Page 65 of The Stranger in the Mirror

She nods. “What’s a patizer?”

“Appetizer. Something to satisfy your appetite.”

After we set everything down, she runs toward the stairs. “I’m going to go get Mommy. It’s time for the party to start.”

I find a jazz playlist on my phone and stream it to the speakersin the bookcase, then light the candles I’ve placed around the room. Just because we’re spending the evening at home doesn’t mean we can’t have some atmosphere. Cassandra will see how much better it is to be safe and sound with the ones who love her.

Once everything is set, I bring the wine out and pour a small glass for her.

“Well, you’ve created quite a setting,” she says as she comes into the room, holding Valentina’s hand. She looks beautiful in a dress of her own, this one a deep-cranberry knit that hugs her body, and I feel a stirring of desire. When I came up with the plan to replace Valentina’s mother, my only thought was for my child, and a part of me feels guilty that I’m enjoying the new Cassandra so much. Then again, if she and I are happy together, itisbetter for Valentina.

“Thank you. I wanted to make tonight special for my two special ladies.”

Valentina giggles. “Look Mommy, appetite tizers.” She points to the trays.

Cassandra laughs and takes a shrimp and pops it in her mouth. “Delicious!”

We chat and drink, and the evening goes as planned. We have our dinner around eight thirty, and I notice Valentina’s eyes beginning to droop. After we settle her on the sofa under a soft blanket, she’s asleep within minutes. Despite my warnings, Cassandra drinks two more glasses of wine, and then she’s fast asleep on the couch too. I tuck her in and glance at my watch. Eleven thirty. Do I dare risk it? Deciding that they’re both out cold, I grab two glasses, tiptoe from the room and open the door to the basement, then use my phone flashlight to descend the staircase to the wine cellar. I open its door and lock myself inside, then pull out the bottle of Opus One that I’ve placed dead center on the far wall. Ipush the button, and there is a whirring noise. Within seconds, the wall opens into my secret room.

I had this room created right after Cassandra died. I take a seat on the maroon velvet couch, the high-end Victorian look she loves, and set down the wine and the glasses on the marble-top table. The wall is filled with pictures of Cassandra and me from our life together. The real Cassandra. In the center of the room is a custom-made easel on which sits a life-size portrait of her from our wedding day. She looks magnificent, and I can almost believe it’s really her, here and looking at me. Sighing, I turn around and pour two glasses of wine. Holding one in each hand, I lift mine in tribute.

A thrill of desire like molten lava courses through my veins. I haven’t entered this room in months, not since I brought the new Cassandra home. “My precious. How I’ve missed you. You must forgive me for staying away so long. It wasn’t safe to visit. But I’m here, darling, and I promise, I will come and see you every week.” Now that I’ve experimented with the dosages, I can just give new Cassandra a little extra any night when I want to come and visit.

I pour myself a fresh glass of wine and add to hers, setting it on the table in front of me. “Cheers, darling. To a new year.” Taking a long sip, I lean back and sigh. I hate that things turned out the way they did, and that instead of her being the one upstairs, alive and well, I have only her image to keep me company.

“You’ll be happy to know that Valentina is doing very well,” I tell her. “She believes that you’re still caring for her. I hope you understand that’s why I have to pretend to love your replacement. But please don’t think for one minute that she’s replaced you in my heart. No one ever will.” I stare at her picture, thinking back to our wedding day and how much in love we were. “I’m sorry that I had to photoshop you out of the wedding pictures in thehouse. I did it for Valentina. But you will always be my one true love.”

I stay with her for another half hour, until it’s after midnight. I need to get upstairs, just in case anyone does wake up. But I’m happy, truly happy, for the first time in so long. Standing, I lift my glass one more time. “Happy New Year, darling Cassandra. It’s going to be a good one.”

− 56 −

Julian

Cassandra has been complaining that the medicine is making her tired all the time and giving her headaches. Another unpleasant side effect is that she’s gained weight. I have to leave for the hospital in an hour, and I check to see if she’s out of bed. I sigh. She’s still sound asleep, her hair a mess, a slight snore escaping her lips. This slovenly, overweight, out-of-it version is testing my nerves. I wonder about adding Adderall to the mix as an appetite suppressant and make a mental note to look up the drug interactions.

I wrinkle my nose in distaste, then walk over to the bed and nudge her arm.

“It’s time to get up.”

“What time is it?” she mumbles, her eyes still closed.

“Seven thirty. You didn’t see Valentina off to school. Nancy had to get her breakfast.” I stop myself before I say something I’ll regret, but what I want to say is that she’s not being a good mother. Over the twenty months she’s been here, her moods have been up and down. Valentina is five years old. Even though she is thriving in her private school, I had hoped that Cassandra would be up to the task of homeschooling her, but she is incapable of it.

Her eyes open, and she brushes the hair from them. “Sorry. Just so tired.”

I try to remind myself that it’s not entirely her fault; the medsare making her this way. I take a gentler tone. “I know, we’re all tired, but life goes on. I’m leaving soon for work, and I’d appreciate having my wife get out of bed to see me off.”

She sits up and slowly lifts herself out of bed, the nightgown tighter on her body than it used to be.

“Once you’re dressed, can you meet me in the kitchen? I’d like to go over your day before I leave.”

She nods and heads to the bathroom, and I go downstairs to pour myself a cup of coffee and glance at the paper. It’s time for me to give her a project. There was never any question about her going back to work, and in any case, her dependence and confusion have eliminated any desire she had to do so. I had planned on having her spend her days teaching Valentina, but since she can’t do that, there’s nothing to occupy her. I have to give her something to do. Otherwise she mighttrulybecome depressed, not just medicated.

She lumbers into the kitchen, pours herself a cup of coffee, and plops down in the chair across from me. “I had the nightmare again,” she says.

I sigh. This is also getting wearisome.

She shivers. “It’s the one where everyone’s dead, and I’m screaming, but I don’t know who they are or what happened.”

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