The Mirror Room

You are who you are–no matter what you wear. Michelle Liew

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Lennox Tan was–queer. To preserve the status quo, he wore his truth beneath layers of tailored silence–because he hadn’t fully come out of the closet.

But silence wasn’t enough to stem the tide of taunts. Lennox wasn’t one to back down from challenges–especially those delivered as veiled prejudice.

The department was overdue for a break–so it decided on a staycation at Singapore’s Swissotel Resort.

With a luxurious suite no one wanted to sleep in–alone.

He approached his manager.

“Paul,” he swallowed, hard, then let determination give him a push. “I’ll sleep in the Mirror Room…if no one else wants to.”

“You sure?” Paul glossed him over with a smirk. “Wouldn’t you have a ‘happier’ holiday if someone shared it?”

That made his decision.

He returned Paul’s smirk with one of his own. “Absolute joy on my own, Paul, absolute joy.”

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Lennox stepped into the Mirror Room- alone.

The hotel room was the epitome of luxury–a state-of-the-art television set, a full mini bar with every cocktail known to man and a plush, way-too-comfy king-sized bed. All set against a Victorian Gothic backdrop, complete with ornate pillars and a balcony that would have made Romeo elated.

Opulent, too opulent. Odd. Lennox could hear whispers of unease in the air.

Perhaps it was all that luxury. Or the way the mirrors seemed to follow him around.

Surrounding him, closing in.

Or the whispers. Ones that played like a distorted podcast on repeat. Phrases that he had heard before. His father’s voice, in dissonant Mandarin, telling him to leave the home. Classmates who congratulated him on his ‘happiness.’ Girls who passed him by and told him, “ni hen mei (you’re beautiful).”.

He caught sight of his reflection in one of the mirrors. 

He turned–and jumped. 

The mirror showed who he was, and who he had buried.

He was in a glamorous sequin jacket dancing with someone he’d met at a Pride Parade.

Then, splinters. A cobweb of fractures.

His reflection vanished.

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Lennox paced around the room, eyes open with panic. Why was his reflection in all those mirrors? Why was he wearing that jacket?

The reflections stepped out of the mirrors, encircling him. Furious. Their fingers, bleeding.

They pointed to the closet. “You’ve hidden in there for years, Always shaving what you couldn’t accept. Denying.”

He did the only thing that made sense.

He begged.

He caught sight of his mom and dad in one of the mirrors.

“I couldn’t tell them. I had to survive.”

The screaming? Ignored. They closed in, building a tight wall.

Pride wasn’t his sanctuary. It was his prison.

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He woke up in the hallway, cowering from the weight of his nightmare. He leaned against the wall, hauling himself up.

The room door was open.

He stepped in gingerly. The same mirrors lay around the room.

Still threatening. Accusing.

A chambermaid passed by. He ran out and grabbed her by the shoulder.

“You must have passed me several times. Did I go in?”

She shrugged, eyeing him up and down. “No. I left you alone. Figured that you’d had a night of it. None of my business.” She walked off, whistling.

Lennox swallowed, hard. He stepped in, again.

To see smiling versions of himself in the mirror.

His mom and dad’s reflections appeared. He gazed at them, worry filling his eyes.

They didn’t speak. But looked him over, their gazes filled with curiosity. His mother reached for him in a virtual embrace. His father seemed to reach for his shoulder, hesitant.

Some mirrors didn’t show the truth–Lennox knew that it was up to him to decide what his reflection was.

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Back home, he threw open his closet. he took out his neatly pressed suits, folded them, and put them aside.

In a few plastic bags, all unopened, were tight tees he had bought some time ago.

He threw away the wrapping they came with.

Then, a few dresses. Also bought some time earlier. He couldn’t wear them –yet.

But he did hang them in the closet. They were—beautiful. They complemented him.

Then–the wigs. All in packages. He tore one open, and put it on.

It felt–comfortable.

Then, he caught sight of a family photograph. One of himself, having graduated with a business degree.

His aunts and uncles, surrounding his parents, with warm smiles of congratulations.

He couldn’t wear it–yet.

But he would, in time. When they would learn to surround him with smiles.

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Lennox heard the sound of a car pulling up in the driveway. Then, the car door opening.

His parents, returning from a day of shopping.

He gulped, and sat on the bed. 

His eyes fell on the tight tees in the closet.     

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With a flourish, he grabbed one and put it on. Along with his favourite pair of skin- tight jeans.

Slowly, he raised his head. And looked at himself.

He saw himself–but only half-smiling.

But he was ready…for something else.

He ran downstairs and greeted his parents. His nonplussed father looked at him, eyes wide.

“Mum. Dad. There’s something I need to tell you.”

He guided them gently into the kitchen and closed the door.

The sounds of shouts, and sobs.

They stopped…after a long while.

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Lennox stayed in the Mirror Room at the company’s convention the following year, his suitcase filled with suits.

And a few cocktail dresses.

“Lennox, are you ready? It’s almost time for the presentation.”

He looked at the reflections in the mirrors.

All smiling.

He reached for the wig. Then, a pair of heels resting quietly in the corner of this suitcase. 

He looked at himself with pride. His outfit was complete. 

The smiles turned up even further.

Were the reflections in the mirrors approving? He didn’t know. He didn’t look at them again.

He was Lennox–no matter how he looked, whatever he wore.

He stood in front of the mirror but looked past it.

The smiles were unimportant–the reflections, negligible.

He was proud. Complete. And human.

He called out to his colleague.

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Please find a book of my horror microfiction, Echoes in the Dark, free for download here.