at him expectedly. He looks concerned. “The nurse told me no one was hurt,” I choke. I bite my lip. “No one in the accident was hurt. But you were hurt last night, Carmen.” I blink. “And you don’t remember because you were drugged.” I blink again, with tears streaming down my cheeks. “The nurse saw the bruises on your legs. Your tox screen came back positive. It’s okay if you don’t remember what happened. Your memories may slowly start to come back— or something may trigger them— but it’s possible they won’t return. And that’s also okay. It is important, however, to determine who hurt you, and the best way to do that is by doing a rape kit.” More tears slide down my face, but faster. I bite my

lip.

“You can think about it, if you’d like, but I think you would want to know who your abuser is,” the doctor explains. “No,” I mutter.

Creative Works… 164 “Okay, maybe you don’t want to know, but this person needs to be brought to justice and–” “No, I mean no, I don’t want a rape kit.” The doctor seems surprised. “You can think about it, and if you change your mind, just inform one of the nurses.”

“I already took a shower this morning, anyway,” I mumble. “That’s okay, it’s possible we can still retrieve some evidence–” “I want to go home.” “You’re fine to go home, but I really think you should reconsider–” “Please, just let me go home.” He gets up from the chair. “Of course. I’ll sign your release. Carmen, I’m sorry for what happened. If you change your mind, please come back to do the kit. But it has to be today; otherwise, we’ll lose the evidence. Are you sure you don’t want to call your parents?” I close my eyes and turn my head so he can no longer talk to me. He leaves the room quietly while I lay motionless. I curl into a ball and begin to sob hysterically. Everything inside me aches. Since this morning, my body has been trying to tell me something was wrong. It knew before my brain did. The pain inside me is too difficult to bear. So I turn it off. I don’t want to worry my parents about the accident, but I’m scared to call a cab or anyone to pick me up. I can’t tell anyone else about this. I ask the nurse to call my mom. Hopefully she won’t ask too many questions. My parents know I’m a bad driver, so they won’t have a hard time believing I got into an accident. I’ll worry about my car tom-

Creative Works… 165 orrow— although, I don’t think I’ll be going out much this summer. Before I leave, I take the pill the nurse left on the counter for me. On the ride home, my mom fusses over the accident. So much for hoping. She asks me why I haven’t picked up my phone all day, why I didn’t text her when I got home from the club last night, and what I was doing at Brandon’s house.

“Don’t worry, Mom, I didn’t spend the night at Brandon’s house. You know I wouldn’t. I lost my phone last night and I thought he had it, so I went to his house.” “You didn’t leave it at Brianna’s house? You did stay the night with her, right?” she asks. I hesitate. “Yes, I did.” I look down. “No, I didn’t leave it at her house. I’ve looked everywhere for it. It ran out of battery, so I can’t even track it.” “It’s okay, honey, we can just get you a new one; stop worrying. Just be more careful next time. Also, I don’t want you going out ‘clubbing’ so much. I worry about you. Plus, I haven’t seen you since spring break, and I want to spend as much time with you as possible before you go back to school,” my mom says. “Don’t worry, Mom, I didn’t really like clubbing anyway,” I sigh. “Good. Don’t worry about the accident. I’ll take care of your car, and the insurance will handle the rest.” “Thanks, Mom,” I mumble. If only she knew I can’t stop worrying, thinking about last night. About the hospital.

The smell of my dad’s famous lasagna fills my nostrils as soon as I open the front door home. “There you are, honey; we’ve been calling you all

