A Face In The Mirror
Marilyn Janson
Marissa Logan tried to open the door to her new townhouse. She had been living there for six months and wondered why her key had worked yesterday and didn’t today. Maybe she was at the wrong home. The white stucco dwellings inside the walled and gated community did look alike with rock gardens decorated with evening primrose and purple sand verbena. She stood back and saw that number twenty-two, tacked beside the door was hers. She dug inside her shoulder bag for the duplicate card key and slipped it into the lock. It didn’t work either. Marissa had an emergency. She needed to get into the house and relieve herself, before she went inside her shorts. According to the Homeowners Association’s rule book, peeing behind the large cactus in her front yard wasn’t an option. It was a serious offense and she would be punished. Besides, her ethics for decency wouldn’t allow her to pee outside.
“What’s wrong with my bladder? she worried, as sweat saturated her skin. This had never happened to her before and she wasn’t pregnant. She would have to get those locks checked and hopefully fixed by the locksmith who changed them in the first place. Legs shaking, she dropped her purse and key card, then looked around at the neighboring structures. Nervous about what she was going to do, Marissa made sure as best she could, that the neighbors’ inquisitive eyes weren’t peering at her. She took off her canary yellow tee shirt, covered her right hand with the garment, then slammed her forearm into the foyer window. Another violation of the Homeowners Association’s rule book. With her bladder about to burst, she didn’t care about tripping the house alarm, another serious infraction.
“Yes!” she exclaimed. She wasn’t sure that the glass would break, and wouldn’t dare ask another resident to commit a breaking and entering offense, even if it was her own house. Marissa poked the remaining shards out, then stretched her arm inside the house as far as she could until it ached. She crossed her legs, tightened her bladder muscles to avoid an accident, then managed to reach inside, pull the lever and push the door open. With relief within her reach, she dashed into the house and down the hall to the bathroom.
Inside the bathroom, Marissa picked up the toilet seat cover her husband Sam wisely left down and relaxed her bladder. She looked at the floor and relished in her joy. Finished, she got up, wiped herself and flushed the toilet. Then she looked into the mirror covering the wall behind the two sinks and counter space.
Her mouth fell open as she gaped at herself. “Who the hell is that?” She touched her chin, then turned her face to the right and then to the left, examining her profile. Where was her broad nose, shoulder length brown hair and smokey gray eyes? Marissa’s new face was pie shaped with glowing opaque eyes and a short cap of blonde hair. She didn’t remember having any consultation in a doctor’s office or checking into a hospital, smelling of pee and Pine Sol. Besides, she wouldn’t have had her entire face changed. That was crazy. She didn’t believe in cosmetic surgery even when her mother wanted Marissa to get her nose fixed. Looking into the mirror, her old nose, the one she liked, was gone. The face in the mirror had an upturned nose like the one her mother favored. “I’m having a nightmare. None of this is real,” she declared. “Soon, I’m going to wake up.”
“Marissa? Marissa?” Sam called from down the hall, in the foyer.
“I’m in here,” she said meekly, not sounding sure.
He came into the bathroom, and planted a kiss on her cheek. “You left your hand bag and key card outside, so I picked them up and put them in the foyer.”
To Marissa, Sam looked the same as he did yesterday, with his sandy crew-cut and slender nose. Why didn’t she? “Sam, look at me!”
“You look wonderful, as always, darling.” He looked at his wife’s face, her eyes bulging with fear; mouth contorted.
Sam embraced her with a bear hug. “What’s wrong? What happened?”
“Look at me!” she pleaded, gesturing to the mirror.
“Sweetheart, you look a little flushed. Do you have a fever?” He felt her forehead with the back of his hand. “You’re warm. I’ll get the thermometer.” Sam opened the drawer under the counter.
Marissa pushed his arm away from the drawer. “What’s wrong with you is the question,” she snapped.
Surprise registered on his smiling face. “What are you doing, hon? I’m trying to help you. You must be dehydrated. Did you drink enough water today? You hate drinking water...” He grabbed her hand. “Let’s go into the living room and you can sit down. I’ll get you some water, or even better, orange juice.”
“No.” She pulled her hand away. “You’re going to tell me why I can’t recognize my own face.”
He laughed. “You look the same to me. Don’t be so hard on yourself. You just need some rest. You’ll feel much better after you take a nap.” Sam crossed the living room and went into the kitchen.
“Tell me this is a nightmare and that I’m going to wake up,” she begged, as he left her standing beside the sofa.
She looked down the hall and spotted her key card and bag sitting on a chair.
Maybe she could make a run for her things without him noticing. Marissa was wearing a pair of white Reeboks, so he probably wouldn’t hear her footsteps.
She watched her husband as he pulled open the refrigerator door. She braced herself, dashed to the foyer and picked up her bag and car key card.
Standing in front of the opened front door, Sam let out a hearty chuckle.
She stared into his eyes, glowing like yellow moons. “I’m okay now. I’m going out forsome fresh air,” Marissa said.
