When she finally got to the mirror to see her reflection,what she had feared was true was an all too painful reality that could no longer be denied. She was old. And not just old,but her outwardly appearance to the world was the embodiment of years of disappointment that were surely not going to end well. But what could she do now? Also, how was there such good lighting in this bathroom? How is every grey hair and wrinkle magnified by the sun pouring in like a police spotlight. She quickly moved to the darker corner of her bathroom.
Sydelle had not always been this way of course. Like everyone her age she was once young and vibrant and full of life and anxious for every new day. She was beautiful in fact. With a pale white complexion and light blond hair to make her look like a girl that The Beach Boys would sing about she was very popular growing up. Sydelle was never alone and never had a problem with not being invited out somewhere on the weekend. She was happy back then. Or she thought she was. It had now been so long since she had felt the way that she did back when the world just seemed to shine through and around her,that it really only seemed as though it was an abstract notion now. Something she once believed in. She whispers to herself in such a low tone that only her and God can hear it. The words that she says to herself at least a few times a day,when no one is around, when she is tired, and even when she is surrounded by people.
"What happened to me?"
Now Sydelle had a "good life" according to the standards that she was raised in. Why shouldn't she be perfectly happy with herself? She had a very lucrative career as an insurance controller for a major hospital in California. She drove a luxury vehicle. She had a house that looked like almost every other house in her suburban neighborhood. She had a husband with an equally lucrative career who had never hit her, and who had never given her any hard evidence that she could use to prove that he was cheating on her. She had two children in High school that were healthy and well,her kids. On the surface everything was great! She had her own little piece of the stereotype. The American Dream right? So what if everyone at her job had ignored her for years and only came to her when they needed to. She had a job right? So what if her house was a cold robotic shell of what a home should be. With decorations brought in by an interior designer who had been getting paid for years to convince Sydelle that she actually really liked the decorum surrounding her. That she felt comfortable in a house like all the other houses where all the other wives and mothers had been convinced by their interior designer of the same thing. She should be grateful! How many people out there didn't even have a home to go to at the end of the day.
So her husband of twenty one years had been present for maybe thirteen of them. He had to work right? He had to go out of town all the time for business, and when he got back he was just too tired from the road to make her feel the way he used to. Back when they were in love. Back when she was beautiful. He couldn't bother to care about her now he was just too busy.At least she could honestly say that he was a decent father when he was home and had never hit her. No matter how many times they had argued about silly things. The cable, a new car, the next vacation, Sydelle's drinking, him being gone all the time. No matter what she had said to him. No matter what she had called or accused him of. No matter how much she just sometimes wished he would hit her. Hit her hard so she could actually feel something other than what she felt every day, but he never had. He had never been caught cheating either. Although she knew. But a husband who doesn't get caught is almost as good as a husband who doesn't cheat at all right? What did she care anyway? Their marriage was for looks now. As long as it looked stable enough in the right company than she could at least do what she could to be grateful that they didn't appear as dysfunctional as they really were.
And her children were healthy. That was the important thing. That and that they receive everything that they need for their education and schooling and to be happy. That was her job. The common mis conception Sydelle thought, was that a mother was supposed to nurture and protect and teach her children the things they needed to learn to be able to be successful in the world once they left her. This was not true, and it was not the approach that Sydelle would ever take. The father and mother made the money for the family. You bought things for your children. Clothes, entertainment, toys, video games. You paid for little league and karate and dance classes. You paid for braces and haircuts and more clothes and more shoes and school books and new video games. Then guitar lessons and cheer leading and whatever else they wanted. Their were teachers in the private schools you paid for that were going to show them the things they needed to know to be successful. All you had to do was make sure that they were fed and clothed and had everything they wanted and that they were healthy. This wasn't the fifties anymore where parents took an active interest in what kind of people their children were. That was the world's problem. Sydelle's children were healthy and that was what mattered. So they didn't respect her,or listen to her, or really even seem to like her. Of course everyone said 'I love you' to each other but that is what families do. She couldn't say for sure that she knew that they meant it when they said it. Or that she did either.
But what did it matter? Sydelle was not sure if she had ever felt real love in her life. She got married because it was what she was supposed to do. She had kids, a boy and girl, just like all girls growing up are supposed to dream about having after they get married. She did not do these things for love but more out of a sense of duty. Also because she had never felt a pull in her heart to do anything else but follow the guide lines for life that she was just always told she was supposed to follow. "What happened to me? How did I get to this place?" she whispers to herself. She made her way into the kitchen,her head rang with the familiar morning pain of a hangover. Sydelle did not drink every night,but almost. And when she drank,she really drank. Sydelle went to start some coffee. She was alone in her big house,identical to all the other big houses for a mile radius. Her children were at different friends' houses where the parents cared just as much about them as people who don't really care can. Her husband was God knows where on business,alone, not alone, Sydelle barely even thought about it anymore. She was alone. But not just alone, she was hollow. And she did not know how or why she had gotten to this place,or how she could ever escape. What had she done to deserve this? What had she done to deserve all of these great things that surrounded her in a life where she had too much pain to want to live but too much responsibility to want to die?
All she had done was what she was always told she was supposed to do. What was supposed to work. What had worked for everyone else to whatever degree. And yet it hadn't worked for her. Sydelle was alone. She was no longer beautiful,but you could tell that she was at one point. Now her face betrayed her. Her look was now a monument to the once great beauty she had been,that has now faded. And the spirit that she can barely remember existing at all. She had not felt alive since God knows when. She was starting to suspect that she never would again. Her coffee was done. She makes herself a cup. There was a lot of things she didn't have to do that day,but that she would do. So that she would not have to think. Think about all that there wasn't there to think about. She really hoped that staying busy would work this time.
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