Creative Works… 166 day! Where have you been?” my dad asks as soon as he sees us. “Are you okay? What happened to your car?” “I’m fine, Dad. It wasn’t that big of a deal. I can pay for my car and the hospital bill.” “Carmen, that’s not the point. You need to be more responsible.” He notices me wince. He has no idea how much those words hurt. “But I’m glad you’re okay, honey.” He gives me a big, tight hug and I almost break down in his arms. I’ve needed a hug all day. I bite my lip and hold back tears as they both fill me in on their day. I wish I could tell them about my day, but I can’t. I don’t know why. I just can’t. My mom tells me to set the table, so I do. Just as I am about to head back to my room to get ready for dinner, the doorbell rings. I open the door for my aunt and her perfect family. She looks beautiful in a yellow summer dress and heels while she holds her 6-month-old baby. Her tall and tan husband wears a navy blue polo and khaki shorts with sneakers. They look like a young celebrity couple. My aunt hugs me tight, crushing my sore body. “Hey, Carmen,” her husband greets. “Hi, Noah,” I reply as he makes his way to the kitch-

en.

“How was last night, sweetie? Did you have fun?” my nosy aunt asks. “Too much fun,” I say coldly. “No way! Did you end up wearing the blue dress Noah and I got you for your birthday?” “Yes, I did.” “I was so jealous you got to go clubbing after the dinner party. You left me with all the old folks,” she frowns. “But it’s okay because they left right after you and your

Creative Works… 167 friends left. Noah and I went home and put the baby to sleep early, and I finished an entire bottle of wine and passed out,” she explains. “Did you also get completely wasted?” she asks jokingly. I glare at her. “You know I was trashed.” “Huh? What do you mean? Did you post a video? I haven’t been on Insta yet.” I grab her arm and pull her to the side. “What are you doing? Mom can’t hear us. Stop pretending like you didn’t pick me up from the club last night.” “Carmen, I didn’t see you after dinner last night. Are you still drunk?” she asks with a confused look on her face. “Aunt Jenna, you brought me home last night.” “No, I didn’t sweetie. You must be super hungover. I didn’t bring you home.” “Yes, you did. I called you– or texted you, and you came to pick me up from the bar…” I try to say confidently. “Carmen, check my phone. You did not call or text me last night.” “Jenna, come help your sister make the salads!” Noah yells from the kitchen. “Coming!” my aunt answers. “Sweetie, I think you should go back to bed and sleep off this hangover.” She kisses my forehead and leaves me, half-standing-half-limping.

Noah comes back from grabbing a beer and pulls something out of his pocket. “Look what I found.” He stretches out his hand and opens his palm. “I found it in the front yard. You must have dropped it.” I look up at him. He smiles and walks away. I stare at my trembling hand. The missing piece of the puzzle. My phone. My eyes wander to where the stranger is standing, in deep conversation

Creative Works… 168 with my dad. My aunt kisses his cheek and he kisses her back. He glances at me for a brief second. I don’t know how, but I make it back to my room just in time to throw up. I don’t know what comes out, considering I haven’t had anything to eat all day. After I finish, I rinse my mouth and drown my face in water. I look up and see my reflection in the mirror. I don’t recognize the pale girl standing in front of me. She looks like she hasn’t slept in days, and her lips are chapped and bloody from biting them so much. Her hair is up in a bun, but it sticks out from all sides. She used to be so pretty. So fearless. So full of life. I wonder what happened to her. But I do know. Her face serves as a reminder of who she used to be. Something deep inside begins to panic. I get brief flashbacks of last night’s car ride home. Someone’s hands over my body. I start to tremble uncontrollably. I try to shake the handprints off my body. Every breath I take feels like the last. My knees feel like they can give out at any moment. I sense the sweat on my forehead trickle down. My heart feels like it will burst out of my chest. Crash. I look down at my right knuckle, drenched in blood. The mirror, shattered into a million pieces, both on the wall and on the floor. I smile. She’s gone. I lock the door before my parents – or worse, aunt – can come and ask questions about the loud noise. I’ve never lied to her in my life. But I have to. I don’t have a choice. I climb into bed and pretend today never happened. I want to be the girl who woke up this morning, oblivious to who she was and no longer was. I try to find a way, a reason, to trust the girl in the mirror again. It’s an indescribable feeling. Being broken. Knowing

Creative Works… 169 never be whole again. But I don’t regret my decision. The best way to stop hurting is to pretend it never happened.