Marissa swore that she didn’t see him walk to the door and open it. He just appeared, blocking the entrance like a California Redwood.
“Hon, I can’t let you go out.”
Sam’s arm rested against the door frame. Marissa, a foot shorter than her husband, ran under his arm and out the door. She looked up as a group of women wearing canary yellow tee shirts walked toward her. Their opaque eyes vacant, with identical faces like hers and short blond caps on their heads, they chanted “Marissa, Marissa” sounding like echoes at the Grand Canyon.
“Ignore them, ignore them, ignore them”, Marissa said like a mantra. With shaky hands she shoved the key card into the lock and swung open the door. “Yes!” She hopped behind the steering wheel and gunned the engine, backed out into the circle of women surrounding her, then sped toward the entrance. Sirens screamed from outside the car. Despite the boiling heat inside the vehicle, she shivered with goose flesh. “They’re after me,” she cried. “What to do, what to do.” When she stopped in front of the iron gate, Marissa debated whether to crash through the barrier. Plunging through would be certain death, she reasoned. But what choice do I have?
“Evacuate your vehicle. Permission to leave the premises denied,” a computerized voice announced through the loudspeakers, placed on each side of the gate. “Attempts to crash through the gate will result in electrocution.”
Between the the women calling “Marissa, Marissa”, and the voice blasting commands at the gate, she banged her head against the steering wheel, defeated. She covered her ears, feeling as if a meat cleaver was hacking her head in half. Suddenly, she snapped her head up. She remembered something, swirling inside her head, wanting to come out.
Four months ago at the Homeowners’ Association Meeting, the residents were divided about how to solve a problem with some law breaking residents. But what was the dilemma? Oh yes, now it was coming back to her. Residents were breaking the rules and not paying money owed to the association. Apathy and lack of cohesion had been a problem among the board. Since this Homeowners’ Association will be the prototype for others that would spring up within the county, the board voted to enact a solution. They agreed that the women residents would participate in a surgical procedure that allowed them to become one force and get results. The women did not agree to it, but they were forced to do it. At a handsome discount, Syntex, a computer company designed the micro-chips containing commands designed to ensure that Homeowners’ Association rule book laws and sanctions will be obeyed. Saguaro Samaritan Hospital performed the plastic and chip insertion surgery including aftercare as a package deal, saving the residents a nice percentage of the total cost .
Marissa realized that the computer chip inserted at the base of her skull had malfunctioned. That’s why she lost her memory, didn’t see her husband cross from the kitchen to the front door, and was losing control of her bladder. “Is this the way I want to live my life?” she murmured. “Afraid to look at the neighbors the wrong way and worrying about the rule book? Sure, I like the safety of a gated community, but was it worth losing my identity and freedom to make my own choices and mistakes?”
The women surrounding the car began banging on the windows. They hurled themselves at the car, rocking and throwing stones at it.
“Oh, my God. They’re going to kill me!” Marissa screamed. The window on the driver’s side cracked. She covered her face with her hands as the glass shattered into splinters. Marissa felt like she was in a barrel about to be tossed into the relentless waves of Niagara Falls.
When she dared to peek between her fingers, she saw a hand reach through the broken glass and unlock the car door. It was a man’s hand and panic ripped through her. She grabbed the steering wheel, determined not to allow them to take her away willingly. Marissa was going to put up a fight.
The man whispered into her ear, “Don’t worry. I’m going to get both of us out of here.”
Could she trust him? What choice did she have?
The man threw a dazzling smile at the women. “I can control Marissa, ladies. No need to take her to the detention center. Get off the car.”
The women obeyed his order. They stared at him, watching for his next move.
He turned toward the surveillance camera tucked beside the loudspeakers at the gate. “I can control my own wife. Release her into my custody and there will be no more problems,” he bellowed.
The women retreated and headed for their homes.
Marissa took in a long breath. Sam opened the car door and held out his hand. She took her husband’s hand and got out of the car. With his arm across her shoulders, they walked back to their house.
“How are we going to escape this nightmare? The gate and backyard fences are rigged to electrocute anyone who tries the climb them,” Marissa whispered.
At the house, Sam led his wife through the front door, then opened a broom closet inside the kitchen. He pulled the rows of shelves out, revealing a secret door.
Marissa strained her eyes to see behind the panel. Sam shined a flashlight insidethe dark room. She saw a ladder leading down to a tunnel.
She threw her arms around him and beamed. “I wasn’t sure that I could trust you.”
Sam squeezed his wife, practically squashing the breath out of her.
“Get my bag and let’s go,” she says.
Her husband left the closet. When Sam returned, her serene expression turned to horror. “No, Sam. How could you? Don’t do this to me!” she cried.
Two large men in Homeowners’ Association yellow and black police uniforms, grabbed and held her down. Sam, the townhouse physician, stabbed her with a syringe containing anesthesia to paralyze her into submission.
