Chapter 3

I awoke the next morning and lazily stretched my arms over my head while spreading my fingers and curling my toes. Refreshed from a sound sleep, my smile was ear to ear. I was actually humming.

My smile vanished.

The memory of the previous night popped into my head. I had committed the mortal sin of self-gratification. Not that it was my first time. I had done it in the past and received absolution from Father Nico in confession, but it was happening more frequently lately. And those times didn’t compare to what I remembered about last night. I couldn’t have been that immoral, could I? It must have been a dream. It’s not a sin if it happens in a dream. Father Nico had told me in a confession that to be a mortal sin I must consent to give up my righteousness, not have sin forced upon me like in a dream. But was last night a dream? The memory was so real, so vivid.

For months now, immoral thoughts had found their way into my head. Thoughts about what I wanted to do with Corbin. Not after we were married, but now. And those thoughts were getting stronger and more frequent causing me to do the unthinkable. The sin of self-gratification. Masturbation. I had fought the urge to use my fingers, humping my pillow instead, but Father Nico had told me in confession that that was still sinning. But last night ... No, it had to have been a dream.

I sat up and swung my legs over the side of the bed. I froze at the strange feeling between my legs, at the rubbing of cloth against flesh. Fearing what I’d find, but afraid not to look, I pulled the front of my pajama waistband out and peeked inside. I gasped. My panties were shoved into my slit. Remembering how hard I had humped the edge of the mattress now came back as being real, not a dream. I remembered my labia being nudged apart as the rounded edge of the mattress forced its way between them. Evidently, that humping and grinding pushed my panties in with it. I slid off the side of the bed, dropped onto my knees, cupped my face in my hands, and prayed for forgiveness.

I stood up and walked to the dresser, staring into the mirror to see if I recognized the girl looking back at me. Could that girl have acted so immorally? What was becoming of me? I had lost all control last night.

“Did it really happen last night?” I asked my reflection in the mirror.

“It did,” my reflection said.

“How could I have done that?”

“You wanted to.”

“It’s a sin.”

“But it felt good.”

I studied my reflection in the mirror. Over the years, I had spoken to it many times. When I had asked the mirror questions, the answers to those questions had always been in my head. Now, based on what I was hearing and what I saw in my reflection, I was speaking the answers out loud. But I didn’t remember speaking the words. Was I going mad? For a moment I thought the reflection was actually speaking to me. I shook my head to clear it. I was going insane.

I placed my hands on top of the dresser and leaned closer, so close my breath fogged the mirror as I asked, “Are you talking to me?”

I waited, but of course there was no answer. I continued to stare and my reflection simply stared back. I moved my lips. The reflection did the same. I stuck out my tongue. It was the same in the mirror. I brought a finger to my nose and tapped it. I saw that in the mirror. I sighed and stood up straight. So did the reflection. I turned away from the mirror and started walking toward the bathroom.

“Don’t you want to fix your panties?” I heard from behind me.

I spun around. The reflection in the mirror was me. I looked around the room. I was alone. Had I really heard that or was I thinking it? What was happening to me?

I turned, feigning like I was going to walk away, but spun around to look at the mirror, to trick it. I thought the sudden movement would catch it off guard. But what was it? All I saw was me.

Jabbing my finger at the mirror, I shouted, “Stop it!” but all I saw was me jabbing my finger and shouting. I needed to speak to Father Nico. There was no confession scheduled for today, but if I asked to talk to him, he’d make the time. He had in the past. I needed to know if God was punishing me for what I had done last night. Was God making me crazy to punish me?

I was turning to go to the bathroom when I saw it out of the corner of my eye. My reflection didn’t turn with me. And I swore it winked!

In a panic, I frantically looked around the room for something to throw at the mirror. I spotted it on my desk. The glass snow globe my father had brought back from one of his business trips. When I would turn it upside down and then right side again, it snowed on the farmhouse inside it. I used it as a paperweight because it was heavy. I ran to my desk, snatched the globe, and rushed back to the middle of the room. I brought the globe to my ear, wanting nothing more than to throw it at the mirror and smash it, but my arm wouldn’t move. I struggled, my arm straining as it quivered, the tendons ready to burst, but as my reflection showed, I was still holding the globe near my ear.